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It was a hot, running debate almost from the beginning, participated in by the strongest men in the Senate, many of whom were the ablest men of their day. Senators Aldrich, Edmunds, Evarts, Gorman, Hoar, Ingalls, Manderson, Miller, Mitchell, Morrill, Platt, Sewell, Sherman, Spooner, Teller, Vest, Morgan, Cameron, Dawes, Frye, Hale, Harrison, and Voorhees all engaged in it.
The teller can put the pieces together, and as they will fit exactly, the chances are that he will think that the pieces are parts of the same check, and becomes a victim of the swindle. The trick, of course, suggests its own remedy.
He had a check from Hammond, the collector of the port." "Damnation!" cried the assistant manager. "Sherman ought to be here. He ought to talk to these people. They think he's skipped." He broke off hurriedly as the assistant teller came up trembling. "We'll have to close in ten minutes," he said. "There's less than $500 left." His mouth twitched.
You have present opportunity to secure the services of young Nelson, down at the Wide-Awake, as a receiving teller. He is fast and accurate in money matters. The young lady that compiled Mr. Townsend's reports can, and should, take care of the growing bookkeeping. You will not make a great deal of money in this first year of operation.
Johnson twisted his fingers nervously on the onyx sill. Then he raised his downcast eyes, lit with a fresh hope. "Is is the janitor in?" he asked. "You are pleased to be facetious, sir," the teller replied. His lip curled; he turned away, tilting his chin with conscious dignity. Mr. Johnson tapped the sill with the finger of authority.
"Seems to be trying to sing, or something," said Barrett, bending over to listen. The Teller swung his arm heavily over the side of the cot, the fingers never ceasing their painful twitching, and Gay leaned down and gently moved the cloths so that the white, scarred lips were free.
The task of comparing Kingsley the poet, preacher, and reformer, with Kingsley the laughing, genial teller of stories who never cherished a hobby in his life, would seem to be as superfluous on general grounds as it is premature in respect of the only possible question as to which of them is likely to be best remembered a generation or two hence.
The Story Teller thinks. "Yes," he said; "or rather, Mr. Bear came once alone, but that is another story. I know one story, though, about a little bear, a story that Mr. Crow told one night when he had been over to spend the afternoon with Mr. Bear, they bring very good friends." "Mr. Bear told me this afternoon," Mr. Crow said, "about something that happened in his uncle's family some years ago.
I fancy you hearing from some teller of tales how there is a certain lady of perfect beauty, beyond the Graces themselves or the Heavenly Aphrodite, and then, without ever an inquiry whether his tale is true, and such a person to be found on earth, falling straight in love with her, like Medea in the story enamoured of a dream-Jason.
We have already called attention to two significant movements of the eighteenth century, which we must for a moment recall if we are to appreciate Scott, not simply as a delightful teller of tales, but as a tremendous force in modern literature.
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