QUITS. A Commercial Traveler’s Tale.
Old commercial travelers will tell you that in many respects the profession is nothing to what it was; though for our own part we are inclined to think that in many respects the profession has improved. The penny postage, the telegraph, the enormous expansion of the railway system, have wrought such changes in the mode of doing business between town and country that in the commercial rooms of country-town inns where in the “good old days” a score of gentlemen would have assembled of an evening, one nowadays meets but two or three. Much of its old character, also, has departed. Before the era of railways, when men and horses might be detained at an inn for days by stress of weather or badness of roads, jollity and free-and-easiness were a very prevailing characteristic of the commercial traveller and the reckless jollity of the fraternity—for a fraternity it was, almost masonic in the rigidity of its rights and the exactness of its etiquette—passed into a proverb.
But to our story. There happened to be a snug party of commercial gentlemen assembled in the commercial room of an inn in one of our quaint South country towns, one winter evening a few years ago. The cloth had been removed from the table, the customary toasts had been duly honored, and the company, some half-dozen in number, had drawn their chairs round the fire, lit their pipes, and each with his glass of grog at his elbow had evidently made up his mind to be as comfortable and as cosy as possible.
The conversation was being monopolized by Mr. Hicks, a vulgar, puffy-faced, bald-headed man, with a largo expanse of shirt-front and much o-tentatious je welry, who was standing with his back to the fire, his hands tucked under his coat-tails in the orthodox British fashion. The other men, who were all younger, were listening with the respect due to a representative of the old school of commercials, hazarding occasionally an approving remark, dutifully laughing every joke, but in no way interfering with the great man’s periods.
“Ah!” Tie said, wrinkling his fat brow into a series of parallel creases, and gazing almost mournfully up at the ceiling, “traveling ain’t what ft was. There ain’t no fun nowadays. You young gents dno’t know what it means, for railroads have knocked it all on the ‘ed. It was something I can tell you, to turn out of a warm bed at 4 o’clock of a winter’s morning, and jump into the trap for a twenty-mile round before breakfast, so that the hopposition shouldn’t get the start of you. Nowadays you jump into your train with your hulsters and your wraps and your mornin’ paper, and you take your time over matters as can be. “You don’t seem to have the spirit we had, though we worked and we had our fun, too, I can tell you. You work; but you don’t seem to have no time for fun.”
“In what way do you mean, sir?” asked the boldest of the audience.
“What way?” repeated the great man.
‘Why, I mean the dodges and larks we was up to.”
“What sort of dodges and larks?” asked the other.
“Oh, all sorts!” replied the old gentleman. “There’s so much humbuggin’ etiquette about nowadays. It’s what you call bad form for a gent to play a trick upon another. I’ve known all sorts o’ things done. They used to hocus one another’s drink, so as to make the hopposition sleep ‘eavy the next morning; lock their doors on the outside; change their boots; tell the boots not to wake ’em until it was too late to do anything; and as we used to ‘av rather wet nights in those days, I can tell you some of us required a power o’ sleep to shake off the effects. It was considered fair and above-board to steal a-march in any way upon a gent who was working in the same line; and there was much more hopposition then, although there may be more competition now; because, you see, such a lot’s done by post and wire in these days. Why, look at me; I ‘aven’t been here for two years or more; but I know that when I go round to-morrow to see how the other traveler’s been gettin’ on, I shall get just as many orders as if I’d been reg’lar all that time. Not that all of mv customers will know me; but they know the name of the firm— Hooker & Snooker, of Dowgate ‘ill—all that’s quite enough for ’em.”
“And were you ever tricked in any of the ways you describe?” asked another young commercial.
“Me? me tricked? Not me. Joseph ‘icks was too wide awake. No; I was never caught,” replied the great man.
“I once caught a fellow in the hact of taking the linch-pinsout of my gig; but I soon stopped his game, I can tell you. That was at Charing—not Charing in London, but Charing between Canterbury and Maidstone.”
“And did you ever play any tricks yourself?” asked the first young man who had spoken.
Mr. Hicks slowly turned himself towards the speaker, and winking his eye several times, replied: “I should just about think I did—many and many a one. And now you remind me, I’ll just tell you about one I played.”
