During the processions which took place to commemorate the Diamond Jubilee of Queen Victoria, one of the most interesting features was the prominence given to the soldiers of the Empire. If it were possible to collect together a similar representative gathering of men who have served their sovereign in a civil capacity, a selection of the postmen of the Empire would be quite as interesting and perhaps equally picturesque. And if, in addition to the men, there could also pass through the streets of London the various means by which the mails are carried to their destination, what an object-lesson it would be in the activities of the Post Office! In this country the horse, the motor van, and the railway train are the usual bearers of his Majesty's mails—in addition, of course, to the ubiquitous postman. But the letter-carriers from other parts of the Empire would include the dog from British Columbia, the elephant from India, the camel from the Cape, and the pigeon from New Zealand.

Great Britain was the pioneer of the Penny Post, and one of the benefits now associated with her Empire is that throughout practically its whole extent a penny is the minimum charge for a letter between any particular colony and the mother country. The United States has also been included in the countries sharing this privilege, and the term “Imperial Penny Postage,” which was for a long time the battle-cry of postal reformers, has therefore ceased to have any but a sentimental meaning. It is highly probable that before many years pass European countries will also join with Great Britain in reducing the charge for international postage. Meantime, at any rate, the English-speaking nations of the world are linked together by the Penny Post. Credit must be given to Mr. Henniker Heaton and other postal reformers for the way in which, during the later years of the nineteenth century, they kept this question to the front, and educated public opinion, both in the colonies and this country, to the point of demanding the reform from the respective governments. But the times were also favourable to the accomplishment of the idea. There will always probably be great differences of opinion on various phases of Mr. Chamberlain's career; but I think future generations will be unanimous as to the value of the services he rendered to the Empire, when as Secretary of State for the Colonies he brought home to his countrymen, in a way that had never been attempted before, their responsibility to our dependencies and colonies. The linking up of the Empire by means of the Penny Post was a portion of his policy.

Let me begin with India. There had been, previous to our occupation of that country, many attempts made at establishing postal organisations; but like those in our own land previous to the seventeenth century, they were maintained not for the public but for the use of the Government. Not until the East India Company ceased to be, and the English Government took over the whole business of administration, was a really efficient postal service organised. The broad lines of the British postal system are followed in India, though the postal and telegraph administrations are separated. In the annual report you will find elaborate tables of Post Office figures, and records which have been beaten, and until you come to the section dealing with the postal incidents during the year you might fancy you were reading a report of the British Postmaster-General. It is the table of incidents which reveals to us what service in India means to the postal servant. The figures and official language of the report do not hide from us the enormous difficulties in working the service in an immense country of over 150 separate languages, where railway journeys are reckoned by days, and where caste enters even into Post Office questions.

One of the special Indian conditions is the prevalence of plague; post offices are sometimes removed temporarily from this cause, and accommodation is found in tents. Money is given to officers who have displayed special courage in the face of exceptional risks, or it is given to the surviving representatives of men who died of plague while in the execution of their duty.

Then there are the daily risks of a service carried on in a country subject to great convulsions of Nature and where wild beasts abound. In one year this was the chapter of accidents. There were thirty-two highway robberies of the mail, of which twenty occurred in British territory and eight in native States. No life was lost, but in nineteen cases the mail carriers were more or less seriously injured. Other casualties in the same year were the loss of a mail steamer and all hands by a cyclone, the sinking of a steam launch in the Gulf of Cutch, and the wrecking of the mail train from Madras to Bombay owing to the destruction of a bridge by flood. The mail line at Gilgit was twice overwhelmed by avalanches, two runners were drowned while trying to cross flooded streams, an overseer in Assam was attacked by a wild buffalo and died of his wounds, and a village postman in Madras was mauled to death by two bears. In Eastern Bengal a postmaster was murdered and his postman was wounded by dacoits, and another postman was murdered in a hut. As many as twenty-three post offices were burnt down, three were blown down, and three were washed away by floods.

Truly there are perils connected with the Indian postal service of which we know nothing in Great Britain.

In the chapter of accidents for another year we read of a mail runner who was carried away in broad daylight by a man-eating tiger, another mail runner was attacked by a wolf described as “the terror of the country side,” but he succeeded in killing the animal after a severe struggle. “Slain by a tiger,” “badly mauled by a leopard,” are descriptions of the accidents to other postal servants.

Even that slow-moving animal the elephant is in some districts in India the carrier of his Majesty's mails. In the tea district may be seen post offices built on piles to get above the swamp, and the elephant is the carrier at the last stage of the journey of a letter which probably started in a limited mail train.

