The main road to wealth in New Orleans has long been Carondelet street. There you see the most alert faces; noses-it seems to one-with more and sharper edge, and eyes smaller and brighter and with less distance between them than one notices in other streets. It is there that the stock and bond brokers hurry to and fro and run together promiscuously-the cunning and the simple, the headlong and the wary-at the four clanging strokes of the Stock Exchange gong. There rises the tall fa�ade of the Cotton Exchange. Looking in ...
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The main road to wealth in New Orleans has long been Carondelet street. There you see the most alert faces; noses-it seems to one-with more and sharper edge, and eyes smaller and brighter and with less distance between them than one notices in other streets. It is there that the stock and bond brokers hurry to and fro and run together promiscuously-the cunning and the simple, the headlong and the wary-at the four clanging strokes of the Stock Exchange gong. There rises the tall fa�ade of the Cotton Exchange. Looking in from the sidewalk as you pass, you see its main hall, thronged but decorous, the quiet engine-room of the surrounding city's most far-reaching occupation, and at the hall's farther end you descry the "Future Room," and hear the unearthly ramping and bellowing of the bulls and bears. Up and down the street
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