Mr. Hicks, having toasted himself to his entire satisfaction, now condescended to let some of his companions see what the fire was like, settled himself slowly and ponderously down into the chair which, by prescriptive right, belonged to the senior traveler in the room, took a long sip at his grog, and, with a preliminary clearing of the throat, began:
“It was in ‘forty-two,’ and it’s a strange thing, but it was in this very identical place. There was a cocky, stuck-up young fellow of the name of Brownsmith travel in! for Stokes & Nokes, Great Tower street, in the same line as mine. He ‘adn’t been ‘ere afore, and didn’t know who I was: so I says to myself, I’ll just take a rise out o’ you, my young popinjay; see if I don’t,”
At that moment the great man’s narrative was interrupted by the entrance of a little old man dressed in black, who observing that the seats round the fire were occupied and that nobody offered to make room for him, sat down at a side table and commenced to write letters.
“Ahem!” said Mr. Hicks. ”I beg your pardon, sir; but I was just agoing to begin a tale; but as I see you are busy I’ll wait until you’re finished.”
“Not at all, not at all,” said the stranger. “Pray, don’t let me interrupt you; you won’t disturb me, I assure you. In fact, I’m not sure that, not being a traveler, I ought not to apologize to you for coming into the commercial room; but the fact is the fire in the coffee-room has gono.out,.snd the waiter said he thought you would not mind me coming in here.”
“Quite welcome, sir, quite welcome” said Mr. Hicks with almost monarchical grandeur. “It’s against custom; I know, for strangers to enter the commercial-room; but under the circumstances I don’t think we’ll mind. Will we gentlemen?”
The gentlemen chorused that they didn’t mind; so the little man proceeded with his writing, and Mr. Hicks with his tale.
“Well, as I was saying, gents, I made up my mind to take this young Brownsmith down a peg or two. So what do you think I does? I goes to the stables, and I says to the hostler: ‘Bill, if you’ll get Mr. Brownsmith’s cob and gig out of the way the first thing to-morrow morning, and when he orders them, say you are very sorry, but you’ve let them out to another gent by mistake, here’s a sovereign for you.’ Of course, it was worth a good deal more than a sovereign to me to get the young chap out of the way, for I saw he was pretty cute, and I knew he’d be after my customers. But that ain’t all; for I knew it was the easiest thing in the world for him to hire another cob and gig until his own was returned. So I goes into the ‘al very late that night, where all the bags was—in those days were very much more alike than they are now, and used to be chalked with the numbers of their owners’ rooms, to distinguish them— and I quitely rubs out his number and puts him on to another lot of bags, so that it he did start he’d find himself in a hole and no mistake. Next morning I was uncommonly haffable with him at breakfast, pretending, of course, not to know he was in the same line as me; and I starts off and does all my business. When I came back I found the poor young chap running about like a madman. He was satisfied that the gig business was a mistake; but when he came to find that another man had gone off with his bags, and had let him with a lot stuffed full of French frilling, I thought he’d have brought the ‘ouse down. He got the landlord and the ‘all porter, and the chambermaids and the waiters, and he threatened to have ’em up before the magistrate; and all the time I was grinnin’ in my sleeve and pretendin’ to be as concerned about it as any one.”
“Well, and what happened?” asked one of the audience as the speaker paused.
“What ‘appened? Well, I’ll tell you,” replied Mr. Hicks. “The, gent who had taken Brownsmith’s bags by mistake for his own ‘ad gone off to ‘astings, and there was nothing to do but to wait till he came back. And when ‘the gent did come back, you can imagine that there was a pretty row in the place, in which of course I joined, saying that it was a disgraceful thing, ana threatening the landlord that I’d take my custom over to the other ‘otel if better watch wasn’t kept for the future. The poor young fellow took it very ‘ard, he did; and when he got his gig and bags and went round the next morning and found that all the business had been done, be came back, and he sat down in that corner there, and told me it would ruin him, ’cause it was his first job for Stokes & Nokes, and he was on trial.”
“Weren’t you very sorry you’d done it?” asked one of the party.
