But even with the drawback of possessing so many agents who belong to the half-educated and quarter-educated classes, the Post Office gets a good deal out of its country officers. Many possess plenty of shrewdness and native intelligence, and business is got through with or without the help of the regulations. They are sometimes not to be side-tracked even by a railway company. There was at a certain date some irregularity in the mail service in the Romney Marsh district. The local official explained “that on Friday last the mails were only got off by running after the train, and to-day in the same manner. On Saturday we failed to catch up the train.” Evidently the South-Eastern and Chatham Railway were beginning to accelerate their train service.

There remains to be considered the village post office itself, and post office architecture is usually a rather painful subject. The modern standard post office is obviously built for utility, and little regard is paid to what fits in with the spirit of the place. But there are hundreds of village post offices all over the United Kingdom which are the delight of the artist and the tourist. Just as a hymn or a psalm seems to contain an added beauty because of the feeling in the singer that it has perhaps brought joy and consolation to men and women through the centuries, so the little gabled cottage or shop covered with ivy appeals to us not only through its beauty but through its long connection with the joys and sorrows of the village. Those of us who have visited Tintagel know the cottage called the “old post office.” It is of the fourteenth century, small but commodious; it has a fireplace which is so constructed that the inhabitants could sit round the fire without being betrayed by the light to passers-by. It is fitted up with conveniences for the use of smugglers. And over all stretch great roof timbers black with the smoke of ages. That, however, is a disused post office; there are beautiful offices still to be found, especially in our southern villages, and every lover of the country-side demands of the Post Office authorities that the standard pattern should be confined to the suburbs and the new townships. We will willingly put up with a village postmaster who indulges in euphonious spelling if they leave us our pretty ivy-clad post office full of associations which bind it to the village.

CHAPTER XXII
THE POSTMAN

It is easy to be eloquent on the subject of the postman. He is the outward and visible sign to us all of the postal service. He brings it to our doors. He has persisted, while other officials and other methods have passed away to make room for modern improvements. Post-boys, mail coaches, and mail trains have in turn carried our letters across country at increasing rates of speed, but the last stage, viz. the actual delivery of the letter, is still left to the postman. And I suppose his average rate of speed is a very little higher than it was two hundred years ago.

There have been, of course, changes in his methods and in his costume: Penny Post simplified his duties while it increased enormously the volume of his work. The town postman has perhaps changed more than his rural brothers. The idea of a uniform for the Service is comparatively modern, and in the old days there was great variety in the postman's costume. He wore in town districts a top hat, and he rang a bell as he passed down the streets. In certain towns not only was there the usual delivery but selected postmen collected letters for despatch. “The bell rings for my letter, and makes me lose the happiness of fancying I am talking with my dear, to whom I am sincerely, ever your most affectionate wife.” So wrote, in January 1701, Lady Mary Coke to her husband, Thomas Coke, afterwards Vice-Chancellor, and there is little doubt she was referring to this custom. A century later the custom was in full vigour in London, and in The Picture of London for 1805 appears the following statement: “Houses or boxes for receiving letters before four o'clock at the west end of the town and five o'clock in the City are open in every part of the metropolis: after that hour bellmen collect the letters during another hour, receiving a fee of one penny for each letter.”

The ringing of the bells was only abolished as late as 1846 in London, but it lingered on in other places much later: in Leamington there was a Post Office bellman as late as 1866. Pillar boxes and frequent collections have been the death of the bellman.

The general title “postman” covers a number of separate positions, varying in importance and salary. There are London postmen, provincial town postmen, sub-office postmen, rural postmen, and auxiliary postmen. And these different ranks are again divided into established and unestablished officers. An established officer holds a permanent situation, and devotes the whole of his time to the Post Office service: he has an annual holiday, and receives a pension when he retires from the Service.

The unestablished positions are not permanent, and do not carry pensions with them. Auxiliary postmen do not give up their whole time to the Service, but are supposed to pursue another trade or occupation. These men are generally employed for two or three hours in the morning to assist the established postman with the first delivery, which is always the heaviest. A postmaster reported on one of these men as follows:—

“Jones received notice that his services would not be required after the 20th August. On the 16th he came on duty at the usual hour. After about an hour's work had been done he tossed up a penny to decide whether he should stop or not; as he at once left duty and did not return, it is presumed that the spin of the coin was against further work.”

A rural postman's duties are certainly more varied and often more responsible than those of his town brother. His average walk is supposed to be about 16 miles a day, with a maximum of 18. He is often regarded as a “walking post office” in remote country districts: he sells stamps, receives letters for posting, takes even registered letters, and in some cases sells postal orders. The bell has been abolished in town districts, but the rural postman still blows his horn or whistle in villages where he collects or delivers letters.