"Report of the conditions at Becket reached this office about 9 A. M. Your postmaster immediately went to the depot in his private car and retrieved such mail as had been sent there by messenger and re-routed the same to Albany Terminal via Pittsfield. Mail was also received from Pittsfield in the same manner. This service was continued from Dalton to Pittsfield and return, augmented by aid of the mail messenger and several trips made by carrier in Government owned truck stationed at this office. Receipt and dispatch of mail was irregular but not seriously delayed except from and to the New England states. 

   "This office was not without receiving or dispatching mail any day during the suspension of the railroad service. 

   "Normal conditions were resumed on Wednesday, November 16, which is remarkable considering the extent of the catastrophe at Becket. The public were patient and no complaints were filed at this office. 

   "Every postal employee who came under my observation during this catastrophe deserves credit; everyone did his very best." 

   The postmaster at Washington, Mass., (to which office many letters for Washington, D, C. are misdirected) was well taken care of by truck service. While the postmasters at State Line and Richmond report in effect — "Nothing happened, mail every day." 

   East of Becket, the postmasters at Middlefield, Chester, Huntington, Russell, Woronoco and Westfield, glanced at the raging current heavily freighted with the wreckage of Becket and continued to give their patrons the best service possible. In some cases locked pouches of mail were sent out over a hearsay circuitous route only to be returned, unopened, to the office whence they came. 

   Star Route and R. F. D. carriers were severely tried but for the most part covered their routes. A rural carrier from Chester found a sack of mail for Huntington at the Becket railroad station and carried it 15 miles on his back as a little act of kindness to the people of Huntington. 

   The postmaster at Westfield points out the fact that mail service as usual had a quieting and reassuring effect upon fear-stricken citizens. In all of the many contributions to this little story we find those signs. We unconsciously lean upon some solid institution. 
 

   East Concord, Vt. was without trains or mail for four days, or until special carriers worked their way through, one from Concord, Vt. and another from Whitefield, N. H. The postmistress writes that no damage was done in the town except three or four bridges were washed away. In this matter of bridges lost in the flood, from a careful check-up of reports submitted by Vermont postmasters, we now have sufficient bridge material, could it be reassembled, to connect St. Johnsbury, Vt. with the Eads bridge at St. Louis, Mo. If New Hampshire, New York and Massachusetts do as well, we shall be able to reach and bridge the ferry between Oakland and San Francisco. 

   The postmaster reports that there were no trains from November 4 until December 9, but that substitute mail trucks provided satisfactory service after November 7. 

   McIndoe Falls postmaster advises he was without mail only two days and was thereafter supplied by truck service, accompanied by railway postal clerk who made exchanges en route. 

   East Ryegate was also supplied by temporary truck service. 

   The postmaster at St. Johnsbury Center writes in part as follows: 

   "On the morning of November 4 we were awakened about 1: 30 A. M. by a kind neighbor warning us of the danger of the rising water. Our home, in which the post office is located, was at first considered safe as it stood ten feet above any previous high water mark; but soon we saw that the post office was doomed, so the mail, stamps, records and supplies were enclosed in pouches and sacks and taken out of the rear window which by this time was the only exit not flooded. 

   "The water was three feet deep in the post office and when finally receded left its stain of slime and mud. Thirty houses in the village received the same slimy treatment as ours. Several buildings were swept away in the flood. Railroads, highways, bridges, telegraph, telephone, electric light and power lines were completely destroyed. 

   "So far as our community was concerned, we were completely cut off from the rest of the world. Notwithstanding, everybody had good courage and went to work with a will, first to get a road through to St. Johnsbury so we could get food and supplies, and then to make our homes livable once more. 

   "With the help of my assistant I had the post office in fair shape for business at noon Saturday, November S. At 1:30 P. M. I set out on foot for St. Johnsbury, a distance ordinarily of ten miles for the round trip. With various detours, I reached home on return trip at dusk. I carried a pouch of first class mail each way. I was given a rousing reception on my return, such as was given the mail carrier in the pioneer days when the receipt of mail was indeed an event. By Monday the highways were passable and for a week we carried our own mail by auto, when through truck service was established which continued until the railroads were able to resume operations. It was gratifying to note how strongly the public relied on the Postal Service. It seems to feel that the Postal Service will stand when everything else fails." 

