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Leacock, Stephen, 1869-1944

"Frenzied Fiction"

Narrowpath," he continued,
speaking with the deference due to a member of the City
Council, "to boom Toronto as a Whisky Centre."
"Quite right, quite right!" said my companion, rubbing
his hands.
"And now, professor," added the publisher, speaking with
rapidity, "your contract is all here--only needs signing.
I won't keep you more than a moment--write your name
here. Miss Sniggins will you please witness this so help
you God how's everything in Montreal good morning."
"Pretty quick, wasn't it?" said Mr. Narrowpath, as we
stood in the street again.
"Wonderful!" I said, feeling almost dazed. "Why, I shall
be able to catch the morning train back again to Montreal--"
"Precisely. Just what everybody finds. Business done in
no time. Men who used to spend whole days here clear out
now in fifteen minutes. I knew a man whose business
efficiency has so increased under our new regime that he
says he wouldn't spend more than five minutes in Toronto
if he were paid to."
"But what is this?" I asked as we were brought to a pause
in our walk at a street crossing by a great block of
vehicles. "What are all these drays? Surely, those look
like barrels of whisky!"
"So they are," said Mr.


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