“That has driven more men to desperation, ruin, and drink, than all the other evils of humanity put together,” said Barker.  “That is the ticker.”

“I perceive that it ticks,” said Claudius.  And Barker explained how every variation in the market was instantly transmitted to every place of business, to every club, and to many private houses in New York, by means of a simple arrangement of symbols—­how “Gr.  S.” meant Green Swash, and “N.P. pr.”  “North Pacific, preferred,” and many other things.  Claudius thought it an ingenious contrivance, but said it must be very wearing on the nerves.

“It is the pulse of New York,” said Barker.  “It is the croupier calling out from morning till night ‘trente-sept, rouge, impair,’ and then ‘Messieurs faites votre jeu—­le jeu est fait.’  When stock goes down you buy, when it goes up you sell.  That is the whole secret.”

“I think it is very like gambling,” said Claudius.

“So it is.  But we never gamble here, though we have a ticker to see what other people are doing.  Besides, it tells you everything.  Horse-racing, baseball, steamers, births, deaths, and marriages; corn, wheat, tobacco, and cotton.  Nobody can live here without a ticker.”

And after this they went out into the street again, and Mr. Scratch took off his hat to Claudius, which is the highest token of unusual esteem and respect of which “the street” is capable, and in a moment the heels of his boots were seen disappearing into the dense crowd.  Claudius and Barker walked on, and crossed Broadway; a few steps farther, and the Doctor was brought face to face with the triumph of business over privacy—­the elevated railway.  He had caught a glimpse of portions of it in the morning, but had supposed the beams and trestles to be scaffoldings for buildings.  He stood a few moments in profound thought, contemplating and comprehending this triumph of wheels.

“It is a great invention,” he said quietly.  And when they were seated in the long airy car, he looked out of the window, and asked whether the people in the first stories of the houses did not find it very disagreeable to have trains running by their windows all day.

“The social and municipal economy of New York,” explained Mr. Barker, “consists in one-third of the population everlastingly protesting against the outrageous things done by the other two-thirds.  One-third fights another third, and the neutral third takes the fees of both parties.  All that remains is handed over to the deserving poor.”

“That is the reason, I suppose, why there are so few poor in New York,” observed the Doctor with a smile.

“Exactly,” said Barker; “they go West.”

“I would like to discuss the political economy of this country with you, when I have been here six months.”

“I hope you will not.  And when you have been here six months you will be willing to pay a large sum rather than discuss it with any one.”