How many? asked George Aspel in surprise.
Above twelve hundred.
Why, that would make two pretty fair regiments of soldiers, said Aspel.
No, George, said Phil, its two regiments of pretty fair soldiers that theyd make.
Cant you hold your tongue, man, an let May talk? retorted Aspel.
So, you see, continued May, that amongst us we manage to have the telegraphic communication of the kingdom well attended to.
But tell me, May, said Phil, do they really suck messages through tubes two miles long?
Indeed they do, Phil. You see, the General Post-Office in London is in direct communication with all the chief centres of the kingdom, such as Birmingham, Liverpool, Manchester, Edinburgh, Glasgow, Dublin, Cork, etcetera, so that all messages sent from London must pass through the great hall at St. Martins-le-Grand. But there are many offices in London for receiving telegrams besides the General Post-Office. Suppose that one of these offices in the city receives numerous telegrams every hour all day long,instead of transmitting these by wire to the General Post-Office, to be re-distributed to their various destinations, they are collected and put bodily into cylindrical leather cases, which are inserted into pneumatic metal tubes. These extend to our central office, and through them the telegrams are sucked just as they are written. The longest tube, from the West Strand, is about two miles, and each bundle or cylinder of telegrams takes about three minutes to travel. There are upwards of thirty such tubes, and the suction business is done by two enormous fifty-horse-power steam-engines in the basement of our splendid building. There is a third engine, which is kept ready to work in case of a break-down, or while one of the others is being repaired.
Ah! May, wouldnt there be the grand blow-up if you were to burst your boilers in the basement? said Phil.
No doubt there would. But steam is not the only terrible agent at work in that same basement. If you only saw the electric batteries there that generate the electricity which enables us up-stairs to send our messages flying from London to the Lands End or John o Groats, or the heart of Ireland! You must know that a far stronger battery is required to send messages a long way than a short. Our Battery Inspector told me the other day that he could not tell exactly the power of all the batteries united, but he had no doubt it was sufficient to blow the entire building into the middle of next week. Now you know, Phil, it would require a pretty severe shock to do that, wouldnt it? Fortunately the accidental union of all the batteries is impossible. But youll see it for yourself soon. And it will make you open your eyes when you see a room with three miles of shelving, on which are ranged twenty-two thousand battery-jars.
My dear, said Miss Lillycrop, with a mild smile, you will no doubt wonder at my ignorance, but I dont understand what you mean by a battery-jar.
It is a jar, cousin, which contains the substances which produce electricity.
Well, well, rejoined Miss Lillycrop, dipping the sugar-spoon into the slop-bowl in her abstraction, this world and its affairs is to me a standing miracle. Of course I must believe that what you say is true, yet I can no more understand how electricity is made in a jar and sent flying along a wire for some hundreds of miles with messages to our friends than I can comprehend how a fly walks on the ceiling without tumbling off.
Im afraid, returned May, that you would require to study a treatise on Telegraphy to comprehend that, but no doubt Phil will soon get it so clearly into his head as to be able to communicate it to you.Youll go to the office with me on Monday, wont you, Phil?
Of course I willonly too glad to begin at once.
My poor boy, said May, putting her hand on her brothers arm, its not a very great beginning of life to become a telegraph-messenger.
Ah! now, May, thats not like yourself, said Phil, who unconsciously droppedperhaps we should say roseto a more decided brogue when he became tender or facetious. Is it rousin the pride of me youd be afther? Dont they say that any ould fiddle is good enough to learn upon? Mustnt I put my foot on the first round o the ladder if I want to go up higher? If Im to be Postmaster-General mustnt I get a general knowledge of the post from the bottom to the top by goin through it? Its only men like George there that can go slap over everything at a bound.
Come, Phil, dont be impertinent, said George, its a bad sign in one so young. Will you convoy me a short way? I must go now.
He rose as he spoke and bade Miss Lillycrop good-evening. That lady expressed an earnest hope that he would come to see her frequently, and he promised to do so as often as he could find time. He also bade May good-evening because she was to spend the night with her cousin, but May parted from him with the same touch of reserve that marked their meeting. He resented this by drawing himself up and turning away somewhat coldly.
