THE GALAXY. (continued 3)

She looked up to Nola with an expression of childlike anxiety.

"Why should it not be so, Lucy? If I were a man, I should be very much in love with you, dear. You are the girl that men ought to be in love with."

There was a certain tone of coldness or constraint in Minola's voice which could not escape even Lucy's observation.

"You think me weak and foolish, I know very well, Nola, because I have made such a confession as this. For all your kindness and your good heart, I know that you despise any girl who allows herself to fall in love with a man. You don't care about men, and you think we ought to have more dignity, and not to prostrate ourselves before them; and you are quite right. Only some of us can't help it."

"No," said Minola sadly; "I suppose not."

"There! You look all manner of contempt at me. I should like to have you painted as the Queen of the Amazons—you would look splendid. But I may trust to your friendly heart and your sympathy all the same, I know. You will pity us weaker girls, and you won't be too hard on us. I want you to help me."

"Can I help you, Lucy? Shall I ask Mr. Heron if he is in love with you? I will if you like."

"Oh, Nola, what nonsense! That only shows how ridiculous you think me. No, I only mean that you should give me your sympathy, and let me talk to you. And—you observe things so well—just to use your eyes for my sake. Oh, there is so much a friend may do! And he thinks so much of you, and always talks to you so freely."

Yes, Minola thought to herself; he always talks to me very freely—we are good friends. If he were in love with Lucy, I dare say he would tell me. Why should he not? She tells me that she is in love with him—that is a proof of her friendship.

We can think in irony as well as speak in it, and Minola was disposed at present to be a little sarcastic. She did not love such disclosures as Lucy had been making. There seemed to be a lack of that instinctive delicacy in them, which, as she fancied, might be the possession of a girl were she brought up naked in a south sea islet. Fresh and innocent as Lucy was, yet this revelation seemed wanting in pure self-respect. Perhaps, too, it was in keeping with Minola's old creed to believe that this was just the sort of girl whom most men would be sure to love. At any rate, she was for the moment in a somewhat bitter mood. Something of this must have shown itself in her expression, for Lucy said, in a tone of frightened remonstrance—

"Now, Nola, I have told you all. I have betrayed myself to you, and if you only despise me and feel angry with me, oh, what shall I do? Isn't it strange—you both came the same day here—you and he, for the first time—I mean the first time since I saw you at school. Am I to lose you too?"

There was something so simple and helpless in this piteous appeal, with its implied dread of a love proving hopeless, that no irony or anger could have prevailed against it in Minola's breast. She threw her arm round the child's neck and petted and soothed her.

"Why should you lose both—why should you lose either?" Minola said. "I can promise you for one, Lucy dear; and if I could promise you for the other too, you might be sure of him. He must be a very insensible person, Lucy, who fails to appreciate you. Only don't make it too plain, dear, to any one but me. They say that men like to do the love-making for themselves—and you have not the slightest need to go out of your way. Tell me—does he know anything of this?"

"Oh, no, Nola."

"Nor guess anything at all?"

"Oh, no—I am sure not—I don't think so. You didn't guess anything—now, did you?—and how could he?"

Minola felt a little glad to hear of this—for the dignity of womanhood, she said to herself. But she did not know how long it would last, for Lucy was not a person likely to accomplish great efforts of self-control, for the mere sake of the abstract dignity of womanhood. For the moment, all Minola could do was to express full sympathy with her friend, and at the same time to counsel her gently not to betray her secret. Lucy went to her bedroom at last, much fluttering and quivering, but also relieved and encouraged, and she fell asleep, for all her love pains, long before Minola did.

"She will be very happy," Minola sat thinking, when she was alone. "She has a great deal already: a loving father, and mother, and sister; a happy home, where she is sheltered against everything; a future all full of brightness. He will love her—I suppose. She's very pretty, and sweet, and obliging; and he is simple and manly, and would be drawn by her pure, winning ways; and men like him are fond of women who don't profess to be strong. Well, if I can help her, I will do so—it will be something to see her completely happy, and him too."

Whereupon, for no apparent reason, the tears sprang into Minola's eyes, and she found a vain wish arising in her heart that she had never renewed her acquaintance with Lucy Money, never been persuaded by Mary Blanchet to visit her, never stood upon her threshold and met Victor Heron there.

"Why not wish at once that I had never been born?" she said, half tearful, half scornful of her tears. "One thing is as easy now as the other, and as useful, and not to have been born would have saved many idle hours and much heartache."

CHAPTER XV.

A MORNING CONFIDENCE.

Minola rose next morning with a bewildering and oppressed sense of disappointment and defeat. The whole of her scheme of life had broken down. Her little bubble world had burst. All her plans of bold independence and of contented life, of isolation from social trammels, and freedom from woman's weaknesses, had broken down. She had always thought scorn of those who said that women could not feel friendship for men without danger of feeling love—and now, what was she but a cruel, mocking evidence of the folly of her confidence? Alas, no romantic schoolgirl could have fallen more suddenly into love than Minola had done. There was but one man whom she had ever seen with whom she had coveted a friendship, and she now knew, only too well, that in her breast the friendship had already caught fire and blazed into love. Where was Alceste now, and the Alceste standard by which she had proposed to test all men and women, well convinced beforehand that she would find them wanting? She could not even flatter herself that she had been faithful to her faith, and that if she had succumbed at the very outset, it was because the first comer actually proved to be an Alceste. No, she could not cram this complacent conviction into her mind. Victor Heron was a generous and noble-hearted young man, she felt assured; but she had not fallen in love with him because of any assurance that he was like the hero of her girlhood. She made no attempt to deceive herself in this way. In her proud resentment of her weakness she even trampled upon it with undeserved scorn. "I fell in love with him," she said to herself, "just as the silliest girl falls in love—because he was there, and I couldn't help it."

It was not merely Lucy's revelation which had forced upon Minola a knowledge of her own feelings. This had perhaps so sent conviction home as to render illusion or self-deception impossible any longer, but it was not that which first told her of her weakness. That had long been more and more making itself known to her. It was plain to her now that since the first day when she stood upon the bridge with him in the park, and looked into the canal, she had loved him. "Oh, why did I not know it then?" she asked wearily of herself. "I could have avoided him—have never seen him again—and it might so have come to nothing, and at least we should not have to meet."

Amid all her pain of the night and the morning, one question was ever repeating itself, "Will this last?" That the fever which burned her was love—genuine love—the regular old love of the romances and the poets—she could not doubt. She knew it because it was so new a feeling. Had she walked among a fever-stricken population, refusing to believe in the danger of infection, and satisfied that the fearless and the wise were safe, and had she suddenly felt the strange pains and unfamiliar heats, and found the senses beginning to wander, she would have known that this was fever. The pangs of death are new to all alike when they come, but those who are about to die are conscious—even in their last moments of consciousness—that this new summons has the one awful meaning. So did Minola know only too well what the meaning was of this new pain. "Will it last?" was her cry to herself. "Shall I have to go through life with this torture always to bear? Is it true that women have to bear this for years and years—that some of them never get over it? Oh, I shall never get over it—never, never!" she cried out in bitterness. She was very bitter now against herself and fate. She did not feel that it is better to love vainly than not at all. Indeed, such consoling conviction belongs to the poet who philosophizes on love, or to the disappointed lover who is already beginning to be consoled. It does not do much good to any one in the actual hour of pain. Minola cordially and passionately wished that she had not loved, or seen any one whom she could love. She was full of wrath and scorn for herself, and believed herself humbled and shamed. Her whole life was crossed; her quiet was all gone; she was now doomed to an existence of perpetual self-constraint and renunciation, and even deception. She had a secret which she must conceal from the world as if it was a murder. She must watch her words, her movements, her very glances, lest any sudden utterance, or gesture, or blush should betray her. She would wake in the night in terror, lest in some dream she might have called out some word or name which had roused Mary Blanchet in the next room, and betrayed her. She must meet Victor Heron, heaven knows how often, and talk with him as a friend, and never let one gleam of the truth appear. She must hear Lucy Money tell of her love, and be the confidante of her childlike emotions. Not often, perhaps, has a proud and sensitive girl been tried so strangely. "I thought I hated men before," she kept saying to herself. "I do hate them now; and women and all. I hate him most of all because I know that I so love him."

All this poor Minola kept saying or thinking to herself that morning as she listlessly dressed. It is not too much to say that the very air seemed changed for her. She had only one resolve to sustain her, but that was at least as strong as her love, or as death—the resolve that, come what would, she must keep her secret. Victor Heron believed himself her friend, and desired to be nothing more. No human soul but her own must know that her feeling to him was not the same. She would have known the need of that resolve even if she had never been entrusted with poor dear little Lucy's secret. But the more calmly she thought over that little story the more she thought it likely that Lucy's dream might come to be fulfilled.

