The Bay State Monthly, Vol. II, No. 6, March, 1885 by Various

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After he had gone Mrs. Tracy sat alone for a while, thinking over this
early visit of hers, with all the precious memories which it suggested
of her own father and mother, now dead and gone. Then she thought over
the past year's intimate life which she had enjoyed with her boy, and
became more and more thankful that she had been enabled thus to get up
out of her selfish grief of the summer before--when death took her other
children from her--and empty her own life into the larger channel of
life around her. She was pleased to think of the good fruits that had
arisen from her plans for her boy's vacation trips, not only upon him
but upon other mothers who had been led to follow her example. She
thought of the Christmas week she had spent with him in Boston, where
they had enjoyed so many interesting historical sights. And in the few
weeks of the vacation which was now passing, it pleased her to recall
the delightful days which they had spent at Concord and at Plymouth. And
now, in this evening reverie, she smiled as she thought of her boy's
telling his geography class all about the Isles of Shoals. How she would
loved to have heard him--her fair-haired, blue-eyed boy, talking with
all the intensity of his nature of what he had seen. Ah! life had left
much to her yet; and she determined anew that Reuben should never want
for any of her sympathetic help, either in his sports or in his growing
student life. With this renewed determination she went into the house to
write her letter to her brother at Northampton.

She was just finishing it when her husband came in from his weekly
meeting with the city fathers. She told him all her plan, which he
heartily endorsed, and practically helped by taking out his purse and
giving her a generous sum of money for the trip, saying, "I wish, my
dear, that I could go too, but I cannot leave my business this season of
the year. But I am only too glad that I can make money enough for you
and Reuben to go. I know of no better way to invest it for the future of
our boy, God bless him!

"Ah!" replied Mrs. Tracy, her face all aglow with the joy of having her
own thought so fully met, "would that more fathers thought so! but while
some think only of a bank account, and the great majority think nothing
of any account at all, only the few know the need of a child's mind
_digesting_ money, so to speak, as it goes along."

In a few days the arrangements were completed and Mrs. Tracy and her son
left their home in Salem for Northampton. Reuben quietly enjoyed the
scenery all the way from Boston to Springfield. In the forty minutes'
ride from Springfield to Northampton Mrs. Tracy had a delightful
opportunity, which she well used, to show her boy the winding course of
a river,--the beautiful Connecticut--as they followed it first on one
side and then on the other. When Reuben spied the house on Mount Holyoke
he realized then that he saw his first mountain. On making inquiries
about the mountain with a house on it, on the other side of the river,
the conductor told him that that was Mount Nonotuck, a peak of the Mount
Tom range, which was nine hundred and fifty feet high. He also told him
that Nonotuck was the old Indian name for Northampton, which was just
then coming in sight.

On arriving at the station uncle Edward met them with his carriage to
convey them to his home on Round Hill. On their way there they passed
the fine building of Smith College, which particularly pleased Mrs.
Tracy and caused her to say, partly to herself, "Happy, happy girls to
have such privileges of college life." "What," said Reuben, "girls go to
college like boys? how funny!" When, after a moment or two of seeming
abstraction, he said: "That is what papa meant the other day when he
said that girls were as good as boys and could learn just as well as
they could, is'nt it?" But before Mrs. Tracy could answer him they had
arrived at their destination.

The next day they took a drive around the town, or rather the city,
since a short time before it had become such. Its wealth of trees was a
source of joy to them.

When they were crossing Mill River, on the old covered bridge on South
street, uncle Edward stopped and told them that this was the only bridge
on the river which was saved from the awful catastrophe of the bursting
of the reservoir at Williamsburg, ten miles from there. When they drove
off the bridge he told Reuben to notice the river as it flowed so
peacefully along, in apparent forgetfulness of its dreadful havoc of ten
years ago when about one hundred and fifty lives were lost, and
factories, houses, and churches were swept along, as so many leaves, by
the rushing torrent. He told, among other facts, how a cousin of his was
seated at the breakfast-table with his whole family--a wife, two sons,
and a daughter--when they were swept up by the waters, house and all,
and all drowned. And while he was telling these incidents, which were so
much to him, he made them more effective by driving up some little
distance through the district which had been devastated. Thus Reuben
learned of a peculiar tragedy, in a manner which no reading in itself
could so well have taught him.

