When a new batch of French notes is to be printed, an equivalent number of the choicely prepared and preserved sheets of paper is handed over to the superintendent of the printing office. This office is among the inner buildings of the Bank of France, and is governed by very rigorous rules in all things. The operatives are all picked men, skillful, active, and silent. The sheets, the ink, and the matrixes of the plates are kept securely under lock and key until actually wanted. The printing is effected by steam-worked presses. The ink is blue, and its composition known only to a few of the authorities. An inspector goes his rounds during the continuance of the operations, watching every press, every workman, every process. A beautiful machine, distinct from the press, is employed to print the variable numbers on the note; fed with sheets of paper, it will number a thousand of them in succession, changing the digits each time, and scarcely requiring to be touched meanwhile; even the removal of one note and the placing of another are effected by automatic agency. At every successive stage the note is examined. So complete is the registration of everything that a record is always at hand of the number of sheets rejected ever since the Bank of France was established, be its defects in the paper, the printing, or the numbering. When the master-printer has delivered up his packets of printed and numbered sheets, each note is stamped with the signature of the Secretary-General and the Comptroller. This completes the creation of notes. The notes so created are kept in a strong box, of which the Secretary-General and the Comptroller have keys, and are retained until the day of issue. The chief cashier tells the Governor that he wants a new supply of a particular denomination of notes, the Governor tells the council, the council tell the secretary-general and the comptroller, and these two functionaries open their strong box, and hand over the notes demanded. The notes at this time are not really money; they do not become so until the chief cashier has put his signature to each, and registered its number in a book.

The life of a French bank note is said to average two or three years, and does not terminate until the condition is very shaky indeed--crimpled, pierced with pinholes, corner creases torn, soft, tarnished, decrepit while yet young. Some have been half-burned; one has been found half-digested in the stomach of a goat, and one boiled in a waistcoat-pocket by a laundress. No matter; the cashier at the bank will do his best to decipher it; he will indeed take an infinity of trouble to put together the ashes of a burned note, and will give the owner a new note or the value in coin, if satisfied of the integrity of the old one. The bank authorities preserve specimens of this kind as curiosities, minute fragments gummed in their proper position on a sheet of paper. Very few of the notes are actually and irrevocably lost. During the last sixty-seven years 24,000 bank notes of 1,000 francs each have been issued, and of this number 23,958 had been returned to the bank by the month of January 1869, leaving only 42 unaccounted for. Whether these 42 are still in existence, or have seen burned into uncollected ashes, or are at the bottom of the sea, or elsewhere, is not known. Of 500-franc notes, 24,935 have been returned out of 25,000. The bank holds itself morally and financially responsible for the small number of notes unreturned, ready to cash them if at any time presented.

The bank sends the old notes again and again into circulation, if verified and usable; but they are examined first, and any that are found too defective are canceled by stamping a hole in them. These canceled notes pass from one official to another, and are grouped in classified bundles; the book that records the birth of each note now receives a notification of its civil death, and after three years incarceration in a great oak chest, a grand conflagration takes place. A huge fire is kindled in an open court; the defunct notes are thrown into a sort of revolving wire-cage over the fire; the cage is kept rotating; and the minute fragments of ash, whirled out of the cage through the meshes, take their flight into infinite space--no one knows whither. The Bank of France prints a certain number of notes per day, and destroys a smaller number, so as to have always in reserve a sufficient supply of new notes to meet any emergency; but the actual burning, the grand flare-up takes place only about once a month, when perhaps 150,000 will be burned at once. The French go down to lower denominations than the Rank of England, having notes of 100 francs and 50 francs, equivalent to £4 and £2. There must be a great deal of printing always going on in the Bank of France, seeing that in 1868 they issued 2,711 000 notes, of an aggregate value of 904,750,000 francs (averaging about £13 each), and burned 1,927,192, value 768,854,900 francs.

It sounds a very dreadful thing for 30,000,000 sterling in bank notes to be willfully burned in one year. But there is always a phoenix to rise from its ashes; the bank can regenerate as fast as it kills. The Bank of France, in 1846, put in circulation a beautiful crimson printed note for 5,000 francs; but the French people did not like notes of so high a denomination, and all but a very few of this kind have been returned and canceled. On one occasion, a superb individual, wishing to pay a dowry in handsome style, obtained twelve notes of 5,000 francs each for the purpose; but they were returned the very next day by the banker, who much preferred smaller notes for his general purposes. The notes now regularly kept in circulation in France are those of 1,000, 500, 100, and 50 francs.