The world—that is to say, the breakfast room and the Money family—had to be faced. The family were as pleasant as ever, except Lucy, who looked pale and troubled, and at whom her father looked once or twice keenly, but without making any remark.

"I have had a letter from Lady Limpenny already this morning," Mr. Money observed.

All professed an interest in the contents of the letter, even Theresa.

Mr. Money began to read:

"Thank you a thousand times, my dear Money——"

"We are very friendly, you see, Miss Grey," he said, breaking off. "But it's not any peculiar friendship for me. She always calls men by their names after the first interview."

"She generally addressed papa as 'my dear,' without any proper name appended," said Lucy, who did not much like Lady Limpenny. "She always likes the men of a family and always hates the women."

"Lucy, my dear," her mother pleaded, "how can you say so? Laura Limpenny and I are true friends."

"She is giving us good help with our schools and our church," Theresa Money said; "and Reginald" (Theresa's engaged lover) "thinks very highly of her."

"She always praises men, and they all think highly of her," Lucy persisted; "and it is something to be Lady Anything."

"I assure you, Miss Grey," Mrs. Money said, "that Lady Limpenny is the most sincere and unpretending creature. She is not an aristocrat—she has nothing to do with aristocracy; if she had, there could be little sympathy, as you may well believe, between her and me, for you know my convictions. The aristocracies of this country are its ruin! When England falls—and the hour of her fall is near—it will not be due to beings like Laura Limpenny."

"There I agree with you, dear," Mr. Money gravely said. "Shall I go on?"

He went on:

"Thank you a thousand times, my dear Money, for your wise and Christianlike advice. I will keep my china. I am convinced now that my ideas of yesterday were wrong, and even sinful. I had a charming talk with a dear æsthetic man last evening, after I saw you, and he assures me that my china is a collection absolutely unique; and that, if I were to part with it, Mrs. De Vallancey would manage, at any cost, or by any contrivance, to get hold of it; and your darling wife knows how I hate Mrs. De Vallancey. I now feel that it is my duty to keep the china, and that a love for the treasures of art is in itself an act of homage to the Great Creator of all.

"My sweetest love to your darling wife and angel girls. Kind regards to the young lady with the hair; and when you see our dear friend Heron do tell him that I expect him to call on me very soon.

"Ever yours,

"Laura Limpenny."

"'Our dear friend Heron,'" exclaimed Lucy in surprise and anger. "Does she know Mr. Heron so well as that?"

"She met him here yesterday for the first time," Mr. Money said; "but that's quite enough for Lady Limpenny. She has taken a violent liking to him already, and enrolls him among her dear friends. Seriously, she would be rather a useful person for Heron to know. She knows every one, and will do anything. Her husband attends all the old women of quality, and a good many of the young women too. I shouldn't be surprised if Sir James Limpenny—or his wife—could get Heron a hearing from some great personage."

"I am sure he won't do that," said Lucy warmly. "I don't believe Mr. Heron would condescend to be helped on in that sort of way."

"Why not?" Minola asked. "I think Lady Limpenny is a more creditable ally than a person like Mr. St. Paul. If a man wants to succeed in life, I suppose he must try all the usual arts."

"I didn't think you would have said that of Mr. Heron, Nola," said Lucy, hurt and wondering.

Nola did not think she would have said it herself twelve hours ago. Why she said it now she could not tell. Perhaps she was womanish enough to feel annoyed at the manner in which Lucy seemed to appropriate Victor Heron's cause, and womanish enough too to relieve her mind by saying disparaging things of him.

Mr. Money's eyes twinkled with an amused smile.

"See how you wrong a man sometimes, you ladies—even the most reasonable among you. Heron is more Quixotic than you think, Miss Grey. I have had a letter from him this very morning about St. Paul. I'll read it if you like—it need not be kept secret from anybody here."

Mrs. Money and Lucy earnestly asked to have the letter read, and Mr. Money read it accordingly:

"My Dear Money: I don't like St. Paul, and I won't march through Coventry with him. I think he is unprincipled and discreditable, and if I can't get in for Keeton without his helping hand, I'll stay out of Keeton, and that's all about that. I know you will agree with me when you think this over. Excuse haste and abruptness. I want to make my position clear to you without any loss of time.

"Yours faithfully,

"Victor Heron."

"Now, Nola, you see you were wrong," the triumphant Lucy exclaimed.

"I do not like Mr. St. Paul," the quiet Theresa observed. "He seems to me godless and demoralized. He spake in the lightest and most scoffing way of the labors of the Church among the heathen populations."

"I liked him," Mrs. Money sighed. "I liked him because he had the spirit to resign his rank and fling away his title."

"I think his rank rather resigned him," Mr. Money observed. "Anyhow, one must in the ordinary world consent to take up with a scamp now and then. Heron says he won't have anything to do with St. Paul, and Lucy undertakes to say for him that he won't be patronized by Lady Limpenny. I ask you all calmly, as civilized and Christian beings, how is a young fellow to get on in London who won't consent to be helped by scamps and old women."

"Mr. Heron represents a political cause," the eager Lucy began.

Her father looked quietly round at her.

"Why, Lucelet, my dear, when did you come to know anything about political causes, or to care about them? I thought you only cared for the renascence of art—isn't it renascence you call it? I understood that politics were entirely beneath the notice of all your school. Pray tell me, Mistress Politician, to which side of politics your father belongs?"

"Oh, papa, for shame! What nonsense! As if I didn't know. Of course you are a Liberal—an advanced Liberal."

"Good; and our friend Heron?"

"An advanced Liberal too. Of course I know that you are on his side."

"That I am on his side? That he is on my side wouldn't do, I suppose, although I am somewhat the elder, and I am in Parliament while he is not in, and is not particularly likely to be if he continues to be so squeamish. What are the political views of our young friend the artist, the poet, the bard, or whatever you please to call him?"

"Mr. Blanchet?" Lucy slightly colored.

"Mr. Blanchet, yes. Am I on his side?"

"Oh, he has no side. He knows nothing of politics," Lucy said contemptuously.

"Stupid of him, isn't it?"

"Very stupid. At least, I suppose so; I don't know. Oh, yes; I think every man ought to understand politics."

Mr. Money smiled, and let the subject drop.

When breakfast was over, Mr. Money suddenly said,

"Miss Grey, you always profess to know something about politics. Anyhow, you know something about Keeton folks, and you can give me some useful hints about their ways with which I can instruct our dear friend Heron, as Lady Limpenny calls him. Would you mind coming to my study for a quarter of an hour, away from all this womankind, and answering me a few questions?"

Minola was a little surprised, but showed no surprise, and only said that she would be delighted, of course. Mr. Money offered her his arm with a somewhat old-fashioned courtesy which contrasted not unbecomingly with his usual cheery bluntness of manner to women and men alike.

"Not many ladies come here, Miss Grey," Money said, offering her a chair when they were in the study. "Lucelet looks in very often, to be sure, but only as a messenger; she doesn't come into council."

"Do I come into council?" Minola asked with a smile and a little of heightened color. "I shall feel myself of great importance."

"Well, yes, into council. First about yourself. I have been looking into your affairs a little, Miss Grey—don't be angry; we are all fond of you in this house, and you don't seem to have any one in particular to look after your interests."

"It was very kind and good of you. I have not many friends, Mr. Money; but I am afraid the word 'interests' is rather too large for any affairs of mine. Have I any interests? Mary Blanchet understands all my affairs much better than I do."

"Yes, they may be called interests, I think. You know that anybody who likes can find out everything about people's wills, and all that. Do you know anything about your father's will?"

"No," Minola said, with a start, and feeling the tears coming to her eyes. "I don't, Mr. Money. At least, not much. I know that he left me some money—so much every year; not much—it would not be much for Lucy—but enough for me and Mary Blanchet. Mary Blanchet manages it for me, and makes it go twice as far as I could. We never spend it all—I mean, we haven't spent it all this year. I should never be able to manage or to get on at all only for her."

Minola spoke with eagerness now, for she was afraid that she was about to receive some of the advice which worldly people call wise, and to be admonished of the improvidence of sharing her little purse with Mary Blanchet.

"And, indeed, I ought to do something for her—something particular," she hastened to add, for she was seized with a sudden fear that Mr. Money might have heard somewhere of her resolve to have Mr. Blanchet's poems printed at her own expense, and might proceed to remonstrate with her.

Mr. Money smiled, seeing completely through her, and only thinking to himself that she was a remarkably good girl, and that he much wished he had a son to marry her.

"Do you know what I was thinking of?" he asked bluntly.

"I am sure you were thinking about me, for you laughed—at my ignorance of business ways, I suppose?"

"Not at all; I was thinking that I should like to have a son, and that I should like you to marry him."

Minola laughed and colored, but took his words as they were meant, in all good humor and kindness.