They spent a day or two more in looking around the different public
institutions, the Clarke Institute for the Deaf, on Round Hill, giving
them the most interest. But in spite of these attractions, Mrs. Tracy's
keen mother-eye noticed that Reuben was getting a little impatient to
climb a mountain, that mountain "with the tunnel" as he expressed it. So
she decided to go there the first pleasant day; and as it was now the
time of full moon she proposed to remain upon the mountain all night,
much to Reuben's delight.

The next day proved to be pleasant, so they in company with Uncle Edward
and his wife started for Mount Holyoke, a distance of three miles. A
short drive brought them to the Hokanum ferry where they were to cross
the Connecticut. As they drove upon what seemed to Reuben a wharf, he,
accustomed only to the Boston ferry-boats, remarked that the boat was
not in yet. And it was not until a moment later when he found himself
moving away from the land that he discovered that he was on the boat
itself! The way in which they were being borne across the river by man's
use of the pulley and wire was a great novelty to the boy and could only
suggest to his mother the most primitive days.

It took them five minutes to cross--about eighty-five rods--after which
a short drive through a pretty country took them to the foot of the
mountain. Then following a good carriage-road they were soon at the
half-way house where Reuben at last found the "tunnel" which had given
him so much wonder.

After examining the stationary engine at the foot of the inclined plane,
in this wooden enclosure which Reuben had called the tunnel, they seated
themselves in the car and in two and a quarter minutes were landed at
the top, 600 feet higher.

Mrs. Tracy on going up felt a little fear which was overcome when her
brother informed her that Mr. French was always at the top with his
watchful eye.

"Yes, that is so," said a voice as they stepped out of the car, and Mrs.
Tracy was introduced to the same Mr. French who was so much in earnest
years ago when she visited the place to make it a success.

They talked over the intervening years, Mr. French telling her of his
improvements, how the first railroad was built in 1854, and the present
track was laid in 1867, and how more than half a million people had been
up over it.

He showed her a picture of the first house built there in 1821, then of
the one rebuilt in 1851, which was gradually enlarged, until it became
the present size in 1861, ten years later.

She was particularly interested to hear him tell of the famous people
who had visited the place, so much so, that he brought out for
inspection some of the autograph books which filled a long shelf. He
said that there were names recorded as far back as 1824. As they looked
them over they saw at the date of August 12, 1847, in bold handwriting,
"Charles Summer," with the testimony that the view from Mount Holyoke
was "surpassingly lovely."

At the sight of the clearly written name "Jenny Lind, Sweden," at the
date of July 7, 1851, Reuben exclaimed--"Oh, she was that big singer;
mamma showed me the house on Round Hill where she lived and was
married."

That he should remember this fact pleased Mrs. Tracy while his boyish
enthusiasm led Mr. French to tell a pleasant little reminiscence of her
visit there which was heartily enjoyed by them all. And that others may
have the pleasure of hearing it from him on his own premises I will not
repeat it here.

After a little further talk on the history of the place, in which Reuben
learned that it was named Holyoke in 1654 in honor of Captain Elizur
Holyoke, they began to enjoy the lovely pictures all around them.

It was fortunate for them that a heavy wind of the night before had
taken away the clouds which had for a time hidden the mountains farthest
off. Hence they were now able to see distinctly the Green Mountains in
Vermont, Wachusett and Greylock in Massachusetts, and Monadnock in New
Hampshire.

As they spoke of the many little villages which gave the human interest
to the scene, Mr. French said that they could see from there thirty-two
towns in Massachusetts and eight in Connecticut.

He adjusted the telescope so that they could easily tell the time on the
clock at Smith College. He adjusted it again and they saw the Amherst
College buildings. Another adjustment revealed Mount Holyoke Seminary at
South Hadley; and in this way they saw the Armory at Springfield, the
Insane asylum at Northampton, and other well-known buildings.

A sight of the unique Front street in Old Hadley with its four rows of
fine old shade trees led Uncle Edward to promise his guests a drive
through it before they should return to Salem.

The fine combination of meadow, river, hills and towns, as pictured
through a colored reflecting glass, was a delight indeed.

In one of the views, Reuben spied an island striped with cultivated
fields which Mr. French said was called Ox Bow; he pointed out another
called Shepard's island, which, with Ox Bow, added much to the scenery.

