While at Napoleon, we had been in correspondence with several parties in different towns, who were known to me as traders. After spending two weeks there, we received a letter requesting us to visit a neighboring town, where there was a prospect for a good trade. We had succeeded in selling one Township right, which brought us cash enough for incidental expenses. Hence we were unable to pay our hotel bill, and as the landlord was not in the office when we were ready to go, we simply left a note saying we would return later. We were gone two weeks, barely paying expenses, and returned to Napoleon. Rushing into the hotel office, we grasped the landlord by both hands, saying: "Did you think we had jumped our board bill, landlord?" "Well, by golly, I didn't know what to think of it." "Oh, pshaw! You ought to know us by this time. How are the nice cream biscuit? Suppose you've got some for tea, haven't you? Guess we'll wash. Put us down for a good room, landlord. How are the folks, landlord?" He said he had thought all the time we would turn up again, some day. We then explained the nature of our business, and told him he needn't be surprised if we left suddenly at any time; but he could always look for us back, sooner or later. We remained two weeks longer, with about the same success that had attended us before. One day the landlord pulled a chair up by me, in the office, and said very mildly and pleasantly, "Mr. Johnston, I have never yet asked you for money, and----" "No," I quickly interrupted, "you never have, and I certainly respect you for it. If there is anything on this earth I dislike, it is a penurious, suspicious, narrow-minded landlord--always dunning his guests, and treating them like tramps. And I'd leave a man's house as soon as I could settle up and get out, if I was ever dunned by him." "Well, I going to say, I never make a practice of dunning gentlemen who stop with me, and----" "Well, that's right, landlord, that's right, and you'll make friends, in the long run, by not doing so. When I get ready to quit a hotel for good, I've got sense enough to ask for my bill, and then settle in full--and that is all anyone can ask for. How about the cream biscuit for supper, landlord?" He said he guessed they were going to have some; and then asked how business was, anyway. I told him our business had almost frightened us. He said that was good. Frank, who was sitting behind the stove listening to the conversation, said, as I passed by him a moment later: "I guess he'll lay still now." About this time we received a letter from a sewing-machine agent at Hicksville, saying he would trade a machine for a County right. We left forthwith, without even bidding the landlord good-bye. It took us four days to trade for the machine, and money enough to pay our expenses for that time.