A MINCING LANE M. F. H. 



In these days, when information ahout an event 

 is stale a couple of hours after the event has 

 occurred, there is a not altogether unpleasing 

 novelty in being without news. One hears of 

 things too quickly. That Uttle telegraphic 

 machine in the hall of the club clicks out the 

 latest details long before the speedily issued 

 edition of the evening papers can pour forth 

 their intelligence, and the cynical observer may 

 derive no little satisfaction from noting the 

 demeanour of those who study the matter printed 

 on the endless tapes. A big race has been run 

 at half-past three, and very soon after that hour 

 the sanguine speculator takes up his station by 

 the little glass hive to see what sort of honey the 

 busy bees at the other end are going to provide 

 for him. He has been favoured with one of 

 those guides to misfortune, a " tip " for the 

 Great Covertshire Handicap, and in a few 

 moments the news will be here. Yes ! the 



instrument is about to speak ! M e . B e i g . 



What is this ? Oh ! '' Mr. Bright denounces 



