was felt to be supremely delicate to buy only the highest priced stamps,
without reference to their adequacy; then mere QUANTITY was sought; then
outgoing letters were all over-paid and stamped in outrageous proportion
to their weight and even size. The imbecility of this, and its probable
effect on the reputation of Laurel Run at the General Post-office, being
pointed out by Mrs. Baker, stamps were adopted as local currency,
and even for decorative purposes on mirrors and the walls of cabins.
Everybody wrote letters, with the result, however, that those SENT were
ludicrously and suspiciously in excess of those received. To obviate
this, select parties made forced journeys to Hickory Hill, the next
post-office, with letters and circulars addressed to themselves at
Laurel Run. How long the extravagance would have continued is not
known, but it was not until it was rumored that, in consequence of
this excessive flow of business, the Department had concluded that a
postMASTER would be better fitted for the place that it abated, and a
compromise was effected with the General Office by a permanent salary to
the postmistress.

Such was the history of Mrs. Baker, who had just finished her afternoon
levee, nodded a smiling "good-by" to her last customer, and closed her
shutter again. Then she took up her own letters, but, before reading
them, glanced, with a pretty impatience, at the two official envelopes
addressed to herself, which she had shelved. They were generally a "lot
of new rules," or notifications, or "absurd" questions which had nothing
to do with Laurel Run and only bothered her and "made her head ache,"
and she had usually referred them to her admiring neighbor at Hickory
Hill for explanation, who had generally returned them to her with the
brief indorsement, "Purp stuff, don't bother," or, "Hog wash, let it
slide." She remembered now that he had not returned the last two. With
knitted brows and a slight pout she put aside her private correspondence