displayed
for the guidance of the watchers of the blackboard. Upon this news one
or another says, 'I think I'll buy,' or 'I think I'll sell,' so and so.
His order is transmitted instantly to the Chamber. In two minutes the
result comes back and appears upon the blackboard."

"But where does the news come from?"

"From the men whose special business it is to pick it up or make it.
They are inside of politics, of the railways, of the weather bureau,
everywhere. The other day in Chicago I sat some time in a broker's
office with others watching the market, and dropped into conversation
with a bright young fellow, at whose right hand, across the rail, was
a telegraph operator at the end of a private wire. Soon a man came in
quietly, and whispered in the ear of my neighbor and went out. The young
fellow instantly wrote a despatch and handed it to the operator, and
turning to me, said, 'Now watch the blackboard.'

"In an incredibly short space of time a fall in a leading railway
showed on the blackboard. 'What was it?' I asked. 'Why, that man was the
general freight manager of the A. B. road. He told me that they were
to cut rates. I sent it to New York by a private wire.' I learned by
further conversation that my young gentleman was a Manufacturer of News,
and that such was his address and intelligence that though he was not
a member of the broker's firm, he made ten thousand a year in the
business. Soon another man came in, whispered his news, and went away.
Another despatch--another responsive change in the figures. 'That,'
explained my companion, 'was a man connected with the weather bureau. He
told me that there would be a heavy frost tonight in the Northwest.'"

"Do they sell the weather?" I asked, very much amused.

"Yes, twice; once over a private wire, and then to the public, after the
value of it has been squeezed out, in the shape of predictions. Oh, the
weather bureau is worth all the money it costs, for business purposes.
It is a great auxiliary."

Dining that evening with Henderson at his club, I had further
opportunity to study a representative man. He was of a good New
Hampshire family, exceedingly respectable without being distinguished.
Over the chimney-place in the old farmhouse hung a rusty Queen Anne that
had been at the taking of Louisburg. His grandfather shouldered a musket
at Bunker Hill; his father, the youngest son, had been a judge as
well as a farmer, and noted for his shrewdness and reticen