The postmaster will be glad to see you if he knows you. If he does not know you, he will be assumedly glad to see you anyway, after he learns where you are from and that you have an ingrown habit of voting the ticket of his party. He may even warm up to the extent of tendering a box of his favorite brand with an invitation to smoke up. Then he will probably want to know “how things look up your way.” It does not make much difference how or what you answer, so long as it is favorable to “the party.” He is handing you a case-hardened jolly. You must be gentleman enough to return the courtesy. “I know you are a very busy man, Mr. Jones, and I must not take up your time. I want a little information and decided I would come to the right place to get it,” etc., or something along such lines will do. Then ask your question or questions. Preferably let them be about some detail or details in the handling of “the large business” of his office. Now you will begin to see things. The postmaster will press a buzzer button. In response a well groomed gentleman appears whom, by introduction, you learn is his assistant. “Fred,” says the postmaster, “Mr. Smith here desires some information. He is from Brainville and--well, he is a friend of ours. Now, Mr. Smith,” with a real “glad-hand” shake, “you go with Fred. He’ll dig up any information you want, and, now, don’t forget to call on me the next time you are in town.” Then you go off with Fred. He sluices a lot of kiln-dried small talk at you and rounds out with “How are things up at Brainville, Mr. Smith?” Of course you assure him that things “look good” to you, or that, in your opinion “there will be nothing to it but counting our majority.” By this time Fred has steered you to the chief clerk. To the latter he says, “Here, Baker, shake hands with Mr. Smith. Mr. Smith lives up at Brainville and is one of our friends. He wants some information. You see that he gets it will you?” Fred, then, with another ingratiating hand shake, leaves you in Mr. Baker’s care. To him you state the points on which you wish enlightenment. “Oh, I see,” says Mr. Baker. “You just come with me and I’ll have you fixed out.” Then, if it be a postoffice of fairly large business, he will take you over to some chief or foreman of division, tells him what you desire to know and instructs him to inform you. The division boss next takes you in tow and with much pleased and pleasing talk steers you down the line to some $900 or $1,200 a year clerk to whom he turns you over. This shirt-sleeved clerk knows the answer or answers and gives you the desired information in about three minutes. Incidentally in your round of the postoffice, you have asked some conventional questions and have learned, among other things, that the assistant postmaster, chief clerk, division chief and other top-notchers in the service are all men of “experience”--have each been in the service five to ten years and “know the business from garret to basement.”