The winding river suggested to Mrs. Tracy how much nature loved a curve.
While Uncle Edward, who had visited the chief mountains in this land and
in Europe, said that he always came back to this mountain view as the
loveliest and the most restful of them all, although it was not the
grandest or the most awe inspiring.

So the day passed on Mount Holyoke, giving them at every moment living
pictures which no painter could equal. When the sun went down the moon
came up to give her light, and nature reveled in her beauty.

The only painful shadow for Mrs. Tracy was when she felt sad that more
of earth's troubled ones did not or could not come to drink in such
peace and rest.

But such days must come to an end. And what can follow more delightful
than a refreshing sleep on such a height. This they all had and were
ready the next morning to return to Northampton.

As Reuben was anxious to count the steps which, on ascending the day
before, he had noticed on the side of the inclined plane; he went down
that way, while the rest of the party availed themselves of the car. He,
boy-like, did not mind the extra labor and longer time which that choice
involved, so long as he found out that there were five hundred and
twenty-two steps.

As they descended the mountain from the half-way house Reuben gathered
for a souvenir some of the beautiful laurel which, in full-bloom, was
then adorning its sides.

A few days later after the promised ride to Old Hadley, three miles
distant, which was extended four miles to Amherst to give Reuben a sight
of the college where his papa graduated, Mrs. Tracy and her son returned
to Salem. Mr. Tracy was highly entertained with Reuben's account of what
he had seen, and felt more than ever that his money had been well
invested. The rest of the vacation soon passed, the boy's active mind
being profitably engaged in the interim of active, healthful sports.

And it is highly probable that by this time the geography class, with
Ned Bolton as spokesman, has discovered that "Reuben Tracy knows more
about a mountain than the geography itself!"

* * * * *

GEMS FROM THE EASY CHAIR.

Christmas. There is nothing in the deepest and best sense human which in
the truest and highest sense is not also Christian. The characteristic
feeling about Christmas, as it is revealed in literature and tradition
and association, is the striking and beautiful tribute to the
practicability of Christianity.

Sermons. It is doubtless very unjust to the clergy to suppose that they
turn the barrel of sermons to save themselves the trouble of writing new
ones. Nothing but the levity of the pews could be guilty of such a
suspicion. The preacher knows that one squeezing does not take all the
juice out of an orange; and how much jucier a fruit is a good sermon!
Moreover, the pews are so pachydermatous, so rhinoceros-skinned, that
nothing but an incessant pelting upon the same spot makes an impression.

America. Whoever has seen a self-possessed and sagacious orator handling
a tumultuous meeting as Phoebus-Appollo handles his madly plunging
steeds, has seen the symbol of popular government, and understands why
the sole fact of numerical force and brute power does not explain it. He
who watches the ocean rising into every bay and creek in obedience to
celestial attraction, sees in outward nature the law that governs the
associated life of men, and which gives the American people faith in
their own government, whether they can give a reason, for their faith or
not.

* * * * *

NATIONAL BANK FAILURES.

BY GEORGE H. WOOD.

Occasionally the attention of the daily press of the country is called
to the provisions of the National Banking Law by the announcement of the
failure of some national banking association, and immediately it teems
with comments, and recommendations as to amendments which should be made
to render the law effective. These recommendations and comments usually
show the most lamentable ignorance, both as to the actual existing
provisions of the law and its practical working, and as regards banking
matters generally. In the case of the failure of the Middletown National
Bank of New York, the advice which has been given in the columns of the
press seems of itself to be sufficient, if it had been given sooner, to
have prevented the disaster. The Directors have been blamed, very justly
too, for they looked on while their President run them into all its
difficulties, and as usual the Bank Examiners have been held responsible
for the disaster. Some have even gone so far as to suggest that a
provision be added to the National Banking Laws punishing Examiners who
do not detect irregularities in the banks which they examine.

The provisions of the National Bank Act as they now stand are as
perfect, theoretically, as they can be drawn, to protect both the
depositors and the stockholders. The law provides for the publication of
sworn reports, from time to time, of the condition of each national
bank. These reports must be sworn to by the President, or Cashier, and
their correctness must be attested by the signatures of at least three
Directors. These reports are required five times a year and it is
impossible to see how, if the Directors do their duty fully and
honestly, any delinquency on the part of the officers of the bank can
fail to be detected by them. Under the law, the stockholders elect the
Directors, at least five in number. The officers of the bank are elected
or appointed by the directors and are subject to them. Thus far the
protection the Act provides is based upon what, so far as financial
matters are concerned, is one of the great controlling influences of
human nature, _viz_: self-interest. The stockholders, in order to
protect themselves, are expected to elect Directors who will look out
for the interests of all.