"If you had a son, Mr. Money, I am sure I would marry him if you asked me, and he——"

"Thank you. Well, I am only sorry I can't take you at your word. But that wasn't exactly what I brought you here to tell you. What I want to tell you is this. You are likely to have a good deal of property of one kind and another, Miss Grey. Your father, I find, made a good deal of money in his time, and saved it; bought houses and built houses; bought up annuities, insurances, shares in companies—all manner of things. He only left his property to his present wife for her use of what it brings every year during her life. At her death it all comes to you, and I'm told she can't live long."

"Oh, but she may. I hope and pray that she may," Minola exclaimed. "It seems shocking to watch for a woman's death, especially when we were not very friendly to each other. I don't want the money; I have enough—quite enough. I shouldn't know what to do with it. I don't care much about new dresses, and bonnets, and the fashions, and all that; and what could I do with money, living alone in my quiet way? I think a girl of my age, living all to herself, and having much money, would be perfectly ridiculous. Why could not her husband get it, if the poor creature dies? That would be only right. I am sure he may have it for me."

"He mayn't have it for me though," Mr. Money said. "You have no one, it seems to me, to look after your interests, and I'll take the liberty to do so, for lack of a better, whether you like it or not. However, we can talk about that when the time comes."

Minola gave a sort of shudder.

"When the time comes. That seems so dreadful; as if we were only waiting for the poor woman to be dead to snatch at whatever she left behind her. Mr. Money, is there really no other way? must I have this property?"

"If she dies before you, yes—it will come to you. Of course you know that it isn't great wealth in the London sense. It won't constitute you an heiress in the Berkeley Square sense, but it will give you a good deal of miscellaneous property for a young woman. Well, as to that, I'll see that you get your rights; and the only thing I have to ask is just that you will not do anything decided, or anything at all, in this business, without consulting me."

"Oh, indeed, I can faithfully promise you that. I have no other friend whom I could possibly consult, or who would take any interest in me."

"Come, now, I can't believe that. If you wish, you can be like the young lady in Sheridan's song—friends in all the aged you'll meet, and lovers in the young."

"I don't want to be like her in that."

"In having friends in all the aged?"

"Oh, I don't know; in anything. I am well content with the friends I have."

"Well, some of them, at least, are well content with you. Now, Miss Grey, I want to speak to you of something that concerns me. You and my daughter Lucy are great friends?"

Minola almost started.

"I am very fond of Lucy."

"And she is very fond of you. We all are for that matter. Did you ever hear of an old Scottish saying about a person having a face like a fiddle—not in shape, you know, but in power of attracting people, and rousing sympathy?"

"Yes. I think I remember it in some of Scott's novels."

"Very well. I think you have a face like a fiddle; all our sympathies are drawn to you. Now that is why I speak to you of something which I wouldn't talk about to any other woman of your age—not even to my own daughter Theresa, an excellent creature, but not over sympathetic. I am very fond of my Lucelet. She isn't strong; she hasn't great intelligence. I know my little goose is not a swan, but she is very sweet, and sensitive, and loving: the most affectionate little creature that ever was made happy or unhappy by a man. I am morbidly anxious about her happiness. Now, you are her friend, and a thousand times cleverer and stronger than she, and she looks up to you. She would tell you anything. Has she told you anything lately?"

Minola hesitated.

"Oh, you needn't hesitate, or think of any breach of confidence. You may tell me. I could get it all from herself in a moment. It isn't about that I want to ask you. Well, I'll save you all trouble. She has told you something."

"She has."

"She is in love!"

Minola assented.

Mr. Money ran his hand through his hair, got up and walked a turn or two up and down the study.

"The other day she was a child, and cared for nobody in the world but her mother and me! Now a young fellow comes along, and, like the Earl of Lowgave's lassie in the old song, she does not love her mammy nor she does not love her daddy."

"Oh, but I don't think that at all," Miss Grey said earnestly. "No girl could be fonder of her father and mother."

Mr. Money smiled good-humoredly, but with a look of pity, as one who corrects an odd mistake.

"I know that very well, Miss Grey, and I was not speaking seriously, or grumbling at my little lassie. But it does astonish us elderly parents, when we find out all of a sudden that there are other persons more important than we in the eyes of our little maidens, and we may as well relieve our minds by putting the feeling into words. Well, you know the hero of this little romance?"

Minola was looking steadily at the fire, and away from Mr. Money. She did not answer at once, and there was a pause. The suddenness of the silence aroused her.

"Oh, yes, Mr. Money. I know who he is," she said, without looking round.

"Very well. Now comes the delicate part of my questioning. Of course you can't be expected to read the secrets of other people's hearts, and I suppose you are not in his confidence."

"No, indeed," she said very quietly.

"No—you couldn't tell how he feels toward my Lucelet?"

Minola shook her head.

"If I were a man, I am sure I should be in love with her," she said.

"You think so? Yes, perhaps so; but in this case, somehow——. Well, Miss Grey, another question, and then I'll release you, and speak to me frankly, like a true girl to a plain man, who treats her as such. Is there any woman, as far as you know, who is more to him than Lucelet?"

Mr. Money had now come near to where Minola was sitting. He stood leaning against the chimney-piece, and looking fixedly into her face. At first she did not even understand the meaning of his question. Then suddenly she felt that her cheeks began to burn and her heart to beat. She looked up in wonder and pain, but she saw so much of earnestness and anxiety in Mr. Money's face that it would have been impossible not to understand and respect his purpose. In his anxiety for his daughter's happiness his whole soul was absorbed. Minola's heart forgot its own pain for the moment. Her own memory of a father was not of one thus unselfishly absorbed. She answered without hesitation, and with quiet self-possession.

"Oh, no, Mr. Money. I know of no such woman. So far as I can guess, none such exists."

Mr. Money drew a deep breath, and his eyes brightened.

"Miss Grey," he said, "I think any other woman in the world would have told me she wasn't in Mr.—in his secrets, or given me some evasive or petulant answer. I thank you a thousand times. We may then—I may—pursue without compunction my matchmaking schemes. They are not very selfish; they are only for Lucelet's happiness. I would ask one of my office clerks to marry her if she loved him and he was likely to make her happy; and I would set them up in life. You may guess, then, whether this idea pleases me. But I confess I didn't think—well, of course, your assurance is enough, but I began to think of something different."

Minola rose to go away.

"One word, Miss Grey. Pray don't say anything to my wife about this. She is the truest and kindest of women, as you know, but she can't understand keeping anything a secret, and she always begs of us to leave her out of the smallest plot of the most innocent kind, because she must let it all out prematurely. Now I'll release you, and you have, at all events, one friend in life to be going on with—friend among the aged I mean; the rest will come fast enough."

With a bewildered head and a bursting heart, Minola found her way to her own room.

MOHEGAN-HUDSON.

James Manning Winchell.

PUBLIC LIBRARIES IN THE UNITED STATES.

Many a mickle makes a muckle, says the proverb, and whoever looks into the operations of society on the great scale will find how true the saying is. A national debt, a national crop, the cattle feeding on the hills of a broad continent, the school-going children of a populous commonwealth, the number of its vagabonds and criminals at large or in jail, all need such an array of figures for their expression that the amounts really convey no impression to the mind. The number of books collected in public libraries does not reach such unwieldy proportions as these, but it is still very large. The information gathered by the Bureau of Education for the purpose of exhibiting the condition of American society at the end of the first century of our independence shows that the libraries which are classed as "public" number 3,682 in the United States, and contain 12,276,964 volumes and 1,500,000 pamphlets.

Of our private libraries little is known. In 1870 the census-takers reported 107,673 collections of this class, containing in all 25,571,503 volumes, but these numbers are known to be much below the truth. The acute and practical superintendent of the ninth census declared that this part of his work had no value, and even said that "the statistics of private libraries are not, from any proper point of view, among the desirable inquiries of the census." What a commentary upon the progress of society is contained in this opinion of the most accomplished statistician ever engaged in studying our social movements! It is but a short time since the owning of books was a mark of superior station in the world. What has produced the change?

We can perhaps learn the cause of it better by a comparison than by direct study of bibliographical history. In Voltaire's time thermometers were so great a rarity that the owner of one of them was considered to be a savant. Time and social progress have so completely altered this state of things that thermometers are now made in factories, are owned by all classes, and applied to the commonest uses. The thermometers hanging on our walls no longer indicate familiarity with science, but merely that a new tool has been added to household appliances. So in book-making. The art which once served chiefly to record discoveries in knowledge, conduct controversies in polemics, philosophy, and politics, and for other grave and important purposes now adds to these a multitude of common uses. A library may contain scores and even hundreds of volumes, and yet have nothing but those books which have served in the education and amusement of the children in an ordinary family. Or it may be the result of a chance aggregation of "railway literature," bought to relieve the tediousness of travel. Or it may consist, as is sometimes the case, of the small and precious collections in frontier log huts, of the gratuitous contributions of the patent medicine vender, the plough-maker, and the lightning-rod man, mingled with the dear-bought subscription books of the wandering peddler! Books are so common that the possession of them is no longer an indication of the intellectual tendency of their possessors.

