I should be ashamed to admit it, but I am not. There are limits to the endurance of even such a temperate-zone nature as that of the writer. The boss’ speech reached the limit. My patriotism was set all awry. Even my earnest desire to reduce the “deficit” in the postal service was, for the moment, forgotten—was submerged.
I took the 84 cents those friendly ladies had pooled on “biscuits” and the seven unsealed letters, assuring them I would certainly find the stamps. I then went up to my den, unlocked a drawer of my desk, found the stamps, made the enclosures, stamped and sealed the envelopes, and then came down and passed out on my assigned errand. I got back just as the “party” was donning its hat to depart for its several homes, assured it that its orders had been carried out, and, by direction of the boss, escorted home one of its members who had some distance to walk.
Now, I think I did my whole duty to that tea-party, and more than my duty to reduce the postal “deficit.”
I trust the “dear reader” will not have concluded or even thought that I am trying to be funny or humorous, nor even ludicrous. I have been writing of actual occurrences, and writing the facts, too, of those occurrences, as nearly as I can recall them after an interval of less than three months. I introduce the de facto happenings at our “tea party” here because they apply—because they illustrate, they evidence, they prove that the advertising pages of our periodicals are the pages which produce a large part, if indeed, not the larger part of our postal service revenues.
But we must look after our “biscuits” a little further.
The seven women at that tea party spent 84 cents for stamps to get a sample of those crackers. Fourteen cents of these stamps went to cancellation on the letters they mailed. The other 70 cents went to cancellation on the cracker packages which the cracker inventor sent them—cancelled at the fourth-class rate—cancelled at the postal carriage rate of sixteen cents a pound.
Is that all? No it is not all. It is only the first link in a postal revenue producing chain.
The manufacturer of that cracker or biscuit, as you may choose to call it, wrote each of those seven ladies a neat letter of thanks, and neatly giving a further boost to the biscuit. I know this because I have seen the seven letters—all “stock form” letters.
That contributed 14 cents more in postage stamps for cancellation.
Three of the ladies heard from that cracker baker four times. Their grocers probably had not put the cracker in stock. My boss got a second letter from the baker.