The incident in my messenger life which at once lifted me to the
seventh heaven, occurred one Saturday evening when Colonel Glass was
paying the boys their month's wages. We stood in a row before the
counter, and Mr. Glass paid each one in turn. I was at the head and
reached out my hand for the first eleven and a quarter dollars as they
were pushed out by Mr. Glass. To my surprise he pushed them past me
and paid the next boy. I thought it was a mistake, for I had
heretofore been paid first, but it followed in turn with each of the
other boys. My heart began to sink within me. Disgrace seemed coming.
What had I done or not done? I was about to be told that there was no
more work for me. I was to disgrace the family. That was the keenest
pang of all. When all had been paid and the boys were gone, Mr. Glass
took me behind the counter and said that I was worth more than the
other boys, and he had resolved to pay me thirteen and a half dollars
a month.

My head swam; I doubted whether I had heard him correctly. He counted
out the money. I don't know whether I thanked him; I don't believe I
did. I took it and made one bound for the door and scarcely stopped
until I got home. I remember distinctly running or rather bounding
from end to end of the bridge across the Allegheny River--inside on
the wagon track because the foot-walk was too narrow. It was Saturday
night. I handed over to mother, who was the treasurer of the family,
the eleven dollars and a quarter and said nothing about the remaining
two dollars and a quarter in my pocket--worth more to me then than all
the millions I have made since.

Tom, a little boy of nine, and myself slept in the attic together, and
after we were safely in bed I whispered the secret to my dear little
brother. Even at his early age he knew what it meant, and we talked