No. XII.

VOL. I.

A PENNY stamp carries a half-ounce letter to any part of the United Kingdom. This is at the rate of £293, 13s. 4d. for a ton of half-ounce letters-a sum enormously greater than the freight of a ton of merchandise, by the most expensive conveyance, to any part of the world. The greatest part by far of post-office expenditure, however, consists of the cost of sorting and delivery, not of conveyance; from which fact it is evident that the distance a letter has to be conveyed ought to make little if any difference in the rate charged.

Such is the theory. Its truth is proved by the wonderful success of our uniform penny-postage, under which system the gross receipts of the postoffice are as large as they were under the old no-system of high and varying rates; and it is now adopted by the most extensive countries of the civilised world, Russia and the United States. Three half-pence is the uniform postagerate on inland letters in the United States, and fourpence in Russia.

Yet Petersburg and Odessa, or New York and San Francisco, are not more closely united by political, commercial, and social ties than Britain and her colonies, and their facilities of communication are scarcely so great. But while we see the brilliant success of our new postage system at home, and exult in the thought that it is imitated by other nations, we have as yet done nothing to extend its benefits to our colonies.

There is, however, no difficulty in our doing so. The difficulty of our introducing the penny-postage system throughout the United Kingdom must

have appeared great at first, but it has been completely surmounted; and when a penny stamp will carry a letter from England to Ireland, the Channel Islands, or the West of Scotland, there can be no reason why the same inestimable privilege should not be extended to the colonies; or if there is, it must be the result of bad roads and defective government in the colonies themselves, and cannot stand in the way of cheap postal communication, at least between the colonial seaports and our own. Had it not been for the introduction of railways, it is difficult to see how our inland penny-postage could have been worked, owing to the enormous weight of the mail-bags. Ten omnibus loads, we believe, is not considered a heavy mail to be sent from the London general post-office to Euston Square; and such masses of correspondence, perhaps, could not have been distributed over the country without the aid of steam. But no such difficulty can arise in the case of our maritime colonies, for a load that would break a mail-coach down is trifling on board a ship.

It is unnecessary, nor have we room, to dilate on the blessing which the penny-postage is to society at large in this country; and we need not enter into any lengthened argument to prove that what is good for us must be good for colonists who speak our language, and, in a very large proportion of cases, have near relatives in the country which they still call home. We think, then, that our postage system, instead of being confined within the shores of the British islands, ought to be spread over the ocean, so as to include at least the sea

ports of our colonies, and, where not absolutely impracticable, their inland parts also.

Let us repeat again, that if a letter can be sent from London to Dublin for a penny, there is no reason why a letter from London to Sydney should cost more, for almost the entire expense of the post-office is in the offices, and not on the road; and therefore, contrary to what appears at first sight, the distance a letter has to go ought not to increase the charge for sending it. Rowland Hill has stated, in evidence, that the expense of sending a letter from London to Edinburgh does not exceed the thirty-sixth part of a penny.

It is in the power of our parliament, and therefore it is its duty, to extend the blessing of penny-postage to the colonies. Of course this cannot at once be done with foreign countries, but even there we may do much directly, and much by our example. We quote the following from the Athenæum:-"The Heraldo of Madrid has a leading article on the subject, advocating warmly the system of prepayment, but not that sort of prepayment at present existing between Spain and England, which franks the letter to the borders of the kingdom, leaving an exorbitant payment to be made for its conveyance into the interior of the country. It proposes the adoption of a uniform stamp postage on all letters going abroad.' The writer of it lays great stress on the trouble and expense consequent on the unpaid system in the keeping of accounts between nations, which in the end, he says, must leave little balance on either side, as, generally speaking, each letter has its answer, and the exceptions will be as numerous on the one side as on the other.

We do not understand what precise system the above-mentioned Spanish writer recommends, but we cordially agree with his principles. The plan we propose is exceedingly simple-that our parliament, at the same time that it extends the penny-postage to the colonies, should enact that a penny stamp is also to carry a letter in a British vessel to any foreign port, and that a foreign letter is to be conveyed from the foreign port, and delivered in any part of the United Kingdom, or its colonies, for a

penny. We cannot regulate the internal postage of other countries, but we can resolve to charge no more than a penny for the conveyance of a letter either way between our own country and their seaports. And were this measure once carried out, we should be in a position to make postal treaties with other countries, on the simplest principles of reciprocity, not embarrassing ourselves with those intricate accounts between nations, which the Spanish writer already referred to deprecates, but stipulating that a British stamp is to carry a letter in the foreign country, and a stamp of the foreign country to carry a letter in the British dominions. Such a treaty with the United States would be an inestimable blessing to hundreds of thousands of emigrants and their relatives. The readers of Uncle Tom's Cabin must recollect how much the sufferings of slaves who are separated from their families are increased by their inability to correspond, and our high rates of foreign and colonial postage must no doubt inflict something of the same misery on many thousands of poor emigrants.

