  Their deposits were left over night in the bank,— In a bank without whisper of fault: The amounts to their credit were placed on the books, And were left over night in the vault. To their credit, I say it, the bank was locked tight, Guarding thus against fire and theft; A patrol on the walk, and a new 'lectric light, Throwing beams to the right and the left. ***** Just here the cashier he left over night, Taking all but the house and the soil; And the long and the short of the story is this,— He was too long of stocks—short of oil. A receiver was called, and he looked o'er the wreck, And received those who called—thus bereft. "Have you nothing left over?" they timidly ask: He answers, "Yes, over the left." W. C. Dornin. |
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