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THE OPEN WINDOW.

(HE prays beside her window

SH

When breaks the early dawn: Oh, Father! grant me this one gift-This red rose newly born.

Out of my reach it blossoms,

Above my lattice high,

But the sweet scent comes to greet me

As the wind goes stealing by.' Softly the answer falleth

Upon her listening ear:

My child, its thorns are venom'd;
I hold thy peace too dear.
That fair red rose in thy bosom

Would drive peace from thy heart.
Its poisoned thorns are sharper far
Than foeman's barbèd dart.
My child, trust thou My care,
I cannot grant thy prayer.'

She prays beside her window

When glows the noonday glare: 'Oh, Father! grant me this one gift, This crown of fine gold rare; Out of my reach it shineth, Above my lowly head, But the glory gleaming from it Is round my pathway shed.' Softly the answer falleth Upon her longing ear:

'My child, its light would blind thee Didst thou behold it near, Its weight upon thy feeble head

Would crush thee to the dust. Thou could'st not then look up to Me

With simple, child-like trust. My child, trust thou My care,

I cannot grant thy prayer.'

She prays beside her window

When shines the sun's last ray: 'Oh, Father! grant me this one gift, This heart to be my stay. Out of my reach it wanders, I cannot grasp it so.

I dream of tender love for me,

The love it might bestow.' adly the answer falleth Upon her listening ear:

'My child, such love engrosses;

It would become too dear. Its glamour thrown around thy path Would hide My face from thee. Its bliss would keep thy thoughts on earth,

Nor let thee look to Me. My child, trust thou My care, I cannot grant thy prayer.'

She prays beside the window

When starlight shineth pale: 'Oh, Father! grant me this one gift, Let love for Thee prevail. Out of my reach the height seems

Which others climb by prayer;
But what a loving child can do,
That would I do and dare.'
Sweetly the answer falleth

Upon her longing ear:
'My child, thy prayer is granted,
The child-like heart is here;
The love that giveth all things up

That My will may be done,
Shall yet attain to heights of joy
When life's last battle's done.
My child, still trust My care.
I grant thy humble prayer.'

Before her lowly lattice,

When midnight dews are chill,
There lies a snow-white rose-bud
Upon the window-sill;

It comes to cheer the lowly heart
That strove to do His will.
A crown of heavenly radiance
Circles the maiden's head;
For the one she had surrendered
God gives her this instead.
The earthly love denied her,

She feels its want no more,
For a Father's love and mercy

Are round her evermore. She sings beside her window

Glad, grateful songs of love, For her Father's hand has sent her These best gifts from above.

ALICE EVÉZARD.

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S we drop our letters in the safe receptacle of the post, and a few hours later impatiently break the seal of a speedy reply, it perhaps never occurs to us to reflect on the difficulties once lying in the way of the sure and prompt sending and receiving of letters. In this, as in many other matters, we are too apt to accept the blessings of modern civilisation, without giving even a passing thought of gratitude to a great company of unseen friends who have gradually brought about the advantages we are now enjoying.

The Chinese instituted, it is said, in times almost worthy of being termed pre-historic, hospitable wayside stations for the reception and refreshment of those bringing news. At these places of temporary rest silken couches were prepared, hung around with richly embroidered curtains; 'fit even for a king,' as the old historians have it. In ancient Persia we hear of men placed at regular intervals along the sunny roads, calling out one to another in a 'loud, very shrill voice,' transmitting from station to station news of public importance, till it reached the palace of kings who lived and died long before Cyrus reigned. The ancients had their contrivances, also, for the conveyance of secret messages: Herodotus tells of words written on the shaven heads of slaves; words concealed afterwards by clustering locks, which grew only to be clipped again, and this by the friend for whom the mysterious message was intended: but far more ingenious was the plan of writing in cipher, practised with considerable skill by Julius Cæsar, and revived again and again in comparatively modern times.

These

The word 'post' comes to us from the Latin positum, placed; the Romans, at least as early as the reign of Augustus Cæsar, having instituted stations placed at equal distances, where couriers were in constant attendance, ready to receive and despatch letters. Roman posts or stations bore but a faint resemblance to the posts of the present day, seeing that they were used only by the government authorities, and offered no facilities whatever to the general public; still, we owe something to them, and to all such arrangements of the past, as being suggestive to the multitude who looked on, desiring something similar, until the desire grew into a resolution to act; and thus, from small beginnings, we have arrived at the grand result of our modern postal system. Many centuries elapsed before the voice of the multitude made itself so plainly heard by those in high places that it finally came to pass that the poor man, as well as the prince, could send his messages flying across hill and dale and voyaging over land and water.

In modern Europe, from the days of Charlemagne to those of Charles V., the great privilege of sending letters by speedy and regular conveyance was still monopolised by kings, nobles, and government officials. Towards the end of that period we begin to hear of the postal privileges spreading a little beyond the circle of the rich and great. The first regular posts, arranged with anything like permanency for the convenience of a large community, appears to have been those established by the Hanseatic League—that is, those in connexion with certain cities in Northern Germany called the Hanse Towns, whose merchants leagued together, somewhat after the fashion of trades unions, for the purpose of mutual protection in a time of warfare and

general danger. Among other matters of mutual protection they included that of the conveyance of letters, and so well did their postal plans prosper as to inspire others to imitate them. Thus it was that a line of letter-posts was established connecting Austria with Lombardy, and later, one extending from Vienna to Brussels.

