“Jack, my boy, it is time to start,” cried John Shelley, who was waiting outside to walk to the rectory with his son, and the next moment they were off. (_To be continued._) THE ROMANCE OF THE BANK OF ENGLAND; OR, THE OLD LADY OF THREADNEEDLE STREET. BY EMMA BREWER. CHAPTER IV. After having tided over my difficulties, which had been brought about partly by the ill-feeling and envy of the Land Bank, and partly by another matter to be explained later, I went on successfully in my old home, gradually increasing my powers and responsibilities, and, if I may be allowed to add, daily growing more attractive. Everybody courted my smiles, and were wretched if they failed to find favour. Among those who paid me attention were members of the royal family, bishops, clergy, ministers of state, merchants, and philosophers; and, strange to say, I was as great a favourite with the women as with the men, and I think I influenced their lives not a little, for if a girl were known to be on my visiting list, even though she were very plain, she found no difficulty in marrying well. Did a mother hold in her arms her first-born, she was more restful and content concerning its future if it had an opportunity of being placed in my good books; and, certainly if a person died who had during his life stood well with me, he was buried with more pomp and ceremony for the fact. It seems wonderful, does it not, that I should have kept my head amid so much flattery and attention, and I very much doubt if I should have done so but for the healthy tone of my home and the constant care of my people. Every now and then I got a fright, which prevented my becoming frivolous, and which, but for my good constitution, would have gone far to shake the life out of me. One I remember well. It occurred in 1707, when I was but thirteen years old. It came in the form of a “run,” and certainly, but for timely help, I should have been torn to pieces. The word _run_ may be suggestive to you merely of a race between me and another bank; but in bank language it has a most terrifying and disagreeable meaning. It is a sudden demand from everybody to whom you owe money to pay up on the spot, and without hesitation. Your office is filled and refilled with people angrily and defiantly demanding their money. Such was the case with me, and in my one room in the Grocers’ Hall, at the date I mentioned. I tried to console myself with the thought that if the people would but give me time I would pay everyone to the full, but, alas! I was old enough to know that this was not sufficient—my existence depended upon the whole world believing me to be safe and worthy of confidence, and their test of my trustworthiness was that I should pay everyone in full at a moment’s notice. I was nearly wild, and, for the moment, utterly powerless. To me confidence was money, and by money I lived and breathed.