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STORIES OF
to the sympathies of the majority, it remained quite a favourite in some parts of the country for more than twenty years. The words were written by a humble individual of small literary ability, who died in the Bath Workhouse, May 8th, 1888, after a hard fight against poverty. It must be confessed at once there is no art whatever in the irregular stanzas of the song, but there is plenty of human nature of a kind:
" What a wonderful man the postman is, As he hastens from door to door ! What a medley of news his hands contain,
For high, low, rich, and poor ! In many a face he joy doth trace,
In as many he gnefs can see, As the door is ope' d to his loud rat-tat, And his quick delivery.
Every mom, as true as the clock, Somebody hears the postman's knock.
" Number One he presents with the news of birth,
With tidings of death, Number Four, At Thirteen a bill of a terrible length
He drops through the hole m the door. A cheque or an order at Fifteen he leaves,
And Sixteen his presence doth prove, While Seventeen does an acknowledgment get,
And Eighteen a letter of love."
Properly speaking, the love-letter should have been left at Seventeen, but perhaps Mr.Thornton
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