Timothy Boyle, entering the post-office one morning, and perceiving a clerk "taking a limited view of society" through the aperture technically called "general delivery," naturally supposed that the duties of this functionary included receiving as well as delivering, and accordingly handed him a letter adorned with the lineaments of the Father of his Country, (not Tim's,) and bearing upon its exterior this general exhortation to all whom it might concern,—"With spede."
The clerk directed Tim to deposit the document in the letter box.
"And where is the letther box?"
"Follow this railing," said the young man, "and you will find it round the corner;" meaning thereby the corner of the tier of boxes, which was surrounded by a neat railing.
On the strength of these instructions, Tim turned on his heel, dashed into the main street, ("with spede," as per letter,) and walked on vigorously till he arrived at a corner, which happened to be occupied as a tailor's shop.
"I want to put this letther in the box," said Tim, after looking about him in vain for any sign of such a receptacle.
"What box?" asked the tailor.
"What box would I put it in but the letther box?" replied Tim.
"Who sent you here after a letterbox?" said the tailor; "you must be a natural fool to suppose that we have any such thing here."
"Natheral fule or not, sir, I was towld by the clark at the post-office that I'd find the box round the corner, and shure this is a corner I've come to, and if it isn't here, I don't know where I'll find it."