A rural postman's duties are certainly more varied and often more responsible than those of his town brother. His average walk is supposed to be about 16 miles a day, with a maximum of 18. He is often regarded as a “walking post office” in remote country districts: he sells stamps, receives letters for posting, takes even registered letters, and in some cases sells postal orders. The bell has been abolished in town districts, but the rural postman still blows his horn or whistle in villages where he collects or delivers letters. It is obvious that with this huge body of men, who have great responsibility thrown upon them, something approaching to the discipline of an army has to be preserved. Let me mention a few of the marching orders of the town postman. A postman, when he has once started on his walk, must not go to his own house or to any other except to deliver a letter; he must not smoke on duty; he must not deliver letters to owners in the streets, but only at the houses to which they are addressed; he must not put letters under doors even if asked to do so; he must not take letters from the public for registration; he must carry no other missives than those that have been regularly posted; he must not act as a newsagent; must not borrow money from persons on his walk; he must not agitate or help in any agitation for a discontinuance of Sunday work; and he must not in any way be connected with a public-house or inn. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Illustration: THE POSTMAN'S BELL.] In the eighteenth and the early years of the nineteenth century the town postman carried a bell, which he rang vigorously to give notice of his approach. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ There are all sorts and conditions of men employed as postmen, and among them are to be found men of education and culture. I have known several such men, who could talk on any subject, and had read widely. I asked one postman how he spent his annual holiday, and I think I suggested to him that he probably lay on the beach all day resting his tired limbs. “Good gracious, no!” he replied; “I go on a walking tour. I have done the Lakes, Wales, and Scotland. You see, sir, it's really a change of movement for me, for we postmen don't walk, we shuffle.” And this is perhaps the reason why the postman fails to impress us as an individual. In Mr. H. J. Barker's delightful book, _The Comic Side of School Life_, there is an amusing essay entitled _The Postman_, supposed to have been written by a little boy. Perhaps if all writers were to follow his example, and record what they have actually observed, rather than what has been communicated to them second hand, they would be equally entertaining.