THE VALUE OF A PENNY. The city of Detroit, Michigan, has a man who conducts a large retail bakery and confectionery, who each day, just before the close of the bank where he keeps his account, makes his regular deposit. One day he was informed by the receiving teller that a rule had been adopted against receiving pennies from depositors. He then called on the cashier of the bank to inform him that whoever took his pennies would also get the balance of his account, as a great amount of his collections came in the form of coppers. But the cashier was firm in his decision, declaring that pennies were a nuisance and that the bank had no use for them. The baker called on several other banks and found that the rule had been universally adopted. He returned to his store with his pennies and telephoned for a tinsmith. When he arrived, the baker ordered a tube connecting the cashier's desk with a large empty hogshead which stood in the cellar. After it had been completed he instructed his cashier to deposit all pennies which came into her hand into the mouth of the tube, which soon found their way into the empty barrel. A week or ten days later he noticed that the daily papers had complained about a shortage of pennies in Detroit and that one of the banks had been obliged to send away to Washington for a fresh supply. Each day as the baker called at the bank with his deposit he inquired as to the penny market and learned that the banks would now very willingly receive every one which he took in. All this time they kept finding their way into the HUNGRY HOGSHEAD. Four or six weeks rolled around, and he learned that the banks were paying a premium of five per cent on pennies and were very anxious to get them at that figure. He then made a contract with his banker to take all his penny stock on hand at a premium of FIVE PER CENT. The banker gave his porter a sack and instructed him to go over to the baker's and bring him the pennies. When the porter arrived, he telephoned for a man and an express wagon. In breaking open the hogshead he found it over half full of those welcome coins, which, when shoveled out, FILLED THREE BARRELS. The banker was greatly surprised. The task of counting proved to be slow and tedious, so the pennies were placed upon a scale and weighed. It was found that they amounted to over $5,000, and the premium for the baker, besides the face value, was TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY DOLLARS. It will be well for most people to read this chapter twice, and some, several times. OPPORTUNITY. "Master of human destinies am I. Fame, love and fortune on my footsteps wait; Deserts and seas remote, and, passing by And they who follow me reach every state Save death; but those who doubt or hesitate, Condemned to failure, penury and woe, Seek me in vain and uselessly implore. I answer not, and return no more." -By John J. Ingalls. ADVICE. After carrying a wet umbrella, do not leave it open to dry, stretching the cloth and bending the bows, nor set it upside down, allowing the water to remain at the bottom, rusting out the wire and points of the ribs, but set it in one corner, handle down, and the rain will run off naturally and away from the wires, permitting them to dry out. By so doing your umbrella will last twice as long. This advice is worth the price of the book. EXTRAVAGANCE. As I canvass the city, offering homes or vacant lots on which to build, and call on a woman whose husband is a working man, and who earns from $2.00 to $2.50 per day, out of which he supports himself, wife, and five or six children, by inquiry I learn that they not only own the home in which they live, but also have a nice little nest egg saved up with which they intend to build again. They pay cash for everything they buy and also have an EXCELLENT CREDIT. But when the wife tells me that her husband is a plumber and draws from $4.00 to $5.00 per day, or a gas blower and receives from $5.00 to $7.00 for eight hours' work, I find that they are not only paying rent, but are also a month behind, besides owing the grocer, the butcher, the baker and the milkman; and when I canvass the steam-heated flat and find that the husband is a lawyer or professional man and making from $10.00 to $15.00 per day, although they have no family to support, he is worse off so far as credit is concerned than either of the other two. The laboring man at $2.00 per day has a better credit and can buy more goods of the grocer, the butcher or the instalment house than the tradesman or the professional man who makes from $1,500 to $2,500 per year. False pride, steam heated flats, frills and fashions have ruined the people. It seems to cut but little figure how much their salaries have been raised, or how much their business increases; their ideas of expending money seem to keep pace with their income, and it seems almost impossible for their goods to keep up with their pattern. They are like the colored parson who lived in Mississippi and who once called on the grocer for supplies. While the merchant was weighing him out 6 cents' worth of flour, 4 cents' worth of coffee, 2 cents' worth of potatoes and 1 cent's worth of sugar, he slipped a codfish inside his coat and buttoned the same about him; but the tail of the fish was like the pattern, too large for the coat, and it projected several inches below. After he had paid for his provisions purchased, and before leaving, the merchant noticed the fish and asked the parson if there was not something else he wanted; but he only looked up at the shelving and said he believed that he now had everything the old lady had ordered. The merchant still insisted that there was something else he needed, to which the parson asked the merchant if he could think of anything else. "Yes," said the storekeeper, "you want a LONGER COAT OR A SHORTER CODFISH." EMORY STORRS, one of Chicago's greatest criminal lawyers, once said in comparing the laboring man with a lawyer, that it was not the smartest |