The first assorter having satisfied himself that his money is correct in amount and passible in character, next proceeds to assort the notes. He rises from his stool, swings his table out of the way, folds back the cover of his till, takes up a package and deposits the notes one by one in the box whose number corresponds to that of the group to which they severally belong. We will say that long practice has made him familiar not only with the scheme of the assortment, so that he need not refer to the printed lists, but also with the face of the notes of every bank in the country, and that the briefest glance is all that he requires to recognize a note and determine where it belongs. The rapidity of some of these assorters is remarkable, being limited only by the rate at which it is possible to move the hand over the rather large area of a till. Much, however, depends on the natural aptitudes of the person. Many who have had no previous experience in handling money never become expert. They are tried for six months or a year, and then dismissed as incompetent. Even those by nature well qualified may hope to attain moderate rapidity only after months of persevering effort. The manipulations of the beginner often cause much merriment among the older employees. He has too many fingers, or too few, to fix a secure grasp upon the "bills." He seizes a note with one or both hands, and stretching it before him proceeds to read over the face. Then he resolves himself into a committee of the whole on the state of his till, to consider where the note is to be put. He refers from the note to the printed schedule before him, and from the schedule to the note again, hunts from one side of his till to the other for the box he wants, but is now uncertain of the number, and recurs once more to the note and the schedule. At length he cautiously deposits the money in a box. Presently, after going through this process once or twice more, he is convinced that he has been wrong. He institutes search throughout his till to find his note again, and at last this cause of all his perplexity settles in a box not to be again disturbed until that remote hour of the day when he shall be ready to "count out." In the evening, when he is expected to "turn in" his cash, he finds himself from one to eighty or a hundred notes "over" or "short." His knuckles are more or less raw from collision with the partitions of his till, his face is flushed, and his hand trembles. In high excitement, seeing himself waited for, he takes up a package which he put up for a hundred notes, but which in his opinion may possibly contain a hundred and eleven or only ninety-nine. He counts it through with an attempt at aptness, and as he lays down the last note he whispers "fifty-five." In the end two or three experts are set to help him, and in a few moments the inconsiderable number of notes which formed his chaos are reduced to order.