"My daily accounts would have reached you in time; but on Saturday morning, whilst purchasing American cheeses and sampling them, I tasted some of them, which brought on a bilious complaint, so that I was obliged to suspend work on Monday. Being now somewhat better, I trust all will go on right."
"I regret the daily accounts should have been delayed so long; but having some friends to see me, the accounts were forgotten."
"The Postmistress of ——, Cambridge, is very sorry that she has not sent her accounts before this; she will be sure to do so to-morrow. The delay is on account of her having three little motherless grandchildren staying with her for a few days."
The following will bear company with the three foregoing specimens. It is a pathetic appeal from a letter-receiver, who, mistaking the purpose for which a certain credit of official money was allowed him, spent it, and was unexpectedly called upon to account for the balance due by him to the head office:—
"Mr ——, Superintendent of the Money-order Department, called upon me yesterday, and dispelled a very mistaken notion of mine—viz., that as I had given a guarantee of £200, I was perfectly 'justifiable' in making use of a portion of the money received for my own business. I am now very sorry indeed that the idea had gained such an ascendancy over me as it had done. The letter I received from you a few days ago aroused me from that delusive lethargy into which I was sinking; and if you would have the kindness to compare the amount now with what it was then, you will perceive that an effort has been made to retrieve my folly.
"My object in writing this to you is an earnest appeal not to degrade me in the position I have struggled so hard to maintain through such distress as we have had, by suspending the business of the office. I beg and earnestly entreat of you to give me time to recover myself; and I assure you that under such a stimulation a vigorous effort will be made to place myself in that honourable position which it has been my desire to hold. Therefore, hoping that you will take a favourable view of the case, I subscribe myself, your contrite and obedient servant."
Prisoners of War.
The following incident, though not directly bearing upon Post-office matters, has a relation to letters. It forms the subject of a pathetic story, and brings into contrast the possible isolation of poor fellows who may be taken in war, with the rapid and constant intercourse kept up between the peoples of enlightened countries during times of peace by the intermediary of the Post-office. The facts are here quoted from a notice of the circumstance published in a local newspaper:—
"The extensive works for the manufacture of paper belonging to Alex. Cowan & Sons, at Valleyfield, near Edinburgh, were in 1811, owing to the dulness of trade, sold to Government, and converted into a prison for the French soldiers and sailors, of whom over 6000 were kept from 1811 to 1814, when peace was happily established between Britain and France. During these three years 309 died, whose remains rest in a quiet spot near the mills. Of these, a list of the names, ages, and place of capture is preserved by Messrs Cowan. The mills were reacquired from Government about 1818, and are carried on as among the largest paper-mills of Britain by the same firm. In some repairs lately carried out at these works (1881) an old floor was lifted, and underneath was found a letter written by a prisoner, but which he was never able to despatch. A copy of this letter is annexed, as possibly some of the writer's relatives may see it and be interested by a perusal."
The French is not very good; but here it is:—