Chubb's Corner--the home of the curb stone broker, and the place where more gossip has been talked during the last forty years than would furnish the stock-in-trade of forty well-organized sewing circles--was an early victim, for it went down with Furlong's palace about the hour of six. The mention of Chubb's Corner awakens a thousand memories. For many years it enjoyed the distinction of being the great centre of commercial speculation. Men came here to meet men who had money to lend, and those who had none came to borrow it. Stocks and merchandise changed hands on this spot a dozen times a day, and the cautious bill-broker who never had any funds of his own to lend, came here to scent the financial air. In this cheerful spot money was subject to the fluctuations of the market with a vengeance. The rate--aye, there's the rub--"if we can only agree about _that_," said the note-shaver, "I think I may take the paper. 'The man is a good man,'" he continued, unconsciously quoting Shakespeare, "and I think I may take his bond," and though nothing was said about the pound of flesh in the event of the notes not being paid at maturity, the modern Shylock meant it all the same, and was as equally determined to get it, too, as the old gentleman we see on the stage rubbing his hands together, and making horrible faces at the audience and the Christian merchant Antonio. The rate in this grim corner was not measured by the consciences of the money-lenders, but by the necessities of the applicant. One could tell in a much less expensive way than by borrowing money of these gentry, whether they were getting a good price for their coin or not, by simply watching their faces during the operation. The face of the note-shaver is a barometer. It requires no regulating and it is always correct. There, quick, watch it now. See how long the face is. No, he has no money himself, but--Ah, that's it, now watch. See, observe the countenance, listen to that chuckle? Yes, what is he chuckling about? Oh, that's nothing, only habit; now the face is hanging up again, and it is ready for observation. The lender is telling the borrower how difficult it is to get money, and how much Smith had to pay for a thirty days' loan yesterday. This is of no interest to Jones, who is hanging on the words of Mr. Shylock as a lover drinks in the soft nothings of his mistress, but it gives the lender opportunities to find out how "hard up" his victim is. Now watch the face again. Still long and bilious-looking. Twenty per cent. is not so high. It's only five dollars off of a hundred, and look at the time three months--and it falls due on Sunday, too. You'll get a day's interest out of me for nothing, you rogue. The face is positively joyous. The eyes snap and sparkle. The countenance has become quite round and full, and there are bright spots on the cheeks. The extra day without interest did it, and the two go off arm in arm. But after all they are not happy; one has paid too much, and