One of the most important of the world's industries carried on at night is the making of the great morning daily newspaper. The average reader who unfolds his paper above his coffee cup in the morning rarely reflects that it represents the labor of half a hundred men, a great number of whom bend their lagging steps homeward only when the newsboy has begun to wake the morning echoes with his familiar cry. When night comes the editorial day-force is ready for home; the Associated Press wire is rattling in its messages from all parts of the world; the telegraph editor is busy putting "heads" on the type-written copy of the telegraph operator, and the night editor has rolled up his sleeves, laid his club handy, and breathes a silent prayer for help to the Goddess of Invective as he begins to wade through his pile of missives from correspondents. The State wires are opened, and the messenger boys are beginning to arrive with specials. The city editor and his force are in, and are busy writing out the local news from the notes they have taken during the day. The phone rings, a reporter seizes his hat and is off to get the item--perhaps an affray--someone run over by a wagon--a fire-a hold-up, or burglary--something that the good citizens must not miss as they eat their hash and muffins at breakfast. The editorial room at night sees many strange characters and scenes. People come up on all kinds of curious missions. A citizen stumbles up the stairs and nearly falls into the room. The force simply glances at him and keeps on working. His hair is frowzled; his coat is buttoned in the wrong buttonholes; he wears no collar; and in his blinking eyes, a roguish twinkle strives to overcome the effects of loss of sleep. He is a well-known citizien, and the force marvels slightly at his unusual condition. He staggers over to the telegraph operator and clutches the railing around his desk. "Shay," he says in a bibulous voice, "wantscher to telgraph startlin' news to ze outside world. Cable 'm to Europe 'n spread glad tidings to all shivilized countries. Get shome bull'tins out at onesh." The telegraph operator does not look up, and the gentleman tacks with difficulty and steers against the railroad editor. "Whatsher doin'?" he says. "Railroads," says that gentleman shortly. "Zat's ze sing. Gotter bigesht railroad item ever saw. Give you two columns cause tremendoush 'citement railroad shircles." The railroad editor writes calmly on, and the visitor gives him a reproachful look and bears down upon the city editor. "Shay, friend," he says, "gozzer bigges scoop 'n city news world ever heard. No ozzer paper 'n town knows it." "What is it?" says the city editor, without turning his head.