The Resignation

A veteran settler of the Waikato was recounting some of his early-days experiences. He tackled all sorts of jobs, from bullock-driving to storekeeping, in the rough old times just after the Maori wars. Among other duties, when he was running a small store in a just-started township before he took up farming, he was asked to conduct the post office, salary, say £10 per annum. The mail was not heavy, and the post office didn't take up much room. It consisted of an old candle-box, with a lid hinged on. Town headquarters, however, had an idea that Taki-takihoewaka P.O. was an important institution, and the postmaster received numerous official memos. of instructions and requests for returns and so forth. As he used these communications to light his pipe and his fire, headquarters began to get annoyed, and sent up an official to inspect and report. The officer arrived in a “please explain” mood, and demanded to know this and that and why and wherefore.

The postmaster wasted no time arguing with his high-and-mightiness. “Here's your blanky stamps,” he said, slamming down a sheet of them. “Here's your blinking punch”—the cancelling stamp. “Tell your boss I've resigned! And here goes the blanky post office!“—and taking the candle-box to the door he delivered a mighty kick and sent it flying into the creek that ran a few yards in front of the store.

They have a smart new post office now in that settlement—it's a town to-day. When it was opened, the local dignitaries said a lot about the noble pioneers who laid the foundations of this flourishing centre, but not a word about the pioneer post office that met a watery grave.