Now, Phil, he said, almost sternly, on reaching the street, heres a letter to Sir James Clubley which I want to read to you.Listen.
By the light of a lamp he read:
Dear Sir,I appreciate your kindness in offering me the situation mentioned in your letter of the 4th, and especially your remarks in reference to my late father, who was indeed worthy of esteem. I shall have pleasure in calling on you on hearing that you are satisfied with the testimonials herewith enclosed.I am, etcetera.
Now, Phil, will that do?
Do? of course it will. Nothing could be better. Only
Well, what?
Dont you think that you might call without waiting to hear his opinion of your testimonials?
No, Phil, I dont, replied the other in a slightly petulant tone; I dont feel quite sure of the spirit in which he referred to my dear father. Of course it was kind and all that, but it was slightly patronising, and my father was an infinitely superior man to himself.
Well, I dont know, said Phil; if youre going to accept a favour of him you had better try to feel and act in a friendly way, but of course it would never do to encourage him in pride.
Well then, Ill send it, said Aspel, closing the letter; do you know where I can post it?
Not I. Never was here before. Ive only a vague idea of how I got here, and mustnt go far with you lest I lose myself.
At that moment Miss Lillycrops door opened and little Tottie issued forth.
Ah! she will help us.Dyou know where the Post-Office is, Tottie?
Yes, sir, its at the corner of the street, Miss Lillycrop says.
Which direction?
That one, I think.
Here, Im going the other way: will you post this letter for me?
Yes, sir, said Tottie.
Thats a good girl; heres a penny for you.
Please, sir, thats not a penny, said the child, holding out the half-crown which Aspel had put in her hand.
Never mind; keep it.
Tottie stood bereft of speech at the youths munificence, as he turned away from her with a laugh.
Now, when Tottie Bones said that she knew where the post was, she did so because her mistress had told her, among other pieces of local information, that the pillar letter-box stood at the corner of the street and was painted red; but as no occasion had occurred since her arrival for the posting of a letter, she had not yet seen the pillar with her own eyes. The corner of the street, however, was so plain a direction that no one except an idiot could fail to find it. Accordingly Tottie started off to execute her mission.
Unfortunatelyor the reverse, as the case may bestreets have usually two corners. The child went, almost as a matter of course, to the wrong one, and there she found no pillar. But she was a faithful messenger, and not to be easily balked. She sought diligently at that corner until she really did find a pillar, in a retired angle. Living, as she did, chiefly in the back slums of London, where literary correspondence is not much in vogue, Tottie had never seen a pillar letter-box, or, if she had, had not realised its nature. Miss Lillycrop had told her it was red, with a slit in it. The pillar she had found was red to some extent with rust, and it unquestionably had a slit in it where, in days gone by, a handle had projected. It also had a spout in front. Tottie had some vague idea that this letter-box must have been made in imitation of a pump, and that the spout was a convenient step to enable small people like herself to reach the slit. Only, she thought it queer that they should not have put the spout in front of the pillar under the slit, instead of behind it. She was still more impressed with this when, after having twice got on the spout, she twice fell off in futile efforts to reach round the pump with her small arms.
Baffled, but not defeated, Tottie waited till some one should pass who could put the letter in for her, but in that retired angle no one passed. Suddenly her sharp eyes espied a brickbat. She set it up on end beside the pump, mounted it, stood on tip-toe, and, stretching her little body to the very uttermost, tipped the letter safely in. The brickbat tipped over at the same instant and sent her headlong to the ground. But this was no novelty to Tottie. Regardless of the fall, she gathered herself up, and, with the light heart of one who has gained a victory in the performance of duty, ran off to her miserable home in the back slums.
Chapter Seven.
Phil Begins Life, and Makes a Friend
Some time after the small tea-party described in our last chapter, Philip Maylands was invested with all the dignity, privileges, and emoluments of an Out-door Boy Telegraph Messenger in the General Post-Office. He rejoiced in the conscious independence of one who earns his own livelihood, is a burden to nobody, and has something to spare. He enjoyed the privilege of wearing a grey uniform, of sitting in a comfortable room with a huge fire in the basement of the office, and of walking over a portion of London as the bearer of urgent and no doubt all-important news. He also enjoyed a salary of seven shillings sterling a week, and was further buoyed up with the hope of an increase to eight shillings at the end of a year. His duties, as a rule, began at eight each morning, and averaged nine hours.
