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have a glass of ale. And always the next day, whether it was pounds or shillings, I had a letter“ On Her Majesty's Service;" and Susan would meet me at the door, and say, “ George, here's another letter from the Queen,” and then we'd sit down after supper and count it up, and see how much I had at my banker's. I found putting money away in the Post-office Savings Bank so easy and so pleasant like, that I rather overdid the thing, and put more money away than I could spare. So one day I ran short, and had to draw out. It was almost as easy and expeditious as drawing a cheque upon one of the big banks. At the post-office they gave me a slip of paper with a form of withdrawal upon it, and addressed in print to the PostmasterGeneral on the back. I had nothing to do but fill in the number of my book, the amount I wanted to draw out, sign my name, double the bit of paper up, and shove it in the post. It only took me about a minute, for the paper was ready gummed for sealing, and no stamp was required, it being marked on the back, "On Her Majesty's Service.” It was two o'clock on Tuesday when I posted the letter. At four o'clock next day I had an answer in the shape of a printed form, very similar to the notice paper. I had nothing to do but sign it and present it at the post-office, and the money was handed to me, the clerk marking off the withdrawal in my book.

It's my belief that saving is a habit, like smoking, or taking snuff, or like extravagance. If you begin it and go on with it for a little time, you come to have a sort of passion for it. Whenever I had any spare cash, I was off to Bardsley's with it, and often when I thought of withdrawing some I didn't do it, saying to myself, “Oh, I can give notice to-morrow, or the next day, or any time I like;" and so perhaps I waited and tided over the temporary difficulty, and didn't withdraw at all.

About the beginning of December, in 'Sixty-three, when I went to put in three pounds, the clerk wouldn't

take it. “What's up?" I says; "going to stop ?” “No," he says; “but if you look at the rules and regulations in your book, you'll find that you ain't allowed to put in more than thirty pounds a year.” That, I believe, is to protect the regular bankers, and it may be quite right, but I don't exactly see it. I know this, that before the new year, when I might begin to put in again, I had blewed that three pound which the clerk wouldn't take. If it did any good to the regular bankers, it certainly didn't do any good to me. However, at the end of 'Sixty-three, I had fifty pounds at the Post-office Savings Bank, and I might have had sixty, only I took a holiday in August, and went down with Susan for a week to Margate, where we were rather free. And here I found out another advantage of this wonderful Post-office Bank. Susån and I went boating, and raffling, and driving in chaises, and ran short, and were likely to be in a fix, until I looked over the rules and regulations in my bank-book, when I learned that I might withdraw my money at any Post-office Savings Bank in the kingdom, by giving notice to that effect. So I sent up the usual notice of withdrawal to London-I keep a dozen of them stitched together in a cover, and call it my cheque-book-stating that I wanted to withdraw the money at the post-office at Margate ; and, almost by return, back came the withdrawal paper, and I had nothing to do but go to the post-office and get it cashed. And the forms don't cost you a farthing—there's no postage to pay; and when the time comes for you to send up your book to the chief office in London for the interest at two and a half per cent. to be calculated and added to your account, which is the anniversary of the day on which the first deposit was made—the Postmaster-General sends you a big envelope for the purpose.

Altogether, it's the best regulated thing I ever came across, and if it doesn't make people save, nothing will. But it does, I'm sure. Look at Bardsley's shop now, to what it was. Why, that little box with the pigeon

hole, where they used to do the post-office order business, has swollen into a great banking department, and there's Bardsley himself, with a clerk to help him, at it all day long, with piles of bank-notes and bowls full of sovereigns beside them—just like Twining's or the Bank of England itself. Bardsley's proud of it, too; I know he is. He's never behind the counter now, serving tea and sugar: he leaves that to his young men; he's a banker, bless you.

I don't believe I should ever have saved anything if these Post-office Savings Banks hadn't come up; and I'm sure if it was generally known how handy and convenient they are, thousands like myself would take advantage of them, and soon learn to be careful and provident. If there's a philanthropist that's hard up for an object, I don't know what he could do better than go about distributing tracts setting forth the rules and regulations and advantages of the Post Office Savings Banks.

(By permission of the Author.)

THE LEGEND OF THE FORGET-ME NOT.

ANONYMOUS. FAREWELL ! my true and loyal knight! on yonder battle

field Many a pearl and gem of price will gleam on helm and

shield: But bear thou on thy silver crest this pure and simple

wreath, A token of thy ladye's love - unchanging to the

death. They seem, I know, these fragrant flowers, those fairy

stars of blue, As maidens' eyes had smiled on them, and given them

ilat bright hue; As only fitting but to bind a lady's hair or lute, And not with war, or warrior's crest in armed field to

suit.

But there's a charm in every leaf, a deep and mystic

spell; Then take the wreath, my loyal knight, our Lady shield

thee well ; And, though still prouder favours deck the gallant

knights of France, Oh, be the first in every field, LA FLEUR DE SOUVE

NANCE ! How bland, how still this summer eve, sure never

gentler hour For lay of love, or sigh of lute, to breathe in lady's

bower; Then listen with a lover's faith, as spell-bound to the

spot, To the legend of my token flower, the charmed FORGET

ME-NOT. Young Albert led his Ida forth, when the departing

sun Still linger'd in the golden west, and shone like trea

sures won From some far land of old romance; some genie's

diamond throne, A wreck of bright enchanted gems, in triumph over

thrown.

Love, look towards those radiant clouds, so like to fairy

bowers : How proudly o'er a sea of gold are raised their ruby

towers; And now, as if by magic spell, a bright pavilion

seems, With its folds of sapphire light, where the panting

sun-ray gleams. To that bright heaven with smiles she looked; one

gleam of her blue eyes, And Albert's heart forgot the clouds, and all their

radiant dyes,

All, all, but that young smiling one, whose beauty well

might seem A fairy form of loveliness imagined in a dream.

She took a chaplet from her brow, which, gleaming soft

and fair, Like orient veil of amber light streamed down her

silken hair, Shedding fragrance and emitting brightness from its

glittering rings, As if halo'd by Love's breath, and the glancing of his

wings.

" These maiden roses, love, appear like pearls kissed

by the sun With last rich gleam of crimson ere his western throne

be won; But should there not be some bright flower to deck our

bridal wreath, Whose hue might speak of constancy, unchanging to

the death ?"

“My Ida! from a thousand wreaths, thy own sweet

fancy chose, For pure unfading loveliness, this garland of the

Rose: And what can speak of truer faith, my own beloved

one, Than the flower whose fragrance lasts even when its

life is gone ?"

"Look to yon lone enchanted isle, which 'mid the

silvery foam Of the blue water seems to float, the wild swan's elfin

home; A very cloud of azure flowers in rich profusion bloom ; Winds of the lake! your passing sighs breathe of their

rich perfume.

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