wealth, until
the genius of the place has so moulded his thoughts and perceptions,
that he has come to regard himself as but one of the dumb and dead
parts of a mighty machine, over whose action he has no more control
than he has over the courses of the stars. All these issue, cheque,
gold, bullion departments, with their numerous busy officials, are
in truth but the husk and body of the establishment. They by whose
will and breath it is animated and directed are nowhere at this hour
to be seen. They met on this as on every other morning in their hall
of inquisition--the Bank parlour--and decided there, without appeal,
without reasons assigned, in the absence of the parties whose
commercial reputation was trembling in the balance, upon the course
of financial action to be pursued, and upon whose paper should or
should not be discounted. A terrible stroke, sharper than a dagger
could inflict, politely, blandly as it is performed, is that which
falls upon a merchant for the first time informed that the Bank must
decline to discount his bills! The announcement is usually received
as smilingly as it is made. 'It is a matter of very slight
consequence, _etcetera_;' but if you had been near enough, you might
have noticed, as the clerk did, the quiver of the lip beneath that
sickly smile, and that the face was as white as the rejected paper
the merchant's trembling fingers were replacing in his pocket-book.
And no wonder that he should be thus agitated, for the refusal has,
he well knew, thrust him down the first steps of the steep and
slippery descent, at the bottom of which lies bankruptcy--ruin! But
these are ordinary downfalls, by the wrecks of which the busy haunts
of commercial enterprise are paved; and we have other places to look
in at. Before leaving the Bank, however, let us step a few paces to
the left of the chief entrance. Now who would believe that in the
very midst of this Mammon-temple, where space is of incalculable
value, a large plot of greensward should have been jealously
preserved, from which spring two fine elms, that from out the heat
and turmoil of the place lift up their fresh leaves to the
sky--bright, waving leaves, that as often as the sun kisses them,
laugh out in sparkling triumph over the heated, anxious, jaded
toilers and schemers below? Yet so it is.

Again in Threadneedle Street, and turning to the left, we reach, at
the termination of the Bank-front, Bartholomew Lane, famous for
nothing t