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In England, it is not till the reign of Edward IV. that we hear of any attempts to institute posts for other than government purposes; but the arrangements were temporary only, and it was very long before our Post Office took any definite and permanent form, though in the end the English postal system has now become a model for the whole of the civilised world. Every American,' to quote from a competent American writer on Postal Reform, 'who spends any considerable time in England, comes home with a glowing account of the British postal system, as something bordering on perfection.' That we may not ungraciously take for granted the privileges we modern letterwriters enjoy in England, let us gratefully contrast our present advantages with the discomforts endured by our forefathers.

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Only two hundred years ago we find people in England talking very patiently of letters being carried by carriers, or foot-posts, sixteen. or eighteen miles a-day,' and its being full two months before any answer could be received from Scotland, Ireland, or London.' In the reign of Henry VIII. the postmaster, Sir Brian Tuke, was reproved by the king because the posts were not 'better appointed; whereupon the reply was given that the sums of money allowed for the payment of men and horses were too small, the roads bad, and some of the messengers untrustworthy. But there were in those days, and later, too, many other causes for delay, unlooked for and therefore unprovided against a courier, for example, was constantly delayed as he passed through villages and towns by the curiosity of the people, who would surround him and prevent him from going on his way until he revealed to them some of the secrets he carried. A courier approaching a town was quickly surrounded by crowds of people begging for news: at times he escaped unhurt; often he was roughly treated, and forced to furnish some kind of information. Couriers would go miles out of their way to avoid this dangerous curiosity.' Again, in times of disturbance the posts were waylaid in the interests of some political party. The posts are now waylaid,' writes a Londoner of the reign of James I. to his friend, and all the letters are taken to Secretary Coke's house.' In the Jacobite days we read how one Andrew Cockburn was travelling with his load of letters on a dusky evening, when he was suddenly assaulted by four Jacobites, in masks,' who threatened his life if he did not instantly' deliver up the packet in the black box and the bye-bag,' and how the letter-carrier had no choice but to yield.

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Although such dangers lingered on till past the Jacobite days, in many respects extensive postal reforms had been accomplished in the reign of James I., rendered necessary by the great access of letters from Scotland. Since then, with some exceptions, letters had travelled by swifter and more constant posts than before; however, it was often dangerous, almost within memory, to trust secrets of importance to the post. As late as 1804 Lord Melville thus wrote to William Pitt:'I shall continue to address you through Alexander Hope's conveyance,

as I remember our friend Bathurst very strongly hinted to me last year to beware of the Post Office, when you and I had occasion tocorrespond on critical points or in critical times.' And William Pitt, some time before, had written to his mother: 'I am afraid it will not be easy for me, by the post, to be anything else than a fashionable correspondent, if I believe the fashion which prevails of opening almost every letter that is sent, making it almost impossible to write anything worth reading.'

On August 4th, 1784, a great change was inaugurated in the matter of the speedy and safe conveyance of letters; it was on that day that the new plan of mail-coaches was adopted, the first coach leaving London for Bristol. For the future they left in company, above twenty of them starting at the same moment. thus forming an army of trusty guards for the letters they carried. For half a century the mail-coaches, with their high-bred horses and their armed guards, galloped to the cheering sound of the post-horn, serving England well, and forming a brilliant feature in English life. 'Crowds would stand all along the line of the mail-coach route from London to see it dashing past, and to catch the earliest news, especially during the occurrence of stirring events: the result of Queen Caroline's trial was shouted to the waiting crowds from the top of the mail-coach as it fled swiftly through the country roads.'

Admirable as the mail-coach arrangement was found to be, better things still were at hand. As the 18th century was fast rolling into the past the sound of the post-horn died away, giving place to the scream of the railway-engine; and now our letters are scattered here and there throughout the land, arriving constantly and punctually at destinations far and near.

In 1837, the late Sir Rowland Hill proposed the plan of the Penny Post, which, like all that is new, met at first with opposition and ridicule. Of all the wild and visionary schemes of which I ever heard,' said Lord Lichfield, the Postmaster-General, 'it is the most extravagant. If the anticipated increase of letters,' he added, 'should be realised, the mails will have to carry twelve times as much in weight; and therefore the charge for transmission, instead of 10,000l., as now, must be twelve times that amount: the walls of the Post Office would burst; the whole area on which the building stands would not be large enough to receive the clerks and the letters.' The Duke of Wellington, wise and far-seeing, advocated the plan. With reference,' he said, 'to the adoption of any particular plan, I am disposed to admit that that which we call Mr. Hill's plan, if it can be adopted exactly as was proposed, of all the plans is that which is most likely to succeed.' There was a storm of opposition, chiefly from the Post-office authorities; but, being bravely weathered, the Penny Post became a law of the land on August 17th, 1839.

The Penny Post had been attempted nearly two centuries before by Robert Murray and his partner, Mr. Dockwra. Murray was a citizen of London, belonging to the company of Clothworkers. Stow mentions Dockwra as having carried on the plan so far as to have six offices, in the windows of which were placed large placards bearing the words, 'Penny Post letters taken in here.' 'Letter-carriers,' Stow writes, 'gather them every hour, and take them to the grand office in their respective

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