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An insurance office on California street in San Francisco, was for many years under the efficient and zealous management of Mr C. T. Smith. His opinion of the honesty of clerical insurance agents was bad enough, but they were among his most successful men, and he was obliged to employ them, and, as far as he could do so with safety, to accommodate them.

One Saturday afternoon, the banks being closed, Smith brought to the cashier of his company a clergyman, one of his best agents, long and favorably known to him, with a request for the loan of $160 for half an hour.

The cashier had filled his place for many years, and ever proved the faithful guardian and vigilant Cerberus of the company's strong-box. Moreover, he was gentlemanly and accommodating. There was no one on California street who would go farther to do a favor than he, but a battalion could not force him to break a rule of the company, or take any liberty with the funds entrusted to him.

In this instance he hesitated. There stood an agent of the company, a good man, a clergyman, whose request was urged by the manager of the department with which he transacted his business. The head of the establishment was not present at the time, and thus the whole of the responsibility was thrown on the cashier. He did not like either to refuse or to acquiesce.

"Accommodate him if you can," said Smith.

"One hundred and sixty dollars," muttered the cashier, as his hand slowly sought the knob of the safe, "and for only half an hour; Saturday afternoon, has money in the bank, can't get it—hum, ahem 1 "

" I will certainly return it you w^ithin the half hour," said the clergyman in sepulchral tones, smiling blandly.

"It seems to me a little strange," replied the cashier, "that having been in town all day, and knowing that you would require this money this afternoon when the