With libraries open to the public the case is different. Their condition affords one standard by which the character and tastes of the people may be measured.

The United States are considered to be far behind foreign countries in their book collections. We have nothing to compare with Dresden, Berlin, and Paris, with their 500,000, 700,000, and 2,000,000 volumes. We do not reach the wealth of even such second-rate places as Wolfenbüttel, Breslau, and Göttingen, if their collections are correctly reported at 300,000, 340,000, and 400,000 volumes. And yet each year witnesses the purchase of more than 400,000 volumes for our public libraries, taken collectively, a number that is larger than any one collection in this country! The permanent fund of our libraries, so far as known, amounts to $6,105,581 and their annual income to $1,398,756. These figures do not, in fact, represent anything like the truth, for not half the libraries reported their permanent fund, or their yearly purchases, and only one-quarter reported their yearly income. About one-fifth of the whole number (769 exactly) report their expenditures for new books at $562,407, and in 742 libraries the use of books amounts to 8,879,869 volumes yearly. In these figures Sunday-school libraries, one of the most constantly used kinds, are not included. Looking at the magnitude of the numbers reported, and considering all that is omitted, we obtain an inkling of the immense exchange of books among the people from these public distribution points.

The existing public libraries, excluding all under 300 volumes, and all in Sunday-schools of whatever size, may be considered as belonging to six principal divisions. These, with the number of libraries and the volumes in each, are as follows:

Class. No. libraries. No. Volumes.

Professional 360 1,406,759

Historical 51 421,794

Government 122 1,562,597

Proprietary Public 1,109 3,228,555

Free Public 342 1,909,444

Miscellaneous 121 305,016

3,682 12,276,964

The "miscellaneous" class contains the libraries of secret and benevolent societies, and some others difficult to arrange. On the whole it might be better to class them with the proprietary public libraries.

Educational libraries are the oldest in the country, and the most venerable of them is naturally that of the oldest educational institution, Harvard University, which dates from 1638. Before the end of that century three others had been started, and singularly enough, all at about the same time: King William school at Annapolis, 1697, King's Chapel Library at Boston, 1698, and Christ church at Philadelphia, 1698. Yale and William and Mary Colleges began their collections in 1700, and then proprietary libraries began their existence. The Proprietors' Library in Pomfret, Conn., was founded in 1737, Redwood, in Newport, 1747, and the Library Society, Charleston, S. C, 1748. Philadelphia was especially active at that early period, establishing no less than five, the Library Company in 1731, Carpenters', 1736, Four Monthly Meetings of Friends, 1742, Philosophical Society, 1743, and Loganian, 1745. Fifty-one of these enterprises were begun in the second half of the eighteenth century, but failure and consolidation brought the number of living libraries in 1800 down to forty-nine. In 1776 twenty-nine were in existence, and from that time the growth has been as follows:

Libraries formed. Number. Present size.

From 1775 to 1800 30 242,171 vols.

" 1800 to 1825 179 2,056,113 "

" 1825 to 1850 551 2,807,218 "

" 1850 to 1876 2,240 5,481,068 "

This little table brings out very strikingly the distinctive peculiarity of libraries in this country. Their strength does not lie so much in the importance of individual collections as in the existence of a large number of young, active, and growing institutions which are unitedly advancing to a future that must evidently be tremendous. More than seventy per cent. of our existing libraries have been formed within the last twenty-five years, and contain about 2,500 volumes each. Of the older libraries those which were founded in the last quarter of last century have an average of about 8,000 volumes, those of the following quarter about 11,500 volumes, and those of the third quarter about 5,000 volumes each. It is plain that library work has been remarkably active since 1850. In fact it has been so active as to open a new profession to the educated classes of this country. A large number of highly trained men are engaged in library work, and the discussion of library science is carried on with energy. It is quite probable that a few more years will see the introduction of this study into American colleges, as a preparation for a promising branch of industry. But let us return to our classification, which covers some interesting points.

Educational libraries are of three kinds:

1. Academy and school 1,059, with 1,270,497 vols.

2. College 312 " 1,949,105 "

3. Asylum and Reformatory 206 " 223,197 "

District school libraries form a very modern part of the general system, having been first suggested by Governor Clinton of New York in 1827, and introduced by law in 1835. Since then twenty other States have adopted the plan, but some, like Massachusetts, have abandoned it for that of town libraries. The greatest difficulties it labors under are found in country districts, where the funds are applied to other purposes, and the books are recklessly lent out and lost, both evils being due to the fact that few persons can be found who are able and willing to keep the work in good order. In cities the success of these district libraries is much greater. They now report an aggregate of 1,270,497 books, but their statistics are very incomplete. College libraries are among the most important in the country, that of Harvard being the largest we have, after the Congressional library in Washington. As to asylum and reformatory libraries, it would be hard to find circumstances under which books could be more usefully collected than in those institutions, where in 1870 32,901 prisoners were confined, and 116,102 paupers housed habitually or at times. If we consider that only one-fifth of the criminals are in jail, and allow for the natural increase of criminals and paupers, it will be apparent that the population which may derive benefit from these libraries must now number at least 300,000 persons. To meet their wants there are 206 libraries, with 223,197 volumes. The Pennsylvania State Penitentiary has the largest collection, 9,000 volumes, besides 1,000 school books. The other end of the line is occupied by Florida, which maintains 40 volumes in its Penitentiary.

Some interesting information has been gathered concerning the literary taste of convicts. Story books, magazines, and light literature generally are the favorite choice, but history, biography, and travels are also well patronized. In the Massachusetts State prison Humboldt's "Cosmos" and other philosophical works are called for. In fact the value of prison libraries is vouched for by all authorities, and one says that no convicts, except those really idiotic, leave a prison where there is a library without having gained some advantage. The greatest defects in the system are the lack of books and of light to read them by at night. There are but forty prison libraries, with 61,095 volumes, and in American prisons the cells are not lighted. Lights are placed in the corridors so that only a small number of the inmates have light enough to read by. The Joliet (Ill.) prison is a cheering exception to this gloomy state of things. Each cell has its own catalogue, and lights are allowed up to nine o'clock. Public charities of several kinds have lately suffered from exposures that prevent charitably disposed persons from giving aid which they would otherwise gladly contribute. It may be useful to suggest that money sent to any prison for the benefit of its library could hardly fail to be helpful.

In reformatories, where the effort is to cultivate the moral faculties, the library is an essential part of the system. Forty-nine of them have collections containing 51,466 books. In these institutions we have an indication of what the library, and other moral forces like it, is worth as an educator. Mr. Sanborn thinks that the proportion "of worthy citizens trained up among the whole 24,000 in preventive and reformatory schools would be as high as seventy-five per cent."

Professional libraries are—

1. Law 135, with 330,353 volumes

2. Medical 64 " 159,045 "

3. Theological 86 " 633,369 "

4. Scientific 75 " 283,992 "

Here we have two surprises. One is that lawyers, with their interminable "reports" falling from nearly every court in the country, and never becoming really obsolete (a peculiarity that hardly any other professional works enjoy), should have so few and such small libraries. The reason probably lies in the assiduity with which each lawyer collects the works needed in his line of practice. The other surprise is that a profession so old and active as that of medicine should be so poorly represented in books. The lawyers have an average of about 2,400 books in their libraries, and the largest collections in the list are that of the Law Institute in New York, 20,000 volumes; Harvard School, 15,000; Social Law Library, Boston, 13,000; and Law Association of San Francisco, 12,500. No other reaches 10,000 volumes, and in fact the above deductions leave the others with about 2,000 volumes each. The medical gentlemen are still worse off. There are in the Surgeon General's office 40,000 volumes; Philadelphia College of Physicians, 18,753; Pennsylvania College of Physicians, 12,500; and New York Hospital, 10,000; leaving an average of 1,300 volumes to each of the other institutions. In these figures we have an indication of the excellent work done by the Army Bureau at Washington. Its 40,000 bound volumes are supplemented by 40,000 pamphlets, making a collection which the profession greatly needed. The theologians seem to have attended as energetically to the collection as to the making of books. In the last division of this class belong the engineering, agricultural, mining, botanical, military, and naval schools and societies, and they appear to give considerable importance to their libraries. Though they are mostly young institutions, the average number of books is 3,800. In addition to the bound volumes mentioned above, the societies own 218,852 pamphlets and 2,169 manuscripts, the proportion of these two kinds of literary works being naturally large in scientific collections. The largest libraries are those of the Essex Institute, Salem, Mass., 30,655 volumes, and 105,408 pamphlets, and "many" MSS.; Philadelphia Academy of Natural Sciences, 30,000 volumes and 35,000 pamphlets; Wagner Free Institution of Science, Philadelphia, 15,000 volumes; Museum of Comparative Zoölogy (Harvard), 13,000; Illinois Industrial University, 10,000; School of Mines, New York, 7,000; Sheffield Scientific School, 5,000.

