er of an hour or so of saying, "Are you there?"
"Yes, I'm here," "Well?" the young lady at the Exchange asks what you
want.

"I don't want anything," you reply.

"Then why do you keep talking?" she retorts; "you mustn't play with the
thing."

This renders you speechless with indignation for a while, upon
recovering from which you explain that somebody rang you up.

"WHO rang you up?" she asks.

"I don't know."

"I wish you did," she observes.

Generally disgusted, you slam the trumpet up and return to your chair.
The instant you are seated the bell clangs again; and you fly up and
demand to know what the thunder they want, and who the thunder they are.

"Don't speak so loud, we can't hear you. What do you want?" is the
answer.

"I don't want anything. What do you want? Why do you ring me up, and
then not answer me? Do leave me alone, if you can!"

"We can't get Hong Kongs at seventy-four."

"Well, I don't care if you can't."

"Would you like Zulus?"

"What are you talking about?" you reply; "I don't know what you mean."

"Would you like Zulus--Zulus at seventy-three and a half?"

"I wouldn't have 'em at six a penny. What are you talking about?"

"Hong Kongs--we can't get them at seventy-four. Oh, half-a-minute" (the
half-a-minute passes). "Are you there?"

"Yes, but you are talking to the wrong man."

"We can get you Hong Kongs at seventy-four and seven-eights."

"Bother Hong Kongs, and you too. I tell you, you are talking to the
wrong man. I've told you once."

"Once what?"

"Why, that I am the wrong man--I mean that you are talking to the wrong
man."

"Who are you?"

"Eight-one-nine, Jones."

"Oh, aren't you one-nine-eight?"

"No."

"Oh, good-bye."

"Good-bye."

How can a man after that sit down and write pleasantly of the European
crisis? And, if it were needed, herein lies another indictment against
the telephone. I was engaged in an argument, which, if not in itself
serious, was at least concerned with a serious enough subject, the
unsatisfactory nature of human riches; and from that highly moral
discussion have I been lured, by the accidental sight of the word
"telephone," into the writing of matter which can have the effect only
of exciting to frenzy all critics of the New Humour into whose hands,
for their sins, this book may come. Let me forget my transgression
and return to my sermon, or rather to the sermon of my millionaire
acquaintance.

It was one day after dinner,