   We will now go over to Montpelier and hear what the resourceful postmaster of the Capitol City of Vermont has to say: 

   "As the result of two days' continual rain the Winooski and North Branch rivers, which in the past have proved ample as waterways to carry the waters of this section onward to Lake Champlain, proved to be entirely inadequate, and the usually docile streams ran over their banks and became roaring torrents, leaving death and destruction in their wake. 

   "The postoffice at Montpelier, situated within a stone's throw of the junction of the North Branch and Winooski rivers was caught without warning, and before postmaster or employees could sense or realize what was taking place, the building was completely engulfed. If such a thing as that which occurred on November 3 and 4 had happened during the spring of the year when streams and rivers were frozen and mother earth had no chance to absorb moisture, it might have been possible to forsee some probable danger from high water; but under the conditions apparently favorable so far as streams and earth were concerned, the deluge came about as a bolt from a clear sky. 

   "On the afternoon of November 3, it was discovered that water was backing up through sewers into the basement of the Montpelier post office. It occurred to the postmaster that possibly water would soon flow into the boiler room pit and put out the fire under the boiler, therefore, after warning the fireman to put out the fire if necessary, he set out to procure piping and an ejector for forcing water out of the pit if it became necessary to do so. Donning his hip rubber boots he secured the services of an auxiliary carrier and truck, to get the equipment. On his return through main street, much to his surprise, the water was up to the running board of the truck, so after admonishing the driver not to stop or observe traffic regulations, they made their way to State Street safely, which at that time was not under water. Upon reaching the office he found that the fire under the boiler had been put out and the pit was rapidly filling with water. With the aid of the janitor force they succeeded in getting the ejector up, and operations started, when suddenly the basement windows began to crash in and water flowed through in alarming proportions. After warning the janitors to leave the basement the postmaster attempted to make his way through the corridors to the workroom floor. Finding this impossible he climbed out a basement window and entered by the rear door. He was then wet up to his hips. Checking up the situation in the office he found that all employees, with the exception of the Superintendent of Mails, one regular clerk and one auxiliary clerk, had been called home. Expecting that the water would recede very soon, he gave orders to lock safes, vaults and doors. At this time the lights went out. Making his way to his private office, he took off his clothes, wrung them out and put them on again, discarding the boots for a pair of dry shoes. 

   "Finding a candle, another survey of the surroundings was made and what to employees seemed almost unbelievable, it was found that water was then just a few inches from the workroom floor which was nearly seven feet above the street sidewalk. Calling the men together, they began to rob dispatching cases, distributing cases, carrier cases, general delivery cases and lock box sections of all the mail. This work was accomplished with just the light of one candle, and before all first class mail was taken care of the employees were again working in water up to their knees. 

   "At this time the postmaster thought of his car. Looking out of the window he noticed that it was in running condition, running around the postoffice yard, here there and everywhere, just as the current caught it, until finally it was lost to sight, being completely inundated. 

   "About 9 P. M. debris began to pass the office, riding the angry waters, and from that time until daylight, automobiles, garages, barns, bungalows and everything imaginable crashed intermittingly against the solid construction of the Federal Building. Thanks to the Architect, it was solid. The night wore on without lights, water or food. As postal employees were wet up to their hips the postmaster advised the men to break up some old chairs and build a fire in the fireplace in the Judges' Chamber of the U. S. Courtroom. In this way they managed to keep warm during the long, dreary hours of the night, the silence of which was interrupted by the noise of the water, the crash of buildings and cries for help, but nothing could be done. The telephones were all out of commission, and as far as communication was concerned, all were as well off as though they were in darkest Africa, and no one knew whether or not members of their families were safe. It was a terrible night.