er in Harleigh--Walt's vault--was copied from our bank.

The cheques in our book are blue. We have always regretted this. If we
had known it beforehand perhaps we would have inflicted our problems
upon another bank. Because there are so many more interesting colours
for cheques, tints upon which the ink shows up in a more imposing
manner. A pale pink or cream-coloured cheque for $2.74 looks much more
exciting than a blue cheque for $25. We have known gray, pink, white,
brown, green, and salmon-coloured cheques. A friend of ours once showed
us one that was a bright orange, but refused to let us handle it. But
yellow is the colour that appeals to us most strongly. When we were very
young and away from home our monthly allowance, the amount of which we
shall not state, but it cost us less effort than any money we ever
received since, came to us by way of pale primrose-coloured cheques.
For, after all, there are no cheques like those one used to get from
one's father. We hope the Urchin will think so some day.

* * * * *

We like to pay homage to the true artist in all lines. At the corner of
Market and Marshall streets--between Sixth and Seventh--the collar-clasp
orator has his rostrum, and it seems to us that his method of harangue
has the quality of genuine art. He does not bawl or try to terrify or
bully his audience into purchase as do the auctioneers of the
"pawnbrokers' outlets." How gently, how winningly, how sweetly he pleads
the merits of his little collar clasp! And there is shrewd imagination
in his attention-catching device, which is a small boy dressed in black,
wearing a white hood of cheesecloth that hides his face. This peculiar
silent figure, with a touch of mystery about it, serves to keep the
crowd wondering until the oration begins.

[Illustration]

With a smile, with infinite ingratiation and gentle persuasion, our
friend exhibits the merits of his device which does away with the
traditional collar-button. His art is to make the collar-button seem a
piteous, almost a tragic thing. His eyes swim with unshed tears as he
describes the discomfort of the man whose collar, fastened by the
customary button, cannot be given greater freedom on a hot, muggy day.
He shows, by exhibition on his own person, the exquisite relief afforded
by the adjustable collar clasp. "When the day grows cool," he says,
"when you begin to enjoy yourself and want your collar tighter, you just
loos