"Well, sir, when Henry walked into this gruff old merchant's store, he
found him busy waiting on a customer so up he marched to a clothing
table and began to feel of a pile of pants. After the customer went
out he went up to the old man and said to him, 'Gootmorning, sir. I am
a physician, sir, and I am looking for a logation--'

"'You are no such a ---- thing,' said the old man. 'You are selling
pants.'

"Henry told me of this experience when he came back to the hotel and
he was so broken hearted that he almost felt like going back home. In
fact, he didn't last more than about three weeks. He had started too
late in life to learn the arts of the traveling man."

"You bet," said the wall paper man who had heard this story.
"Attention is the whole cheese. I know I once tried my hardest to get
hold of an old Irishman down in Texas. He was a jolly old chap but I
couldn't get next. There wasn't any sample room in the town and if I
showed my goods to any one, I would have to get his consent to let me
bring my stuff into his store. When I struck old Murphy to let me
bring my goods in, he gave me a stand-off so hard that another one of
the boys who was in the store gave me the laugh. This riled me a
little and I said to my friend who thought he had the joke on me, 'I
am going to sell that old duck just the same.' 'I'll bet a new hat you
don't,' said he. Something flashed across me somehow or other. I got
bold and I said, I'll just take that bet.'

"I had to wait in town anyway for several hours so that I couldn't get
out until after supper. So I went up to the hotel for dinner. That
afternoon I went back to Murphy's store, pulled out a cigar case and,