it?" It is this absurd craze on the part of the public for letter-
writing that is spoiling the temper of the continental post-office
official. He does his best to discourage it.

"Look at them," he says to his assistant--the thoughtful German
Government is careful to provide every official with another official
for company, lest by sheer force of ennui he might be reduced to
taking interest in his work--"twenty of 'em, all in a row! Some of
'em been there for the last quarter of an hour.''

"Let 'em wait another quarter of an hour," advises the assistant;
"perhaps they'll go away."

"My dear fellow," he answers, "do you think I haven't tried that?
There's simply no getting rid of 'em. And it's always the same cry:
'Stamps! stamps! stamps!' 'Pon my word, I think they live on stamps,
some of 'em."

"Well let 'em have their stamps?" suggests the assistant, with a
burst of inspiration; "perhaps it will get rid of 'em."

[Why the Man in Uniform has, generally, sad Eyes.]

"What's the use?" wearily replies the older man. "There will only
come a fresh crowd when those are gone."

"Oh, well," argues the other, "that will be a change, anyhow. I'm
tired of looking at this lot."

I put it to a German post-office clerk once--a man I had been boring