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They have barely passed the portals, when they set up their morning cry, in a shrill, sharp tone, "'Ere's your ''Erald, 'Mornin' Times, 'Buy a Tribune?" etc. In the afternoon, they scream into your ears the names of the "News," "Mail," "Express," "Telegram," "Post," and other evening journals, flavoring their announcements with shouts such as these: "'Nuther murder!" "Tremendous sensation!"

"Give me a Erald," and then another mouthful to add, "Don't cheat, now, you young rascal." When the right change had been given, and the man was settled to his paper, the newsboy turned back to the boy whose eyes had expressed so much sympathy. Bertie asked his papa if it would be too much trouble to change seats, and then he asked, "Do you sell many papers?" "Sometimes."

"Yes," he was saying, "my bankers'll be please very please, they will. And good cause why. That's a hundud thousand quid, Mr. Silver, in my pocket all a-jinglin' and a-tinglin'. 'Ark to em! like 'erald angels on the go." He paused, touched the other's arm, and panted huskily: "Funny thing! A minute since it was in the h'air ewaporated, as the sayin' is. Now it's here froze tight."

Here and there are ragged street Arabs, selling matches and newspapers; and against the verandah post, in the full blaze of the electric light, leans a weary, draggled-looking woman, one arm clasping a baby to her breast, and the other holding a pile of newspapers, while she drones out in a hoarse voice, "'ERALD, third 'dition, one penny!" until the ear wearies of the constant repetition.