In the case of postage to European countries, there cannot be two opinions with respect to the post-office revenue being able to afford such a reduction of charges as we propose. For conveying the mails six times a week each way between Glasgow and Belfast, the steamboat company receives thirty pounds a year, rather less than a shilling for the voyage, and the privilege of painting "Royal Mail' on its paddleboxes: and Calais or Ostend is not so far from Dover as Belfast from Glasgow. But colonial and American postage are beyond comparison more important than Continental, because of the extent of emigration and the identity of language; and the question of colonial and American postage is complicated by a totally different question which has, we think unfortunately, been mixed up with it.

Parliament has at various times entered into contracts with various companies to pay them large annual subsidies for the conveyance of the mails on long voyages. These at present form a charge on the revenue of about £800,000 a year, a sum which does not fall far short of the entire net annual

revenue of the post office. It is not charged to the post-office, however, but in the navy estimates; and not being really expended for postal purposes, it ought not to prevent us from reducing the rates of postage across the ocean to the utmost. The subsidies paid to the great steam-packet companies are what they are called in the estimates, a charge on the general revenue of the country on account of maritime defence; and there is nothing rational or fair in laying heavy charges on foreign and colonial letters for the purpose of contributing to the defence of the country.

The object of parliament in paying so largely to the ocean steam-packet companies is to have a reserve of large and powerful vessels which may be employed in case of war. We are strongly inclined to think that £800,000 a year might be spent much better in strengthening our naval defences in some other way. The value the nation receives for its money is very questionable; for though the steam-packet companies possesses the finest fleet of steamers in the world, yet, being mostly paddle steamers, they would not be of much use in a naval battle; and, in the event of a general naval war, it is diffi cult to see how they could be spared from their present occupation, for rapid communication with all parts of the world would then be more necessary than ever. And the commercial disadvantages of the system of subsidising companies are very great; for when one company alone, the Peninsular and Oriental, receives a quarter of a million annually for conveying the mails on its various lines, it is evident that competition with such a company must be difficult, if not impossible. Considered commercially, our £800,000 a year goes not to encourage enterprise, but to stifle competition. It would be far better for the mercantile interests of the country were there free competition on the lines where steamers would pay without a state subsidy, and no steamers where they would not pay.

And there are serious political ob jections to the system, as there are in every case where a government meddles in mercantile affairs. The example of our policy has lately led the Americans into an act of greatly exaggerated folly. Collins, of New York, as every one

knows, has started a line of steamers in opposition to the English ones, and got Congress to vote him a subsidy. Had the English and American companies been merely mercantile speculations, their contest would have been looked on as one between two rival sets of shipbuilders and engineers. But the subsidies from their respective governments give a sort of fictitious national character to the contest; and when Collins succeeded in beating Cunard by about four hours in the passage across the Atlantic, the result was hailed like the gaining of a battle. The Americans did not recollect that one of their boats had once been compelled to put back when nearly half across the Atlantica mischance that never occcurred to any of their English rivals. Collins took advantage of the feeling of the country-perhaps we should say of the maritime towns-to apply to Congress for an increase of his subsidy, saying, with what truth we know not, that he was losing money while gaining glory for his country; and he succeeded; he now receives more government money, as we understand, on each voyage, than his rival. Thus we have the ridiculous spectacle of the second maritime nation in the world paying a large sum of money-£125,000 a year, we believe

not for any purpose of state policy or national benefit, but for the barren glory of keeping a steamer afloat that can cross the Atlantic in four hours less time than the fastest English steamer. And our error was the parent of this absurdity; for the Americans would not have voted money in aid of a steamboat company had we not set the example. Collins declared that he was not afraid to face fair competition from our side of the ocean, but to compete with a subsidised company he required a subsidy for himself.

Another incidental evil of the mail contract system has been presented in the agitations on the subject of the Irish packet-station. Had steam-packet communication been left to private enterprise, Government would never have been mixed up with the question : it would have been one for capitalists. But the existing contract system makes it a financial impossibility for any private parties to stir in the matter without Government; and, in consequence, the question between Liverpool

To return to our original subject. The annual net revenue derived from colonial and foreign postage is only about £200,000 a year!-not a very formidable sum for a government to deal with in the hope of a great public benefit. The national revenue is in a much better state now than when Rowland Hill's great experiment was

THERE are certain anniversaries which it is agreeable to mark in the calendar of one's memory as "whitecross days," certain epochs which associate themselves with childish pleasure and youth ful holidays, and of which one loves to mark the return with some pleasurable incident, not only for present gratification, but in anticipation of the sweets of future retrospects. It is indeed rare that any one of these chains, each link of which is so wide, and subject to the rust of time and the perils of chance, can be kept unbroken. Sorrow, illhealth, or one of the many ills to which the flesh is heir, will surely cloud over some recurrence of the yearly festival, and harrow up our grief with the recollections of happier days.

