on September 1, 1848. At this date the Lords of the Admiralty advertised for tenders to convey the mails viâ Singapore and Torres Straits. Storms and calms, aye, and lurking reefs, had to be reckoned with in those days of sails and spars. But on July 28, 1852, the smoke of the P. and O. steamer Chusan, the first steamship from England, was sighted in Melbourne, and on August 8 in Sydney. Since then the marine engineer has been continually improving the service, and now the mails are delivered in from twenty-eight to thirty days after leaving St. Martin's-le-Grand. A few days are saved by sending the bags overland between Calais and Brindisi, or Naples; but the French and Italian Governments exact an enormous toll for this privilege. (It is to be hoped that the happy effects of the entente cordiale will speedily extend to postal as well as diplomatic conventions.) At first the authorities thought a monthly service sufficient to meet all requirements, but the mercantile element was no doubt restive, and a fortnightly despatch was organized. Now the mails are sent off weekly, and I trust there will be soon a bi-weekly service.
It is interesting, in view of this wonderful 'shrinkage' of time and distance, to read the well-known letter of Charles Lamb to a friend at Sydney—a letter brimming over with humour, yet vividly reflecting the pathetic sense of separation then experienced.
'It is a sort of presumption to expect that one's thoughts should live so far.
'It is like writing for posterity.
'What security can I have that what I now send you for truth shall not, before you get it, unaccountably turn into a lie? I am going to the play this evening. You naturally lick your lips and envy me my felicity. Think but a moment … it is 1828.
'When I revert to the space that is between us, a length of passage enough to render obsolete the phrases of our English letters before they can reach you.'—'Distant Correspondents (1822).'
In 1756 the English packets were due in Dublin