Historical societies have been much more actively employed in collecting than the table we have given indicates. Since the adoption of the Constitution in 1789 no less than one hundred and sixty societies have been formed, and Dr. Homes of the New York State Library reports their collections to aggregate more than 482,000 volumes and 568,000 pamphlets. The number of MSS. is 88,771, besides 1,361 bound volumes of them. The largest accumulations are:

Volumes. Pamphlets. MSS.

Am. Antiq. Soc., Worcester 60,497

New York Historical 60,000 12,000 15,000

Wisconsin Historical 33,347 31,653 300

Long Island Historical 26,000 25,000

Massachusetts Historical 23,000 45,000 1,000 v.

Congregational Library, Boston 22,895 95,000 550

Connecticut Historical 16,000 20,000

Amer. Philosoph., Philadelphia 20,000 15,000 100 v.

German Society, Philadelphia 16,000

Pennsylvania Historical 16,000 30,000 25,000

It is among these societies that we find the largest average of any class, excepting the Government. Historical libraries contain about 8,400 bound volumes, 7,000 pamphlets, and 1,000 MSS. to each collection. In spite of this the public collections are often surpassed in completeness in special branches by private ones. In this country a public institution can rarely compete successfully with an eager and determined private buyer.

Government libraries include others than those for the use of officials, as the following list shows:

Libraries. Volumes.

1. Government 35 695,633

2. State and Territorial 47 834,219

3. Garrison 40 32,745

The official libraries are of several kinds, and as many of them are of prime importance, we may be permitted to specify them more minutely than those of any other class:

Volumes.

Library of Congress 300,000

" House of Representatives 125,000

" Surgeon General 40,000

" State Department 29,000

" Senate 25,000

" Patent Office 23,000

" War Department 13,000

" Attorney General 12,000

" Treasury 8,440

" Solicitor of Treasury 6,000

" Post Office 6,301

" Hydrographer's Office 7,000

" Dep't. Agriculture 7,000

" Bureau Statistics 6,000

" Naval Observatory 7,000

" Coast Survey 6,000

Many of these are scientific collections and the only large ones of their kind in the country. Their presence, in conjunction with the Smithsonian Institution, has made Washington one of the most active scientific centres in the country. Government publications are sometimes referred to as mere trash, but aside from the remarkably thorough and admirable reports which the several public surveys have produced within a few years, and aside from such notable publications as the reports of Wilkes, Perry, and Kane, the ordinary issues of the Government printing office are anything but undeserving documents. They are in most cases necessary, useful, and interesting to some one. As special reports, made to cover some field that is narrow, however necessary it may be, and limited to that range by the law which authorizes them, they cannot possibly often be publications of general interest. In fact it is their extremely special character that gives them value. We are sometimes told that a government may be obliged to publish its State papers as matter of record, but it is noticeable that these volumes of documentary history are less inquired for than almost any others. The surveying, engineering, geological, astronomical, and other scientific reports published by the Government are in much greater request, and bring the highest prices in old bookstores. The explanation is, of course, that the scientific reports are useful to a larger class than the others. They appeal to "bread-winners" in several important professions, to students of pure science the world over, and to the already large and increasing body of teachers. For the "Smithsonian Contributions" one hundred and fifty dollars, or more than first cost, is demanded, and the first volume brings twenty dollars, or two and a half times its original price. The Mining Industry volume of the Fortieth Parallel Report brought forty dollars in the shops (whenever it could be found) even while the Engineer Corps was still gingerly distributing its limited edition gratis. Many more examples could be adduced, but these are sufficient to show that the Government does bring out works that are sorely wanted. We wish its method of distribution were better. At present the workers in a profession have great difficulty in obtaining the most needed publications of Government, while Congressmen, who are politicians and nothing else, are flooded with books they cannot understand, and only sneer at. The distribution of professional reports through members of Congress, who are not professional men, has never produced anything but dissatisfaction. There is no part of the country where Government publications can be found. Even New York city cannot produce them. This is all wrong. The Government should maintain a collection of all its publications in at least four States. They could be established either in connection with existing libraries or with the army headquarters that are maintained permanently in such places as New York, Chicago, San Francisco, and New Orleans. Such documentary libraries would not be deserted, as some may suppose. The Patent Room of the Boston Public Library was visited last year by 1,765 persons, and a collection of the engineering, scientific, and official publications of the Government in New York would be a centre for professional study, and be visited by thousands yearly. To house the Government publications would require so much space that an ordinary library could hardly be expected to undertake the task without aid. The patent specifications alone of three countries, Great Britain, France, and the United States, with their increase for ten years to come, require an apartment at least thirty feet square.

Proprietary public libraries are the second of the six kinds in size, and would be the first if the "miscellaneous" were counted among them, as they probably should be. Under this head we have grouped all public collections the access to which is in any way limited, as by a yearly payment, by membership in a society, or otherwise. The large total in the table is made up of:

Number. Volumes.

1. College Society L. 299 474,642

2. Mercantile 15 543,930

3. Social 708 2,052,423

4. Y. M. Christian A. 87 157,557

In this class we first reach the libraries that deal directly with the "people"; that is, adults of moderate means. These collections have been well styled the "colleges of the poor," and in them all persons who are industrious enough to be able to spare a dollar or two yearly may obtain useful knowledge or innocent amusement. Classes for study of languages, literature, and the arts, and lectures by prominent persons are frequently added to the library system, the whole forming one of the most potent of modern social forces. It seems quite natural that this democratic system of intellectual improvement should owe its origin to the people's philosopher, Poor Richard. Benjamin Franklin founded the first proprietary library in Philadelphia, in 1731, and his plan included not merely coöperation for the sake of pecuniary strength, but also discussion and mutual improvement.

Free public libraries are in character much like the last class, but are maintained usually by State or town grants, or by private gifts. It is probably in connection with these institutions that the dream of some enthusiasts for uniting art museums to the collections of books will be realized.

Only twelve States have a quarter of a million volumes in their public libraries, taken together. They are:

Libraries. Volumes.

Massachusetts 454 2,208,304

New York 615 2,131,377

Pennsylvania 364 1,291,665

District of Columbia 63 761,133

Ohio 237 634,939

Illinois 177 463,826

Connecticut 121 414,396

Maryland 79 382,250

California 85 306,978

New Jersey 91 280,931

Missouri 85 260,102

Virginia 65 248,156

This order will, no doubt, rapidly and constantly change. It will be observed that in respect to number of libraries the succession is not the same as for the number of volumes. It can hardly be doubted that such States as Ohio, Illinois, California, and Missouri will advance up the line, while others that now do not possess a quarter of a million volumes, as Indiana, with 137 public libraries, Michigan, with 94, Iowa, with 80, Tennessee, with 74, and Kentucky, with 71, will soon be in the list. As a matter of State "rivalry," such summaries are valueless, even if any rivalry of the kind could be proved. But they do have some interest and value as social statistics.

More significant, perhaps, are the libraries of ten principal cities, in which one-quarter of all the books in the country within public reach are gathered:

Libraries. Volumes. Pop'tion 1870.

New York 122 878,665 942,292

Boston 68 735,900 250,526

Philadelphia 101 706,447 674,022

Baltimore 38 237,934 53,180

Cincinnati 30 200,890 216,239

St. Louis 32 172,875 310,864

Brooklyn 21 165,192 396,099

San Francisco 28 162,716 149,473

Chicago 24 144,680 298,979

Charleston 6 26,600 48,956

500 3,431,899 3,340,628

In these ten cities, therefore, are collected 7.3 per cent. of the public libraries, 28 per cent. of the books, and 8.66 per cent. of the population in this country. If Washington had been included instead of Charleston, the concentration of books in cities would have been more strikingly marked.

A proper conception of American libraries cannot be obtained without assorting them according to size, which is done in the following table:

Number. Volumes.

500-1,000 Volumes 925 592,510

1,000-2,000 " 762 983,953

2,000-3,000 " 362 816,928

3,000-4,000 " 236 765,010

4,000-5,000 " 156 667,874

5,000-10,000 " 264 1,703,271

10,000-20,000 " 152 2,013,660

20,000-50,000 " 82 2,329,305

50,000-100,000 " 10 640,617

100,000-200,000 " 7 926,727

Over 200,000 " 2 599,869

What is to be the future of American libraries? The most obvious discernible facts are that the popular energies are likely to be given to the support of free town libraries, and that the aggregate of book accumulations will be enormous, though no individual collection now presents the likelihood of rising to extreme proportions; the increase will come by the growth of the numerous small libraries. The mercantile institutions have done and are continuing a good work, but they have prepared the way for a step beyond. Free town libraries are quite in sympathy with American ideas, and will be supported. They are capable of being made good means of disseminating information. It is fortunate that in this country novels belong to the cheapest publications, most of the good ones appearing in fifty-cent and dollar editions. More solid works are also costlier, so that a popular library can with good reason give its energies to the collection of really good works, leaving the people to supply themselves with the cheaper novels.

