At length he died, without having time or consciousness to mention the whereabouts of his money. Search was made in all directions, but without success. While living he had been a regular attendant at one of our City churches, and, occupying always the same corner in the old-fashioned square pew, was well known to the clergy and servants. A few weeks after his death the pew-opener told the rector, in a frightened voice, that she could no longer keep the matter from him, for as surely as she stood there, the ghost of the man who died a week or two ago haunted the church by night and by day. Instead of ridiculing her for her foolish fancy, the rector allowed her to tell her story quietly, seeing that she was superstitious and very nervous. She related that several times during the past weeks, when quite alone in the church for the purpose of sweeping and dusting, she had heard a peculiar noise proceeding from the pew where the old man used to sit, and it sounded to her exactly as though he were counting out money, and she would be very glad if he would look to it and verify her statement. Accordingly the rector and his curate accompanied the woman to the pew. At first all was quiet, but as they listened, assuredly the sound came exactly as described; they felt round about the pew, and at length discovered a movable panel near the flooring. It was the work of a moment to remove it, and there, in a good sized cavity, lay heaps of money wrapped up in paper, which last had attracted the mice, and it was their little pattering feet among the coins which had caught the woman’s ear. The man had evidently dropped in his week’s savings on Sundays, believing that it would be safer in the church than elsewhere. It seems that after the restoration of Charles II., he being greatly in want of money, the goldsmiths lent it, demanding ten per cent. for the loan. Often, however, they obtained thirty per cent. from him, and this induced the goldsmiths to lend more and more to the king, so that really the whole revenue passed through their hands. In 1672 a sad calamity befel the bankers, and put a check on their prodigal lending. King Charles, who owed them £1,328,526, which he had borrowed at eight per cent., utterly refused to pay either principal or interest, and he remained firm to his resolution. The way in which bankers transacted their loans with the king, was in this manner:—As soon as the Parliament had voted to the king certain sums of money out of special taxes, the goldsmith-bankers at once supplied the king with the whole sum so voted, and were repaid in weekly payments at the Exchequer[3] as the taxes were received. FOOTNOTES: [1] Ruding, vol. I. [2] The Lombards, or _montes pietatis_, lent on gold and silver three-quarters of their value; on other metals half of their value; and on jewels according to circumstances. The rate of interest was determined in 1786 at five per cent.