"I don't think" was the terse though somewhat vulgar reply of a well-known district officer on the western side of India when asked if he would like to have a post office erected in a conspicuous place at the head-quarters of his district. He was willing to give the site in question for a clock tower, a public library or even a statue of one of his predecessors, but a post office, "No, thank you." The reason for this attitude may be easily understood by those who have seen the ordinary Indian post office of a few years ago. It used generally to be a rented building quite unsuited for the purpose and made perfectly hideous by small additions and projections constructed from time to time in order to meet demands for increased space. The windows and doors were used not for light and air nor even for giving access to the interior, but for business purposes. They were blocked up with the exception of a small hole just the size of a pane of glass, through which the members of the public had to try to get a clerk to attend to their requirements. When a Government building existed it was very little better, except in the matter of repairs. The interior of the ordinary post office was a dreadful sight a few years ago, a mass of untidy tables, a large number of cupboards, known in India as almirahs, ill-designed sorting cases and dirt, this last article being the most prevalent everywhere. Letters were sorted on the floor for convenience, and the delivery table with its ragged occupants, who did duty for postmen, was a sight for the gods.