, 1888-08-03
MAIL CARRIERS, EXPERIENCES.
Some of the Tales They Can Ten-Cha
with a Reporter.

Some of the Tales They Can Ten-Chat
will a Reporter.
What family jars has the letter carrier
witnessed; of what romantic stories has
he been the bearerl Many little missives
has he carried to the love sick maiden,
which she has tenderly placed beneath
her pillow at night, to sleep and to dream
on. Then again what bitter memories
have some of his errands evoked! What
aching hearts nave longed for absent
loved snes, for some message that would
tell of their existence, and when death
raped at the door the letter carrier was
the first to bear the announcement.
These were the thoughts that suggested
themselves to a reporter the other day as
he contemplated "one of the best hurry
ing along from door to door of a popu-
lous tenement district. The shrin whistle
sounded at frequent intervals denoted
his coming, and from window and base
ment dozens of heads protruded and
asked the one all absorbing question,
Anything for meT' 1t was amusing to
see their different expressions as they re-
ceived the little envelopes. Some were
enraptured and kissed the paper passion
ately, while others frowned and glanced
anxiously at the bearer. Perhaps some
creditor demanded payment for an over
due bill, or perhaps the scrawl meant
even more.
You would like to know just what
kind of life this isl" remarked a carrier.
well, it is not quite as rosy at it appears.
1t is getting better, however, every
year, and now that we are about to par
ticipate in the benefits of the eight hour
law work will be more pleasant"
The reporter had followed the carrier
from block to block until every letter had
been delivered. Then, as he had a few
mements to spare, the gray coated Of
fetal sat dow to tell his story.
81 don't know of any business where
we'see more of human life thar ours" he
commenced. "The lights and shadows
of life are pretty distinctly marked and
we see them both. Sometimes we feel
just as much pleasure in delivering a let
ter as the receiver in getting it. Some
times when an ominous black bordered
envelope falls into our hands we are sorry
that we have to deliver it. Just what
hours we will nave to work after the re-
arrangement 1 do not know" he said.
"a present our duties are pretty oner-
GUS. In the branch offices collectors
have to report as early as A 40 o'clock in
the morning, or five minutes before the
regular time for starting out. Forty-fve
minutes are then consumed in collecting
from the various boxes, after which we
return to the station with the mail. Then
we start to face up.
"You don't know what facing up
means? Well, that is what we call sort
ing our mail and getting it in order for
our route. Facing up takes all the time
up to 6 O'Clock. Then we start out and
Ala-n a. -
return to tbAofice. Collections have in
the meantime been made and again we
start facing up.
Every trip is but a repetition of the
other. We make them hourly, and are
kept constantly on the move until II
O'Clock. Then we swing. This is what
we call taking a rest. In other words,
there is no work for us to do until 4
o'clock in the afternoon. Then we come
on again and work until the darkness of
evening has fallen over the city.
"You van to know what we see on
the reuter-" and the letter carrier busted
afew grains of cigar ashes from his bag.
"Well, it is funny just what we do see;
then again it Is sad. The saddest of all
my experience occurred one day when l
delivered a letter to an old man who
lived alone in a dilapidated house on
Park row. 1t was a mourning letter,
and as / handed it to him the old mans
fingers trembled. He tore it open con-
vulsively, and IS he read the lines he
tottered and fell into my arms. This
letter was from his daughter, who lived
with her brothers in a fashionable house
up town. 1t stated that her mother, the
old mans wife, was dead inc would be
buried that afternoon. The girl also
warned her father no to attend the
funeral or there would be a scene, as his
own sons would not permit him there.
HE wept as he told me his story.
There had been a quarrel, and he had
been driven from home. He had never
darkened it up to that time. That day
my duties brought me around Grace
church. I saw the funeral cortege, but
h attracted me most was the figure
of the old man outside on the sidewalk.
His lips quivered with emotion as he saw
b casket that contained the remains of
his wife, but he dared not approach. He
held a daisy in his hand, perhaps in re-
membrance of other and happier days,
and be was still turning it idly when 1
passed along.
'I,Yes, it is a funny kind of life, half
sunshine, half clouds. We have our
oTn troubles to worry us as well as other
peoples. We meet all nationalities, and
hear all kinds Of languages spoken. We
get letters with writing such as none
could understand; we have TO examine
and look out for log letters, and are held
responsible for any error. Leg letters
are undirected one. We are supposed
10 know all Our route, and see that it
gets to its proper destination. Well, it
Is time for me to start, so good-by," and
the Letter carrier walked briskly away
New York Star.