Many a pictorial curiosity passes through the post; and the industrious
letter-sorter is often bewildered as to where to despatch missives,
the envelopes of which bear hieroglyphics which would positively
out-Egypt Egypt. Through the courtesy of Sir Arthur Blackwood, we
are in a position to reproduce in these pages--for the first time in
any publication--a number of these postal puzzles and pictures--the
pictures, in many instances, being as clever as they are humorous.
Immediately such curiosities reach St. Martin's-le-Grand, they are
passed on to a number of young men talented in the use of pencil and
brush, who make rapid copies of them, the fac-similes being pasted in
one of the three great "Scrap Books" used entirely for this purpose.
We are assured by the authorities that there is no delay occasioned by
this, and in every instance the letters temporarily under the care of
the Post Office artists catch the post for which they are intended.
Some slight delay may possibly be occasioned by the "puzzles"; but,
when our readers have glanced over one or two specimens, they will
unhesitatingly say that it is a big plume in the cap of the Post Office
that they ever reached their destination at all.
All sorts and conditions of men are represented in the leaves of these
scrap books. Her Majesty's Private Secretary finds himself addressed
as--
"Sur Genarell
Pansebe our Queens
Privet Pus Keeper
Bucom Palacs."
A seafaring man evidently expected at the Sailors' Home is addressed,
"Walstrets, Selorshom Tebiekald for"; which, being interpreted, means,
"Sailors' Home, Wells-street: To be called for." The School of Gunnery
at Shoeburyness is set out on an envelope as "Scool of Goonery, Rile
Hort Tilbrery, Shoevebry." "Bryracky" stands for Billericay, a small
market town in Essex; Jarrow-on-Tyne is spelt "Jeripintine"; the Hanley
Potteries are "Harley Potlerings"; whilst "Pambore near Beas and Stoke,
Ence," is intended for Pamber, near Basingstoke, Hants. Fortunately for
somebody at the Opera Comique Theatre, the "Hoppera cummick theatrer"
found him; an envelope addressed, "For the War Office London to the
Master of it," also got into the right channel. But we are rather in
doubt as to whether a communication from the United States addressed
to "John Smith, Esq., or any intelligent Smith, London, England," or
possibly a proposal from some unknown admirer for "Miss Annie W--,
London, address not known," ever reached their rightful owners.
[Illustration: FIG. 1.]
Her Majesty has been the recipient of some remarkably addressed
envelopes. There is one which says that the writer of the communication
is too poor to pay for a stamp (Fig. 1), whilst a loyal and poetically
inclined subject enthusiastically bursts into verse, which constitutes
the address:--
"To Her Most Gracious Majesty the Queen:
Long may she live to wield a sway
The mightiest earth has seen;
Long may her loyal people pray,
God bless our Empress Queen."
Whatever it lacks in poetic merit is atoned for by the poet's loyalty.
[Illustration: FIG. 2.]
A black-edged envelope reveals a curious address on a letter intended
for a Frenchman. All it has is the man's name, with "Sailing on Sunday
night, half-past three o'clock, Angleterre" (Fig. 2). This was a
decidedly smart move on the part of the Frenchman's correspondent. The
letter was faithfully delivered, the postal authorities going down
to the boat which left this country at that hour, on board of which
they found Monsieur. A well-known firm of music publishers were put
down as living in "Cocks and Hens," otherwise the Poultry; whilst an
enterprising grocer of Naples gave the Post Office a slight test of
far-sightedness in discovering addresses, when, for a wager, he drew on
the envelope a couple of pears, adding the word London (Fig. 3). It is
needless to say for whom this was intended.
[Illustration: FIG. 3.]
The sending of a solitary postage stamp through the post with the
name, address, and message written on the gummed side, is of frequent
occurrence. It is, however, a foolish practice, for not only is the
stamp likely to be lost amongst the shoals of letters, but no small
amount of inconvenience is caused to the sorters and other officials.
If this should meet the eye of the gentleman who wrote on a postage
stamp (Fig. 4) to a generously disposed friend, "Meet me to-night
without fail. Fail not--_I am hard up_," will he remember that, though
he probably parted with his last penny, considering the state of his
exchequer, he ran a great risk of remaining still hard up, owing to
non-delivery of his communication?
[Illustration]
[Illustration: FIG. 4.]
The missive for a fishmonger at St. Albans who lives "Opposite the town
pump," found him (Fig. 5).
[Illustration: FIG. 5.]
We now turn to the artistic creations. One of the scrap books is
devoted to fac-similes of letters intended for distant parts of the
world. Many most humorously addressed envelopes were received by our
soldiers during the Egyptian War. There is one with a redcoat in a very
awkward predicament. He is trying to shelter his trembling form amongst
the foliage of a tropical plant, and is suggestively labelled "Up a
tree," for a small army of aggravating alligators are waiting for him
below, and one more hungry than his companions has already commenced to
sample Tommy Atkins' helmet. Another is addressed to a lance-corporal
at Christmas-time. He is standing with his tongue out for inspection
by an officer, and the sender has unkindly suggested that this is "the
results of too much Christmas duff." These little postal humours are
decidedly personal.
One to a naval man at South Africa has "Peace" typified by a
blue-jacket hobbling along on a couple of crutches, minus his legs.