The typical postman of India is the runner or “harkara.” The railways in that country are mostly trunk lines, and runners are employed for the whole internal network of postal lines, mail carts being used only in very few places where the weight of the mails is particularly heavy. The pay of the runner is usually not more than Rs. 5 a month; in a few districts it is as much as Rs. 7; while in others it falls to Rs. 4. This is equivalent to 7s. or 8s. a month, and on this modest sum the Indian runner can live, and perhaps bring up a family. It is said of him that “he has no idea of luxuries,” and perhaps for his own sake this is fortunate.

The Department provides him with a mud stage hut, and the local landlord is often induced to give the runner a small piece of land, in cultivating which he spends most of his leisure time, and perhaps increases his salary by growing eatables which he can sell.

The runner's dress is a short white cotton coat and a dhotee tied lightly round his loins, coming nearly to the knees, so as not to interfere with the free movement of his limbs. He wears a red pugaree for a head-dress. Then he has a leather belt and a spear with bells. The bells are a concession to an old superstition, as they are supposed to frighten away evil spirits and wild animals.

The imagination of Rudyard Kipling was stirred by the runner tearing through the jungle with his staff and ringing bells. We all know the verses. I will quote two only:—

India has also its postwomen: I do not know whether many of them are runners. An old native woman in one district delivered letters for twenty years to the satisfaction of the inhabitants. She could neither read nor write, but her wonderful knowledge of the place and the residents enabled her to deliver her letters with perfect correctness after the addresses had been read out to her.

India has also its humours in correspondence. Many of the postmasters of small village offices have a very superficial knowledge of the Queen's English. The vagaries of Baboo-English flourish in the Indian Post Office.

An ordinary parcel was delivered to G. Humfress, whereas it was addressed by the sender as R. Humfress. The explanation of the sub-postmaster was: “G. Humfress and R. Humfress are both wife and husband to each other. They don't object to the delivery of the parcel to their address to any one of them.”

Another explanation of an error was: “Your Honor may be right, I may be wrong; I may be right and Honor wrong; let Honor give me back the fine, and then at the day of resurrection, when all hearts will be open, if I am wrong I will most gladly, Sir, return your Honor the money.” This seems a fair offer.

Here is an application for a post in the service:—

“Sir,—Being educated in the Calcutta and by your favour passed B.A. examination, I now venture to approach the throne of your honour's goodness in hopes that some of the crumbs which falls from the rich man's table may be available for me.

“Sir, I am expert in many things, and desire only to be tried to show my agility in mathematics and other languages, being hopeful to stand on my own bottom without help for any if I once am made glad with the object of my desire.

“In the Bible of your honour it is said that man's life is but a span, which is equal to five inches, also it is stated few men live at so great an age as four scores, and as my talents are now in their blooming prime they may not be rusted in obscurity by delay on the matter.

“Your honour will therefore kindly appoint me without further notice. As to the post which I am to occupy, that is left to your honour's discretion, who being an allwise man will no doubt judge it properly.”

A Superintendent once received a petition for leave. It started with “Sir,” the second paragraph with “Honoured Sir,” the third with “Your Honour,” the fourth with “My Lord,” and it wound up with the statement that he knew the Superintendent was of very good family, and therefore could not do any injustice. The writer concluded, “I am, your Royal Highness.”

A district traffic superintendent received this telegram:

“Sir,—Here is every one dying on account of cholera. Kindly grant us leave. Ve go by first train, in anticipation of sanction. What can poor baboos give in exchange of his soul?”

The following are literal translations of addresses of native letters, taken indiscriminately from unclaimed letters in the General Post Office, Calcutta:—

“Through the favour of God—May this cover, having arrived at Burdwan, close to Khanpookhureen, and reached Chhukka Moollah, be presented to and read by the blessed light of my eye, Meean Booddhoo—may the Almighty protect him.”

“To the sacred feet of the chief worshipful, the respected brother Goozoopershad Singh. The Letter to be given at Calcutta in the direction of Jorasanku at the house of Tarinee Sen—on arrival at which the said Singh will receive it. The Letter is an urgent one, so let it reach quickly.”

It will be recognised that the Returned Letter Offices of India have their own special problems.

India has derived much advantage from the Value-Payable Post, or, as it is sometimes spoken of, the Cash on Delivery system. The Post Office undertakes to deliver an article, and recover from the addressee the amount specified by the sender, and to pay this amount to him, after deducting commission. When it was proposed, some years ago, to adopt the system in Great Britain, there was considerable objection raised by the trading community, and the idea was abandoned as far as this country is concerned. But it is being extended to certain colonies, and certainly the example of India goes to show that it supplies a demand in our colonies and dependencies. It has created in India a new kind of retail business, and several large firms have sprung up at the Presidency towns which trade with constituents mostly residing in the country.

