Everybody on the premises was fair game. To the waitresses, cooks and chambermaids I sold fancy-box paper, jewelry and different little trinkets which I knew were worth the offering, as they would catch their fancy. At night I would take the key to my room and plate it with the silver fluid, doing also the brass check attached to the key. Bringing it down in the morning I would hand it to the clerk, without saying a word, and he would hang it on the key rack, or put it in the box. The landlord, coming along in a few moments, perhaps, would notice the contrast and naturally mention it. I would then speak up and say that I had silver-plated the key just for fun, and asked how he would like to have the balance of them fixed up in the same way. I would generally wind up by making a contract to plate all the keys, and sell him a large bottle of the fluid in addition. Sometimes, at night, I dropped into the saloons and worked the gamblers there, improving an opportunity to sell them fake goods peculiar to their trade. I carried in my pocket fountain pens, pencil sharpeners and other little novelties, and, when there was time, cornered any poor mortal I happened to meet and forced him to listen to an oration on their merits. I carried, also, tissue paper, which, when pasted on a pane of glass, gave it the appearance of being stained. At another time I had a lot of little bird whistles and other noisy instruments. Without much trouble I became very expert in their use, and after that found them good sellers. Whenever I could strike a crowd and had leisure I sprung such things on them, and nearly always to my profit. Glass pens were pretty good articles to handle. In fact, they were among the neatest and prettiest novelties I carried. The pen point and holder were made entirely of glass in different tints, the effect being very fine. The point was ridged all around—all sides were alike and the same size, the ridges narrowing at the end so as to form the writing point—and the “pen” would hold a good amount of ink. I claimed one hundred words could easily be written with a single dip of the pen, and perhaps I was not so far wrong. This was one of the best sellers I had, and yielded enormous profits. Late and early I pushed my side lines; but as I was always on hand to do my work with the doctor he made no objections, though he must have sometimes suspected that my profits were outweighing his. I am sure he gave me full credit for being an all-round hustler from Hustlerville. Eventually he filled his wagon with notions and sold them on the streets. The authorities in a sudden spasm of virtue had most everywhere shut down on the “pie” scheme, and every householder in the United States appeared to be provided with a bottle of the Pain Balm.