Numerous as are the views which have been expressed upon the proper scope and quality of the library of the future, we propose to add one to the list of suggestions. It is that the next founder of a library should confine it entirely to periodicals. It is through current literature that every kind of science and every tendency of thought now finds expression. The profoundest discussions in philosophy, discoveries in knowledge, keenest studies of life and character, are now made through the world's weekly and monthly publications. Books are often no more than summaries of what has been printed before in separate magazines. We have in fact heard of one gentleman who broke up the library he had spent years in collecting, and gave his attention to periodicals, because they were the original sources of knowledge in his profession. The libraries which we have styled "professional" are compelled to spend large sums on these issues, which were once styled "ephemeral," but are now found to be of lasting value.

Under these circumstances, why not have a library of this periodical literature? Just as some men refuse to read translations, learning a new language if a book they need is printed in a tongue unknown to them, so let us reject summaries and accumulate original materials. As to the cost of such a library, the five thousand important periodicals which are said to be published will require probably $30,000 a year for their purchase, and if as much more is added for rent, binding, salaries, etc., we have an income required which demands a capital of more than a million dollars, to say nothing of half a million for back numbers!

Some readers may be curious to know what chance there is of making a collection that shall be fairly representative of the world's literature. We can safely answer, none. Herr Hottinger, who has issued the prospectus of a universal catalogue of all books published, thinks there are about three million titles, and his critics say this estimate is too low. Twenty-five thousand new works are said to be added each year to this number. Now the largest number of volumes (and therefore a less number of titles) added to libraries in this country yearly, is: Boston Public Library, 18,000; Philadelphia Mercantile, 17,004; Congressional, 15,400; Chicago Public, 11,331; Cincinnati Public, 11,398; New York Mercantile, 8,000; and Harvard, 7,000. The numbers reported by the Mercantile and public libraries are of little value, since these institutions often buy a dozen or a score copies of a popular work. It is therefore evident that no library in this country is even attempting to keep up with the current issue of books.

It has been found impossible to estimate, with any degree of accuracy, the amount of money spent on new books by the libraries, as more than half of them fail to make any report on this point. Permanent funds, amounting to $6,105,581, are held by 358 libraries, and 1,364 have none; 1,960 make no report. The endowments are divided very unevenly among the classes, as this table shows:

Number Reporting. Amount.

Educational 54 $775,801

Professional 54 695,610

Historical 26 742,572

Government none

Proprietary Public 124 1,079,359

Free Public 93 2,804,964

Miscellaneous 7 7,275

This, however, does not show what is spent yearly in buying books, an item which only one in about twenty-three of the libraries report. The amount is $562,407, and at $1.25 per volume, which is Mr. Winsor's estimate of the average cost of books, the yearly acquisitions by purchase are limited to about 450,000 volumes.

Figures such as we have presented are really no guide to the worth of an individual library, or of a library system, to the people. That can be learned only by the comparison of experiences by the men who have charge of the books and their distribution, but the elements for such an analysis are wanting. The yearly use of books in 742 libraries in 1875 was 8,879,869 volumes, or from two to two and a half times the number of volumes on the shelves of the reporting libraries. Great differences exist in this respect. Few libraries are so eagerly sought as the military post library on Angel Island, California, which distributed its 772 books so often that its yearly circulation was 4,500! The Chicago Public Library, with 48,100 volumes, circulated 403,356; Boston Athenæum, with 105,000 volumes, circulated 33,000; Boston Public Library, with 299,869 volumes, circulated 758,493.

These statistics are sufficient. It is probable that the libraries of the country, costing say $16,000,000 for books, and spending more than $1,400,000 yearly, afford to the people the use of from twenty-four to thirty million volumes every year. It cannot be doubted that they form a very important factor in our social and national economy.

More than a thousand librarians are engaged in the conduct of the public libraries, many of them men of great ability and culture. There can be no doubt that their study of this important problem will result in the establishing of an intelligent and harmonious system of supplying a nation with the reading matter it requires.

John A. Church.

HOW NATIONAL BANK NOTES ARE REDEEMED.

There are few divisions in the Treasury department of the United States at Washington less known to the public, and more interesting to visitors, than that over the entrance to which is displayed the legend "National Bank Redemption Agency." It is a matter of the most common knowledge throughout the country, that the various forms of national currency and securities are by some process, popularly esteemed more or less miraculous, printed at the Treasury, and that greenbacks are by some method, presumably more within the laws of nature, redeemed there. The ordinary money-holder, who has in his pocket his tens or hundreds of legal tenders, is passably familiar with the history, past and to come, of each note. But to his national bank notes the average financier is more of a stranger. Each note, if he can read as well as reckon cash, tells him whence it cometh, but ten to one he has only the vaguest notion of whither it goeth. Hence it is that of the thousands of ejaculatory comments delivered, during the centennial summer and autumn, through the wire gate opposite to the second assortment teller's desk, at the agency, so many were of a nature tending to make that industrious clerk smile with amusement or stare in amazement.

The throngs of centennial visitors who daily passed through the halls of the Treasury saw various things at the agency to attract their notice. They saw their entrance barred by the gate above alluded to, put there for the double purpose of securing ventilation and excluding "the great unwashed"; they saw a small-sized room converted into a perfect labyrinth by means of wirework partitions; they saw in each of the apartments so set off hundreds of thousands, and even millions of dollars, in the various processes of handling in bulk, piled upon counters and tables, constructed evidently with a view to use rather than ornament; and they saw through the entrance to an adjoining room national bank notes of all denominations, passing with wonderful rapidity under the deft fingers of counters of both sexes. But what chiefly imposed upon the imagination of the country visitor were two massive safes, reaching from the floor to the ceiling. In the interests of truth, let a revelation be made to a public too prone to believe their eyes. Those safes, for at least the upper third of their ponderous height, are of inch pine boards. The crowded condition of the Treasury building renders space very valuable. A place of storage was needed for the various forms of stationery in use at the agency. The floor was already covered with desks, tables, and counters, the intricate passages between which would have defied the attempts of the Minotaur to escape; but there were at least a hundred cubic feet of space above each of the iron safes, absolutely going to waste. The genius of the officials and the skill of the departmental cabinet makers triumphed over the difficulties of the situation. As for the inconvenient height, is it not annihilated by a ladder?

By act of Congress, the Treasurer of the United States is constituted the agent of the national banks for the redemption of their notes. The agency, since July 1, 1875, is one of the divisions in his office. Regular provision is made by Congress in the appropriation bills for the salaries of the force of this division. Careful accounts are kept of every item of expense incurred during the year, and at the end of the twelvemonth the sum disbursed is apportioned among the banks according to the number of the notes of each that have been handled, and assessments are made for the several amounts. The circulation of national banks being redeemable in greenbacks, each bank is required by law to keep on deposit with the Treasurer legal tenders to the amount of five per cent. of its outstanding issue as a fund for the redemption of its notes.

The present law provides for ninety-eight clerks in the agency, ranging in grade from the messenger to the superintendent. Of this number, those employed in handling money are divided into two forces, under the direction, respectively, of the receiving teller and the assorting teller. The business of the former force is to receive the shipments coming from the various banks and sub-treasuries for redemption, count the money, and report the amounts for return remittances; that of the latter force is to assort the notes and prepare them for delivery to the Comptroller of the Currency for destruction or to the banks for reissue. This double process may seem at first sight very simple and easy; but in fact it is extremely complex and difficult; and the division in which it is carried on may fairly be counted among the most thoroughly organized and systematically conducted parts of all the machinery devised by the Government for the transaction of the manifold public business. And no wonder, when it is recollected that there are now in circulation nine denominations of national bank notes, the issue of twenty-three hundred and forty individual institutions, amounting in the aggregate to three hundred and twenty millions of dollars; and that every one of these notes, and every dollar of this total, must ultimately, by those ninety-eight clerks and their successors, be separated from the mass, and assigned, under the proper description, with unerring precision, each to the bank by which that particular unit of this vast volume was emitted and must be redeemed.

