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.
Where the northern forest flings
Its shadows over weeping hills,
Rivulets rise in myriad springs
And run to meet in roaring kills.
Soon from these a great stream grows;
Grows--and grows more strong and free,
Till a noble river flows;
Flows majestic to the sea.
Born of Adirondac tears,
Nursed by storms of Katterskill,
Yet a smiling face it wears,
Rolls in tranquil silence still.
Gliding first o'er sands of glass,
Then 'midst grassy meads estray,
Now it shoots the highland pass,
Hurrying southward on its way.
River, but the sea as well;
Steady drift and changing tide;
Here may float a cockle-shell,
Or the ocean navies ride.
'T is the sea in landscape set;
'T is the sea, by limits bound;
But it is the river yet,
Flowing through enchanted ground.
Countless wealth its currents bear,
Wrought from forest, field, and mine;
Giant steamships o'er it fare,
Clouds of sails in sunlight shine.
Through the darkness, as in light,
Sail the constant fleets the same;
While along the shores at night
Furnace fires perpetual flame.
In the bright October days,
While I float upon the stream,
Mellowed by transfiguring haze,
All is like a fairy dream:
Groves and gardens, towns and towers,
Mountain tops and vales between,
As the gods had builded bowers
Scarce concealed and scarcely seen.
Thine no borrowed glories! thine,
Matchless river! are thy own!
O'er thy scenes no false lights shine
From the ages dead and gone.
Round no castles' crumbling walls
Troops of knightly spectres throng,
And within no ruined halls
Thrills the spectre maiden's song;
Save when dusky phantoms glide,
Still intent on savage rites,
Or when he of Sunnyside
Marshals his fantastic sprites:
Then we seem again to hear
War-whoops echoing 'midst the hills,
And old Hendrick's lusty cheer
As the wind his canvas fills.
As Mohegan, ages old,
Though for ever self-renewed,
Through unbroken forests rolled
All thy floods in solitude:
But as Hudson, now and ever,
Distant lands repeat thy name,
And the world, O glorious river!
Stands the guardian of thy fame.
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._
Educational 1,577 3,442,799
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.