Asmodeus Among the Banks

Asmodeus Among the Banks—The Broken and the Breaking Ones—Graphic Pictures of the Fun, Fury and Fancy, exhibited yesterday.

Nothing was talked of yesterday by every body but the Banks. Every body was anxious to get rid of his city notes, and one half of course were disappointed. About 10 o'clock in the morning we took a stroll up toward the

Arrived in front of it, we beheld quite a crowd of excited people. Some were collected in groups, and we endeavored to catch their conversation.

"Well, how curious"—exclaimed a tall young man in a white bangup, fur cap, and flashy neckerchief, to the throng that stood around him—"well, how curious! Who'd a 'thunk' it? The Manufacturers' and Mechanics' Bank in danger of breaking up!—m Wouldn't there be a fuss if it should? And Tommy Hunt President, too! Why I used to go to Sunday school to him!"

"So did I," replied a little fellow in a buff coat, "and he used to be pertikler in readin the ten commandments to us every Sunday—the one which says, "Thou shalt not steal"—or "You shan't pray" in special. They say a portrait—painter entirely forgets the features of any particular person, when he looks at him too much—the same may be said of individuals who peruse the ten commandments too attentively—I see nothing."

"Well," exclaimed an aged man, with a short thin figure, and head, with strongly marked features, bent over his receding chest, while his long grey hairs fell warningly upon his dark brown coat—"Well, you may all talk—talk—talk—and want does it amount to? Nothing but talk—talk—talk. Where's your remedy? umph! You have none—he! he! he! you have none. If a cut-throat assails you with the knife—why—umph—you can pistol him. If a corporation robs you, beggars your wives, and takes the bread from the mouths of your children, what can you do? Who are you to pistol? You'll take the law, perhaps? Where'll you find it? In our courts—he-he-he—umph! If there's neither law nor right nor justice for you, what are you to do? Sit down and grit your teeth, and clench your hands—grin and bear it—he-he-he—umph."

"I'll tell you a remedy," said a tall robust mechanic, whose dress was soiled by the 'wear and tear' of honest industry—"Look at these two fists! Are not the bones as strong, and the sinews as tough as those of our grandfathers in the days of the Revolution? I don't mean any thing—I don't mean to threaten any body—but I've got fists, and so has a few thousand other workin' men. Do you see any remedy in them fists, old man?" We did not wait the reply, but strolled along Vine street to Sixth, when we approached the

BANK OF PENN TOWNSHIP—As we neared it we became aware of the fact, that there was some considerable excitement on foot. The streets were spotted over with people, of all classes and kinds; some were dispersed singly, with their eyes fixed on the closed banking house, others were collected in groups, and here and there we saw a throng of persons occupied in loud and vehement discussion.

"I say,"—observed a stout little man, in his working coat, with a shoemaker's apron in front, and a three day's beard on his face—"I say, did you ever see anything so utterly ridiculous as the whole affair of this same Penn Township Bank! Look what an absurd notice on the door in big and little letters—

THIS

BANK IS CLOSED

FOR THE

P R E S E N T .

"It seems to me"—exclaimed a sober Quaker in drab coat and broad brimmed hat—"It seems to me that this same "present" has the same meaning which our Presbyterian friends affix to the word in a Theological sense—"the word present when applied to deity means—the past, present, and the future."—

"Or just as you may take it—eh?—a sort of a forever and forever, back'ards and for'ards? Then this bank'll be shut up forever and a couple of days after. "How rich it is to see that big white dog on four legs, with spots, keepin' watch inside of the iron pailin' alongside of them fourteen other dogs-sheriff's officers I mean, with two legs—Ha-ha-ha!"

"I understand that yesterday when a $20 on this Bank was presented at the counter for payment, the Teller very coolly took the $20, and handed out some twenty $1's on the 'Penn Township Bank'—thus making the note holder feel considerable easier, as you may perceive."

"Yes"—replied the shoemaker shaking his apron—"That reminds me of a fellow who used to live up town named Corney Smith. Corney was a cute fellow, with a cute wife, and he had a thunderin' cute Newfoundland dog. But the cute wife didn't like the cute dog, and she was continually a broomstickin' him, and beatin' him, so that he had no pleasure of his life, nayther had the husband. One day Corney comes home—"my dear," says he, "I've sold Ponte, my big Newfoundland." "O Lord!" exclaimed Mrs. Smith," how glad I am—now we'll live so nice!" "But I got a hundred dollars for him," continued Mr. Smith. "O! dear that's better nor ever," cried Mrs. Smith. "Dear me, Corney where did you get the $100—let's see it!" "Where did I put the $100?" asked Corney, drawing something large from one pocket and laying it on the floor. "Oh an where did I put the $100?" (Drawing something big from the other pocket and laying it on the floor.) "Why Mrs. Smith I got it in two puppies at $50 a piece! And there they are my dove!"

but it had been regularly "used up" before we got there. It was a little after one o'clock, noon. The Bank evidently was the object of the earnest gaze of some two or three thousand pairs of eyes, owned by a large crowd who occupied the street. A number of Sheriff's officers (some regular and some ex tempore) were seen poking their faces through the windows of the railroad depot opposite. The cry had been spread—"The Mechanics' Bank is bursted"—and from every quarter of the city, all classes of citizens flocked to see the closed doors and cheerless quietude that seemed to reign within the building.

A crowd gathered round this Bank, and blocked up their small banking room, presenting their notes and receiving other notes in exchange, from 10, A.M. till 4, P.M. One individual objected to receive country relief notes in exchange for his money. "I tell you"—observed Mr. Solms—"De Shtate is goot for dat." This assertion, however forcibly expressed, didn't satisfy the 'stranger.' He collared Mr. Solms, and either Mr. Solms or the 'stranger' would have received a 'licking,' had not the bystanders interfered.

And here endeth the first day of the "D—l among the Banks, or Philadelphia in an uproar."