FullReads

“Why does he wish it stopped?” I asked.

“He says he merely took the paper by way of encouraging the enterprise, and never supposed he would be called upon to pay for it. He told Mr. J—-, who asked him to subscribe, that he had more papers now than he wanted, and Mr. J—-said, No matter. He would have it sent to him by way of adding another respectable name to the list.”

“Very well,” said I, as I entered the name of Mr. B—-in the cash-book, “pass on.”

This went fairly ahead of any thing I had ever dreamed of. I was too much surprised even to make a remark on the subject.

“Mr. C—was as mad as a March hare when I presented his bill.”

“Indeed! Why?”

“He paid your agent when he subscribed!”

“Did you see his receipt?”

“Yes. The agent took a hat and paid him the difference.”

“The scoundrel! And charged me a quarter in addition, for returning the subscriber!”

“These canvassers are a slippery set.”

“That’s swindling!”

“The fellow won’t quarrel with you about the terms, seeing that he enjoys the hat.”

“Too bad! Too bad! Well, go on.”

Mr. D—-paid two dollars, but wants you to stop at the end of the year. He merely took a copy at the start by way of encouraging the enterprise. Thinks highly of the paper, but can’t afford to take it longer than a year.”

“Very well.”

“Mr. E—has paid.”

“Well?”

“Mr. F—-says he never subscribed, and does not want it. He says, if you will send to his house, you can get all the numbers. He told the carrier not to leave it from the first.”

“I paid an agent for his name.”

“He says he told the agent that he didn’t want the paper. That he took more now than he could read.”

“Swindled again!”

“Mr. G—-says he never saw the paper in his life.”

“It’s sent regularly.”

“Some mistake in the carrier. Mr. H—-paid, and wishes the paper discontinued.”

“Very well.”

“Mr. I—-says he can’t afford to take it. His name was put down without his consent.”

I had received this name through one of my kind friends.

“Mr. J—-paid a dollar, and wants it stopped.”

“Well?”

“Mr. K—-paid; also, Mr. L—-and Mr. M—-.”

“Well?”

“Mr. N—-says the paper is not left for him; but for a young man who has gone West. Thinks you had better stop it.”

I erased the name.

Mr. O—paid the agent.”

“He never returned the money.”

Mr. P—-and Mr. Q—-, ditto.”

“Never saw a copper of their money. Paid a quarter apiece, cash, for each of these subscribers.”

“Mr. R—-says the paper is not worth reading. That he wouldn’t pay a shilling a year for it. I advise you to stop it. He never pays for any thing if he can help it. Mr. S—-paid. Mr. T—-paid up to this date, and wishes it stopped. Never ordered it. Mr. U—-paid. I called upon a great many more, but they put me off with one excuse or other. I never had a much worse lot of bills.”

A basin of cold water on a sentimental serenader could not have produced a greater revulsion of feeling than did this unlooked-for return of my collector. Nineteen dollars and fifty cents, instead of about two hundred dollars, were all he had been able to gather up; there was no promise of success in the future on any different scale. I received the money, less ten per cent. for collecting, and was left alone to my own reflections. Not of the most pleasant kind, the reader may well imagine. For an hour I brooded over the strangely embarrassing position in which I found myself, and then, after thinking until my head was hot and my feet and hands cold, I determined to reduce, immediately, the edition of my paper from three thousand to one thousand, and thus save an item of thirty dollars a week in paper and press-work. To send off my clerk, also, to whom I was paying seven dollars weekly, and with the aid of a boy, attend to the office, and do the writing and mailing myself. I then went over the subscription-book, and counted up the names. The number was just seven hundred and twenty. I had but a little while before replied to a question on the subject, that I had about twelve hundred on my list. And I did vaguely imagine that I had that number. I knew better now.