“Mr. Farmer, I am going to figure on the actual net manufacturer’s cost of this instrument, and then I may be able to make you another proposition.” After figuring for a while I said: “This organ never sold under one hundred and fifty dollars, but if you want it you can have it for one hundred and twelve dollars and forty-five cents. That is just about what it cost, but as I don’t want to take it back to town with me you can have it for that price. You consider the offer while I am out watering my team and when I come back give me your answer.” With that I started for the door, carelessly thrusting the slip of paper into my pocket. Accidently (on purpose) it fell to the floor, and I went on without noticing it. Of course, he picked up the paper and looked it over, seeing that, according to my own figures, the organ cost just one hundred and five dollars and fifty cents. Poor, unsuspecting man, when I came back, thinking he had the drop on me, he said: “Say, young fellow, I’ll give you an even hundred dollars for that organ. What do you say?” Of course, I hesitated and talked a lot, but finally gave in. The organ stood us, counting freight charges and all, an even eighty dollars. The greatest objection I had to handling musical instruments was that the work was not sufficiently “rapid and devilish.” I think I rather preferred to handle organs, because I made more sales, even if the profits were so much less on three or four of them than on one piano. A hundred dollars coming at the end of three or four weeks was not as enticing as less money, coming by closer installments. It was a money-maker for me, but I eventually grew tired of the business. There was too much hard work in handling those large, heavy organs, and besides the disadvantage of traveling in all kinds of weather and putting up with inferior accommodations in farm houses, made it more than unpleasant. I drove into town one day determined at least to take a little lay-off and figure on something that would be more to my liking—perhaps go back to street selling again. It generally happened that when I quit one thing another showed up right at my hands. Probably it was because I was looking for it. Quite accidentally I came across a canvasser. He actually tried to obtain my subscription to that, at one time, highly popular journal, The Weekly Rooster, and if I had not been too much in the same line myself I think he might have made it. We had quite a talk about the paper, from his point of view, and I decided to try my hand at it, for a time at least. I found more trouble in making arrangements than I had anticipated. I would have to be trusted to handle quite an amount of money, and the firm required a bond or strong references.