File:The Saturday evening post (1920) (14781892344).jpg

Identifier: saturdayeveningp1933unse (find matches)
Title: The Saturday evening post
Year: 1839 (1830s)
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Publisher: Philadelphia : G. Graham
Contributing Library: University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign
Digitizing Sponsor: University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign

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afternoons andearly evenings. That would give you yourforenoons to lose your savings on theStreet. I suppose youve hit town to makea fortune. Quinby was a character reader. He hadguessed that here was another buddinglamb seeking slaughter, but he saw some-thing more in him. Grid took the job. This meeting with Old John Quinby, deanof the Wall Street newspaper crowd inthose days, marked another epoch in Gridscareer. First, he became a newspaper maninstead of a broker; second, it was theinfluence of his sponsor which fixed in himthe lifelong habit of cautious investing thatso puzzled his brokers at times. Every New York newspaper office inthose days, as it is to-day, was a pen oflambs, dabblers in the stock market. Gridfound himself at once in a fascinatingatmosphere of flyers in this and quickturns in that, of margins and pyramids. Itwas that memorable winter of 1879 and1880 when Jay Gould was at the heightof his power, when the stock market re-sponded to the touch of that wizard as a
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Who the Devil Stole My Paste Pot? He Roared man whose air of disinterested spectatorwas in sharp contrast to the tense, feverishspeculators round him. This man had beenstudying him for some moments. He likedthe sturdy bearing of the country boy andthe flash of fire in his eyes. Grid in turnliked him on sight. Looking for a job, son? he askedgenially. Theres a vacancy over in myshop that might interest you. Thank you, suh! I would like a job.What firm is yours? Oh, Im with a newspaper, the littleman explained, handing him a card.There I am. I need a new office boy.My old boys been promoted to a reportersjob. John Quinby, Financial Editor, WallStreet Mirror, read the card. My paper is a financial paper, Quinbyexplained as Grid hesitated. Youd be in great pipe organ does to the mastersfingers on the keyboard. Day after dayGrid, on errands for Quinby, found timeto dodge into brokerage offices and listenraptly to marvelous tales of winnings. Oc-casionally he had the luck to have pointedout

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