University of Virginia Library

A WOMAN'S IDEA OF FINANCE.

A DANBURY man was looking at his yard Thursday afternoon. He was looking at it in such a way as to easily attract the attention of any neighbor who might have a lot of unemployed time on hand. Such a party pretty soon joined the observer, and immediately took an all-absorbing interest in the contemplated improvement. From this subject they rapidly drifted into finance.

"Pretty tough times," observed the neighbor.

"Yes, they are that; an' it'll be tougher before we're over it, I imagine," was the answer.

They were both sitting on a saw-horse under an apple-tree, near the back-door, when this conversation commenced. The owner of the premises was chewing on a bit of straw; and the neighbor was mechanically pulling tops from the plantain in reach.

"What do you think of this money-question which has got into politics this year?" inquired the neighbor.

"I think it'll be settled one way or the other before another presidential election is over," replied the owner, "You see the matter is being—"

"Ezekiel!" pronounced a sharp voice from the stoop.

"Well, what is it?" he curtly inquired.

"I wish you'd get me a pail of water."

"In a minute.—As I was sayin,' the matter is bein' pressed with unusual force. There has been this effort for years to come down to a specie basis; but nothin' definite has been reached. Now, I imagine this campaign will settle it."

"You believe specie to be the best currency, of course?"

"Certainly. What does the increase of paper money amount"—

"Ezekiel!" came the voice from the stoop.

"In a minute.—All the paper you might print from now till"—

"Ezekiel!"

"Thunder and lightning! Maria, what is the matter?" he passionately ejaculated.

"I want you to get me a pail of water: I'm waitin' for it."

"I'll get it in a minute, if you'll just hold your breath.—You might, as I said, print money till

doomsday; an', if you ain't got the gold to back it up, what is it goin' to amount to? As far as exchange is concerned, among ourselves I will admit that paper"—

"Ezekiel!"

"Good gracious! Maria, what do you want?"

"I want a pail of water. I've told you a dozen times. If you don't hurry up with it, you'll have to go without dinner."

"Where is the pail?" snapped the annoyed husband, seeing it in her hand. "It's a pity if I can't get a chance to say a word, without being put out every minute."

Seeing him rise up, she set the pail down on the stoop, and retired; and he, helping himself to a fresh straw, said,—

"As I was sayin', paper is all well enough among ourselves as a matter of exchange; but what are we goin' to do for imports? We can't get along without gold then. An' what are we goin' to do when this money is called in, if we haven't got gold enough to redeem it? Now, suppose, for instance, that I had ten"—

"Ezekiel!" came the voice again. But he did not hear it.

—"thousand dollars in cash, an' supposin' I wanted to use forty thousand dollars. What do I do? I take"—

"Ezekiel! Why on earth don't you stop that gab of yours, and get me a pail of water?"

"Yes, yes, in a minute.—An' I take my paper on the market for that amount. Here is ten thousand dollars in cash, you see, an' here is the—Woosh! gar! ooh!" and just here the gasping husband was awed into silence by seeing his neighbor dash over the fence in a dripping condition. The forty thousand dollars on paper was not there, as might have reasonably been expected; but a pail of indifferent water was there, hurled with all the force and fury an exasperated woman is capable of. And, as the choking expounder of specie as a basis reached out spasmodically for his breath, the interested neighbor, with fully two-thirds of the contents of the bucket in his hair and under his coat-collar, sped across the lots with a vehemence that was really marvellous as an exhibition of speed, and with a silence in regard to the cause which was born of twenty years of married life.