Rensselaer Republican, Volume 13, Number 7, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 5 November 1880 — How a Woman Mails a Letter. [ARTICLE]

How a Woman Mails a Letter.

Gone crusty curmudgeon thus tells how a woman goes to work to mail a letter. It is a libel on the sex. Some of the girls will maka it red hot for him if dkeovered: “Any day when you have time you can see how she does it by dropping into the postoOce. 81m arrives there with a letter in her hand. It is a dieet of note in a white envelope. She halts in front of the stamp window, opens her mouth to ask for a stamp, but suddenly darts away to ks if she has made any error In names or dote* It takes five minutes for her to make mm of this, and then die balances the letter on her finger, and the awful query arises n her mind: ‘Perhaps it is overweight.’ She steps to the window wnd—ka ths <3erk if he has a three-cent stamp, fearing that be hasn't, and she looks over every compartment in her {wrtmonnie before she finds the change to pay for itThe fun commences as she gets the stamp. She sidles around to one side, removes her gloves, closely inspects the stamjfc and hesitates whether to ‘lick’ it or wet her finger. She finally concludes it wouldn’t be nice to show her tougne, and wets her finger and passes it over the envelope. She is so long picking up the stamp that the moistore is absorbed and the stamp slides off the envelope. She tries it twice more with like success, and getting desperate she gives the stamp a lick and it sticks. Then comes the sealing of the letter. She wets her finger again, but the envelope files open, and after three minutes delay she has to pass her tongue along the streak of dried mucilage. She holds the letter a long time to make sure that the envelope is all right, and finally appears at the window and asks: Three oeutsis enough, is it?* 'Yes, ma’am.' “This will go out to-day?’ ‘Certainly.* 'Will it go to Chicago without the name of the county on?’ ‘Just the same.’ ‘What time will it reach there?’ To-morrow morning.’ She sighs, turns the letter over and over, and finally asks: *BllOlll drop it into one of those places there? ‘Yes, ma’am.’ She walks up in front of the six orifices, closely scans each one of them, finally makes a choice, and drops—no she doesn’t. She slope to see where it will foil, pressing her fooe against the window until she flattens her noee out of shape, and she doesn’t drop it where she intended to. She, however, releases it at last, looks down to make sure that it did not foil on the floor, aud turns away with a sigh of regret that she didn’t take one more look at the superscription.”