The bulk of the currency sent in for redemption comes through the Adams Express Company, who have a contract for making all shipments of money for the Government, and who for convenience have an office in the basement of the Treasury. The agency occupies four rooms on the main floor along the west wall, and one on the opposite side of the passage. Early visitors to that part of the building may have noticed a wooden box, much resembling a carpenter's tool chest, trundled along upon a cart by a porter, and followed by a man with a book under his arm. The box contains the day's delivery of national bank currency for redemption, ranging ordinarily from half a million to a million and a half of dollars, and the book contains a receipt for the amount, to be signed by the receiving clerk of the agency. The money comes in perhaps a hundred or as high as two hundred and fifty packages, from as many places throughout the country. On being opened these packages display a miscellaneous aggregation, of which the following items may be mentioned: Thousands of notes of all the denominations and all the banks, perhaps a little soiled, but perfectly sound, and for all the purposes of currency in as good a condition as when they left the printers' hands; a somewhat smaller bulk of others in every state of mutilation and uncleanliness; hundreds, clean, crisp, and unwrinkled, that have not been counted three times outside of the division of issues; scores torn, cut, ground, burned, charred, boiled, soaked, chewed, and digested, until a skilful eye is required to recognize that they have ever been intended for money; and scattered singly through this mass, counterfeits, stolen notes, "split" notes, "raised" notes, and now and then a stray greenback.

The packages, after an entry of them has been made on the books, are distributed singly among women counters, each of whom gives her receipt. A counter, upon receiving a package, takes it to her desk, breaks the seals, and first takes an inventory of the money to see whether the aggregate of the sums called for by the straps around the various parcels of notes corresponds with the amount claimed for the whole. Should she find a discrepancy, she makes a certificate of the difference for return to the sender. Next she proceeds to count the money, carefully keeping the notes and straps of each parcel separate. If she discovers an error of count, she notes upon the strap, over her initials and the date, the sum which she finds the package to be "over" or "short." Spurious or other notes, for any reason excluded by the rules, are thrown out, pinned to the straps in which they came, and returned. After finishing her count she makes a statement of the amounts of "overs," "shorts," counterfeits, and other rejected notes, and of the amount for the credit of the sender, and from this statement return remittance is made. The next duty of the counter is to assort the notes into the two classes of such as are unfit for circulation and such as are fit, and into the various denominations. When a hundred notes of one denomination and class are counted she surrounds them with a white strap, on which she pencils her initials and the date. Straps printed for full packages of a hundred notes of the different denominations are provided. Less than a hundred notes make a package of "odds." The "odds" arising from a day's count are delivered to "odd" counters, who mass them into full packages. Each counter, having finished this portion of her work, enters, in duplicate, upon a leaf of the blank book furnished her for this purpose, the various items into which she has divided her cash, and delivers this with the money to the teller. He takes an inventory of the amount by straps, and finding the counter's statement to be correct, tears off the half leaf on which the duplicate account is made, and signs the original as a receipt. After all the full packages resulting from the day's count have been delivered in this manner, the teller makes them up into bundles of ten, or one thousand notes, keeping each denomination and class separate, and in this shape, on the evening of the day on which the money was received, they are ready for delivery to the assorting teller's room. Here the amount is inventoried and receipted for, and the money is locked up for the night in the iron portion of one of those wonder-waking safes.

None but the most experienced and skilful counters are employed in this first process, the responsibility both to the Government and the employee being too great to be imposed upon any but experts. It will readily be seen not only that correctness of count is of vital importance, but also that the knowledge and skill necessary to detect irredeemable notes are indispensable. A counter, when she puts her initials upon a package of notes, assumes the responsibility for the correctness of the amount as shown upon the strap; and any differences, if against her, will be made good at the end of the month out of her salary. The degree of accuracy reached by the present force is surprising considering the bulk of money handled daily. Counterfeits which, like the fives on the Traders' National Bank of Chicago, the Hampden of Westfield, Massachusetts, and the Merchants' of New Bedford, Massachusetts, have passed current all over the country, and become so worn that some unsuspecting village banker thinks proper to have them redeemed, are laid aside without a second glance. All the tricks practised by operators in "queer" are discovered instantly.

Among the means known to these gentry for expanding illegally the value of genuine currency, that most frequently resorted to is known as "splitting." Nine notes, for example, of a single denomination, are taken, and of the first one-tenth is cut off from the upper portion with a sharp knife by a line parallel to the margin. From the second two-tenths are cut, and so on, the divisions being made successively lower by tenths of the width, until from the last note the lower tenth is cut. The upper portion of the first note is then joined, by pasting, to the lower portion of the second, the upper portion of the second to the lower portion of the third, and this plan being carried out with all the others, the result is the production of ten notes, each of which lacks one-tenth of its face, but which will pass with little question, among the inexperienced, at full value. The original notes being, however, very likely of different banks in several States, one effect of this operation, in the cases where the lines of division pass through the titles, is the creation of banks not found on the lists of the Treasury. When a note of this composition is presented for redemption the joined portions are separated, and being genuine are treated as parts of notes, and redeemed accordingly. The rules of the department applying to national bank currency are that notes lacking less than two-fifths are redeemed at their face. When more than two-fifths are missing the amount allowed for is proportionally reduced. The only exception to this rule is in cases where there is satisfactory evidence that the missing portion has been destroyed and can never be presented for redemption.

Another trick of counterfeiters is that of "raising." The original numerals and letters denoting the value of the note are carefully scraped off with a sharp instrument. By this means the paper is made thin, and over the places are pasted the figures and words of a higher denomination, often so neatly as to defy detection except on critical examination. Fives are in this way often converted into fifties, and ones into hundreds. Of course the alteration will readily be discovered by any one in the habit of handling money. Such notes are redeemed at the original face value.

But of all irredeemable notes those which appeal most strongly to the ill feelings of counters are of the description known as "stolen." Readers of newspapers will doubtless recollect accounts of a heavy robbery perpetrated not many months ago upon the Northampton National Bank of Northampton, Massachusetts. Among the booty there secured by the burglars were one hundred and forty-five new five-dollar notes, of the issue of that bank, unsigned, which had never been paid over the counter. The cashier had taken the precaution to make a memorandum of the numbers printed on the faces, and was therefore enabled to describe each note as he would his watch taken from his fob by a pickpocket. Notice was given to the department, and though the notes came in shortly after by the dozen, it is safe to say that not one has been charged to the account of the bank. The notes are perfectly genuine, excepting the signatures; the most skilful expert would hardly discover anything suspicious in their appearance; the only irregularity connected with them is the way they were put in circulation. The fact of their existence renders necessary to every counter who would secure herself against loss an examination of the numbers printed on every five-dollar note of that bank passing through her hands; for the bank, never having issued those stolen, cannot be made to redeem them. Other banks have currency in circulation upon a similar basis, the number of notes varying in different instances from one upward. Occasionally a straggler of this description makes its way some distance into the agency, but it is sure to be detected sooner or later by some of the many vigilant eyes under which it must pass—eyes perhaps made all the more vigilant by costly experience of the consequences of carelessness. Such notes when discovered to have been redeemed become the property, in exchange for a like amount in greenbacks, of the person last concerned in their redemption.

It has been seen that the greater portion of the currency received is fit for circulation. Out of an aggregate of $176,121,855, assorted during the fiscal year ending June 30, 1876, $97,478,700 was of this description, and was returned to the banks for reissue. Originally it was the expectation that none but worn and mutilated notes would be offered for redemption, and for a long while all redeemed currency, in whatever condition, was destroyed, and new issued instead. But the proportion of sound notes became at length so great that the new plan was adopted as an evident measure of economy, and now no piece of paper money is withdrawn from circulation until worn out, unless at the desire of the bank. Many financial institutions within easy reach of the capital make a custom of forwarding for redemption all their receipts of currency for the day, getting in return new notes just from the printers. This method is pursued as an accommodation to the business public, who prefer clean and crisp notes; and while a day's deposits of any large bank must include much currency perhaps just out of the Treasury, the whole bulk is often shipped off to avoid the labor of assorting. Besides, remittances for redeemed notes of national banks being made, if desired, in greenbacks, the agency furnishes a convenient means to city banks for keeping up their legal tender reserves. Under the effect of heavy redemptions the condition of the currency of the country is constantly improving, and the proportion of "fit" notes received at the agency is gradually increasing.

The next process which the redeemed currency undergoes is that of assorting, and is carried on in a large room extending through about one-fourth of the length of the building. Along the walls, on both sides of an aisle, are arranged three rows of assorters' tills, by means of which the labor is carried on. These tills are rectangular in shape, and are divided into fifty-two compartments or "boxes," in four rows of thirteen each. These boxes are four inches in depth, and a little larger in length and width than the surface of a note. The tills are mounted at an inclined angle upon stands, very much like a printer's case. At one end, attached by a hinged support, is a small table at which the assorter, seated upon a stool, does his counting and writing, and which, when not needed for this purpose, is swung underneath the till. A woven-wire folding screen is fastened to the upper portion of the stand, and may be locked down over the boxes, or thrown back out of the way. Padlocks of improved construction are part of the equipment, no two keys being interchangeable. Below the till is a shelf of the width of the stand, for the convenience to the assorter next in front. Each till is supplied with a blank book in duplicate forms for the assorter's accounts, an array of different colored printed straps, a box of bank pins, and all the appliances necessary for handling money with ease and rapidity.