“Me sorry?” said Mr. Hicks with contempt. “Not me. All’s fair in love, war, and commerce; and if I hadn’t done it, he’d have done me by cutting me out of a lot o’ business. As It was, I never set eye on him again, and I’ve ‘earl he got the sack from Stokes & Nokes. Sorry? Not me!”
There was an expression on the faces of some of the young men as they thought it was rather a low trick; but they made nu remarks, and after some farther conversation a general yawning and knocking out or pipes and draining of glasses proclaimed the hour of bed. So the great Mr. Hicks took up his candle and departed; his example was quickly followed by the rest, and the little old gentleman who had been writing his letters was left alone.
When the door had closed upon the last bed-goer he shut up his writing-case and took up the position in front of the fire lately occupied by Mr. Hicks. Something in the story he had heard seemed to tickle his fancy immensely; for he stood there chuckling to himself and rubbing his hands as in great glee. “Clever chap that! Uncommonly clever chap!” he muttered to himself. “He’s quite right. Young Brownsmith did give up traveling; und if he hadn’t he wouldn’t be one of the richest men in the country as he is now.”
He rang the bell for the waiter. When the man appeared the little old fellow said: “What time does Mr. Hicks start upon business in the mornings?”
“Well, I ‘ardly know, sir,” replied the waiter. “You see, he don’t come here reg’lar—in fact, I can’t call to mind hever ‘avin’ seen him before. But the gents mostly goes out about 10 o clock.”
“Tell the boots to call me at 7, will you?” said the old gentleman; and taking his candle, he went to bed.
The next forenoon Mr. Hicks sauntered majestically forth from the inn upon a round of visits; and as he walked along he seemed absorbed in the contemplation of his own figure in the shop-windows, as if anticipating with no small degree of pleasure the sensation such a representative of Hooker & Snooker would make in the shops of the humble tradesmen. He entered the establishment of Mr. Willow, who said upon his door that he was patronized by the Royal Family, but assuredly not to a fifth part of the manner in which he was patronized by Mr. Hicks.
“Anything in our way, Mr. Willow?” said the great man condescendingly, “Hooker & Snooker, you know?”
“Nothing for Hooker & Snooker,” replied Mr. Willow solemnly.
“Nothing, Mr. Willow, nothing? Are you quite sure?” asked Mr. Hicks somewhat astonished.
“Iv’e said nothing, I think,” said Mr. Willow. “I’m busy. Please go away, there’s a good man.”
“No: nothing at all. Good morning,”: put in Mr. Bruslem, so that there was nothing to be do e but to return the wish ruefully and to go out.
“Now there is something wrong,” said Mr. Hicks to himself as he stood on the pavement outside Mr. Burslem’s door. “My two best customers and no orders! I never knew it before, never! Who can it be? Young Jones was here two months back and got forty pounds odd in orders. And I, Joseph Hicks, the chief traveler to Hooker & Snooker, am told that there’s nothing for me! My good man, too, forsooth! I must try Mr. Cole.”
He entered Mr. Cole’s shop. Mr. Cole was not there, but appeared in a few minutes. Mr. Hicks went through his formula. Mr. Cole replied immediately Not to-day. Hooker & Snooker. I am supplied.”
“Supplied!” almost shrieked Mr. Hicks.
“Yes, supplied!” said Mr. Cole, but not a syllable more.
Mr. Hicks left the shop slowly and wonderingly. “Surely,” he thought, as ne waddled on to his next customer, surely no one’s been interfering with Hooker & Snooker. No orders from Willow! It’s unaccountable.”
He entered the shop of Mr. Burslem, who, not being patronized by Royalty, preferred not to be patronized by any one, and who had the reputation of being a curt, sharp, short man of business. Mr. Hicks entered, and, on the principle that time is money, did not detail his business, merely indicated the name of Hooker & Snooker, and stood with his o: der-book ready open.
“Nothing at all, my good man,” said Mr. Burelem, “nothing at all. Good morning!”
“Nothing at—”began Mr. Hicks, farily bewildered.
Mr. Hides was now fairly roused. Suddenly, the. recollection of his tale in the commercial room on the preceding evening flashed before him. Could some of the young fellows have been playing him a trick similar in nature to that which he had played so many years before on young Brownsmith? Stifling his anger and mortification as best he could’ he strode on to the shop of his last customer, Mr. Ironstone.
“Nothing to-day, Hooker & Snooker,” said Mr. Ironstone, before Mr. Hicks could put the question.
“Mr. Ironstone,” said the astonished Hicks, in an almost pathetic tone of appeal, “will you tell me if any one has been here before me and has done the business which hitherto Hooker & Snooker have performed for you?”
“Hooker & Snooker still do our business,” said Mr. Ironstone.
“Well, but I represent ’em,” said Mr. Hicks.
“Come come,” said the dealer soothingly as if he were speaking to a child; ‘don’t take up my time; there’s a good fellow. I’ve told you that I have no orders, so go go away quietly, or I shall be obliged to call your keeper.”
“My what? My keeper!” roared Mr. Hicks. “What do you mean sir? Surely you don’t think l am a lunatic?”
“I don’t think it; I know it,” replied Mr. Ironstone, and coming round the counter, he gently took Mr. Hicks by the arm led him from the shop, and shut the door after him.
Mr. Hicks stood as one dazed for some seconds. The buildings seemed to reel around him, and he felt that with a little more he would actually be out of his mind. Then’ he strode back to the inn, resolved to make a terrible example of the plotters that evening.
He was very moody and silent at dinner, and the young fellows saw that something had gone wrong with him, as he scowled terribly over his food, and only answered with fierce grunts the questions put to him. Afterward, when, according to custom, the chairs were drawn round the fire and the best part of the day begun, Mr. Hicks rose majestically and assuming his usual position in front of the fire, prefaced his thunders with a loud “Ahem!”
“Gentleman, it is with regret, strongly mixed with disgust, that I am forced to address you upon a certain subject—upon a subject which is as disagreeable to me as it must be humilating to such of you as are concerned. In short, some of yon. taking a mean advantage of my attempt to amuse you last night, ‘ave been playing me a undr’and trick.”
The gentlemen thus addressed took their pipes from their mouths and gazed at Mr. Hicks with amazement.
He continued: “The day for that sort of thing has gone by, and it ill becomes members of an honored profession to indulge in tricks of which a schoolboy would be ashamed. To be plain with you, gentlemen, I have been passed off in the town as a lunatic, and consequently have found the doors of my most important customers shut against me.”
In spite of the serious manner in which Mr. Hicks spoke there was a very perceptible snigger on the faces of the young men around him, which he was not slow to observe.
“I see nothing to laugh at in it, gentlemen,” he continued, suppressing with difficulty his rising wrath; “in fact, there are some of you who will probably have very good reasons for regrettin’ it when I tell you that, unless I find out which of you is the offender, I shall write to your respective governors with a view of having the matter thoroughly gone into.”
One and all declared that they were utterly ignorant of the matter, and with such energetic protestatiens against the iniquity of the trick, that Mr. Hicks was forced to believe them.
“Perhaps the little old gentleman who was writing at the side tattle last night knows something about it,” suggested one of the accused.
Mr. Hicks rang the bell for the waiter. “Waiter,” he said, “is the gentleman who came in here from the coffee-room last night in the ‘ouse?”
“Mr. Brownsmith, sir—O, no, sir; he went away this mornin’; and he gave me this note to give to you, not before this evenin’,” replied the waiter.
“Mr. Brownsmith! Is that his name?” cried Hicks, in a faint voice.
“Yes, sir,” answered the waiter. “He owns half the town, sir, and was here looking after his property.”
Mr. Hicks opened the note and read as follows:
My Dear Sir: You were good enough, some forty years ago, to play me a trick which might have ruined any other man for life, or at least have retarded his progress very seriously. I am not very vindictive; but I never forgave you for it, more especially as I have had no opportunity of repaying you, We are at last quits. You are beyond the reach of actual harm now, as I presume you havo feathered your nest pretty comfortably in forty years; but as a man is never too old to learn a lesson, I hope by the return trick I have played you this morning that you have learned one. I am, sir, your obedient servant,
SAMUEL BROWNSMITH.
—Chambers’ Journal.
The pioneer express, (Pembina, Dakota), 18 May 1883