In India letters containing dutiable articles undeclared must be opened by the addressee, possibly in some remote up-country stations in presence of the local postmaster, and then reported to Bombay or Karachi for assessment of duty before final delivery. The delay caused by this rather clumsy procedure often causes great annoyance to the public, and I have been told of a vigorous protest made by a peppery colonel, who had received back a set of false teeth from home which had gone away for repairs. When he was informed they must go to Karachi for assessment of duty he became livid with rage, slapped the teeth into his mouth, and bade the Empire to do what it could to get them out. He had been in practical retirement while the teeth were away, and he was now going into society again, duty or no duty.

The Post Office in South Africa works in some respects under conditions similar to those in India. Here also the railways are mostly trunk lines, and here also the runner is a feature of the service. His difficulties are sometimes as great as those of his colleague in India. A lengthy detention of the mails took place in one district because the native runner who had charge of them was attacked on his run by two ostriches. He had to take refuge in a small bush which the ostriches guarded all day, and it was not until the night had set in, and the ostriches were perhaps, like other sentries, getting sleepy, that he escaped in the dark. Like their colleagues in India, the South African runners do not trouble themselves with much clothing; they arrange the mail bag on the end of a stick, and on the other they fasten their blanket, sandals, “tin billy” for cooking, and some mealie tied on a piece of cloth, the stick being put on the shoulder.

Among the correspondence brought into a town by a runner was found a large scorpion measuring seven inches in length. Flooded rivers and heavy rains interrupt the mail service, while on the other hand severe droughts are often a trial, and we read in the Postmaster-General's report of seven camels having to be withdrawn from service because of exhaustion from this cause. It is not surprising to learn that motor cars are likely to be substituted.

While excavating for the new railway buildings at Capetown recently some workmen found a considerable number of curious old Post Office stones. Years ago it was the regular practice with the commanders of the English and Dutch East India Companies' fleets to leave a package of letters under large stones on the shore to be taken to Europe by the next home-going fleet. These stones all bear rudely carved inscriptions asking the passer-by to “look hereunder for letters.” Then follow the names of the commander and of the ship, with the dates of arrival and departure. Three hundred years ago there was, of course, no settlement of Europeans on the shores of Table Bay, but our own fleets and those of the Dutch East India Company called there regularly.

The picture which appears on this page is of one of the stones under which the ships' letters were placed.

I am only dealing in this chapter with special features of the postal service which belong to each country, and I cannot, therefore, talk at any length concerning the fine service of posts, and of activities connected with the posts, which are administered by the South African Government. The business, especially in the Transvaal, is of great magnitude. Much of this would simply be the story of the British Post Office over again.

In British Central Africa the Post Office has developed much of recent years. Sir H. H. Johnston, K.C.B., has said of the district that it is interesting to note the extent to which the postal service is used by the natives themselves, who directly they are able to write in their own language have a passion for correspondence, and they develop a childish pleasure in affixing postage stamps. Nowhere are there such faithful postmen or runners; they will stick to the mail bag to the point of death. Negroes are admirable imitators, and in consequence they make excellent Civil Servants, whose duty it is to write reports and letters in the style of their official superiors. Here is a letter from a Gold Coast postman to his postmaster:—

“Dear Master,—I have the pleasure to regret to inform you that when I go bath this morning a billow he remove my trouser. Dear master, how can I go on duty with only one trouser? If he get loss where am I? Kindly write Accra that they send me one more trouser, and so I catch him and go duty. Good-day, sir. My God, how are you? Your loving corporal.”

Note how readily the man adopts not only official phrases, but what is probably the unofficial language of his postmaster.

Leopards are more common than lions in Central Africa; but they are usually more anxious to steal sheep or other small domestic animals than to encounter men or women. A young telegraph operator was sent to a lonely station in the remote regions of Central Africa. From the small cabin which served as his dwelling and his office he could hear the roar of lions from a distance. This having occurred several times during the few days after his arrival, he became very much terrified, and despatched a wire to headquarters:—

“Impossible to live here. Surrounded day and night by lions, elephants, rhinoceroses, tigers, hyenas, wolves, crocodiles, hippopotami, &c. Beg for transfer.”

No reply was received, but a visitor who came to see him one day explained that this was probably because headquarters considered the telegram ridiculous, especially as there were no wolves in that part of Africa.

The forlorn operator immediately sent another wire. “Referring to my wire No. X, please cancel the word wolves.” But he was not recalled.

The relations of a Central African postmaster to his native staff are something like that of a feudal lord towards his tenants. All sorts of petty and private matters are brought to him for decision. Here is a report of a native official to his postmaster of a domestic difficulty which had been brought before him. “Njokomera take Massie, daughter of Chokabwino, to wife without pay for her. Now this court sentence Njokomera to pay Chokabwino one cow. Cow paid—case dismissed. Japeth.” The treatment of this difficult case should have ensured the native official rapid promotion.