We have said that out of his vast income he had something to spare. This, of course, was not much, but owing to the very moderate charge for lodging made by Solomon Flintwith whom and his sister he took up his abodethe sum was sufficient to enable him, after a few months, to send home part of his first years earnings to his mother. He did this by means of that most valuable institution of modern days a Post-Office order, which enables one to send small sums of money, at a moderate charge, and with perfect security, not only all over the kingdom, but over the greater part of the known world.
It would have been interesting, had it been possible, to have entered into Phils feelings on the occasion of his transacting this first piece of financial business. Being a country-bred boy, he was as bashful about it as if he had been only ten years old. He doubted, first, whether the clerk would believe him in earnest when he should demand the order. Then, when he received the form to fill up, he had considerable hesitation lest he should fill in the blanks erroneously, and when the clerk scanned the slip and frowned, he felt convinced that he had done so.
Youve put only Mrs Maylands, said the clerk.
Only Mrs Maylands! thought Phil; does the man want me to add widow of the Reverend James Maylands, and mother of all the little Maylands? but he only said, Sure, sir, its to her I want to send the money.
Put down her Christian name; said the clerk; order cant be drawn without it.
Phil put down the required name, handed over the money, received back the change, inserted the order into a previously prepared letter, posted the same, and walked away from that office as tall as his friend George Aspelif not tallerin sensation.
Let us now follow our hero to the boy-messengers room in the basement of St. Martins-le-Grand.
Entering one morning after the delivery of a telegram which had cost him a pretty long walk, Phil proceeded to the boys hall, and took his seat at the end of the row of boys who were awaiting their turn to be called for mercurial duty. Observing a very small telegraph-boy in a scullery off the hall, engaged in some mysterious operations with a large saucepan, from which volumes of steam proceeded, he went towards him. By that time Phil had become pretty well acquainted with the faces of his comrades, but this boy he had not previously met with. The lad was stooping over a sink, and carefully holding in the contents of the pan with its lid, while he strained off the boiling water.
Sure Ive not seen you before? remarked Phil.
The boy turned up a sharp-featured, but handsome and remarkably intelligent face, and, with a quick glance at Phil, said, Well, now, any man might know you for an Irishman by your impudence, even if you hadnt the brogue.
Why, what do you mean? asked Phil, with an amused smile.
Mean! echoed the boy, with the most refined extract of insolence on his pretty little face; I mean that small though I am, surely Im big enough to be seen.
Well, returned Phil, with a laugh, you know what I meanthat I havent seen you before to-day.
Then wy dont you say what you mean? How dyou suppose a man can understand you unless you speak in plain terms? You wont do for the GPO if you cant speak the Queens English. We want sharp fellows here, we do. So youd better go back to Owld Ireland, avic cushla mavourneenthere, put that in your pipe and smoke it.
Whether it was the distraction of the boys mind, or the potent working of his impertinence, we know not, but certain it is that his left hand slipped somehow, and a round ball, with a delicious smell, fell out of the pot. The boy half caught it, and wildly yet cleverly balanced it on the lid, but it would have rolled next moment into the sink, if Phil had not made a dart forward, caught it like a football, and bowled it back into the pot.
Well done! splendidly done! cried the boy, setting down his pot. Arrah! Pat, he added, mocking Phils brogue, and holding out his hand, youre a man after my own heart; give me your flipper, and let us swear eternal friendship over this precious goblet.
Of course Phil cheerfully complied, and the friendship thus auspiciously begun afterwards became strong and lasting. So it is all through the course of life. At every turn we are liable to meet with those who shall thenceforth exercise a powerful influence on our characters, lives, and affections, and on whom our influence shall be strong for good or evil.
Whats your name? asked Phil; mine is Philip Maylands.
Mines Peter Pax, answered the small boy, returning to his goblet; but Ive no end of aliasessuch as Mouse, Monkey, Spider, Snipe, Imp, and Little un. Call me what you please, its all one to me, so as you dont call me too late for dinner.