after a good day's work, he would say to me, Thurlow, let's break the back of another token [two hundred and fifty impressions]-just break its back.' I would generally consent reluctantly, 'just to break the back' of the token; but James would beguile me, or laugh at my complaints, and never let me off until the token was completed, fair and square. It was a custom with us in the summer to do a clear half-day's work before the other boys and men got their breakfast. James and I would meet by appointment in the gray of the early morning, and go down to the printingroom. A pressman who could do twenty, or even ten, per cent. more work than usual was always sure of a position. James Harper, Tom Kennedy (long since dead), and I made the largest bills in the city. We often earned as much as fourteen dollars per week-liberal wages when you remember that good board could then be obtained for ten dollars a month.'

"James Harper's good humor and geniality made him a general favorite, but his strict principles sometimes subjected him to rude persecution. His homespun clothes and heavy cowhide. boots were often objects of ridicule. among his companions, but as a rule he bore their taunts with good-natured silence, for he was never afraid of a jest, even if it were ill-timed or unfair. Once, however, provoked beyond endurance, he retorted in a manner which showed that he was not to be trifled with. Under pretense of feeling the fineness of his coat, one of his companions gave him a sharp pinch on the arm, asking James at the same time for his tailor's card. James responded with at vigorous and well-directed kick. "There,' said he, 'is my card; take good care of it, and when I am out of my time and set up for myself and you need employment, as you probably will, come to me and I will give you work.' The merryandrew slunk away, effectually cowed. Nearly forty years later, when the Harper establishment had become known

young_apprentice boy was Mayor of New York, the comrade who had ridiculed his homely clothes applied to James for a place as workman, and claimed it on the ground of that old promise. It is hardly necessary to say that it was granted, and so, curiously enough, the prophecy was fulfilled."

The remaining three brothers, John, Joseph Wesley, and Fletcher, having combined to make this one of the largest establishments of the kind in New York, sustained their first great catastrophe in 1853, in the shape of a fire, which practically wiped out the whole establishment. The event is vividly narrated, as follows:

"To clean off the rollers in the pressroom camphene was found to be the best medium, and for this process a small room had been selected on the third floor of the lower building in Pearl Street. It was lined throughout with zinc, and the rollers were taken in there from the adjoining press-rooms, cleaned and then returned to the presses. In this room, on Saturday, December 10, 1853, a plumber was at work making some repairs. He had occasion to use a light, and having lighted his lamp, he looked about for a place to throw a match. A pan of what appeared to be water was at his feet, and, as an extra precaution, he threw the match into the pan, which was full of camphene. In a moment the room was in a blaze, and the plumber had barely time to escape. The flames, pursuing him, burst through the thin partition, and the camphene ran in rivulets of fire along the floor. This building was stored from top to bottom with combustible materials, and the flames spread through the building with fearful rapidity. The fire broke out just before one o'clock, and within two hours the establishment was in ruins.

"The cry of fire produced a panic among the employees. Fortunately at that hour many of the hands were away at dinner; those who remained rushed for the stairs, and some in their terror fled to the windows and cried for help.

received an order for books, and the package had been tied up by him when the alarm was given. He had no knife ready to cut the string, and was obliged to leave the package so rapid was the progress of the conflagration.

"There was but one room in the establishment in which there was no panic, and that was the counting-room. The instant the fire was reported its significance was realized. The campheneroom on fire?' said John Harper; 'then we are lost; save the hands.' This one thought was predominant. 'What part of the property shall we save first?' cried a frightened employee. 'Never mind the property,' said John, 'save the lives.'

"When the fire was announced John Harper was making up his deposits; he took the checks and money lying in the cashier's drawer, called a clerk, and bade him take them to the bank. He then went to the head of the stairs leading to the press-room, saw the hopelessness of endeavoring to save anything, and directed the engineer to make his way to the boiler and let off the steam, in order to prevent an explosion. Meanwhile the other brothers gathered together the subscription orders, books of accounts, receipts, and similar valuable papers at hand, and put them into a large safe. This was dragged out upon the sidewalk and its contents were saved. Wesley Harper was still employed in the counting-room when a policeman touched him on the shoulder and said, 'It's not safe here'; and Wesley took the hint and retreated with the others to the opposite sidewalk. Five minutes afterward the counting-room was wrapped in flames. Young Joseph W. Harper, Jr., who at high tension was assisting his father at the time, said that James Harper, who was coolly hunting around the office for something, came to him and asked him if he could find his rubbers, as it was damp outside, and he did not like to go without them. When they were satisfied that every one employed in the establishment was safe, the four brothers joined the excited

