"'Herald,' 'Times,' 'Tribune,' 'World'!" he vociferated, with a quick glance at each passer-by.
There were plenty of newsboys near by, but this boy was distinguished by his quick, alert movements, and his evident capacity for business. He could tell by a man's looks whether he wanted a paper, and oftentimes a shrewd observation enabled him to judge which of the great morning dailies would be likely to suit the taste of the individual he addressed.
"Here's the 'Tribune', sir," he said to a tall, thin man, with a carpet-bag and spectacles, who had the appearance of a country clergyman. "Here's the 'Tribune,'—best paper in the city."
"I'm glad you think so, my lad. You may give me one. It's a good sign when a young lad like you shows that he has already formed sound political opinions."
"That's so," said the newsboy.
"I suppose you've seen Horace Greeley?"
"In course, sir, I see him most every day. He's a brick!"
"A what?" inquired the clergyman, somewhat shocked.
"A brick!"
"My lad, you should not use such a term in speaking of one of the greatest thinkers of the times."