Another from Cheltenham to Port Elizabeth has a highly coloured drawing
of a big policeman chasing a small and bony dog, "Ye Cheltenham Bobby
sees a cheeky dog in the park." The animal's impudence lies in the fact
that he had dared to wear the prescribed muzzle on his tail instead of
on his head.
A visitor to Broadstairs finds the name of this seaside resort
represented by a pair of immense optics remarkably wide open (Fig. 6).
[Illustration: FIG. 6.]
[Illustration: FIG. 7.]
[Illustration: FIG. 8.]
An Irishman has adopted a good means of making the donkey he is riding
go (Fig. 7). He is holding a bunch of carrots in front of the animal,
which the energetic creature is frantically endeavouring to reach.
Hence the pace. There rests a traveller, far from home, on his hotel
bed. Visions in the distance appear of a wife washing the children
and putting them to bed. The traveller may be happy in his domestic
dreams, but he does not know that the mice are seeking refuge for
the night within his boots, which are thrown down at the foot of the
bedstead (Fig. 8). A Mrs. Cook was the recipient of a wrapper on which
a sportsman is seen "missing" a hare with his gun--the animal making a
rapid retreat. Is this meant for "miss his cook?" (Fig. 9). Indeed,
animals are well represented amongst the humours of the Post Office.
An elephant is amusing itself on a euphonium, with its trunk to the
mouthpiece, a crocodile is after a very diminutive boy wishing him "A
Merry Christmas"; and a vocalist receives a view of house-tops and
chimney-pots, round which cats are raising their voices, and a note in
the corner to the effect that "the opera season has commenced." Perhaps
the cleverest of these animal studies is that of the method employed
by a number of mice to secure the meat of a pet puppy. Whilst the dog
was innocently sleeping against a small perch a mouse has heroically
climbed to the summit of it, and being the fortunate possessor of a
tail both strong and long, has wound it round the poor puppy's neck
whilst its relations are feeding in perfect safety and contentment
(Fig. 10).
[Illustration: FIG. 9.]
[Illustration: FIG. 10.]
Matrimonial squabbles are not missing. One is an Irish scene. Pat,
to escape the wrath of his loving wife, has shut himself up in his
hut, and appears at the window with a radiant smile, alas! only of
a temporary kind, we fear. For at the door is standing a lady armed
with a mighty shillelagh, over whose head is written the refrain of a
popular ballad, "Waiting here to meet her little darling!" Songs, it
seems, are frequently quoted. Mephistopheles, in his traditional red,
is eyeing a young lady, and declaring "I shall have her by and by." A
banjoist is fingering his instrument whilst giving expression to his
feelings with
"But whilst I listen to thy voice,
Thy face I never see."
The artist has correctly suggested the reason by writing over the
musician's countenance the words "No wonder!" "My love, she's but
a lassie yet," says an ardent swain to his sweetheart, in full view
of the postman, but one song seems to have been singled out for the
purpose of adding to the artistic beauty of many an envelope. The
picture is usually that of a not altogether fascinating damsel sitting
at a piano, or occupied on some other musical instrument. The head is
entirely destitute of what is generally to be seen growing in abundance
there, and surrounded by a small and select party, she is obliging them
with "My mother bids me bind my hair!"
The positions occupied by the postage stamps are many. Often a
gentleman is sitting on it, other times carrying it on his back,
but the favourite place seems to be as the sign of an inn--"The
Queen's Head." One of such hostelries shows a person leaving the
house in anything but a fit and proper state, over whose head may be
seen the concluding portion of the familiar sign of many a country
public-house--"licensed to be drunk on the premises." An exceedingly
original drawing is that of a corkscrew with a merry expression about
it, in the shape of a young man proceeding to draw the cork of a bottle
in the form of a young lady, and drinking up the contents. This was
addressed to a young lady, and suggests the affectionate disposition of
the gentleman who sent it. Tokens of love, indeed, abound. One gouty
being on crutches, and liberally bandaged, says, "I am going to be
nursed by Miss ----," and here follows the address.
Amongst the miscellaneous items is a lady puffing from her mouth the
name and address of the recipient (Fig. 11).
[Illustration: FIG. 11.]
[Illustration: FIG. 12.]
A lady's name is cleverly worked in amongst the wings of a butterfly
(Fig. 12); whilst the owner of a certain envelope, presumably a
bachelor, has all his articles of clothing, down to his stockings,
scattered over the wrapper, with the postage-stamp on a red flannel
shirt, and the address displayed on a white dress ditto (Fig. 13).
[Illustration: FIG. 13.]
[Illustration: FIG. 14.]
Not the least interesting sketches are those typical of the country
wherever the person addressed is at that moment residing. The artist
has in Fig. 14 cleverly utilised Pat's cart and the shafts thereof as
a means of drawing the postman's polite attention to the whereabouts
of a representative of wars alarms. The sign-post, too, suggestively
points to the town, and the milestone has a space for the stamp. We
are inclined to admire the designer's ideas of a pig on paper, but his
birds on the sign-post are somewhat wanting in figure and plumage.
Niggers are numerous. A diminutive, but courageous inhabitant of
darkest Africa has converted an ostrich into a species of feathered
postman (Fig. 15). The youthful darkey appears to be bidding his
steed to "go on"--or words to that effect. The obedient ostrich, with
straining neck, is hurrying along to "Hy. Jones, Esquire."
[Illustration: FIG. 15.]
(_To be continued._)
_Jenny._