The sworn reports made to the Comptroller of the Currency are published
in the newspapers where the banks are located, and a copy sent to that
officer that he may know that the law in this respect has been complied
with. The stockholders can inspect them at any time as they appear, and
can note any changes which occur in them from time to time. The
stockholders are also at perfect liberty to make any inquiries that they
may deem fit, in any direction which their intelligence may suggest to
them.

In addition to the protection which the law gives to the stockholders,
and also to the depositors, by requiring the publication of reports of
the condition of the national banks, Bank Examiners are provided in the
law; these Bank Examiners are appointed by the Comptroller of the
Currency, and make their examinations at any time that he may deem fit.

A Bank Examiner to afford perfect security for the real merit of his
examination, has a disagreeable duty to perform. He enters a bank, which
by all the world is supposed to be well conducted and solvent, and to be
managed by honorable men, respected and looked up to by the whole
community. His position, however, is that of a Censor, and it does not
permit him to assume what the world supposes. On the contrary, to make a
good examination, he must take nothing for granted, and quietly act on
the ground that something is wrong. "Suspicions are the sinews of the
mind" in this case, and an examiner without them cannot expect to detect
mismanagement or defalcation. The position requires tact as well as
technical skill--tact not to offend unnecessarily or disturb friendly
relations, and skill to bring to light all that should be
discovered--and undoubtedly requires a high class of mind in the one
that fills it _well_. Bank examinations are not the only security
provided in the law, and it is ridiculous to assert that the Directors,
stockholders and depositors should throw aside or neglect to use all the
other means which the law provides to enable them to protect themselves,
and rely entirely upon the Government examinations, which in the nature
of things must depend for success on the sagacity of one individual.

The framers of the National Bank Act, while they did all that they could
to protect the depositors and stockholders of national banks, as has
been seen, were still not perfectly sure but that failures might
sometimes occur. This feeling doubtless arose from a knowledge on their
part of the weakness of human nature, and of the imperfections of
systems of Government. That they felt in this way, is indicated by the
fact that they have provided, also, a method of protecting, as far as
possible, the depositors of national banks that _do_ fail. They have
provided for the appointment of receivers and for a distribution, under
Government control, of such assets as can be collected from the wrecks
of the failed banks. The stockholders of such banks are subject to the
penalty of being compelled to contribute, if the deficiency in the
assets requires it, an amount not exceeding the par value of the shares
of stock held by them in addition to the amount already invested in such
shares, to the fund necessary to pay depositors. This of itself would
seem sufficient to be careful and place a live Board of Directors in
charge of a large fund, considering the manner the stockholders of the
Pacific National Bank of Boston kicked and squirmed when this provision
of the law was applied.

The experience of the past has been that bank officers have concealed
all their operations from the proprietors, and when failures have
occurred everybody has been astonished. As an additional safeguard to
meet this secrecy an organization has just been perfected in New York
which is a step farther in commercial agencies than has ever been
attempted. From one of their printed circulars it is ascertained that
they propose to keep in pay a corps of detectives and other agencies,
"as a check upon defalcations and embezzlements by bank Presidents, and
Cashiers and other officials." But it is not exactly clear who will
watch the detectives.

* * * * *

ELIZABETH.

A ROMANCE OF COLONIAL DAYS

BY FRANCES C. SPARHAWK, Author of "A Lazy Man's Work."

CHAPTER XI.

UNWELCOME NEWS.

June was doing its best to make the world content. Little clouds floated
through the blue sky, like the light sighs of a mood that must find some
expression, and the air for all its softness was invigorating, it was so
full of life and purity. This day, like many another, needed only to
bring as fair hopes to the lives of those who looked into it as it did
to the nature it overbrooded to make the faces its light breezes fanned
as bright as the skies were, with only shadows of expression to give the
brightness new beauty. But no such light was on Elizabeth Royal's face
as she sat at the open window of her room with a piece of delicate
embroidery in her hands. Her future had not opened out into life; the
winter had killed its buds of promise.

