After writing it, place it in a square or oblong envelope--round ones are no longer fashionable--seal it on the back and write a legible address on the front; then take a two-cent stamp, give it a good licking and retire it to the corner--the upper, right-hand corner, on the outside--never inside, as the postmaster is not a clairvoyant. Drop it in a letter box and trust to luck. If it's a love letter, it will probably reach her all right, for Cupid is a faithful postman and carries a stout pair of wings. If it's a bill, by all means have it registered; otherwise, your debtor will swear he never got it. If it's cash for your tailor, heed the post-office warning, "Don't send money through the mails." Wait until you happen to meet him on the street. If he sees you first, you lose.

First-class Matter.
Anything you are ashamed to have the postmaster or postmistress read, and therefore seal up, is known as first-class matter. Also, postal cards, where you're only allowed to argue on one side. If you think your letter should travel slowly, invest ten cents in a Special Delivery Stamp. This will insure a nice, leisurely journey, lasting from one to two days longer than by the cheap two- cent route.

Second-class Matter.
This class was originated for the benefit of Patent Medicine Mixers, who print circulars on "What Ails You" four times a year, and pepper the land with "Before-and-after-taking" caricatures, at the rate of one cent a pound.

Third-class Matter.
While the quack nostrums travel second-class for one cent a pound, books, engravings, manuscript copy, and works of art have to go third-class and are taxed one cent for every two ounces. They must also be left open for inspection, thus affording the post-office employee a fleeting acquaintance with something really useful.

Fourth-class Matter.
Everything not included in the above, except poisons, explosives, live animals, insects, inflammable articles, and things giving off a bad odor. The last two do not include The Police Gazette or The Philistine.