The climate of Central Africa is of course exceedingly trying to the white man, and there is a rather well-known story of the English applicant for a Central African postmastership asking the Colonial Office what were the arrangements as to pension. And he received the gruesome reply that the question had not yet arisen.

In an old country like England, where vested interests oppose the reformer at every step he takes, where conservative influences dominate all classes, the individual statesman can achieve comparatively little. Go to a new country and you will find a different state of things. Even in the adoption of modern conveniences and scientific improvements, the colonies are often ahead of the mother country. And this is mainly due to the fact that in these countries precedent has not been elevated to the position of a divine commandment.

It was therefore only to be expected, that the first move towards making Imperial Penny Postage an accomplished fact should come from the colonies, and it was natural, and in accordance with the law which seems to govern these things, that the old country should have been only too willing to hold to the old ways so long as it was possible for her to do so with dignity. To the Hon. William Mulock, K.C., Postmaster-General of Canada in 1898, belongs the credit of having forced the hand of Great Britain. While Great Britain was considering the matter, his Government announced that on and from a certain date one penny would be the charge for letters weighing two ounces from Canada to Great Britain. For other colonies to follow suit was then only a matter of time, and in fact they very soon adopted the new policy. It was the year following the Diamond Jubilee that saw the great change: there had been created in people's minds the sense of the oneness of the British Empire, and it was felt that the most tangible way of bringing this fact permanently home to the nation was in making 1d. the uniform charge to and from every country which gave allegiance to the British sovereign. To many minds there must be something wrong in the idea of the postage being 2½d. to Paris and 1d. to Quebec, but there was something which appealed to the imagination in even this distinction. It was the privilege of the British subject. Canada at that time was deriving no revenue from her Post Office; and it is a fact that nations in such circumstances seem more inclined to be liberal in Post Office matters than those which are making a profit out of the business.

The great colonies of Australia and New Zealand have services largely modelled on that of Great Britain. They too have sometimes improved upon the methods of the mother country. Old age pensions were the rule in New Zealand several years before we paid them, and the business is done through the Post Office. New Zealand adopted in 1909 the home savings bank safes, which two years later Great Britain began to experiment with for the benefit of her savings bank depositors. The zeal of our colonies for statistics and official reports is astonishing. Canada is especially rich in such efforts, and New Zealand runs her very close. The New Zealand Year Book is a most exhaustive publication; it gives you statistics of everything connected with the country. You can tell at a glance how many letters, newspapers, parcels, and postcards are delivered to the individual New Zealander. New Zealand appears even to take a census of its pigs.

Australia, with its scattered population and long distances to be travelled, finds a difficulty in working the Post Office as a paying concern, but she is not behind other colonies in the conveniences she offers. Englishmen arrive there, and expect, as they always do in countries other than their own, to find a lower civilisation. The Australians delight in “pulling the legs” of these gentlemen. A Sydney coach-driver, backed up by his passengers, induced a young man newly arrived from England to believe that kangaroos were now used in that district as letter carriers. “They meet the coach,” he said, “and I give them their master's letters, which they put in their pouches and carry home.” The freshman was incredulous, but just then a great kangaroo hopped on to the roadway right in front of them, and stood for a moment looking at the advancing coach. “Nothing for you to-day,” shouted the driver, and the animal, turning, disappeared in the shrub from which it had come.

The young Englishman was struck with wonder at the strides made in so young a nation as Australia.

There are mountainous districts in New South Wales where the journey of a letter carrier has to be performed at nearly 5000 feet above the level of the sea, and this necessitates the use of ski or snow shoes. In the Australian bush they have a quaint and picturesque custom which is for the convenience of the squatters and miners. A wooden box is set up by the side of one of the chief trails or pathways. Ranchers come there from a great distance and drop in their letters. The boxes are cleared once a week, and the postman who does this work also brings the letters for the ranchers, and puts them in a compartment of the box set apart for them.

In 1899 a pigeon post was established in New Zealand between Auckland and Great Barrier Island, which contained about one hundred inhabitants. The island is sixty miles from Auckland; there was no cable communication, and a steamer only once a week. At the outset each bird carried one message only, at the cost of two shillings, but subsequent experiments proved the birds could carry four sheets of tissue paper of quarto size, and the rate was reduced to sixpence per message of one sheet. Wireless telegraphy is, however, displacing the pigeon as a messenger everywhere; even the British Admiralty has discontinued its pigeon service, which had attained a high standard of efficiency.

I have stated in a previous chapter that the whole tendency of postal administrations all over the world is towards uniformity of method, and this applies especially to the post offices of the Empire. The emigrant, perhaps, feels more at home in a colonial post office than in any other place in his new country. And this feeling is only in part due to the fact that the post office links him up with Great Britain. It seems to him really a bit of the old home.