After all, Stephen Archdale had not gone to England. His father and
Governor Wentworth had insisted that it was much wiser to send an older
and a better business man. "Do you want to make the best of your case?"
the Colonel had asked incisively when Stephen hesitated. And the young
man had yielded, though reluctantly. It would have been so much easier
for him to be away and to be doing something. But at present he must
think only of doing the wisest thing.

Elizabeth had not seen him; he had written to her father once, and had
promised to write again as soon as he had the slightest news. He had
tried his best to be cheerful, and had sent her a message that
endeavored to be hopeful; but she saw that courtesy struggled with
despair. She knew that they need never meet; but if this thing were
true--she could not believe it--but if it were true, then happiness was
over. Life in a June day has such possibilities of happiness; and that
morning her eyes grew so misty that she took a few wrong stitches in her
work, and as footsteps drew near the room, perceived this and began to
pick them out with nervous haste. She had not finished, however, when
Mrs. Eveleigh came in. As Elizabeth had expected, her first remark was a
comment.

"What! another mistake, my dear? You know you made one only yesterday,
and you can work so beautifully when you give your mind to it. It is a
bad plan to have such a dreamy way with one. For my part, I should think
you would have had enough of doing things in dreams and never knowing
what they will end in. You would better wake up for the rest of your
life."

As Elizabeth had heard the same remark numberless times before, its
effect was not startling. In silence she went on picking out her
stitches.

"Why not say you think so, too? It would be more dutiful in you,"
continued Mrs. Eveleigh.

"You take care that I am waked up," returned Elizabeth. "You don't leave
one many illusions."

"I hope not. What is the use of illusions?"

"Yes, what?"

"Well, Elizabeth, it is not I that have disturbed them this time; you
must thank him for that."

"Him?"

"Yes, he has come. I have just been leaning over the banisters, and saw
him come in." Elizabeth did not look dreamy now. "He did not come
forward at all in the modest, charming way of the other one, which you
know irresistably wins hearts," went on Mrs. Eveleigh; "he marched along
straight into the parlor and asked to see you, just as if he owned the
house and all that was in it. So he does own somebody in it, I am
afraid, poor child."

The girl's face was white, her violet eyes looked black and shadowed by
heavy lines.

"Is it--?" she began.

"Oh, yes, my dear, it is your husband. He has come to claim you, no
doubt. If he cannot get the wife he wants, he will have somebody at the
head of his table. And, then, my dear, you know you are an heiress, not
a person of no account."

"Nonsense," returned the other; "the marriage is not proven. He may have
come with news."

At this moment a servant brought up Archdale's card. On it he had
written a line begging to see her. Elizabeth showed it to her companion.

"See," she said, "you are mistaken. Probably we are free, and he wants
to tell me of it first,--first of anyone here, I mean. That is not
arbitrary, nor as you said, at all."

"Very well, dear; only, don't crow till you are out of the woods. Would
you like to have me receive him with you?"

Elizabeth hesitated.

"No. I thank you," she said. "You are very kind, but perhaps it would be
better to go by myself."

"As you like." And Mrs. Eveleigh's pride laid a strong hand upon her
swelling curiosity, so that with an indifference well acted she sat down
to her work. But as she lost the sound of Elizabeth's step on the stairs
she rose again and looked breathlessly over the banisters, trying to
catch the greeting that went on in the room below. But either through
accident, or because the girl knew the character of her companion, the
door closed behind Elizabeth, and Mrs. Eveleigh heard nothing. If she
had done so, the greeting was so simple that she would have gained from
it no clue of what was to follow. Archdale came forward, bowed low, and
held out his hand to her as simply as Katie's husband might have greeted
Katie's friend, and possibly have brought her some message. Elizabeth
felt this as she laid her hand in his for a moment, a smile of relief
and anticipation came over her face; and in reply to his question she
answered: "Yes, we are all well, thank you." It was after the first
moment that the embarrassment began, when at her look of hope and
questioning his eyes fell a moment, and when raised again gave no answer
to it. Both realized then how hard fate had been to them. But even yet
Elizabeth would not quite give up the cause. She steadied herself a
little by her hand on the back of the chair before she sat down in it,
asking with the smile still on her lips, but not spontaneous as before.

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