The scene at a large telephone exchange is very curious and striking. _The Daily Chronicle_ some time ago gave a very vivid description of what meets the eye and ear when you enter the room. “A low, confused murmur falls pleasantly on the ear, with a dim suggestiveness of activity in being. It is like the hubbub of a far-off multitude or an echo of Babel heard through the electrophone. It is the negation of noise, and yet it bespeaks energy and meaning. Around the room many girls are seated with their faces to the wall. On their heads a bright metal band is fastened, and against the hair of the brunettes it gleams like a barbaric ornament. With the intuition of womanhood these young ladies must be aware that this implement of their toil becomes them, for they carry it with a certain grace and coquetry. But they have no eyes for the intruder. All the time they are intent on something else, listening constantly to the voices of the unseen. All London is speaking to them—nay, all England. Though the voices are those of strangers, they respond readily and reply promptly to the words they hear. They are the intermediaries of communication, and they bring together millions who are miles apart. Heaven knows how much purposeless chatter they encourage, yet they also make possible the most momentous conversations, fraught with grave consequences to individuals and communities. Yet all the while they are calm and unmoved, speaking in a voice that is ever soft, gentle, and low—'an excellent thing in woman'—and they deftly handle coloured cards and push plugs into thousands of small holes in the framework before them. A few soft-footed superintendents walk up and down the room, but there is no sound to conflict with the murmurous harmony of subdued speech.” There are as many jokes about the use of strong words on the telephone as there are about golf and bad language. The telephone is always a trial to the impatient person. “Is there a doddering idiot on this telephone?” shouted an irascible old gentleman down the transmitter. “Not at this end,” came the ready reply of the young lady at the exchange. The ordinary rules which govern the art of conversation in polite circles do not fit in with the telephonic talk. When the conversation is to be abruptly broken off in three minutes it is something like endeavouring to pour out your soul on a sixpenny telegram. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Illustration] _Photo_ _Clark & Hyde_ THREE MINUTES’ CONVERSATION BY TELEPHONE. The calculagraph is a clock which registers the exact time occupied by each conversation. The operator depresses the handle on one side when the conversation begins, and depresses the other when the conversation is finished. ------------------------------------------------------------------------