jected to paying an exorbitant price for the hastily-issue and noisily-cried sheet, saying to his companion: "Now, if he would bring me tomorrow's news, Trask, I wouldn't mind paying a good round sum for it." The auburn-haired Past Master, who is seamed with the scars of battle in "The Street," replied, more in earnest than in jest: "I would readily pay a thousand dollars for a knowledge for what will happen to-morrow, and a million if it were exclusive." "On that basis," said a man ahead, who was just stepping into the elevator, "what would it be worth to know what is to happen fifty years hence?" "Oh," said Trask, "I suppose it would be reasonably safe to offer any price at all for the performance of an impossibility; and for that matter, any one impossibility is just as unreasonable to ask as any other. It's hard enough to be sure of what happened fifty years ago, let alone diving into the news of fifty years hence."
"It is not so impossible as you think," quietly remarked a gentleman at my side, who seemed a stranger to all of the rest. "It can be done, if one has patience, judgment, time and means."
As we meet all sorts of people in the world
