The Postman's Story.

Thames Star, Volume XIV, Issue 4460, 21 April 1883, Page 1

The Postman's Story.

" As I was saying, it was Valentine's day, 1872. -My,route was from Seventh to Twelfth .on to Spf'uce street. The locality was a"good deal more fashionable then than now, and some very.high-toned folks lived there.- We'won't mention no names nor give no numbers, bat* the particular young lady I'm going to tell you about .lived just about Tenth street. I bad a'pretty big load and Was not in the best of temper with my work; but when a beautiful young lady "opened the door herself in her eagerness to get "the large envelope which was addressed to her,, and smiled her thanks at me, I felt a different man. Nor did I feel the worse after the hot cup of coffee which a servant had ready for me, as instructed by the young lady, for it was a bitterjraw morning, and the bullet wound in. the shoulder, which I got the second battle of Bull .Run, was twitching very bad. Now a postman can't help noticing his letters.a bit. Every body hasn Vgot a letter box to drop 'em in—of course', lam referring to routes of private houses — and you are often, kept - waiting a half minute or so at the door. The things I've read on postal cardi are a caution-, I can tell', you. . A postman learns a good deal accidentally about other people's affairs —but to come back to the. young lady- :. . "I took an,interest in her from that 14th day of February, and generally glanced at lier envelopes. She got a good many, but nearly all were, in ladies' hand- - writing ; letters from girl friends anil invitations to balls and receptions and such like, I guess. -The receptions were letters in a bold, masculine handwriting, all written by the (fame man; there was.no doubt that. At first ,1 brought them once a week, and then, after a little while, - every day and sometimes twice a day. She often took them in herself, and I always felt happy for the rest of tbe day. Her bright smile sort of went through me. Once or twice I received a letter from her to post to him/1 was sure, not that she told me so, but I could tell it was by the way she blushed when she handed them to me. I looked at the address and name. It was a broker on Third street. On the June following the Valentine's Day the family went away, and did not return from put of, town ..until October, but I did not see the young lady., nor did I have any letters for her. ' Hasn't she returned yet? ' I asked the - colored waiter. 'Ob, no, she won't b here till Christmas. She is now on the ,; "continong" with her husband. They were married-at Newport in August.' 1 Oh, J says Iran* I~thoiight no more of '-' the matter; events .had ' tjaken their natural course byLending in marriage, bs all properly regulated lore letters ought to do. - . ' " She came back with her husband at Christmas, and began housekeeping in the same, square as her family* so I delivered her letters. She saw me on New Year's Day, and did not forget me, either. What she gave me was sufficient' to buy my wife a warm cloak for the winter, with enough left over for a pair of shoes for the baby. The newly-married couple ; had a heap of letters of all sorts, kinds, . and descriptions. Invitations in any number for both of them, and plenty of female correspondence for her. He seemed to get letters from all parts of the world; between them they had more than all the rest of the square put to* gether. There seemed to be some change by April. The envelopes of the letters had the names of store-keepers on them, and doubtless contained bills. The following month similar letters came,very thickly indeed, and so did letters.with the names of lawyers on the upper right hand corner of the envelopes. He seemed to be always, at home, for he. often came to the door himself and took the letters from me, as if anxious for the..servants not to see them. A good looking man h« was, with a proud manner and a dissi« paled face. '•' ,'r-: ««We are going away to-morrow, said

the colored servant o' o morning, as I handed him the ordinary batch. "«Out of town P* I asked. "'Out of dis town/I guess." he .replied, with a"grin. 'The sheriff's offl eers are in the house.' V When I was delivering the letters the next day, a hack drove up to the door, and I lingered a moment out of curiosity. . -The lady came down leaning on her husband's arm, looking so miserable and altered I hardly recognised her. She .must have noticed the expression on my face for she nodded to me and smiled; bat such, a ghost of a smile I A few days afterward the things m the* house were sold by auction, and new people came to . lire there; and soon, amid the many thoughts of life, I forgot all about the young lady. ' , .».>." It was in the summer of 1877, when I got put on a route in German town. I was not very well, and though the country walking would do me good, so I changed routes, with the permission of the, postmaster, with a comrade who worked, as I said, in Germantown., Sorting out my letters, as I served one of the pretty, leafy arenues, I came across one addressed in the old familar name Mrs ■ " ' . and in the husband's handwriting. -The postmark was Colorado ; so he was away; that was evident. She was sitting on the porch of a pretty little cottage, with a child in. her arms. It was easily to see that she : was no longer rich. ' The dresses of herself and child, and the smallness and dirtiness of the Irish servant maid, who was cleaning~a parlour window, denoted the fact at a glance; but she did not look unhappy, and she knew me at once, "' Why, postman,' she exclaimed,' is it possible it can be you P' " • Yes, ma'am,' I says,' it is; thanking yon kindly for remembering me, and here is one of his letters for you.' " She took it from me with the old eagerness, and as she turned to go into the house I noticed her pressing it to her lips. He didn't write rery often to her—every two or three , weeks, not more, while sometimes much longer intervals elapsed. It used to make me quite miserable when I noticed her .pleading face as I passed morning after morning without anything for hef.- •.'' You are quite sure you hare not got one, postman,' she would ask. "'Quite sure, ma'am. The Western mail is late to-day—not delirered till tomorrow,' was my faltering excuse. "Christinas day arrived, and I had not delivered a letter from the husband since the middle of October. She no longer came to the.door now. The little serrant girl told me her mistress was nearly always ill. At last Ibrought a letter from Colorado —on the last day of the year; and then I delirered one regularly once or twice a week, until February. The lady began to come to the door again, looking something like her former bright self. "The 14th of February—Valentine's ■' Day-—came round, and I had a Colorado letter for the lady; but it was not in the husband's handwriting. She came to the , door. , "' Here is a valentine, ma'am, says I, cheerily, '1^ hope it will make you as happy as the ofie I delirered to you in Spruce street about fire years ago." " "' Thank you, postman,' she replied, ' and I hare got a hot cup of coffee for • 'you;'-- --'.■■■ w_ " She took the letter, eyed it curiously, and opened it with trembling fingers. I was watching her while Bipping my coffee —a glance an the contents, and she fell back lifeless. The little Irish girl came up-. immediately, and between us we carried the lady into the parlour, and laid her on the sofa. Then I took up my mail, big, for of course I could not wait, and continued my delirery. A few houses away lived a doctor, and I told his servant there wa6 a' sick lady who requird medical aid. I had no letters for the cottage the next morning, but the little serrant rushed out to tell me the lady was 1 dying,' and the letter from Colorado was from a police justice, saying the, husband had run away with a woman to Australia, taking with him a large sum of money he had stolen from his employers. The letter also said it was supposed,- where he was working, that, the woman, who was his companion, was married to him,~until a search among the defaulter's papers disclosed the exis tence of a wife in Philadelphia. Before the week had closed there was a bow of crape on the cottage door, and the doctor's certificate said, " Died of a broken heart.' Hare you.got a match about you sir; my pipe has gone out," and the postman trudged off homeward with his mate, the letter sorter.