Preeminent in the trade stands a firm with name unchanged for three generations, of world-wide reputation for its wealth and the philanthropy of its individual members, past and present, all of whom have been prominent in New York's religious and social life. Another firm only a few years ago discontinued a custom of hanging on the walls of its offices scriptural texts. Of still another firm, the most active member is a leader of Brooklyn's annual Sunday-school processions, though he prides himself on his cold blood, and before leaving his home in the morning to go to his office replaces his heart with a paving-stone. But why go on? Suffice it to say that the trade is eminently respectable and rich, in some instances possessed of enormous wealth, and this is the trade in which I began my career. My office life for the first two years was routine and devoid of excitement, except for occasional strenuous experiences the result of Mr. Derham's brusqueness and quickness to resent anything that he deemed an attempt to take advantage of, or put a slight upon him. He was the sort of man that makes a steadfast friend or a bitter enemy, with no room for anything in between. "Walter, take this contract to Winter and bring me his acceptance," said Mr. Derham on one occasion, when, having made what in those days was considered a large sale, he was feeling particularly good-natured over it. "Yes, sir," I replied, and was off at once, little knowing the reception awaiting me in the Beaver Street office of Rudolph C. Winter. On entering the office I approached Mr. Winter's desk and handed him the contract. He glanced at it, and then all the nervous irritability for which that individual was noted came to the surface at once. Springing up from his desk, upsetting the chair in his haste and rushing toward me, he shouted: "Here! take this back to Mr. Derham; tell him I won't have it! I didn't sell it; get out!" And pushing me across the office, he opened the door and thrust me into the street, throwing after me my hat, which had been knocked from my hand. It did not take me long to get back to Mr. Derham and give him an account of what had occurred. In a fury he put on his hat, and saying "come with me," we walked rapidly to Winter's office. Entering the door with blood in his eye, Mr. Derham stepped up to the still wrathful merchant. "Winter, I understand you decline to accept this contract." "But," began Winter, when down on the desk came Mr. Derham's clenched fist. "No explanations now; sign first, and then after you have apologized to my messenger, who is my representative when I send him to you, perhaps I'll listen, and I am not sure I will not give you a good thrashing afterwards." The fury of Winter disappeared and in its place there was a very mild spring. He signed the contract, told me he was sorry he had been so hasty, and when I left them he was trying to pacify Mr. Derham.