“Not long ago, a friend of my own, ignorant of the rule so rigidly enforced for the expulsion of strangers, chanced to drop in, as he phrased it, to the Stock Exchange. He walked about for nearly a minute without being discovered to be an intruder, indulging in surprise at finding that the greatest uproar and frolic prevailed in a place in which he expected there would be nothing but order and decorum. All at once, a person, who had just concluded a hasty but severe scrutiny of his features, sent out, at the full stretch of his voice, ‘Fourteen hundred.’ Then a bevy of the gentlemen of the house surrounded him. ‘Will you purchase any new Navy five per cent., Sir,’ said one, eagerly, looking him in the face. ‘I am not——’; the stranger was about to say he was not going to purchase stock of any kind, but was prevented finishing his sentence by his hat being, through a powerful application of some one’s hand to its crown, not only forced over his eyes, but over his mouth also. Before he had time to recover from the stupefaction into which the suddenness and violence of the eclipse threw him, he was seized by the shoulders, and wheeled about as if he had been a revolving-machine. He was then pushed about from one person to another, as if he had only been the effigy of some human being, instead of a human being himself. After tossing and hustling him about in the roughest possible manner, denuding his coat of one of its tails, and tearing into fragments other parts of his wardrobe, they carried him to the door, where, after depositing him on his feet, they left him to recover his lost senses at his leisure.” In a graphic picture of the Stock Exchange, drawn by one who had every opportunity of testing its truth, the following will confirm the above description, and affords an interesting evidence of the civilization of the Stock Exchange in 1828:—