ributing to the magazines and weekly papers. As a matter of course,
they must dispose of their wares wherever there is a market, and where
they are sure of being paid, even at starvation rates, for their labors.
From $2.50 to $5.00 per column is the rate of payment with the most of
the weeklies, and many men and women with whose names and labors the
literary world is familiar, are glad to write for them at this beggarly
price as a means of increasing their legitimate incomes. The number of
writers is very much in excess of the demand, and literature offers a
thorny road to the majority of its followers in the metropolis.

The Sunday papers are generally high priced and nasty. They are entirely
sensational in character, and are devoted to a class of news and
literature which can hardly be termed healthy. They revel in detailed
descriptions of subjects which are rigorously excluded from the daily
papers, and abound in questionable advertisements. All of which they
offer for Sabbath reading; and the reader would be startled to see into
how many reputable households these dirty sheets find their way.

XV. WALL STREET.

I. THE STREET.

WALL STREET begins on the east side of Broadway, opposite Trinity Church,
and terminates at the East River. It is about half a mile from the
extreme southern end of the island, and about the same distance from the
City Hall. It is a narrow street, about fifty feet in width, and slopes
gradually from Broadway to the river. It is lined on both sides with
handsome brown stone, yellow stone, granite, marble, iron, and brick
buildings, and the Treasury and Custom-House rear their magnificent
fronts about midway between the termini of the street. They are
diagonally opposite each other. The buildings are covered with a
multiplicity of signs, rivalling the edifices of Nassau street, in this
respect. Scarcely a house has less than a score of offices within its
walls, and some contain at least three times as many. Space is valuable,
and rents are high in Wall street, and many of the leading firms in it
have to content themselves with small, dark apartments, which a
conscientious man would hesitate to call an "office." The rents paid for
such quarters are enormous, and the buildings yield their owners large
incomes every year. The streets running into Wall street, on the right
and left, are also occupied for several blocks with the offices of
bankers and brokers, and are all