consisted of a
single sheet printed on both sides, and sold for eight cents a month.
When the paper was at the height of its popularity he sold five
hundred copies each week, and realized a profit of forty-five dollars
a month.

He might have continued in editorial work had not a sad mishap
overtaken him. In addition to his editorial work he performed many
experiments, for his was the soul of the inventor. These experiments
were performed in the baggage car of the train. One day, as he was in
the midst of one of these experiments, a sudden lurch of the train
upset his bottle of phosphorous, setting the baggage car on fire. The
conductor, a quick-tempered man, after putting out the fire, dumped
young Edison's precious printing press and apparatus out of the car
and went on. This was a very sad experience for the lad, but the
saddest part was the fact that, as the conductor threw Edison out he
boxed his ears so severely that he was partially deaf ever after.

Now that young Edison had lost his job as newsboy, and could no longer
print the _Grand Trunk Herald_, what was he to do? He decided, if
possible, to get a position as telegraph operator. But, you ask, how
did he learn to be a telegraph operator?

While yet a newsboy, he had saved the life of a child by snatching it
from before a moving train. The father, a telegraph operator, was so
grateful to young Edison for saving his child that he offered to teach
him telegraphy. This offer the lad eagerly accepted, and devoted every
spare minute to his new task. From the first his progress was rapid,
and when he lost his job as newsboy he applied for a position as
telegraph operator and was given a job as night operator at Stratford
Junction, Canada, at a salary of twenty-five dollars a month. He was
now sixteen years of age.

Within a very few years Edison became a swift and competent operator,
as the following incident will show. "Edison had been promised
employment in the Boston office. The weather was quite cold, and his
peculiar dress, topped with a slouchy broad-brimmed hat, made
something of a sensation. But Edison then cared as little for dress as
he does today. So one raw, wet day a tall man with a limp, wet duster
clinging to his legs, stalked into the superintendent's room and
said:

"'Here I am'.

"The superintendent eyed him from head to foot, and said:

"'Who are you?'

"'Tom Edison.'

"'And who on earth might Tom Edison be?'

"The young man expla