[232] “Life,” ii. 401.
[233] A more recent instance of killing a man before he is dead, and raising his spirit to talk at a séance, was that of Mr Sherman, the American statesman. His ghost expatiated eloquently on the beauties and delights of Heaven—with which region, as he was still in the land of the living, he could hardly have made acquaintance—and altogether uttered much unedifying nonsense. The following veracious anecdotes show what hazy views on history, postal or otherwise, some children, and even their elders, entertain. A school mistress who had recently passed with honours through one of our “Seminaries of Useless Knowledge,” was asked by a small pupil if Rowland Hill had not invented the penny post. “No, my dear,” answered the learned instructress. “The penny post has been established in this country for hundreds of years. All that Rowland Hill did was to put the Queen's head on to a penny stamp.” The other story is of a recent viva voce examination in English history at one of our large public schools. “Who was Rowland Hill?” was the question. “Rowland Hill,” came without hesitation the reply, though not from the grand-nephew who was present and is responsible for the tale, “was a man who was burned for heresy.” Could the boy have been thinking of Rowland Taylor, a Marian martyr? The fact that my father was not exactly orthodox, lends piquancy to the story.
[234] While we were children our father used often to read aloud to us—as a schoolmaster and elocutionist he was a proficient in that comparatively rare art—and in course of time we thus became acquainted with nearly all these books. He probably missed the occasional lengthy introductory chapters and other parts which well bear pruning, for memory holds no record of their undeniable tediousness. We certainly did not find Scott “dry.” Why should we? Through him we came to know chivalric Saladin, David of Huntingdon, and tawny-haired Richard of the Lion's heart; to love the noble Rebecca, and to assist at the siege of Torquilstone Castle; to look on at the great fight between the Clan Chattan and the Clan Quhele, and to mourn over Rothesay's slow, cruel doing to death; to know kings and queens, and companies of gallant knights and lovely ladies, and free-booters like Rob Roy and Robin Hood, and wits and eccentric characters who were amusing without being vulgar or impossible. Also was it not Sir Walter who “discovered” Scotland for our delight, and through that discovery contributed largely to his native land's prosperity?
[235] The Mercantile Committee suggested a National Testimonial in March 1844, but Mr Estlin's proposal was yet earlier.
[236] A third letter to the postal reformer, also delivered, came directed to the General Post Office to “Mr Owl O Neill.” Owing to the present spread of education, the once numerous (and genuine) specimens of eccentric spelling are yearly growing fewer, so that the calling of “blind man”—as the official decipherer of illegible and ill-spelled addresses is not very appropriately termed—is likely to become obsolete. It would surely have given any ordinary mortal a headache to turn “Uncon” into Hong-Kong, “Ilawait” into Isle of Wight, “I Vicum” into High Wycombe, “Searhoo Skur” into Soho Square, or “Vallop a Razzor” into Valparaiso. Education will also deprive us of insufficiently addressed letters. “Miss Queene Victoria of England” did perhaps reach her then youthful Majesty from some Colonial or American would-be correspondent; but what could have been done with the letter intended for “My Uncle Jon in London,” or that to “Mr Michl Darcy in the town of England”? The following pair of addresses are unmistakably Hibernian. “Dennis Belcher, Mill Street, Co. Cork. As you turn the corner to Tom Mantel's field, where Jack Gallavan's horse was drowned in the bog-hole,” and “Mr John Sullivan, North Street, Boston. He's a man with a crutch. Bedad, I think that'll find him.” That the French Post Office also required the services of “blind man” these strange addresses, taken from Larouse's “Dictionnaire du XIXe Siècle,” vol. xii. p. 1,497, demonstrate. The first, “À monsieur mon fils à Paris,” reached its destination because it was called for at the chief office, where it had been detained, by a young man whose explanation satisfied the enquiring official. Whether the letter addressed to Lyon, and arriving at a time of thaw, “À M. M., demeurant dans la maison auprès de laquelle il y a un tas de neige” was delivered is not so certain.
[237] He had long before added to his name the justly-prized initials of F.R.S. and F.R.A.S.
[238] This last statue had not long been unveiled when the street boys—so reported one of our newspapers—began to adorn the pedestal with postage stamps.
[239] These were Mr Washington Lyon, mover of the resolution; Sir John Bennett, the seconder; Mr Peter M'Kinley, the Chairman of General Purposes Committee; Mr (afterwards Sir Benjamin) Scott, F.R.A.S., the City Chamberlain; and Mr (afterwards Sir John) Monckton, F.S.A., the Town Clerk.