With persons who deposit their hard-earned savings in the Post-office Savings Bank, there is sometimes observed a disposition, not to be wondered at in their case, to use more than ordinary care in keeping their savings secret,—which care, however, does not always secure the aim which they have in view, but results in quite a different fashion.

A domestic servant who had invested in a Trustee Savings Bank about £100, entered the holy bonds of matrimony in 1826, when it might have been expected she would be ready to admit the man of her choice to a knowledge of her monetary worth; but instead of doing so, she concealed this matter from him, and he remained ignorant of it throughout the remainder of his life. The sum at her credit in the Trustee Savings Bank was afterwards transferred to the Post-office Savings Bank, and by dint of saving she added to that amount nearly £50 more. At length, in 1862, after thirty-six years of married life, she died, leaving her husband with three children, but without revealing what she had so jealously guarded, in the interest, no doubt, of her children. Not many months thereafter the man married again. The second wife seems by some means to have come to a knowledge of her predecessor's savings, and in order to pave the way to future possession, prevailed upon the old man to make a will in her favour, which he consented to do, not knowing that he was worth anything, and thus gratified a whim, as he might suppose, at small cost. The effect of this was, that, when the old man died, the second wife obtained the whole amount of the account, while the poor children, whose mother had kept her secret so many years in their interest, derived no benefit whatever from the savings which she had hoped to leave them.

An Irishman who had managed to get some savings together in the savings bank was exercised as to the safe-keeping of his deposit-book, and he adopted the following plan to give himself peace of mind on this score:—First of all, he placed his book inside a box, which he then locked. This box he placed inside a second box, which he locked likewise. Continuing the series of operations, he locked the second box inside a third box; and then, to crown the business, hung up all the keys in a place where they were accessible to many persons. In a short time the book disappeared, and by forging the signature of the rightful owner, the thief succeeded in obtaining payment of the poor Irishman's deposits to the amount of about £100. This unfortunate depositor is a type of a considerable class of persons, who show themselves capable of carrying out plans to a certain stage, but fail in some one particular to give them the completeness necessary to success.

Another individual who had some misgivings as to the safety of his deposit-book, suggested a plan for his identification, furnishing the necessary data, which were his age, and a statement that he had a scar under his left arm, known to himself alone. He desired that no one should be allowed to withdraw money from his account unless upon satisfactory information being given on these points.

In another instance a depositor proposed to send his likeness, with a view to his identification, lest some other person might get possession of his book, and so withdraw his savings. He then proceeded in his letter to touch upon another matter as follows:—"There are some little articles I would like to get from London, and one of them is some natural leaf-tobacco, which I would be glad if you sent me an ounce of, and charge me for it—it is only to be bought in the largest tobacco-stores." Not receiving the tobacco, he expressed surprise in a subsequent letter that his request had not been complied with, observing, by way of reproach perhaps, that "the commonest person in America (my country) can speak to General Grant, and there is nothing said wrong about it."

A good deal of trouble has to be taken in sifting claims for moneys in the Post-office Savings Bank—especially in cases where the persons concerned are of a poor and illiterate class. The following may be taken as a case in point:—

"An account had been opened in a manufacturing town in Yorkshire in 1868 by a girl who was described as a minor over seven years of age. Only one deposit was made; and nothing further was heard of the account until 1872, when a labourer wrote from Northumberland claiming the money as having been deposited by his wife, who had recently died. On a marriage certificate being forwarded, it was found that the marriage took place in 1851, and that the wife was thirty-five years of age at that time. The applicant also stated that he could swear to his wife's handwriting, whereas the depositor could not write. He was informed of these discrepancies, but still insisted that the money was deposited by his wife, and employed a lawyer to urge his claim."

Sometimes depositors mislay their deposit-books, or lose them altogether, and in course of time forget that they have anything lying at their credit. This is an instance of such a case:—A depositor, upon being reminded that he had not sent up his book for a periodical examination—the time for which was already past—replied that his book was lost, but that if there was any balance due to him, he would be glad to have the particulars. The amount due to him was upwards of £10; but as, when a depositor has lost his book, it is usual to test his knowledge of the account, this course was followed, when, from the answers received, it was made clear that he was entirely ignorant of the sum standing to his credit—and, indeed, that he believed his account to be closed. But for the notice sent to him in regard to his deposit-book, he would never have made any claim.

As might readily be supposed, strange communications are often received on savings-bank business—some quaint and curious, though written quite seriously, while others are evidently written with the intention of making fun; yet another class deriving their peculiarities from a too common cause—want of education. A few of such specimens are given as follows:—

A depositor being asked to furnish particulars of his account, the reply received from some one who had opened the letter on his behalf was to this effect:—"He is a tall man, deeply marked with smallpox, has one eye, wears a billycock, and keeps a pea-booth at Lincoln Fair,"—a description ample enough, and one that would rejoice the heart of a detective.

The envelopes supplied to depositors, in which they send their books to headquarters, have within the flap a space provided to receive the depositor's address, and the request is printed underneath—"State here whether the above address is permanent." This request has called forth such rejoinders as these—"Here we have no continuing city," "This is not our rest," "Heaven is our home," "Yes, D. V." In one case the reply was "No, D. V., for the place is beastly damp and unhealthy;" while another depositor, being floored by the wording of the inquiry, wrote—"Doant know what permanent is"!

When deposit-books are lost or destroyed, some explanation is usually forthcoming as to how the circumstance occurred, and some of these statements are of a very curious kind. Thus a person employed in a travelling circus accounted for the loss of his book in these terms: "Last night, when I was sleeping in the tent, one of our elephants broke loose and tore up my coat, in the pocket of which was my bank-book, and eat part of it. I enclose the fragments." In another case the statement furnished was: "I think the children has taken it out of doors and lost it, as they are in the habbit of playing shutal cock with the backs of books." Another depositor said that his book was "supposed to have been taken from the house by our tame monkey." While in a further case the explanation vouchsafed was as follows: "I was in a yard feeding my pigs. I took off my coat and left it down on a barrell; while engaged doing so, a goat in the yard pulled it down. The book falling out, the goat was chewing it when I caught her." A sergeant in the army lost his book "whilst in the act of measuring a recruit for the army,"—a circumstance which is, perhaps, not creditable to the recruit. A needy depositor pledged his coat, forgetting, however, to withdraw his deposit-book, which was in one of the pockets. On applying to redeem his property, he found that the coat had been mislaid by the pawnbroker, and that his book was thus lost. In a somewhat similar way another depositor accounted for his loss "through putting the book in an old coat-pocket, and selling the coat without taking out the book again." It was suggested that he should apply to the person who purchased the coat, when he replied that he had been "to the rag merchant," but could find no trace of his book. On another occasion a depositor explained that his book had been mutilated by a cat. Another book, which was kept in a strong box in a pigsty, had been destroyed by the tenant—a pig. While in yet another case the depositor explained that "his little puppy of a dog got hold of it and tore it all to pieces—not leaving so much as the number." A coast-guardsman employed on the Sussex coast, writing shortly after the occurrence of some severe storms, explained that his book had been washed away with the whole of his household effects. In a case of mutilation of a book, the following account of the circumstance was given by the owner: "In the early part of last year I was taken seriously ill away from home; and having my bank-book with me, I wrote in the margin in red ink what was to be done with the balance in case of a fatal result, and as a precaution against its being wrongfully claimed on my recovery, I cut this out."

These are some of the more curious instances of the loss of books—the loss being ordinarily ascribed either to change of residence, to the book being dropped in the street, or to its being burnt with waste-paper.