Ive been reading Mark Twains autobiography. The method that he used in writing it was very unusual as it is not in chronological order... or actually in ANY particular order. He wrote it over a period of several years near the end of his life by dictating to a stenographer every day. He would basically just talk about whatever memories popped into his head or what he wanted to say about what was going on at the moment. I immediately thought of my old schoolmate, Libby Burton, who recently retired as a postmaster, when I read what Mark Twain said on Friday, March 23rd, 1906. He gives some examples of vaguely addressed letters that actually made it to his home: Mark Twain, Somewhere From a village priest in Bohemia. Mark Twain, God knows where From Australia. Mark Twain, (Try Satan) From an unknown person, however Twain comments, The strangers trust was not misplaced. Satan courteously sent it along. Mark Twain c/o President Roosevelt The White House Washington, America, USA From a young girl in France He was especially perturbed that the following letter was returned to the original sender after crossing the Atlantic ocean and bouncing between three states. He obviously felt that if the others made it to him then this one should have also. Mr. S.L. Clements (Mark Twain) Hartford, N.Y. Near Boston, USA Now then comes a fact which is almost incredible, to wit; the New York Post Office which did not contain a single salaried idiot who could not have stated promptly who the letter was for and to what town it should go, actually sent that letter to a wee little hamlet hidden away in the remotenesses of the vast state of New York. It was returned innocent of the suggestion, Try Hartford Connecticut, although the hamlets postmaster knew quite well that that was the Hartford the writer of the address was seeking. Then the New York Post Office opened the envelope, got Dr Johns address out of it, then enclosed it in a fresh envelope and send it back to Edinburgh. Dr. John then got my address from Menzies, the publisher, and sent the letter to me again. He also enclosed the former envelope - the one that had all the adventures - and his anger at our postal system was like the fury of an angel. He said that in Great Britain it was the Postal Departments boast that by no ingenuity could a man so disguise and conceal a Smith or a Jones or a Robinson in a letter address that the department couldnt find that man, whereas, then he let fly at our system, which was apparently designed to defeat a letters attempts to get to its destination when humanly possible. ~ Mark Twain
Posted on: Sun, 02 Nov 2014 00:10:30 +0000
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