“Yes, you can guess. You know whether it looks worth 5 cents or $5.”

“Well, say $1.50.”

“That's close. You are a good guesser on saws. I buy that of Disston for $3 per dozen.”

“What! A Disston saw?”

“I didn't say a Disston saw. It is made by Disston, but their name is not on it, nor is it any such quality as they would brand with their name. But they have a tremendous trade in goods on which their name never appears. I guess they are the largest saw manufacturers in the world.”

“Disston must have an easy job.”

“Don't you fool yourself. Sam has just as hard a job as you have. In the first place much is expected from him; then his goods being standard, are sold close by all jobbers, and they are inclined to push other makes, which can be bought cheaper. And on cheap goods it is entirely a matter of price, so he has to meet all the competition of every saw-maker in the country. I don't believe he has any easier job than you, or any other traveling man has.”

After selling a couple of cases of cartridges to a wholesale grocer one evening, he was led to tell of his early days, and I learned that no one trade contained all the shrewd men. Said he, “I once felt that our house was a very important one, and about as large as the State of Michigan. But one July I went down to New York, and sauntered into Thurber's, on West Broadway. I didn't expect to buy anything, but I thought Thurber would feel complimented by such a man as myself calling upon him. Their lower room looked rather busy, but not any more so than I expected, but when I got up stairs and found myself facing from fifty to seventy-five clerks I began to think Thurber's was a bigger business than mine. A boy led me to H. K. Thurber's private office, but there were several men ahead of me and I waited my turn. The longer I waited the smaller I kept growing. Mr. Thurber's face was one that you could study. One moment it lit up with a smile or happy thought, the next his mouth closed with a snap as if it was the combination lock of a safe-door. At his table was a chair for `the next,' and I felt as if `next' was going to be called out whenever I saw a man getting ready to arise. It was a pleasure to watch Thurber. The new-comer took his place in the vacated chair, told who he was, what was his business, and Thurber had a 'yes' or a 'no' ready before the man was through. 'We don't want it' came out sharp and decisive. 'But if I could—.' 'We don't want it;' and this time the mouth closed tighter, and the man saw there was no 'buts,' and bowed himself out. Then to the next, and if his luck was better the bell was touched, and the boy who answered told: 'Show this gentleman to Mr. Whyland.' Here a letter was placed before him by a clerk, and after a glance at it an answer was dictated to the stenographer, who sat in a corner nearby. Long before it was my turn to bother him I felt so cheap that I would have sneaked off, but I was afraid some of the boys would take me by the collar and drag me back. Mr. Thurber met me pleasantly, and said a few words about our business that told me he knew something about us, and professed to be very much pleased at my call. Then he sent for Mr. Whyland and insisted upon my allowing him to show me about the store. Whyland had but lately returned from his European trip, and was just aching all over to sell goods. You know how that is, don't you? Take any good salesman who has been out of the harness for awhile and when he gets back again to work there's more enjoyment in selling a bill of goods than in drinking a bottle of champagne. I swore to myself that I wouldn't buy a cent's worth, but before I got away from Whyland I was down for $13,000 worth of goods.”

“Whew! It was a dear visit.”

“Not at all. I needed the goods and bought them low, so that it was all right. But Whyland turned me over to Frank Thurber. Frank is the politician of the concern; the greenback, anti-monopoly, mugwump man! He beamed on me as if he was Venus rising out of the sea; patted me on the back; said I would own all of Michigan in a few years, and he was coming out to get some points from us wide-awake Westerners; then filled my pockets with his anti-monopoly speeches and papers, led me to the top of the stairs, gave me his benediction, and I left. It was an experience. No opera that I ever listened to, no ball that I ever attended, contained so much genuine pleasure for me as I got out of that visit. But I went away satisfied that our house had still room to grow before it would be the biggest in the trade. It does a man good to see what a small concern he is occasionally.”