THE MAN OF BUSYNESS

The "ten minute newspaper" started in New York is, like the three minute egg, another tribute by the world to the man in a hurry. The bustle and clatter of energy lavishly expended sets up a sympathetic vibration in every true American heart. Solicitous brains have spun for the busy man to give him a telephone and radio, a motor car and airplane, ready-to-wear clothes, and a meal reduced to seconds in a catch-as-catch-can restaurant.

Newspapers, however, have been very independent about bowing to the creature rushing hither and yon. They have stooped to headlines, to be sure, but that has been merely a hook thrown out to coach the business man. The special editions which have become customary, and the ever-increasing Sunday supplements are more like an obstinate challenge to him. Every newsstand was once a command to stop and think: but now the presses move faster than ever. The business man has nearly been forced to admit defeat.

But now the new ten minute sheet, and its predecessor "Time", appear as flags of truce the animated man has won, not peace, but unhindered activity. He who runs may both read and think, and pick up his ideas on route. His literature he reads in reviews, he listens to the essences of the opera from the Victoria, and he hears the foreign lecturer through the headpiece of his radio while he dictates a purchase order. A file for your fly, he says, that "sate upon the axie-tree of the chariol wheel, and said, "What a dust do I raise'!"