“Possibly,” said our official, laughing. “But wait a bit. Look downstairs. As your mail falls in through that slot, or is brought in by a mailman, it is put through an ink-daubing apparatus—that’s it, right down in front of you—which totally ruins its stamp. How about your man’s photo, now?”
A good laugh rang around, and our official said:—
“Now a man sorts it according to its inscription, puts it into a canvas bag and aboard a train, or possibly an aircraft. But that bag has mail going to points a long way apart, so a man in a mail car sorts it out, so that Chicago won’t find mail in its bag which should go to California.”
At this point our giggling girl said:—
“Ooooo! I had a Christmas card for Missouri go way down to Mississippi!”
“How did you mark it?”
“I put M-i-s-s for Missouri.”
“Try M-o, and I wish you luck.”
As that laugh ran round, our official said:—
“Now you know that you can buy a long, narrow stamp which will hurry your mail along. So, as all mail in this building is put up in many a small bunch, all with such stamps attract a mailman, who will so wrap a bunch that that kind of a stamp will show up plainly. Upon its arrival at
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