Years flew by. The daily routine at St. Martin's-le-Grand went on; the
mails departed and came in with unvarying regularity; in the working of
the vast machine good men and boys rose to the surface, and bad ones
went down. Among the former were Phil Maylands and Peter Pax.
The latter, in course of time, rose to the rank of Inspector, in which
condition he gradually developed a pretty pair of brown whiskers and a
wonderful capacity for the performance of duty. He also rose to the
altitude of five feet six inches, at which point he stuck fast, and
continued the process of increase laterally. Pax, however, could not
become reconciled to city life. He did his work cheerfully and with all
his might, because it was his nature so to do, but he buoyed up his
spirits--so he was wont to say--by fixing his eye on the
Postmaster-Generalship and a suburban villa on the Thames.
His friend Phil, on the contrary, was quite pleased with city life, and
devoted himself with such untiring energy to his work, and to his own
education, that he came ere long to be noted as the youth who knew
everything. Faults he had, undoubtedly, and his firm, severe way of
expressing his opinions raised him a few enemies in the Post-Office, but
he attained at last to the condition of being so useful and so
trustworthy as to make men feel that he was almost indispensable. They
felt as if they could not get on without him.
When man or boy comes to this point, success is inevitable. Phil soon
became a favourite with the heads of departments. The Chief of the
Post-Office himself at last came to hear of him, and, finding that he
was more than capable of passing the requisite examinations, he raised
him from the ranks and made him a clerk in the Savings-Bank Department.
Having attained to this position, with a good salary for a single man,
and a prospect of a steady rise, Phil set about the accomplishment of
the darling wish of his heart. He obtained leave of absence, went over
to the west of Ireland, and took Rocky Cottage by storm.
"Mother dear," he said, almost before he had sat down, "I'm promoted.
I'm rich--comparatively. I've taken a house--a small house--at
Nottinghill, and your room in it is ready for you; so pack up at once,
for we leave this to-morrow afternoon."
"You jest, Phil."
"I'm in earnest, mother."
"But it is impossible," said the good lady, looking anxiously round; "I
cannot pack up on so short notice. And the furniture--"
"It's all arranged, mother," said Phil, stroking the curls of a
strapping boy who no longer went by the name of Baby, but was familiarly
known as Jim. "Being aware of your desire to get rid of the furniture,
I have arranged with a man in Howlin' Cove to take it at a valuation.
He comes out to value it this evening, so you've nothing to do but pack
up your trunks. With the aid of Madge and Jim we'll manage that in no
time."
"Sure we'll do it in less than no time!" cried Jim, who was a true son
of Erin.
"You see, mother," continued Phil, "my leave extends only to four days.
I have therefore ordered a coach--a sort of Noah's Ark--the biggest
thing I could hire at the Cove--to take you and all your belongings to
the railway tomorrow evening. We'll travel all night, and so get to
London on Thursday. May expects you. May and I have settled it all, so
you needn't look thunderstruck. If I hadn't known for certain that
you'd be glad to come and live with us I would not have arranged it at
all. If I had not known equally well that your fluttering bird of a
heart would have been totally upset at the prospect, I would have
consulted you beforehand. As it is, the die is cast. Your fate is
fixed. Nothing can reverse the decrees that have gone forth, so it's as
well to make your mind easy and go to work."
Mrs Maylands wisely submitted. Three days afterwards she found herself
in London, in a very small but charming cottage in an out-of-the-way
corner of Nottinghill.
It was a perfect _bijou_ of a cottage; very small--only two stories--
with ceilings that a tall man could touch, and a trellis-work porch at
the front door, and a little garden all to itself, and an ivy wall that
shut out the curious public, but did not interfere with the sky, a patch
of which gleamed through between two great palatial residences hard by,
like a benignant eye.
"This is our new home, mother, and we have got it at such a low rent
from Sir James Clubley, our landlord, that your income, coupled with
May's salary and mine, will enable us easily to make the two ends meet,
if we manage economically."
As he spoke, Phil seized the poker, and, with an utter disregard of the
high price of coal, caused the fire to roar joyously up the chimney.
It was a brilliant winter day. White gems sparkled on the branches of
the trees, and Jim was already commencing that course of romping which
had, up to that date, strewn his path through life with wreck and ruin.
Madge was investigating the capabilities of cupboards and larders, under
the care of a small maid-of-all-work.
"May won't be home till after dark," said Phil. "She could not get away
from duty to meet us. I shall telegraph to her that we have arrived,
and that I shall meet her under the portico of the Post-Office and fetch
her home this evening."
"It is an amazing thing that telegraph! To think that one can send
messages and make appointments so quickly!" remarked Mrs Maylands.
"Why, mother," said Phil, with a laugh, "that is nothing to what can
be--and is--done with it every day. I have a friend in the City who
does a great part of his business with India by telegraph. The charge
is four shillings and sixpence a word, and if a word has more than ten
letters it is charged as two words. A registered address also costs a
guinea, so, you see, telegraphic correspondence with India is expensive.
