shimmering glasses, and one Saturday afternoon when a car stopped the
boy leaped on, tactfully asked the conductor if he did not want a drink,
and then proceeded to sell his water, cooled with ice, at a cent a glass
to the passengers. A little experience showed that he exhausted a pail
with every two cars, and each pail netted him thirty cents. Of course
Sunday was a most profitable day; and after going to Sunday-school in
the morning, he did a further Sabbath service for the rest of the day by
refreshing tired mothers and thirsty children on the Coney Island
cars--at a penny a glass!

But the profit of six dollars which Edward was now reaping in his newly
found "bonanza" on Saturday and Sunday afternoons became apparent to
other boys, and one Saturday the young ice-water boy found that he had a
competitor; then two and soon three. Edward immediately met the
challenge; he squeezed half a dozen lemons into each pail of water,
added some sugar, tripled his charge, and continued his monopoly by
selling "Lemonade, three cents a glass." Soon more passengers were
asking for lemonade than for plain drinking-water!

One evening Edward went to a party of young people, and his latent
journalistic sense whispered to him that his young hostess might like to
see her social affair in print. He went home, wrote up the party, being
careful to include the name of every boy and girl present, and next
morning took the account to the city editor of the Brooklyn Eagle, with
the sage observation that every name mentioned in that paragraph
represented a buyer of the paper, who would like to see his or her name
in print, and that if the editor had enough of these reports he might
very advantageously strengthen the circulation of The Eagle. The editor
was not slow to see the point, and offered Edward three dollars a column
for such reports. On his way home, Edward calculated how many parties he