The next day we opened at Fort Wayne, Ind., where the show attracted a large crowd, and our profits were thirty-six dollars.
From there we went to Columbia City, where our profits were twenty-two dollars. Our fourth and last sale was made at Warsaw, where we were having excellent success, when a large, portly gentleman (whom I afterwards learned was Mr. Wood, the prosecuting attorney), came up to our stand, and after listening awhile and watching the results, went away, and in a few moments returned with the city marshal, who placed me under arrest for violating a new law just passed, to prohibit the running of gift enterprises. They took me before the Mayor, who read the charges against me, and asked what I had to say.
I informed him I had taken out city license, which I supposed entitled me to the privilege of selling.
He then read the new law to me, I plead ignorance, and asked the Mayor to be lenient. He imposed a fine of twenty-five dollars and costs, which altogether amounted to thirty-two dollars and fifty cents, which we paid.
The prosecuting attorney then explained to me, that such a law had recently been passed in almost every State.
This satisfied me that there was absolutely no money in the soap business. My partner and I divided up what little money we had left and there separated. He returned to Ohio and I visited a daughter of Mr. Keefer's, who had married a wealthy farmer, Smith by name, and was residing in Branch County, Michigan.
CHAPTER VII.
ELEVEN DAYS ON A FARM—HOW I FOOLED THE FARMER—ARRIVED AT CHICAGO—RUNNING A FRUIT STAND—COLLAPSED—MY RETURN HOME—BROKE AGAIN—A LUCKY TRADE.