"The firemen did their utmost to save the buildings, and long after the fierce flames had beaten back the bystanders from the open square these courageous men continued their exertions. One fire company raised a large door upon the sidewalk opposite, and from behind this shelter continued to play upon the flames until the shield ceased to protect them. The telegraph wires were melted. and dropped from their fastenings, and the hose in the street was burned to a crisp and fell in pieces. From two to four o'clock,' said a representative of the New York Tribune who witnessed the fire, 'the crowd in Franklin Square was beyond conception. All the avenues leading into it had become packed with human beings, and the awful heat from the Harper buildings had driven the crowd back against the Walton House opposite until they were shoved against those behind and closed in like the case of a telescope. Fortunately we got a position between an engine and a brokendown cart, where the view of both sides of the street and down the square and through Pearl Street, under an arch of fire, was magnificent. In rapid succession, the fronts of the tall buildings had gone down, crash after crash, as the beams gave way with the weight of thirty-three power-presses, while the burning contents of all these rooms glowed up like a sea of melted lava, and north and south the flames were pouring out of the windows of the five-story buildings, from basement to attic, reaching their forked tongues over the wide street, and ever and again interlocking with those from the roof and upper windows of the tall hotel opposite.'

"About two o'clock Brother John coolly took his watch from his pocket, looked at it, and quietly remarked that it was dinner-time, adding by way of suggestion to the other three brothers that they had better come to his house that night and talk it over.' They accordingly left the scene where the results of

many years of toil lay destroyed, agreeing to meet after supper at John's home.

"At length the flames began to diminish, the heat grew less intense, the glare subsided; the engines again took up a position where they could contend with. the flames, and by five o'clock the fire was entirely under control. In three hours sixteen large buildings had been destroyed, embracing property estimated as worth over a million and a half of dollars. Of this loss nearly, if not quite, a million was borne by Harper & Brothers, their entire insurance amounting to less than two hundred thousand dollars. This was said to have been the largest fire loss sustained up to that time by a commercial house.

ity.' As the brothers were able to meet their loss, pay all debts, and still retire with a competence, a suggestion was made that they wind up the concern, as they were too advanced in years to attempt to revivify the House, but this alternative hardly received a second thought. John pointed out that they all had sons for whom they should provide. and it was accordingly resolved to take instant and energetic measures to rebuild and to repair, as far as possible, the injury suffered. A telegram was sent to the Adams Company for twenty new presses. This promptitude saved nearly three months of valuable time, for the telegram reached its destination a few hours in advance of some orders previously sent by mail. That night John commenced his plans for the construction of the new buildings, which were built and occupied in less than a year after the fire occurred, John being the chief architect supervising the construction."

The remainder of the book-part of the history of the country-details the re-development of that wonderful business, which still continues, in full force and with all its old-time energy.

JUST

AT the time I knew Thomas Adams

Hill, he was a little, dried-up old man, who looked as if he had just been taken out of an imperfect cold storage plant. About all of his youthful beauty that remained was that of his eyes, which were by turns coal-black and piercing, and languishing and dreamy. These changeable orbs, his old goodwife doted upon.

He once had a beautiful large store in San Francisco; they said he founded it just after discovering his only gold-mine, somewhere about Marysville. While the mine and its proceeds lasted, it was good times for any one who knew him and had his confidence. He sowed the entire vicinage with riches-both physical and mental. His generosity and charity advertised themselves, in spite of his efforts to the contrary, all over the city. and surrounding country.

In matters of thought and invention, he was likewise lavish and beneficial. For some years, he was perhaps the most skilful clock- and watch-maker in the world: many artists in golden timeindicators had very much more reputation than he, and only a thousandth as much ability. The Mayor of San Francisco gave him one day a perfectly-working watch that weighed less than an ounce: bearing upon it the words, MADE IN PARIS. A month from that day, the Mayor was given in return a still more beautifully-running watch weighing less than half an ounce and upon it, the words, MADE IN AMERICA. This little bit of golden sarcasm was mildly relished by the Mayor, and intensely by all his friends.

But Thomas Adams Hill, Watchmaker and Jeweller, did not prosper, financially, in San Francisco: it is one

thing to be charitable, and another, as some do, to make money by it. He seemed all the while to have more and more business, and less and less cash and credit. He finally had to sell out, and take a smaller shop; a still smaller one followed, on a more modest street; a still smaller one, on a still obscurer street; and meanwhile the poor man dropped more and more into debt. A few of those whom he had helped, now bravely tried to help him, but could not: most of them still needed assistance, or imagined they did. A larger number of those whom he had helped, kept still with him, in a way, but did their trading where they believed they could get more help. And most of those to whom he had been of assistance, ridiculed him, and said he never had a right to be so foolish with his money.

So he glided, sometimes perceptibly, sometimes imperceptibly, along down the slippery incline of failure, and finally found that he was unable to perform at all that necessary process in this world of "getting along", and remain in the bustling, overriding town of San Francisco.

About this time an old friend and mechanical admirer, wrote him from New Orleans. "This town is a wonderful chance for such a jeweler as you", he averred. "I will pay your expenses, coming here, and start you in business. There is no genius in the city that can compare with yours. Money will run into your till like water into the Gulf. Come on."

He went on and although at first very homesick, was charmed with the way "the money came in." But it also went out, in just the same manner as at San Francisco. He learned quickly,