“Oh, I began young. Chris. Morgan, George Bartlett, Sam Parmelee, Charley Healey, and I started on the same day. We now leave New York Saturday night, give Cleveland, Monday; Toledo and Detroit, Tuesday; Fort Wayne and Indianapolis, Wednesday; Chicago, Thursday; St. Louis, Friday; Cincinnati, Saturday; and are in New York for business the next Monday morning.” “That is fast traveling.” “Yes, but we have the trade educated up to it. We tell them 'no bouquets,' 'no parties,' but just orders. We telegraphed ahead to Toledo, the other day, so that while the train waited twenty minutes for dinner I sold three bills.” The was all said so honestly and so pleasantly that I had to believe he was sincere, but at the same time I knew it wasn't strictly correct, and I felt more and more uncomfortable. “How do you like this hotel?” “Pretty well; I'm not very particular.” “You will be when you have been ten or fifteen years on the road. Hotels are a large part of your life. I left word at the Julian House, in Dubuque, to be called at six o'clock, the other night, and about four I heard some one pounding away, so I asked what was up. The musical voice of the watchmen came back: 'It's now 4 o'clock, and I'm going off watch, so yees has two hours yet to sleep before 6 o'clock.' Now that struck me as a family arrangement, and I'm going to have it extended to other houses.” “There's something about hotels I don't like,” I said. “What's that? The whisky? It is poor here, but you will find it better farther West.” “No,” I said, “I'm not much interested in the whisky. What I dislike about hotels is the loneliness.” “Yes, that's so. For that reason I like to travel with a party. I get Brother Little, he sells Pillsbury flour, and is a first-rate player on the harmonica, and Al Bevins (the talented sleigh-bell artist), who plays on a $2 music box, while I play on a double police whistle equal to any man in America. We take possession of the parlor and invite the landlord's family in, and, I tell you, we make it home-like! How would you like to try a little concert here to-night?” I begged off most emphatically, and said I must go for business. “Hold on, we'll go together. Do you know any one here?” I confessed that I did not. “Neither do I; so we can be of great help to each other. I'll introduce you, and then you can introduce me.” I felt as if I stood a good chance of getting into some kind of a scrape before I got away from him; but off we started. We were going down the street when Cockley struck an attitude and pointed to a sign over the way: