When I was a young man, I went to a popular lecture in an old wooden church, which was very much crowded. During the service, as it appeared afterwards, some boys without, threw a handful of small gravel stones against the clap-boarding of the house, which made such a rattling, that a general rush took place, and the church was tenantless in less than a minute. Imagination pictured to some the tumbling walls. The noise of the rush, stunned every one. Some smashed the windows, and leaped to the ground, others, and some of them females, impatient to reach the door, and as they supposed a place of greater safety, strode over the heads of the dense crowd, making the most grotesque figures imaginable. Some were trodden down, but none were killed; and when all were safely out, with the exception of crushed hats, torn shirts, sore bones, and lost reticules, the enquiry began to be made, what has happened? I don’t know says one. Did you see any thing? asked another? No—did you? No—Nor I, said a fourth, and a fifth—and when all were satisfied that nothing had really happened, except a fright, they began, one by one, to approach the house again, and cautiously peeping in at the door, lest the walls might suddenly tumble about their heads, they saw the light burning brightly, and the honest clergyman sitting in his desk, the only man in the house, convulsed with laughter, at the fright of his late audience. And so, when a panic comes in Wall-street, if any man will take a position, a little above the heads of the multitude, where he can see their folly, he may safely enjoy a hearty laugh, instead of suffering a fright. A money panic, in the city, sometimes begins with a mere question of doubt, as, what do you think of the condition of the banks? and this question, handed from one to another, assumes new shapes, and gathers strength and importance as it flies. A MONEY PANIC. Sometimes, it begins with a rattling noise, like the movement of specie, upon which the panic makers immediately conjure up the ghost of an earthquake, that is about to take place. Sometimes it is the price asked, or the refusal of a broker to buy a foreign bank note, for which he has no current money to give in exchange, which runs from mouth to mouth, and from hand to hand, until half the people in the town think their bank notes are worthless; and they will put them off for apothecary’s physic, rather than keep them. And sometimes it is the mere sympathy of suspicion, when every man suspects his neighbor to be in possession of some secret, which he is not. And all, or any one of these causes, is sufficient to make three fourths of the population of the town tumble over each other in fright, while the rest laugh, and scramble after the loose coppers, which they may let fall in the fray. HOW IT WORKS.