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Although a man’s friends will not buy from him if he does not carry the goods, he will yet get their patronage over the other fellow if he has the right stock. Here’s where a man’s personality and adaptability are his stock in trade when he is on the road; and the good salesman gets the business over his competitor’s head just by being able to turn the mood of the merchant he meets. The more moods he can turn, the larger his salary.

One of my musician road friends once told me how he sold a bill to a well-known old crank, now dead, in the state of Montana.

“When I used to work at the bench, years ago,” said he, as we sat in the smoker, “evenings when I was free, for relaxation, I studied music. Our shop boys organized a brass band. I played the trombone, and learned to do so fairly well. I never thought then that my music would fatten my pocket-book; but since I have been on the road it has served me a good turn more than once–it has sold me many a bill.

“You’ve heard of the ‘Wild Irishman of Chinook,’ haven’t you?”

“Old Larry, the crank?” said I.

“Yes, old Larry, the great.”

“Well, sir, the first evening I ever went into Larry’s store, I hadn’t been in a minute until he said to me: ‘Oi’m all full up; Oi’ve got plinty of it, I doon’t give a dom pwhat ye’re silling.’

“I paid no attention to him, as I had heard of him; instead of going out I bought a cigar and sat down by the stove. Although a man may not wish to buy anything from you, you know, he is always willing to sell you something, even if it is only a cigar. I’ve caught many a merchant’s ear by buying something of him. My specialty is bone collar buttons–they come cheap. I’ll bet that I bought a peck of them the first time I made a trip through this country.

“I had not been sitting by the stove long until I noticed, in a show case, a trombone. I asked Larry to please let me see it. ‘Oi’ll lit ye say the insthrumint,’ said he, ‘but pwhat’s the good of it? Ye can’t play the thromboon, can ye? Oi’m the only mon in this berg that can bloo that hairn. Oi’m a mimber of the bhrass band.’

“I took the horn and, as I ran the scale a few times, Larry’s eyes began to dance. He wouldn’t wait on the customer who came in. The instrument was a good one. I made ‘Pratties and fishes are very foine dishes for Saint Pathrick in the mairnin” fairly ring. A big crowd came in. Larry let business drop entirely and danced a jig. He kept me playing for an hour, always something ‘by special rayquist’–‘Molly Dairlint,’ ‘Moggie Moorphy’s Hoom’ and everything he could think of. Finally he asked me for ‘Hairts Booed Doon.’

“As I played ‘The Heart Bowed Down,’ tears came to the old Irishman’s eyes. When I saw these, I played yet better; this piece was one of my own favorites. I felt a little peculiar myself. This air had made a bond between us. When I finished, the old man said to me: ‘Thank ye, thank ye, sor, with all my hairt! That’s enoof. Let me put the hairn away. Go hoom now. But coom aroond in the mairnin’ and Oi’ll boy a bill of ye; Oi doon’t give a dom pwhat ye’re silling. If Oi’ve got your loine in my sthore Oi’ll boy a bill; if I haven’t, Oi’ll boy a bill innyway and stairt a new depairtmint. Good noight, give me yer hand, sor.’

“Not only did Larry give me a good order, but he went to two more merchants in the town and made them buy from me. He bought every dollar’s worth of his goods in my line from me as long as he lived.”