Originally published in Pearson's Weekly (C. Arthur Pearson Ltd.) vol.1 #31 (21 Feb 1891).
A young man engaged in travelling for a publishing firm, opened the front gate of a house and strode blithely up the path to the front door.
The words "travelling for a publishing firm" are used here as the young man used them, but the dreadfully practical serving-maid who answered the ring at the door announced to the master of the house that "one of them book canvassers" awaited his pleasure in the porch.
When the master of the house came out, all-smiles, and courteously inquired how he could be of any service to his visitor, the young man felt sure that he could sell at least one copy of "McCarthy's Record of Universal Information," and perhaps get a note of introduction to one of the neighbours.
When the master of the house seated himself in a rustic chair, and observed in a particularly kind and interested manner that he had no doubt that the work would prove of more than usual value to any purchaser, no matter what his position in life, the young man felt ready to wager a small sum that the gentleman would take not only a copy for his own use, but two or three as presents to relatives.
"It is, no doubt, a valuable work," said the gentleman, "but has it any statistics?"
"Full of them, sir—full of them. One hundred pages of the most carefully-prepared figures, and—"
"Glad to hear it. But how about useful information?"
"Anything you want to know, sir. Fifty pages without a break: Why, sir—"
"Yes, I have no doubt; but tell me, are there historical facts enough to suit a practical man?"
"Entire history of the world, sir, from the fall of Adam to the present time, and more—"
"And reminiscences?"
"Half of the book is reminiscences, sir; every anecdote verified by affidavit, and—"
"Any illustrations?"
"The best artists' work on every page;" and for an hour the young man gave glowing descriptions of the contents of the book, its usefulness to the general public, and the danger likely to accrue to any family keeping house without it.
Dinner time came and went, and still the young man talked; perspiration rolled down his face in rivulets, but his energy never flagged. He went over the book section by section, chapter by chapter, and page by page. He was hungry, his jaw ached, but he was determined to talk until the gentleman's fortitude gave way. At last, at the proper moment, he produced his order-book.
"How many copies may I put you down for?" he asked, breathlessly, spreading the memorandum book upon his knee.
The gentleman hesitated.
"Oh," said he, at length, "you needn't put me down at all, as I am a member of ts firm. I am pleased to see that you have learned your lesson very thoroughly. With perseverance you will make an excellent canvasser, I assure you."
This will explain, in part, why the young man is now opening oysters in a restaurant, his hopes blighted, and his confidence in human nature grossly betrayed.