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“I saw that he was squirming, but I thought I would pin him down hard and fast, so I asked him the pat question: ‘Then you have not bought any straw hats for this season’s business, Brother Ward?’ ‘Nope, nope,’ said he–telling what I knew to be a point-blank lie.

“‘Well, Brother Ward,’ said I, ‘we are both confronted by a Christian duty. A fellow competitor and traveling man told me just a little while ago that he had sold you an out-and-out order of straw hats. Now I know that he is not telling the truth because you, a most reputable citizen of this town and a most worthy Superintendent of the Sunday School, have told me out-and-out that you have not bought any goods. Now, to-night, when you go home, do you not think that it is your duty, as well as mine, to ask the Lord to have mercy on and to forgive the erring brother who has told such a falsehood? I am sure that had he been trained to walk in the straight and narrow path he would not have done so. Your prayers, I am sure, will avail much.’

“When Brother Ward saw that I had him he colored from the collar up, and when I left him and said ‘Peace be with thee!’ his face was as red as the setting sun.”

“I have a customer,” said the furnishing goods man, “who beats the world on complaints. Every time I go to see him he must always tell me his troubles before I can get around to doing business with him. If you put business at him point-blank, it isn’t very long before he twists the talk. So now I usually let him tell his troubles before I say anything to him about business. The last time I went in to see him–he is Sam Moritsky, in the clothing business down in Los Angeles –I said, ‘Hello, Sam, how are you?’ He answered:

“‘Der Talmud id say “Happy ees de man who ees contentet,” but it says in anodder place, “Few are contentet.” I’m a seek man. De trobble in dis world ees, a man vants bread to leeve on ven he hasn’t got dot. And ven he gets der bread he es sotisfite only a leetle vile. He soon vants butter on id. Ven he gets der butter in a leetle vile he vants meat, and den he vants vine and a goot cigar, and ven he gets all dese t’ings, he gets seek. I am a seek man.

“‘Vonce I vanted a house on Cap’tol ‘ell (Capitol Hill)–seex t’ousand tollars it costet. Eef I got id feeften ‘undret–could haf borrowed dot much–I vould haf bought id, but I couldn’t get dot feeften ‘undret, and now I am glat. It vould have costet seexty fife tollars a mont to leeve and den I haf to geeve a party and a sopper and somet’ings and I make a beeg show,–a piano for my dotter, a fine dress for my vife, t’eater and all dot, and first t’ing I know, muhulla (I go broke)!

“‘Vell, it’s all ride eef I wasn’t a seek man. Dey say dese ees a goot country. I say no. My fadder’s family vants to come to dese country. I say no. In Russia a man he half a goot time. Vriday night he close de store at seex o’glock. He puts on his Sonday clothes, beeg feast all day Sonday, dance, vine, lots of goot t’ings. Veek days he geds down to beesness at eight o’clock–at ten o’glock he has coffee and den in a leetle vile he goes home and eats lonch. Den he takes a nap. De cheeldon, dey valk on der toes t’rough de room. “Papa’s asleep,” dey say. Seex o’glock he come home, beeg deener, he smokes hees pipe, goes to bet,–and de same t’ing over again.

“‘I vork so hard in dese contry. I am a seek man. Here I vork sefen days in de veek from sefen in de morning to elefen at night, and sometimes twelf. Only vonce last year I go to t’eater in de afternoon. Ven I com home I catch ‘ell from my vife. She say, “You safe money, Sam, and we get oud of dese bondage,” and I say I must haf a leetle recreations. Sunday all day I keep open. Von Sunday night I say I go home and take my vife and my cheeldon and I go to t’eater. Ven I go to put de key into de door here comes a customer een, and I sell ‘eem tventy-fife tollars–feeften tollars brofit. I vould haf lostet dot feeften tollars and vat I vould haf paid to go to t’eater eef I had closed op.