When men of business become dependent on borrowing, to meet their engagements, the daily supply becomes as necessary as daily food. The proverb tells us that a hungry man will break through a wall; and, to use a fashionable phrase, of some who do not understand their mother tongue, the cashiers were “_au fait_,” in this principle of natural philosophy. Their eager eyes scanned with solicitude the cadaverous countenances of the hungry applicants, to see where their scanty means of supply might be most _profitably_ applied, and when occasionally, some one received _permission_ to call again when the press was over, hope at once beamed in his eye, a smile played gently about his mouth, and had the cashier been a lady, he would have fallen on her neck and kissed her. Punctual to the hour, he returns and receives from the complacent lips of the cashier, the joy-giving intelligence—“Mr. A., we have so great a press upon us just now, that we find it impossible to meet the demand for discounts; but, if it will oblige you, I will take your notes at seven per cent. interest, and give you a check on Mobile at sight, and at par, in payment.” “But I do not know what to do with it,” says Mr. A. “How will that relieve me?” “Well, I don’t know, Mr. A., but I have understood that the Waterworks Bank is buying at a discount of five per cent. That is rather a large sacrifice to make, but it is the best that I can propose.” THE DEATH-STRUGGLE. “Hang the five per cent.,” thought A. to himself, “it will cost me but a hundred dollars, and I can pay my note;” and, to him, a day’s salvation from bankruptcy, was an age of happiness. The proposal was eagerly embraced, and while the Waterworks was buying the checks of the Stork on Mobile, Savannah, Columbus, &c., the Stork was buying those of the Waterworks; and mischief-makers have reported that they were all exchanged in the afternoon. Mr. Eavesdropper, whose name implies that he attends more to other people’s business than his own, reports having overheard the following dialogue between the cashiers, at their afternoon meeting. A BRACE OF JACK-ALLS. JACK. Well Bob, this business works well yet, I have pocketed five hundred dollars, to day. BOB. Yes, Jack, sure, and it works well at present; but, upon me soul, I don’t see the end of it, and if we were exposed, we should make a dangling appearance, if we were even in the ould country. JACK. Never fear, Bobby—a man never dangles here, as long as he has got money; and besides, the dogs dare not whisper a word; their lives depend on their credit, as the only means of supporting them, and they would be cut up like mutton-chops in the market, the moment they lisped their own secret.—We are safe.