all sorts of curious, not quite honest devices, to gratify their natural desire without being too heavily taxed for it.  A brother and sister, for instance, unable to afford themselves the costly luxury of regular correspondence, would obtain assurance of each other’s well-being by transmission through the post at stated intervals of blank papers duly sealed and addressed:  the arrival of the postman with a missive of this kind announced to the recipient that all was well with the sender, so the unpaid “letter” was cheerfully left on the messenger’s hands.  Such an incident, coming under the notice of Mr. Rowland Hill, impressed him with a sense of hardship and wrong in the system that bore these fruits; and he set himself with strenuous patience to remedy the wrong and the hardship.  His scheme of reform was worked out and laid before the public early in 1837; in the third year of Her Majesty’s reign it was first adopted in its entirety, with what immense profit to the Government we may partly see when we contrast the seventy-six or seventy-seven millions of paid letters delivered in the United Kingdom during the last year of the heavy postage with the number exceeding a thousand millions, and still increasing—­delivered yearly during the last decade; while the population has not doubled.  That the Queen’s own letters carried postage under the new regime was a fact almost us highly appreciated as Her Majesty’s voluntary offer at a later date to bear her due share of the income tax.

It is well to notice how later Postmasters General, successors of Rowland Hill in that important office, have striven further to benefit their countrymen.  In particular, Henry Fawcett’s earnest efforts to encourage and aid habits of thrift are worthy of remembrance.

Again, it is during the first year of Her Majesty’s reign that we find Father Mathew, the Irish Capuchin friar, initiating his vast crusade against intemperance, and by the charm of his persuasive eloquence and unselfish enthusiasm inducing thousands upon thousands to forswear the drink-poison that was destroying them.  In two years he succeeded in enrolling two million five hundred thousand persons on the side of sobriety.  The permanence of the good Father’s immediate work was impaired by the superstitions which his poor followers associated with it, much against his desire.  Not only were the medals which he gave as badges to his vowed abstainers regarded as infallible talismans from the hand of a saint, but the giver was credited with miraculous powers such as only a Divine Being could exercise, and which he disclaimed in vain—­extravagances too likely to discredit his enterprise with more soberly judging persons than the imaginative Celts who were his earliest converts.  But, notwithstanding every drawback, his action was most important, and deserves grateful memory.  We may see in it the inception of that great movement whose indirect influence in reforming social habits and restraining excess had