The speaker, a boy of fourteen, stood in front of the shabby brick building, on Nassau street, which has served for many years as the New York post office. In front of him, as he stood with his back to the building, was a small basket, filled with ordinary letter envelopes, each labeled “Prize Package.”

His attractive announcement, which, at that time, had also the merit of novelty—for Paul had himself hit upon the idea, and manufactured the packages, as we shall hereafter explain—drew around him a miscellaneous crowd, composed chiefly of boys.

“What's in the packages, Johnny?” asked a bootblack, with his box strapped¹ to his back.

“Candy,” answered Paul. “Buy one. Only five cents.”

“There ain't much candy,” answered the bootblack, with a disparaging² glance.

“What if there isn't? There's a prize.”

“How big a prize?”

“There's a ten-cent stamp in some of 'em. All have got something in 'em.”

Influenced by this representation, the bootblack drew out a five-cent piece, and said:

“Pitch one over then. I guess I can stand it.” An envelope was at once handed him.

“Open it, Johnny,” said a newsboy at his side. Twenty curious eyes were fixed³ upon him as he opened the package. He drew out rather a scanty⁴ supply of candy, and then turning to Paul, with a look of indignation, said:

“Where's the prize? I don't see no prize. Give me back my five cents.”

“Give it to me. I'll show you,” said the young merchant.

He thrust in his finger, and drew out a square bit of paper, on which was written—One Cent.

“There's your prize,” he added, drawing a penny from his pocket.

“It ain't much of a prize,” said the buyer. “Where's your ten cents?”

“I didn't say I put ten cents into every package,” answered Paul.

“I'd burst up pretty quick if I did that. Who'll have another package? Only five cents!”

Curiosity and taste for

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