What does he do with his purchases? Once I beckoned to a kindly-looking old man whose wrapping paper was still neatly folded under his arm, to come up to my room. How he ever found my dwelling place among all the other doors of the studio building, is a riddle to me. I answered his knock. He remained quietly standing at the door, his hat in his hand: “What have you got to sell?” he asked very business-like, taking in the appearance of the room with one glance. “I have nothing for sale,” I told him. “But I would like to know more about your business. I wish you would tell me what sort of things you buy and what you do with them after you have purchased them?” “Of course, I am willing to pay you for your time if you will be kind enough to name your price, for say, half-an-hour.” He hesitated a bit, looked around scrutinizingly, and something evidently convinced him that I was “all right.” I invited him to take a seat. He said half an hour of his time would be worth fifty cents, I gained more of his confidence by paying the fifty cents in advance and after some more questioning he told me his story and the story of about two thousand other men who are following the same calling in New York. “I start out every morning at seven o’clock. I take with me all the cash I have in this world, heavy wrapping paper and cord, and then I walk the streets. Just as I attracted you I draw the attention of persons who really mean business. They sell for various reasons; some sell clothes or shoes or bedding or underwear because they need money very badly; pawnshops don’t lend them anything on their over-worn clothes, and I am about the only purchaser they can find. Other people want to get things out of the way. They are moving and their trunks cannot hold all the stuff they have accumulated. I buy everything that I can carry. “No, I have no place of business. I have to turn my money over at once or I should be out of work tomorrow. I walk about picking up stuff until eleven o’clock and then go to Baxter Street and sell. “In the afternoon I go into another part of the city and again buy up as much as I can get and in the evening between five and six, back to Baxter Street.” “What is on Baxter Street?” I interjected.