Anderson acted his part of an old experienced bell hop at the Virginia Hotel on the north side of the city. For this he received seven dollars per week and meals. At night he came to my room on Halstead street and we bunked together. He was usually on duty at night till about ten o'clock, and after finishing his work it would take him about one hour to ride over the city to where we were rooming. It mattered not how tired I was, I would always sit up and await his coming, for it was awfully lonely there by myself. Not wishing to make these exalted positions a life business, in a couple of weeks we "resigned our commissions," donned our happy habiliments and wended our way to a certain mail order establishment, and after much wagging of tongues, finally found ourselves correspondents at $15.00 per. But we didn't care to confine ourselves to stereotyped forms, and much preferred to let our pens wander, and to be original, so, not knowing when we were well off, quit that. Then we thought we would like the peaceful, care-free life of the farm, so hired to a Mr. Heren of Crystal Lake, Ill., as experienced farm hands. This Mr. Heren had offices in the Monadnock Building, and we were sent to him by the manager of the Employment Agency. When this particular individual, who wanted a couple of good farm hands out on his place, learned that I was handy with tools and that Anderson could milk a cow to a finish, he was more than pleased. He furnished us tickets to Crystal Lake which was forty miles from Chicago, and there we landed the next day. As we alighted from the train at that future metropolis, Will chewing a straw in typical reuben fashion, and I furbishing my talk with many "by goshes" and "gol derns," I was sure I could discern a superior knowing smile on the face of the foreman in the wagon nearby, when, after the explanations, he told us to "hop in." Could I plow? Yes, I could plow. Could Anderson milk? Yes, he could milk. Well, I shall never forget the numerous "beefs" he made while posing as an "experienced farm hand." How he strapped the halter on the horse's back and led him out to water; how he wasn't satisfied with having the horses drag only the harrow after them, but had to take several rods of picket fence with him when driving them through the gate; how, when there were only two ways of doing a thing he would invariably do it the wrong way--in fact, while I made a better showing than he, the only thing that either of us did like "experienced farm hands" was to consume large quantities of food at meal times. Well do I remember how we used to sit opposite one another at the table and giggle, and tee-hee like a couple of school girls, and how, after controlling our risibles for a while, we fairly exploded when Heren, Jr., told us we looked like a couple of fellows who had run away from school.