On the twenty-second day of February the guests were bidden to a P.O.D. (Post-Office Department) dinner party, but none guessed the meaning of the mysterious letters till they were seated at the table and found that the place-cards were unsealed envelopes stamped and directed, each one containing a tin label similar to the ones upon the sacks used in the Railway Mail Service. These had been made by a tinsmith and were only strips of tin three inches long and an inch and a half wide. The sides had been bent over slightly to form a slot to hold a narrow piece of cardboard, and a blue or a pink ribbon was drawn through a small hole punched in one end.

The ladies' slips bore the names of small towns near by, while those of the gentlemen had the titles of the railroads on which the towns were situated.

The table was decorated with toy trains and stagecoaches and men on horseback, all loaded with tiny mail-sacks filled with salted nuts, candies, and even little cakes. The guests had great fun guiding the various conveyances around the table and peering into the small sacks.

After dinner the host stood in the dining-room door and would allow no couple to pass who were not able to show perfectly matched slides.

In the parlor cards on which were written names and addresses were passed around and two minutes allowed to decipher and write them on tablets provided for the purpose, and numbered from one to twenty-five. At the tap of a bell each person passed his or her card to the one on the right, and in this way the cards made the circuit of the room in the given time. There were enough difficult ones to give an idea of the troubles which beset Uncle Sam's faithful servants when handling the mails.

The first prize was a silver stamp-box, and the consolation one a small United States atlas.

A boy with a mail-sack distributed packages of bonbons, the old-fashioned game of "post office" was played.