s
pocket, was turned out to find a luncheon place.

He bought three apples for five cents--all that he could afford to
spend, and even this meant that he must walk home from the ferry to his
house in Brooklyn--and these he ate as he walked up and down Fifth
Avenue until his hour was over. When the meeting ended at three
o'clock, Mr. Gould said that, as he was leaving for the West early next
morning, he would like Edward to write out his notes, and have them at
his house by eight o'clock. There were over forty note-book pages of
minutes. The remainder of Edward's Sunday afternoon and evening was
spent in transcribing the notes. By rising at half past five the next
morning he reached Mr. Gould's house at a quarter to eight, handed him
the minutes, and was dismissed without so much as a word of thanks or a
nod of approval from the financier.

Edward felt that this exceeded the limit of fair treatment by employer
of employee. He spoke of it to Mr. Cary, and asked whether he would
object if he tried to get away from such influence and secure another
position. His employer asked the boy in which direction he would like
to go, and Edward unhesitatingly suggested the publishing business. He
talked it over from every angle with his employer, and Mr. Cary not
only agreed with him that his decision was wise, but promised to find
him a position such as he had in mind.

It was not long before Mr. Cary made good his word, and told Edward
that his friend Henry Holt, the publisher, would like to give him a
trial.

The day before he was to leave the Western Union Telegraph Company the
fact of his resignation became known to Mr. Gould. The financier told
the boy there was no reason for his leaving, and that he would
personally see to it that a substantial increase was made in his
salary. Edward explained that the salary, while of importance to him,
did not influence him so much as securing a position in a business in
which he felt he would be happier.

"And what business is that?" asked the financier.

"The publishing of books," replied the boy.

"You are making a great mistake," answered the little man, fixing his
keen gray eyes on the boy. "Books are a luxury. The public spends its
largest money on necessities: on what it can't do without. It must
telegraph; it need not read. It can read in libraries. A promising
boy such as you are, with his life before him, should choose the right
sort of business, not the wron