The mail from the Atlantic States was due in San Francisco every fortnight; and, of course, at about the same interval of time, in the different diggings to which the letters were forwarded--the Stanislaus among the rest. Three days, before its arrival, at the last mentioned place, Foster used to leave his work, and go to the post-office--which stood at a considerable distance from his claim--for letters. He would return to his tent, as a matter of course, disappointed; but this did not prevent him from going again to the post-office, about six hours after. "Has the mail arrived yet?" he would inquire of the post-master. "No. I told you a few hours ago, that I did not expect it in less than three days." "Yes, I know; but the mail is uncertain. It is possible for it to arrive two or three days earlier than usual; and I want my letters as soon as they get in." "No doubt," the post-master would say, "no doubt you do; and I advise you to call again in about three days." "Thank you; I will do so," Foster would answer; and six hours after he would call again! "As soon as the mail arrives," the post-master would then tell him, "I will _send_ your letters to you. It will be less trouble for me to do that, than to be so often unnecessarily annoyed." "No, no!" Foster would earnestly exclaim, "pray don't trust them into the hands of any one. They might be lost. It is no trouble for me to call." "I can easily believe that," the post-master would rejoin. "If it was any trouble, you would not come so often. I must, therefore, adopt some plan to save me from this annoyance. As soon as the mail arrives I will put up a notice outside the window here, and that will save you the trouble of coming in, and me of being bothered with your questions. Whenever you come in front of the house, and do not see that notice, you may be sure that the mail has not arrived. You understand?" "Yes, thank you; but I don't wish to give any unnecessary trouble. I dare say the mail will be here by the time I come again. Good-day!" Six hours after, Foster would be at the post-office again! "Any news of the mail?" he would ask. "Are you working a good claim?" inquired the post-master once--in answer to this perpetual dunning. "Yes," replied Foster. "Tolerably good." "I am sorry to hear it." "Why?"