WAS lonely at leaving Mr. McCarthy, but full of hope. At Canaan I went to work and sold about half my stock of goods and took the cars to Waterville. There I bought a small hand-bag and a stock of ingredients for my receipt, and had just left my hotel next morning to begin my canvass when a trumpet sounded up the main street of the little city. Turning, I saw a caravan of great red wagons coming toward me at a swift pace, led by four beautiful white horses. A smart-looking lady and gentleman occupied the high seat of the first van, and he was driving the white horses. “A circus!” I heard people exclaim near me, and every foot halted and all eyes were bent on the red vans. They were fast approaching. The driver referred to wore a white beaver hat and a coat of blue velvet with a white flower in its buttonhole. The lady beside him was a wonderful creature with a great hat and fluttering ribbons and gleaming jewels, and a face more beautiful, as I thought, than any my poor eyes had seen. Three glowing vans had gone by, each with its team of handsome horses, and each van ornately lettered as follows:= ```JAMES FISK'S TRAVELLING EMPORIUM. ````Dry Goods and Yankee Notions= A white banner on the first and third vans announced:= ```Our Great Store will be Open from Two to ````Six To-Day in the Vacant Lot Corner `````of Crosby and Main Streets= I began my work, and for an hour or so the vans were passing up and down the streets, and most of the women I saw left me to go and look out of their doors and windows. I could make little headway, for by two o'clock the houses were all empty. Mothers, daughters, and hired girls were on their way to the great travelling store. I went with the crowd, and found the red vans in a row on the vacant lot and many gathered about them. The sides of each van had been let down to serve as counters on which the goods were displayed. The smart-looking man who had driven the white horses sat under a little canopy of red-and-white bunting with the wonderful lady who had ridden beside him. I stood with a score of other people looking at them. “What! do you think I would lie for a shilling?” he was saying to a man who stood beside him. “Bosh! I might tell eight lies for a dollar, but one for a shilling! No! That's below my price.” He laid off his beaver hat and sat twisting his' sandy-hued mustache. His curly hair was cut close. “Hey, boy!” he said, as he beckoned to me, “want to earn half a dollar?” “Yes,” I answered. “Well, trot down to the depot and bring me a copy of last night's _Utica Observer_,” he commanded, as he put a shinplaster in my hand. When I had returned with the paper, he asked, “What ye got in yer grip?” “Sal,” I answered. “Sal!” he exclaimed, with a laugh, “who's Sal?” “A wonder!” I answered. “Cleans and polishes glassware, silverware, gold, brass, and pewter; removes dirt from woodwork, and makes the home bright and beautiful.”