It cost the government 18 cents, according to Mr. Hitchcock’s method of hurdle estimating, to deliver those two magazines to Thomas’ mother. Well, let it go at that. The government is out, then, 16 cents, the publisher having paid in 2 cents at the present pound rate for mail carriage and delivery.
On the other hand, those two magazines each carried four pages of school “ads.” Those “ads” start Thomas’ mother into a canvass of the schools by correspondence. The result of that canvass, as previously shown, turned into the government’s treasury a gross revenue of $5.21 for postage stamps to cover the first and third-class business resulting.
The government, then, is $5.05 ahead so far as gross receipts and gross revenues are concerned, and it is ahead that sum, in the specific transaction under consideration, solely and only because of those eight pages of school advertisements printed in the two magazines.
Is that not a fair—a just—statement?
As Mr. Hitchcock states that there is a large profit to the government for the stamps sold and as that $5.21 was all for stamps, then those eight pages of advertisements and Thomas’ mother must have turned into the postal fund a handsome net profit on the service rendered by the Postoffice Department.
Now, I desire to return to our “tea.” Two other “business” actions developed which serve to prove the statement made on a previous page, namely: It is the advertising pages of our periodicals which yield the largest revenue to the government for the postal service it renders.
The first of the two postal revenue-producers came up as we sat at luncheon. Each of the ladies had a magazine or weekly in hand. There was as much talking as eating in progress, or more. I presume that is the proper procedure or practice at “tea” luncheons. I am not a competent authority on “tea” proprieties.
One of the ladies “had the floor,” so to speak, and expatiated eloquently and at length on the merits of an electrically heated flat-iron or sad-iron, an advertisement of which she had found in the magazine she was scanning—a cloth smoother she had had in use for some three months. Three of the other matrons were wired—that is, their homes were electrically lighted. The others were getting their domiciliary illumination from what is vulgarly designated as the “Chicago Gas Trust,” at 85 cents per.
“Results?” Three of the assembled party desired to write for “full particulars” about that flat-iron at once.
My boss furnished paper, envelopes, pens and ink. My assigned duty in this business transaction was both simple and secondary. The boss ordered me to go over to the drug store, buy the stamps and mail those three letters.