The Intermountain Catholic. (Salt Lake City [Utah] ;) 1899-1920, 1909-04-10


has bush, the wan that's not the
tailor
well, bay. tell Phil Mcguire that
lives near Melia's bush, that James
O'Brien presents his compliments, and
Is sorry to say there is no letter. 1t
will come in good time, though, every
thing comes to him who waits. Good
day, my boy, and next time you come
!or a letter remember there's a foot
scraper outside the door, and that this
5 one of her majesty's postoflces."
/ never knew a more serious-minded
man than James O'Brien. Tall and
stately, with a clean-shaven, severe
lace, on which the words serious men,
tai strain were visibly written. never
looked at him but 1 was reminded of a
cabinet minister Totally taken up
With the cares of a village postoffice,
which at the most are but triiflng, you
would imagine, to see the way James
0'Brien transacted his business, that
very postoffice in the world depended
spon that insignificant one in the viii
age that / write about. Except to take
ais meals, he never quilted it, and none,
wen his own family, were allowed ever
% enter ii on any preteXt whatever. If
person called for letter, the door
which separated the postoffice from the
head appeared in the slit thus formed
and, after many formal inquiries about
the name, and every letter in the name,
the place of residence, and so forth, the
letter was handed over to the messen-
ger. And, goodness gracious, if you
wanted a. postal order or money order,
you might make up your mind to
stay Of at least two hours in the ktch-
en- while he made il out for you. and
while you waited, if you had your ears
open you could hear the sound of
opening books, the names of head Of
fees and local Offices, and more sharp
raps Of the postof1ice seal than were
ever given in the general postoffice in
Dublin in day. When the mail car
arrived in the morning, the driver, Jack
Mccormick. or Garibaldi, as he was
called, carried the mail bag to the post
office window, and James, opening the
window, would take in that mail bag
with as much care and ceremony as If
1t contained the whole bullion of the
Bank Of England. though, in reality. it
never contained more than a dozen let
ters and some newspapers. Laying the
mail bag on the counter, James would
consult his watch and put Mccormick
through his faCings in this way, while
he put down the latter's reply to his
You are two hours late, Mccormick
with her majesty's mails; what is the
reason?"
1T was an hour after me time afore
left the general postofice in D,
sor. They were busy, an cudn't find
me mail among all the hampers" or.
The shooting KEN off me wheel, an I
had to wait at Cassidy's forge to fix
1t, or, THE roads wor like ice an I
had to walk Charley Cthe horse) the
whole way"
You should be more punctual with
her majesty's mails. Have you a book >"
His. sor, / have"
We'll. enter in it the cause of YOUR
delay, and the exact time Of your stops, |
lest anything may turn up. and Won
have TO defend yourself. l must do nv
duty, Mccormick, an important post
Ike mine has its duties, and though
sometimes it may be unpleasant for me
to perform them, still 1 must. For good |
ness saSs, Mccormick, fix that tie of
yours. If there's anything / dislike. it's |
untidiness in public servants. and
there's two official buttons gone off your
coat Now, Mccormick, see to these |
things at once, for you owe it to the |
dignity Of the postoffice and me-"
Yis, sor, I'll see to thin at wanst.''
and Mccormick would turn away NUT |
tering:
IN see to me insides first. an him
an his dignities can wait until there's |
q blue moon"
Every time 1 expect a letter. an
maybe it's wanst in tin years / get |
wan" says Jim Scully, speaking on
one occasion to the group around him |
the morning that l expect it, 1 have |
10 put on me Sunday suit, an polish
meself up, on thin whin l go into the
postoff1ce have TO bow an scrape. an
unless / give me full name. James
Michael Scully, I'd never git it. whv
they put Michael on me, 1 don't know. |
for Tn thinkin' there's very little oy |
the archangil about me, bud whether
there is or not, 1 have to sound out
Michael. wud all the stringth in me
morthial system, afore I get the let
ter"
We'll, TO give O'Brien his due, bows"
replies Jack Mccormick. in answer to
Scully's remark, Pm driving the mail
car now for twelve years, an though |
was late always, an never early, an
not over perlite (polite) in me CONVEX
sashuns, he never reported. bud whin
the name scut Of a postmaster at Clo-
neen did (the postmaster wud the de-
ceitful smile, an ye're a good fellow
~ DIASIi LUX me part an SAID was a |
living example ov irregularity (regu-
larity). As a boy I never dreaded any
Dne more than James O'Brien, the
postmaster. The very look of him
troze me, and believed he belonged to
, different earth to ours. He passed us
1t our play with his head in the air
md a severe frown on his face; he
came to church on the Sundays, and
HIS walk and gait was verify puritan
lcal; he sat bold upright in his seat,
without the least movement of the
body, and, my gracious, his salute to
Father Tom or Father Denis was as
elaborate and as ceremonial as any
courtier at the court of Louis. 1
never saw him laugh, and it seemed
that the weight of her majesty's bust
ness precluded the very semblance of A
smile. James O'Brien was once asked
TO Join the United Irish League, and
before making answer he took down
the postoff1ce regulations and, pointing ]
to rule there which prohibited him
from taking part in such assemblies,
be said, grandly:
Are you tired OF your postmas-
ter?" :
No came the answer.
We'll. up to this have obeyed the Z
etter of the postoffice regulations, and
though my heart is all for old Ire I
and's welfare, as long as 1 occupy my {
present position, I cannot join your So !
,iety. but kere is my subscription {