For convenience in assorting, the twenty-three hundred and forty banks are arranged alphabetically, according to the name of their location, into forty-four groups, which are distinguished numerically, there being from forty to upward of sixty banks in each group. The operation of assorting notes into these groups is known as the first assortment; that of assorting the notes of the groups by individual banks, as the second assortment. The bundles of redeemed currency, having been passed to the assorting room, are delivered to the first assortment teller, who distributes them among the twelve or fifteen first assorters, taking receipts. Each of these persons carries his money to his till, and after making an inventory by straps, proceeds to count the notes. He unpins a package and lays the strap flat on the table before him. If the contents of that package are found to be correct, he lays the money upon the strap. The next strap is laid on top of this pile, and so on. By this method the several packages are kept distinct, and if he afterward finds an irredeemable note in his money, he may know from whom it comes. All errors discovered, not only in this process, but in all others, are required to be reported immediately. Should a package be found "over," the assorter makes a memorandum, over his initials and the date, upon the strap, and returns this with the superfluous note to the teller. The note is put in the "cash till" to the credit of the counter whose signature is on the strap. "Short" packages are returned for verification to the counter, and the deficiency is made good out of the "cash till" and charged to the counter. Spurious and stolen notes are in like manner exchanged for genuine. An account is kept of all the "overs," "shorts," etc., of each person, and on pay day the clerk who has a preponderance against him will find in the envelope enclosing his month's salary the superintendent's certificate of the balance "short," and any counterfeit or stolen notes found in his straps, reckoned as so much legal tender. This system is rigidly enforced not only in the agency, but throughout the department. It seems hard that the penalty of accident or inexperience should be so summary; but no other means has yet been devised to secure the Treasury from loss. And after all, the rule is the same as that enforced in some manner in the outside world of business, where every one must trust to his own knowledge and skill for security against loss.

The first assorter having satisfied himself that his money is correct in amount and passible in character, next proceeds to assort the notes. He rises from his stool, swings his table out of the way, folds back the cover of his till, takes up a package and deposits the notes one by one in the box whose number corresponds to that of the group to which they severally belong. We will say that long practice has made him familiar not only with the scheme of the assortment, so that he need not refer to the printed lists, but also with the face of the notes of every bank in the country, and that the briefest glance is all that he requires to recognize a note and determine where it belongs. The rapidity of some of these assorters is remarkable, being limited only by the rate at which it is possible to move the hand over the rather large area of a till. Much, however, depends on the natural aptitudes of the person. Many who have had no previous experience in handling money never become expert. They are tried for six months or a year, and then dismissed as incompetent. Even those by nature well qualified may hope to attain moderate rapidity only after months of persevering effort.

The manipulations of the beginner often cause much merriment among the older employees. He has too many fingers, or too few, to fix a secure grasp upon the "bills." He seizes a note with one or both hands, and stretching it before him proceeds to read over the face. Then he resolves himself into a committee of the whole on the state of his till, to consider where the note is to be put. He refers from the note to the printed schedule before him, and from the schedule to the note again, hunts from one side of his till to the other for the box he wants, but is now uncertain of the number, and recurs once more to the note and the schedule. At length he cautiously deposits the money in a box. Presently, after going through this process once or twice more, he is convinced that he has been wrong. He institutes search throughout his till to find his note again, and at last this cause of all his perplexity settles in a box not to be again disturbed until that remote hour of the day when he shall be ready to "count out." In the evening, when he is expected to "turn in" his cash, he finds himself from one to eighty or a hundred notes "over" or "short." His knuckles are more or less raw from collision with the partitions of his till, his face is flushed, and his hand trembles. In high excitement, seeing himself waited for, he takes up a package which he put up for a hundred notes, but which in his opinion may possibly contain a hundred and eleven or only ninety-nine. He counts it through with an attempt at aptness, and as he lays down the last note he whispers "fifty-five." In the end two or three experts are set to help him, and in a few moments the inconsiderable number of notes which formed his chaos are reduced to order. In the later experience of the agency, however, instances of this extreme bewilderment are rare. Every consideration is shown the beginner, and the perfect organization of the office enables him to be led up by the slowest and easiest gradations to the more difficult labor. Besides, in appointments, which latterly are of infrequent occurrence, a decided preference is given to bank clerks and others whose previous training serves in some sort as an education.

When a clerk has finished assorting his cash, he next proceeds to count out the contents of each box, putting up the notes in packages of even hundreds of dollars, and pinning round them yellow straps, if he has unfit money, and pink if fit. On the strap of each package he writes in pencil the amount, the group number, his initials, and the date. The notes of all the groups in excess of even hundreds of dollars are thrown together and finally counted and put up as "odds." This process complete, the full packages are done up, by means of cardboards and rubber bands, into bundles of a thousand notes each. The aggregate being found to correspond with the sum received in the morning, the assorter enters on his book in duplicate the amount of full packages and of "odds," and delivers his cash with the book to the first assortment teller. That clerk makes an inventory of the money by straps, and finding it to agree with the book, tears off the duplicate entry to guide him in his own accounts, and puts his initials to the original as a receipt to the assorter. When all the money put in the hands of the assorters has been returned in this manner, the total cash is balanced and locked up until next day. The "odds" arising from the day's work are kept separate for redistribution among the assorters on the following morning.

An expert will handle ten thousand notes between the hours of nine and three, in the manner here described—no light task, for besides the labor of assorting, every note must be counted twice. Persons of both sexes are employed at this work, but the physical endurance required makes it too heavy for women of weak frame.

It will be understood that after passing through the first assorters' hands the notes are in two lots of "fit" and "unfit," each lot being in bundles of one thousand notes of one denomination, and each bundle composed of packages of notes of single groups. The next operation is to mass all the packages of all denominations composing the day's assortment by groups. This is done by the first assortment teller, who distributes the packages on a low table, according to the marks of the assorters, and straps the packages of each group into a bundle on which he marks the number of the group and the amount. The distinctions of "fit" and "unfit" are still maintained. There are then forty-four bundles of "fit" notes and a like number of "unfit," each bundle containing all denominations of notes of the banks composing a single group. In this shape the money is on the day following put in the vault of the agency. This receptacle is a room whose massive iron walls would not be likely to tempt burglars even in the most inviting surroundings. It is situated in the basement of the north wing of the Treasury. The ponderous double doors are secured by two combination locks of the most approved construction, one of which is set and can be opened only by the superintendent and the chief bookkeeper, and the other only by the assorting teller and his assistant. There is, besides, on the outer door a chronometer lock which would defy the efforts of all those officials together, and of all other persons whatsoever until the appointed hour when the vault is to be opened in the ordinary course of business. Along the interior of the walls are compartments in which are stored redeemed notes, those of each group by themselves, until they shall be removed for assortment by individual banks. The vault usually contains about ten millions of dollars. The money which we have followed thus far is packed into a cart and hauled into this place, where it is deposited group by group with the rest.

It is customary to assort the currency of from one to four groups by banks each day. Let us follow rapidly one of these groups through the remainder of the processes. The money of a group accumulated from day to day in the vault is in the morning transported to the assorting room, where it is delivered to the second assortment teller. By him the bundles are opened, the inventory verified, and the packages separated by denominations, reference being had in this process to the upper note of each package. The packages of each denomination are then strapped together by means of cardboards and rubber bands, and the group number, the denomination, and the amount marked upon each bundle. Next morning the money is delivered in this shape to the second assorters.

It will be understood that each of these persons thus receives notes of a single denomination issued by from forty to sixty banks. The second assorter first counts his money to be sure of the amount, and then assorts the notes into his till in the manner already described, putting, however, only the notes of one bank into a box. For his guidance each assorter is provided with a printed list of the banks composing his group, the number of the box assigned to each being set opposite to the title. For convenience of handling about the tills, these lists are mounted upon thick cardboards. The existence of stolen notes or counterfeits on a bank is noted upon these lists, and special directions for assortment are conveyed in the same manner. When a bank is in liquidation or is withdrawing part of its circulation, an "I," denoting "inactive," is set opposite the title. The notes of such banks are thrown together into box 52, and from this circumstance are known in the nomenclature of the office as "52's." These are counted together and put up in packages by means of orange-colored straps, properly marked for delivery, through a regular channel, to another division of the Treasurer's office, where the money is assorted and destroyed and the amount retired from circulation. At present more than half the banks of some groups are on the inactive list, and notwithstanding the clamor from the West for more paper currency, that part of the country is in the lead in the contraction which is rapidly going on. Of the Chicago banks, the notes of all but three have been ordered to be destroyed and withdrawn as they are redeemed, and in St. Louis and St. Paul only a few banks remain on the active list. Of the eastern cities, New York alone is pursuing the same line of policy to any considerable extent, more than half the banks there being either liquidating or reducing their circulation. The motives which induce this step in the case of solvent and unembarrassed institutions are diverse; but the effect is always the same. The amount of currency retired in this manner ranges ordinarily from twenty thousand to a hundred thousand dollars a day.