When I made up my mind to quit the railroad I looked ‘round for somethin’ else to do. It was kind of hard times just then and a good many were out of work and I couldn’t find anything that suited me. Of course I never had much schoolin’ and ‘twa’n’t every kind of job I could hold anyhow. I went back out to the stock yards, but they was layin’ off men and there wa’n’t anything there. One mornin’ I went over to see Sol Goldstein. He was a nice old man that we used to buy potatoes of. He told me that he was gettin’ so old and kind of sick that he thought he’d have to give up peddlin’ and let his boys take care of him the rest of his time. He said he didn’t think it would be very long anyhow, and they could do that much for him so long as he’d done so much for them. He said as I hadn’t any job why didn’t I buy his horse and express wagon and go to peddlin’. I could take his license, that hadn’t run out yet, and go right along over his route. I told him I hadn’t any money to buy his horse and wagon with, but he told me that didn’t make any difference, I could pay for ‘em when I earnt the money. So I made a bargain; got the horse and wagon and harness and two old blankets for fifty dollars. Of course they wa’n’t worth much: the horse had a ringbone and the heaves and kind of limped in one of its hind legs. Goldstein said that was on account of a spavin, but he told me there was another one comin’ on the other hind leg and as quick as that got a little bigger he’d stop limpin’ because he couldn’t favor both hind legs to once. Goldstein said the ringbone had been killed and the heaves wouldn’t bother him much. All I had to do was to wet the hay before I fed him. So I bought the rig. I didn’t know nothin’ about horses but I knew what Goldstein said was all right for we’d been friends a long time. “I went down to Water Street and bought a load of potatoes and went to work. I haven’t time to tell you all about my peddlin’: anyhow it ain’t got much to do with the case, not much more’n any of the rest. My lawyer always said any time I told him anything, ‘Well, what’s that got to do with your killin’ her?’ and the judge said about the same thing whenever we asked any questions. He couldn’t see that anything I ever done had anything to do with it except the bad things. He let ‘em prove all of them and they looked a good deal worse when they was told in court and in the newspapers than they seemed when I done ‘em. I guess there ain’t nobody who’d like to hear every bad thing they ever done told right out in public and printed in the newspapers. I kind of think ‘twould ruin anyone’s character to do that, ‘specially if you wa’n’t allowed to show the goods things you’d done.