Therefore it is that I feel as though I had gained a victory over the ruthless destroyer, when I have succeeded in passing one of these anniversaries in unbroken contentment, when, from the summit of actual happiness, I can look back upon the previous years, "at this same day and hour," and think of other days and other joys, and accumulate my happiness, while I forget my grief. Twelfth day is peculiarly suggestive of bygone merriment and childish frolics. Who does not remember the glorious cake, the agitation of the drawing, the delight of being King, the deference of the courtiers, the absurd names as sumed, the bad conundrums, the despised warnings about the danger of over-feasting upon the luscious, heavy, delightfully-unwholesome compound; one's first love, in her little white frock, glorious pink sash, and long curls, and

the pride with which one led her little Majesty to her throne-a throne indeed much firmer than many a real one, an homage far more sincere, a love that many a monarch might envy !

I pity him who has forgotten such scenes; as to myself, I so cherish them, that I strive now to burnish up their memory by a yearly effort, to free my spirit from its manlier shackles, and to become in thought a child again.

Alas! my chain of New-Year's days is much impaired! Twice has suffering linked me to my bed, and prevented me from welcoming the new-boru with aught but a sigh of pain. Alas for Christmas! Where is now the Yulelog, the jovial cheer of Bracebridge Hall. Even the Waits are becoming hoarse; and were Geoffrey Crayon to return amongst us now, he would erase those charming chapters to which that festival gives its name from his graceful "Sketch-book!"

This year I am away from all the homely festivities and genial mirth of old England, and compelled by health to seek another clime. I have bent my steps towards Italy. Alas for "merry' Christmas-alas for New-Year's eve!

But let these be forgotten. It is Twelfth Day, and I am happy. I am recovering from illness, and enjoy the supreme felicity of returning health. You, whom the bed of suffering has retained, you, who have grown pale and weak in the poisoned atmosphere of a sick-room, have you forgotten the delight which you drank in at every pore when first your tottering steps led you into the brilliant sunlight, when first the

genial warmth of that glorious comforter warmed you to your heart's core ? Do you not remember that the heavens had never seemed to you so blue, the clouds so gauzy, the very smoke so graceful in its curlings, the breeze so soft; have you never (no one need hear your confession), have you never wept from an unknown, ineffable joy? Have you not felt that if nature be a goddess, how happy she must be in spring? Do you not remember the partial giddiness, the sweet fatigue, that follows this too great sensation of delight? Have you not poured out silent libations of gratitude, uttered sup pressed breathings of thankfulness, intoned unheard hymns of praise, for blessings of which you had not been conscious until your new birth had taught you to value them?

No words can express the feelings engendered at such a season, no philosophy can explain its cause, unless it be that, planting, as we do each day, a firm foot upon a new stave in the ladder of health, we feel that we are making steps in the great road of progression to which our soul always tends, the summit ever rising as we approach, until it reach that great Ideal-THE PERFECT-after which all those who have striven, have striven, and must ever strive in vain.

But I will not analyse my sensations, lest, in the separation of the parts, there be found that drop of gall which lies in every cup of human happiness. Since the social enjoyments so suited to the season were denied me on this occasion, I determined to seek the pleasures with which I had resolved to mark the day, in the company of nature alone, and nature smiled upon my project. No sooner had the sun shed its first rays through the small chamber window of the comfortable little inn at which I had arrived on the previous evening, than I obeyed his welcome summons, and bounded from the summit of the thick straw mattress upon which I had slept (soft, nice straw, continually changed, and forming a bed which no Parisian springs could equal), partook of the national dish of Provence, the bouille-abaisse, with hearty appetite, and sallied forth in search of classic reminiscences. Who shall say that that soil is not classical which has been trodden by the two greatest gene

rals of ancient and modern times, and has served as the theatre of their greatest exploits ? I say their greatest exploits, because, not on the plains of Austerlitz, not amid the snows of Russia, not upon the throne that he surrounded with a halo of glory, does Napoleon appear to me so great as when, marching up alone, in the well-known attitude, towards the soldiers advancing face to face with death, which lay at the point of each one of their bayonets, he trusted to his magic influence, to the unequalled fascination of his presence, to the charm of that wellknown voice which so oft had led them on to glory, to rescue him from his obscurity at Elba, to restore him to the dominion that he had won with courage, and held with true imperial dignity.

Such were my reflections as I sat outside a little public-house, whereon may be read the following inscription

CHEZ MOISE RIPOSA Napoleon. Buvez sa bierre et honorez son nom.

Moise is, alas! no more, but his successor tells with pride how the great man honoured his house with his presence, and conducted me to the exact spot where the Emperor had landed, pointing to an olive-tree under which he is reported to have slept for a few hours, his sword hanging upon a drooping branch overhead.

This is perhaps apocryphal, but I was not in the mood for doubting, and accepted the legend with a degree of faith which seemed to impress my informant with profound respect. Having duly quaffed the beer, as commanded by the sign, I bid farewell to Joshua, or whatever may be the name of this successor of Moses, and took a rural path across the meadows, to pay my homage to the general of ancient story.

Can I ever forget that morning walk? The splendour of the sun, the glorious expanse of sea, the colour of the heavens, (the mere word blue would convey no idea of their prismatic magnificence), and then the path that I followed, first leading across fields of jessamine, with rows of the strong-scented Violettes de Parme between the mimic hedges of roses, then winding through acres of anemones, blue and red, and of the