ith that
jumping jack of a boy bobbing up and down on the platform before it,
is of solid mahogany. The chairs are large and comfortable. From the
great windows you can look out on the varied and beautiful panorama of
the Hudson and the harbor, the water flashing in the sunlight and
lively with tugs, schooners, steamers, yachts. On the table are all
sorts of stock reports, newsfiles, financial statements.

The daily papers are in a rack, and over the mantel are bound volumes
of the "Chronicle," and copies of "Poor's Manual." Here is a
commodious desk with note paper, order pads and so forth for your use.
By the quotation board the ticker is clicking busily, and next it
Dow-Jones' news machine is clacking out printed copy that the newsboy
will be howling "Extra" over an hour afterward. Cigars in the table
drawer await your acceptance.

A knot of gentlemen are chatting about the ticker; some more are
watching the board. An old man with a white beard is dozing in a
corner with a "Reading Annual Report" on his knee. If you are a quick
and accurate judge of values, here is a means of livelihood under the
most agreeable, gentlemanly and easy auspices. You are making your
fortune seated comfortably among your friends, so to speak, smoking
and chatting pleasantly.

Every minute something happens, and every other event is a financial
opportunity. A boy rushes in with a news slip that Russia is to coerce
China--wheat rises. Chicago unloads stocks to buy grain--shares
decline a point all round. A money broker in to offer a million
dollars, and he _knows_ the City Bank people are buying Amalgamated
Copper. There is a sudden chorus of greetings and smiles; the popular
man of the office has arrived unexpectedly from London. The telephone
rings; the board member sends word the market looks like a buy.

"Mr. Morgan has started for the Steel meeting," reads the manager,
from the news machine. "The div-i-dend on Steel"--whirr--whirr--clack,
clack, clack--"one per cent." ... "regular."

"Gee whiz! Look at Steel," calls the tape trader. "Three-quarters,
one-half, one-quarter, one-eighth, one! See 'em come. _Three thousand_
at a clip. Sell 'em! Sell me two hundred, Robinson, quick!"

A clubman drops in with a funny story. Somebody offers to match you
for lunch. A friend invites you, over the telephone, to dine with him.
You conclude to take your profit in Wabash Preferred on the rally. It
is three o'clock and "closing" before you kno