"The old man never forgot that day. The last time I was around, he
said, 'Confound you, Billy! What makes you ask me if I want any baby
shoes? You know I do and that I want yours. I believe, though, if you
were to die I'd have to quit handling the line; it would seem so
strange to buy them from any but a deaf and dumb man.'"

It is all right for the traveling man to put his wit against the
peculiarities of a wise, crusty old buyer, but it is wrong to play
smart with a confiding merchant who knows comparatively little of the
world. The innocent will learn.

A clothing man once told me of a sharp scheme he once worked on a
Minnesota merchant.

"When I was up in Saint Paul on my last trip," said he, "a country
merchant--what a 'yokel' he was!--came in to meet me. He had written
my house he wanted to see their line. But when he reached the hotel
another clothing man grabbed him and got him to say he would look at
_his_ line after he had seen mine. When he came into my room, I
could see something was wrong. I could not get him to lay out a single
garment. When a merchant begins to put samples aside, you've got him
sure. After a while, he said: 'Well, I want to knock around a little;
I'll be in to see you after dinner.'

"'I am expecting you to dine with me,' said I. 'It's after eleven now;
you won't have time to go around any. You'd better wait until this
afternoon.' I smelt a mouse, as there were other clothing men in town;
so I knew I must hold him. But he was hard to entertain. He wouldn't
smoke and wouldn't drink anything but lemonade. Deliver me from the