Satire and yarns from past eras for people who are tired of the dull, raunchy, mouthy humor of today. Editor: Steve Van Nattan
Saturday, January 28, 2012
LETTER OF RESIGNATION-- 1883 STYLE
Postoffice Divan, Laramie City, W. T.,
October 1, 1883.
To the President of the United States:
I beg leave at this time to officially tender my resignation as postmaster at this place, and in due form to deliver the great seal and the key to the front door of the office. The safe combination is set on the numbers 33, 66 and 99, though I do not remember at this moment which comes first, or how many times you revolve the knob, or which direction you should turn it first in order to make it operate.
There is some mining stock in my private drawer in the safe, which I have not yet removed. This stock you may have, if you desire it. It is a luxury, but you may have it. I have decided to keep a horse instead of this mining stock.
The horse may not be so pretty, but it will cost less to keep him.
You will find the postal cards that have not been used under the distributing table, and the coal down in the cellar. If the stove draws too hard, close the damper in the pipe and shut the general delivery window.
* * * *
Acting under the advice of Gen. Hatton, a year ago, I removed the feather bed with which my predecessor, Deacon Hayford, had bolstered up his administration by stuffing the window and substituted glass. Finding nothing in the book of instructions to postmasters which made the feather bed a part of my offical duties, I filed it away in an obscure place and burned it in effigy, also in the gloaming. This act maddened my predecssor to such a degree that he then and there became a candidate for justice of the peace on the Democratic ticket. The Democratic party was able, however with what aid it secured from the Republicans, to plow the old man under to a great degree.
* * * *
You will find the key under the door-mat and you had better turn the cat out at night when you close the office. If she does not go readily, you can make it clearer to her mind by throwing the cancelling stamp at her.
If Deacon Hayford does not pay up his box rent, you might as well put his mail in the general delivery, and when Bob Head gets drunk and insists on a letter from one of his wives every day in the week, you can salute him through the box delivery with an old Queen Anne tomahawk; which you will find near the Etruscan water pail. This will not in any manner surprise either of these parties.
* * * *
Mr. President, as an official of this Government I now retire. My term of office would not expire until 1886. I must, therefore, beg pardon for my eccentricity in resigning. It will be best, perhaps, to keep the heart-breaking news from the ears of European powers until the dangers of a financial panic are fully past. Then hurl it broadcast with a sickening thud.