the angel and the author-第6章
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office desires to encourage。 Would he not like a dog licence
instead？ is what one window suggests to him。 〃Oh； never mind that
letter of yours； come and talk about bicycles；〃 pleads another。 At
last he thinks he has found the right hole： the word 〃Registration〃
he distinctly recognizes。 He taps at the glass。
Nobody takes any notice of him。 The foreign official is a man whose
life is saddened by a public always wanting something。 You read it
in his face wherever you go。 The man who sells you tickets for the
theatre！ He is eating sandwiches when you knock at his window。 He
turns to his companion：
〃Good Lord！〃 you can see him say； 〃here's another of 'em。 If there
has been one man worrying me this morning there have been a hundred。
Always the same story： all of 'em want to come and see the play。
You listen now； bet you anything he's going to bother me for tickets。
Really； it gets on my nerves sometimes。〃
At the railway station it is just the same。
〃Another man who wants to go to Antwerp！ Don't seem to care for
rest； these people： flying here； flying there； what's the sense of
it？〃 It is this absurd craze on the part of the public for letter…
writing that is spoiling the temper of the continental post…office
official。 He does his best to discourage it。
〃Look at them；〃 he says to his assistantthe thoughtful German
Government is careful to provide every official with another official
for company； lest by sheer force of ennui he might be reduced to
taking interest in his work〃twenty of 'em； all in a row！ Some of
'em been there for the last quarter of an hour。''
〃Let 'em wait another quarter of an hour；〃 advises the assistant；
〃perhaps they'll go away。〃
〃My dear fellow；〃 he answers； 〃do you think I haven't tried that？
There's simply no getting rid of 'em。 And it's always the same cry：
'Stamps！ stamps！ stamps！' 'Pon my word； I think they live on stamps；
some of 'em。〃
〃Well let 'em have their stamps？〃 suggests the assistant； with a
burst of inspiration； 〃perhaps it will get rid of 'em。〃
＇Why the Man in Uniform has； generally； sad Eyes。＇
〃What's the use？〃 wearily replies the older man。 〃There will only
come a fresh crowd when those are gone。〃
〃Oh； well；〃 argues the other； 〃that will be a change； anyhow。 I'm
tired of looking at this lot。〃
I put it to a German post…office clerk oncea man I had been boring
for months。 I said：
〃You think I write these lettersthese short stories； these three…
act playson purpose to annoy you。 Do let me try to get the idea
out of your head。 Personally； I hate workhate it as much as you
do。 This is a pleasant little town of yours： given a free choice； I
could spend the whole day mooning round it； never putting pen to
paper。 But what am I to do？ I have a wife and children。 You know
what it is yourself： they clamour for food； bootsall sorts of
things。 I have to prepare these little packets for sale and bring
them to you to send off。 You see； you are here。 If you were not
hereif there were no post…office in this town； maybe I'd have to
train pigeons； or cork the thing up in a bottle； fling it into the
river； and trust to luck and the Gulf Stream。 But； you being here；
and calling yourself a post…officewell； it's a temptation to a
fellow。〃
I think it did good。 Anyhow； after that he used to grin when I
opened the door； instead of greeting me as formerly with a face the
picture of despair。 But to return to our inexperienced friend。
At last the wicket is suddenly opened。 A peremptory official demands
of him 〃name and address。〃 Not expecting the question； he is a
little doubtful of his address； and has to correct himself once or
twice。 The official eyes him suspiciously。
〃Name of mother？〃 continues the official。
〃Name of what？〃
〃Mother！〃 repeats the official。 〃Had a mother of some sort； I
suppose。〃
He is a man who loved his mother sincerely while she lived； but she
has been dead these twenty years； and； for the life of him he cannot
recollect her name。 He thinks it was Margaret Henrietta； but is not
at all sure。 Besides； what on earth has his mother got to do with
this registered letter that he wants to send to his partner in New
York？
〃When did it die？〃 asks the official。
〃When did what die？ Mother？〃
〃No； no； the child。〃
〃What child？〃 The indignation of the official is almost picturesque。
〃All I want to do；〃 explains your friend； 〃is to register a letter。〃
〃A what？〃
〃This letter； I want〃
The window is slammed in his face。 When； ten minutes later he does
reach the right wicketthe bureau for the registration of letters；
and not the bureau for the registration of infantile deathsit is
pointed out to him that the letter either is sealed or that it is not
sealed。
I have never been able yet to solve this problem。 If your letter is
sealed； it then appears that it ought not to have been sealed。
If； on the other hand； you have omitted to seal it； that is your
fault。 In any case； the letter cannot go as it is。 The continental
official brings up the public on the principle of the nurse who sent
the eldest girl to see what Tommy was doing and tell him he mustn't。
Your friend； having wasted half an hour and mislaid his temper for
the day； decides to leave this thing over and talk to the hotel
porter about it。 Next to the Burgomeister； the hotel porter is the
most influential man in the continental town： maybe because he can
swear in seven different languages。 But even he is not omnipotent。
＇The Traveller's one Friend。＇
Three of us； on the point of starting for a walking tour through the
Tyrol； once sent on our luggage by post from Constance to Innsbruck。
Our idea was that； reaching Innsbruck in the height of the season；
after a week's tramp on two flannel shirts and a change of socks； we
should be glad to get into fresh clothes before showing ourselves in
civilized society。 Our bags were waiting for us in the post…office：
we could see them through the grating。 But some informalityI have
never been able to understand what it washad occurred at Constance。
The suspicion of the Swiss postal authorities had been aroused； and
special instructions had been sent that the bags were to be delivered
up only to their rightful owners。
It sounds sensible enough。 Nobody wants his bag delivered up to
anyone else。 But it had not been explained to the authorities at
Innsbruck how they were to know the proper owners。 Three wretched…
looking creatures crawled into the post…office and said they wanted
those three bags〃those bags； there in the corner〃which happened
to be nice； clean； respectable…looking bags； the sort of bags that
anyone might want。 One of them produced a bit of paper； it is true；
which he said had been given to him as a receipt by the post…office
people at Constance。 But in the lonely passes of the Tyrol one man；
set upon by three； might easily be robbed of his papers； and his body
thrown over a precipice。 The chief clerk shook his head。 He would
like us to return accompanied by someone who could identify us。 The
hotel porter occurred to us； as a matter of course。 Keeping to the
back streets； we returned to the hotel and fished him out of his box。
〃I am Mr。 J。；〃 I said： 〃this is my friend Mr。 B。 and this is Mr。 S。〃
The porter bowed and said he was delighted。
〃I want you to come with us to the post…office；〃 I explained； 〃and
identify us。〃
The hotel porter is always a practical man： his calling robs him of
all sympathy with the hide…bound formality of his compatriots。 He
put on his cap and accompanied us back to the office。 He did his
best： no one could say he did not。 He told them who we were： they
asked him how he knew。 For reply he asked them how they thought he
knew his mother： he just knew us： it was second nature with him。
He implied that the question was a silly one； and suggested that； as
his time was valuable； they should hand us over the three bags and
have done with their nonsense。
They asked him how long he had known us。 He threw up his hands with
an eloq
