a high respect for the school-master; but among themselves the
weavers agreed that, even if he did write to the Government, Lizzie
Harrison, the post-mistress, would refuse to transmit the letter.
The more shrewd ones among us kept friends with both parties; for,
unless you could write "writ-hand," you could not compose a letter
without the school-master's assistance; and, unless Lizzie was so
courteous as to send it to its destination, it might lie--or so it
was thought--much too long in the box. A letter addressed by the
schoolmaster found great disfavor in Lizzie's eyes. You might
explain to her that you had merely called in his assistance because
you were a poor hand at writing yourself, but that was held no
excuse. Some addressed their own envelopes with much labor, and
sought to palm off the whole as their handiwork. It reflects on the
post-mistress somewhat that she had generally found them out by next
day, when, if in a specially vixenish mood, she did not hesitate to
upbraid them for their perfidy.

To post a letter you did not merely saunter to the post-office and
drop it into the box. The cautious correspondent first went into the
shop and explained to Lizzie how matters stood. She kept what she
called a bookseller's shop as well as the post-office; but the supply
of books corresponded exactly to the lack of demand for them, and her
chief trade was in nick-nacks, from marbles and money-boxes up to
concertinas. If he found the post-mistress in an amiable mood, which
was only now and then, the caller led up craftily to the object of
his visit. Having discussed the weather and the potato-disease, he
explained that his sister Mary, whom Lizzie would remember, had married
a fishmonger in Dundee. The fishmonger had lately started on himself
and was doing well. They had four children. The youngest had had a
severe attack of measles. No news had been got of Mary for twelve