e is no
chance and no blanks._ You want but one verdict; if you have your own,
you are secure of the rest. But if witnesses are wanted, witnesses are
near."

"Young gentlemen," said Francis Wayland, "remember that nothing can
stand day's work."

Alexander the Great exclaimed to his soldiers, disaffected after a long
campaign, "Go home and tell them that you left Alexander to conquer the
world alone."

"We discount only our own bills, and not those of private persons," said
the cashier of the Bank of England, when a large bill was offered drawn
by Anselm Rothschild of Frankfort, on Nathan Rothschild of London.
"Private persons!" exclaimed Nathan, when told of the cashier's remark;
"I will make these gentlemen see what sort of private persons we are."
Three weeks later he presented a five-pound note at the bank at the
opening of the office. The teller counted out five sovereigns, looking
surprised that Baron Rothschild should have troubled himself about such
a trifle. The baron examined the coins one by one, weighing them in the
balance, as he said "the law gave him the right to do," put them into a
little canvas bag, and offered a second, then a third, fourth, fiftieth,
thousandth note. When a bag was full he handed it to a clerk in waiting,
and proceeded to fill another. In seven hours he had changed L21,000,
and, with nine employes of his house similarly engaged, had occupied the
tellers so busily in changing $1,050,000 worth of notes that no one else
could receive attention. The bankers laughed, but the next morning
Rothschild appeared with his nine clerks and several drays to carry away
the gold, remarking, "These gentlemen refuse to pay my bills; I have
sworn not to keep theirs. They can pay at their leisure, only I notify
them that I have enough to employ them for two months." The smiles faded
from the features of the bank officials, as they thought of a draft of
$55,000,000 in gold which they did not hold. Next morning notice was
given in the newspapers that the Bank of England would pay Rothschild's
bills as well as its own.

"Well," said Barnum to a friend in 1841, "I am going to buy the American
Museum." "Buy it!" exclaimed the astonished friend, who knew that the
showman had not a dollar; "what do you intend buying it with?" "Brass,"
was the prompt reply, "for silver and gold have I none."

Every one interested in public entertainments in New York knew Barnum,
and knew the condition of his pocket; but Fr