Business men have therefore fallen on the plan of writing out lists of
words, each of which means a longish sentence. This plan is so
thoroughly carried out that books like thick dictionaries are now
printed and regularly used.--What would you think, now, of `_Obstinate
Kangaroo_' for a message?"
"I would think it nonsense, Phil."
"Nevertheless, mother, it covers sense. A Quebec timber-merchant
telegraphed these identical words the other day to a friend of mine, and
when the friend turned up the words `obstinate kangaroo' in his
corresponding code, he found the translation to be, `Demand is improving
for Ohio or Michigan white oak (planks), 16 inches and upwards.'"
"You _don't_ say so!" exclaimed Mrs Maylands, raising both hands and
eyebrows.
"Yes I do, mother, and in my City friend's code the word `_Blazing_'
means `_Quality is approved_,' while `_Blissful_' signifies `What is the
smallest quantity you require?'"
"Do you mean, Phil," asked the widow, with a perplexed look, "that if I
were a man of business, and wanted to ask a customer in India _what was
the smallest quantity of a thing he required_, I should have to
telegraph only the word `_Blissful_'?"
"Only that, mother. A blissful state of brevity to have come to, isn't
it? And some of the telegraph clerks fall into queer mistakes, too,
owing to their ignorance. One of the rules is that the words sent must
be _bona fide_ words--not a mere unmeaning arrangement of letters. My
City friend told me that on three different occasions telegrams of his
were refused, because the words were not known, yet each of them was
taken from the Bible! One of the telegrams was, `_Blastus unholy_.'"
"Oh, Phil, how _can_ you!" exclaimed Mrs Maylands, with a shocked look.
"Well, mother, what's wrong in that?"
"You know very well, Phil, that `Blast us' is not in the Bible at all,
and that it is a very awful species of slang swearing."
"So the telegraph clerk thought," returned Phil, "but when my City
friend pointed out that Blastus was `the king's chamberlain' they were
obliged to let the telegram go. `_Blastus_' stands for `_superior
quality_,' and `_unholy_' for `_Offer is open for three days from time
of despatch of telegram_.' Using the same code, if a merchant wants to
ask a Calcutta friend the question--`_How is the coming crop as regards
extent and appearance_?' he merely telegraphs the word `_Hamlet_.' If
he wishes to say `_Bills of lading go forward by this mail, Invoices
will follow_,' he has only to telegraph `_Heretic_.' For the most part,
the compilers of these codes seem to have used the words arbitrarily,
for the word `_Ellwood_' has no visible connection with the words `_Blue
Velvet_,' which it represents; neither is there connection between
`_Doves_' and `_French Brandy_,' nor between `_Collapse_' and `_Scotch
Coals_,' though there does seem to have been a gleam of significance
when they fixed on `_Downward_' to represent `_Irish Whisky_.'"
"That's true, Phil, there was a touch of sense there, if not sarcasm,"
said the widow heartily, for she was an abhorrer of strong drink!
"Then, mother, think of the saving of time accomplished by the
telegraph. In days not long past, if a merchant in India wished to
transact business with another in New York he had to write a letter
which took months to make the voyage out, and his correspondent had to
write a reply which took about the same time to return. Now, not long
ago the head of an Indian house wanted a ship-load of something (I
forget what) from New York. He telegraphed a few unconnected words to
my City friend in London. If there had been no obstruction of any kind
the message could have been flashed from Bombay to London in a few
seconds; as it was, it made the journey in three hours. My friend, who
received it in the forenoon, telegraphed to New York, transacted the
business, received a reply from New York, and telegraphed back to Bombay
that the order was given and in process of execution before five p.m. on
the same day. Thus a commercial transaction between India and America,
_via_ England, involving, perhaps, thousands of pounds, was completed at
the cost of a few pounds between breakfast and dinner. In other words,
Bombay aroused New York to action by means of a flash of electricity
within twenty-four hours."
"Phil," remarked Mrs Maylands, with a sigh, "don't you think that man
has now made almost all the discoveries that it is possible to make?"
"Why, no, mother, I think he is only on the threshold of discovery yet.
The thought has sometimes come into my mind with tremendous power, that
as God is infinite, and His knowledge infinite, there is, as it were, a
necessity that we shall go on learning something new for ever!--But that
is too deep a subject to enter on just now," said Phil, rising, "for I
must go and send off my telegram to May--she will be anxious to hear
about you, poor girl. You must not be troubled when you see how the
roses have faded from her cheeks. She is in good enough health, but I
fear the telegraph service is too heavy for her, and the City air is not
so bracing as that of the west of Ireland."
Mrs Maylands was quite prepared for the change referred to, for she
knew, what Phil did not know, that it was neither the telegraph nor the
City that had robbed May of the bloom of youth and health.