It holds a metropolis within its walls. It affords daily employment to over three thousand persons, and thousands more daily throng its halls. Just a glimpse into this vast human hive makes us long for a Dickens to embody the romance and reveal the mysteries of the Treasury. The story of the Circumlocution Office and the Court of Chancery pale before the revelations and undreamed of human experiences which it holds. Before you, behind you, and on either side stretch out the great marble paved halls. Out of these open numberless rooms, whose shut doors stare blankly, or whose half-open blinds wink and blink at each other through the gleaming cross lights. Over these doors you read significant inscriptions, such as First Comptroller’s Office, First Auditor’s Office, etc. You ascend the great stairs and find other halls, such as those below, and like them lined on each side by doors. Over these you read, “Loan Branch,” “Redemption Branch,” “Office of the Register,” “Office of Secretary of the Treasury,” etc. Many of the open doors reveal to you large airy apartments filled with busy men and women. Many more show you narrow, one-windowed apartments, each containing a desk, or desks, with its scribe, or scribes. Here we see men who have grown gray, weak-limbed and wizened in those rooms beside those desks. They have grown to be as automatic as their pens, and as narrow as their rooms. Here also are thousands of men in their prime and in their youth representing every phase of character. In this hall, just by this door, Mary Harris watched for the man who had robbed and ruined her—and just here she shot him. Poor thing! With her blighted face she is a maniac, now in the Asylum across the river. These halls are as thronged as Broadway, and their denizens are as cosmopolitan. People of all nations and costumes come and go along their vast vistas.