“About the many strange things that are sent through the post, Grannie.”
“Ay, ay, likely enough,” returned the old creature, shaking her head and administering an unintentional cuff to the poor cat; “folk write a heap o’ lees noo-a-days, nae doot.”
“You’d hardly believe it now,” continued Solomon, turning the leaves of the Report, “but it’s a fact that live snakes have frequently been sent through the post. No later than last year a snake about a yard long managed to get out of his box in one of the night mail sorting carriages on the London and North-Western Railway. After a good deal of confusion and interruption to the work, it was killed. Again, a small box was sent to the Returned Letter Office in Liverpool, which, when opened, was found to contain eight living snakes.”
“Come now, Mr Flint,” said May, “you mustn’t bore my cousin with the Post-Office. You know that when you once begin on that theme there is no stopping you.”
“Very well, Miss May,” returned the letter-carrier, with a modest smile, “let’s draw round the fire and talk of something else.—Hallo, Dollops! clear away the dishes.”
“But he doesn’t bore me,” protested Miss Lillycrop, who had the happy knack of being intensely interested in whatever happened to interest her friends. “I like, of all things, to hear about the Post-Office. I had no idea it was such a wonderful institution.—Do tell me more about it, Mr Flint, and never mind May’s saucy remarks.”
Much gratified by this appeal, Solomon wheeled the old woman to her own corner of the fire, placed a stool under her feet, the cat on her knees, and patted her shoulder, all of which attentions she received with a kindly smile, and said that “Sol was a good laddie.”
Meanwhile the rotund maid-of-all-work having, as it were, hurled the crockery into her den, and the circle round the fire having been completed, as well as augmented, by the sudden entrance of Phil Maylands, the “good laddie” re-opened fire.
“Yes, ma’am, as you well observe, it is a wonderful institution. More than that, it’s a gigantic one, and it takes a big staff to do the duty too. In London alone the staff is 10,665. The entire staff of the kingdom is 13,763 postmasters, 10,000 clerks, and 21,000 letter-carriers, sorters, and messengers,—sum total, a trifle over 45,500. Then, the total number of Post-offices and receptacles for receiving letters throughout the kingdom is 25,000 odd. Before the introduction of the penny postage—in the year 1840—there were only 4500! Then, again—”
“O Mr Flint! pray stop!” cried Miss Lillycrop, pressing her hands to her eyes; “I never could take in figures. At least I never could keep them in. They just go in here, and come out there (pointing to her two ears), and leave no impression whatever.”