If we walk down the Strand at four o’clock in the morning, we find the whole street deserted and dull until we reach a row of red carts, bearing the name of the firm. When, however, we enter the establishment by which they are waiting, all is business and bustle. The interior of the large building is, in shape, not unlike a bee-hive; the ground-floor forms, as it were, the pit, and the two galleries the boxes, of a theatre. In these galleries nearly two hundred men and boys are already busy folding papers. At five o’clock the “dailies” begin to arrive, and the advent of the _Times_ is hailed with a consternation of enthusiasm. The huge bundles are fiercely attacked, and folded off in a shorter time than one could imagine possible; and then the _Telegraph_, _Daily News_, and _Standard_ are assaulted. As soon as the folding has been partially completed, a portion of the assistants are told off to make the proper assortment for each country place, and each packer has now a boy to wait upon him, who shouts out his individual wants. At the door the carts are waiting ready to drive off with the parcels to the different railway termini, and by about a quarter to six all the first trains out of London are supplied, and in less than two hours the whole kingdom has been fed with morning newspapers, including between 20,000 and 30,000 copies of the _Times_. This scene occurs every week-day morning, but on Friday afternoon, on the arrival of the weekly papers, the bustle of business is even greater, and the parcels (those for the post only) are removed by fourteen vans sent from the General Post Office.