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 CaiMHiicn ImtltuM for Historical NUcroraproductiaiw / liwtttut cannllan da microraproductiana hlMoriquaa 
 
 995 
 
 ■■a!i««Kii';*iK:i i»?^ 
 

 Ttctmical and BiMographic Hotn / NoM ttcDniqiwi ct biMioflraptii^iMi 
 
 Th« Iniiiluw h« dCtampud to iibcatn iIm tmt erigiiul 
 copy »aitMt* tor tilmmi). F«al«r«» ot ilii» copy which 
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 of iha MMgM tn 1h« rvprodyciMHt. or whwh may 
 «i9mtiCMilv ch^nv* m« yHMl nwihoO ot tilmmn. art 
 
 L'Imtiiui a micffofilfliA la maillaur aHamplaira qu'il 
 lui a ala poMiMa da ta precufar. Las dauiU da cat 
 axamplaira ^ui torn paut^tra uniqu« du poini da wua 
 biMofrapliMiMa, mit pauvani modifiar una Mna«a 
 raproduiia. ey qui pauvani amgir una modtftciiton 
 dan* la II 
 
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 CoiNir liU* miuinfl/ 
 
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 EiMN di coulaui (i.a. autta «ua b4aM ou Mini 
 
 0Colsu>ad plant and/ec illustrationt/ 
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 Halia avac d'awvat documann 
 
 □ Ti^l bmOmt nwv "«»a ilMdowi of dulonian 
 alenfl MilarMf mafflin/ 
 
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 dMiorma la lan« da la marga Hiwiaufa 
 
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 Blank laam addad during caiMratian dMV appaa> 
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 Mm d'una ratuutation apiufainant dam la uiin, 
 mait. lonqua cab auil poiiiMa. cat pa(H n'ont 
 pai aia tiknaat. 
 
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 P*(a> da coulaur 
 
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 ratlorad and/ar taminatad/ 
 
 Pa«n ditcalourad. aainad w toaad/ 
 
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 da tin* da I* 
 
 r~~1 Caption of i>Hia/ 
 
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 Titia da dipm da la linaiion 
 
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 Ganaf iWM Ipatiodiqua i l da la liaraiaon 
 
 Additional ummanu:/ 
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 Ca docwnanl ail f ilma au uua da laduction indiqua ci-dauow. 
 lOX MX '•* 
 
 Pagat HhoUy obtcurad by tUauaa hava boon raflload to anaura Wa boat 
 
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Th* copy fllmad hara hu baan raproduead thanka 
 to tha ganaroalty of: 
 
 National Library of Canada 
 
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 Las imagas suivantas ont M raproduitas avac I* 
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 da la nattatt da I'sxamplaira film«, at an 
 t:anformlt« avac las conditions du contrat da 
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 at da haut an bas, an pranant la nombra 
 d'imagaa ndcasaaira. Las diagrammas suivants 
 illustrant la mtthoda. 
 
 1 2 3 
 
 1 
 
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 3 
 
 4 
 
 5 
 
 6 
 
i*K»otx)ry xisoiuTioN ibt chart 
 
 (ANSI and ISO TEST CHAKT No. 2) 
 
 S"^ 165J East Main Street 
 
 ~.^ ??fi'?""'- "•■ York 14609 USA 
 
 •■^ (^'6) 482 - 0300 - Phon. 
 
 ^S (716) 288 -5989 -Fox 
 
c 
 
 o-n 
 
 <- -J, ^e.^1^^ c_ Ax 
 
 Vr- 
 
 J^ 
 
\ 
 
H 
 
 Letters from a Self-Made 
 Merchant to his Son 
 
V* 
 
 i 
 

" Tcung fellows come to me 
 locking for jobs and telling me 
 what a mean house tbey have 
 been working for." 
 
Letters from 
 1 Sclf-Made Merchant 
 ''^o His Son - 
 
 
 wrirtfn by John Graham, 
 use of Graham & Company, 
 
 the I • 
 
 ■'c)«T^ -.', Chicsgo, femiliarly known 
 /^^ Old Gorgon Graham," to 
 ' -'" -f<*!*otit, facetiously known 
 
 '■-•■ u8 inHisi«t(?s as " Piggy." 
 
 t come to me 
 J telling me 
 se tbey have 
 
 U t! 
 
 ■y ^-'■tai News Con: 
 
 Ulilitll 1902 
 
 pany, 
 
 mm 
 
'• Tsung fellow! come to me 
 looking for jobs an J tellirg ml 
 what <t me,m house they have 
 been working for." 
 
Letters from 
 
 A Self-Made Merchant 
 
 To His Son 
 
 Being the Letters written by John Graham. 
 Head of the House of Graham & Company, 
 Pork-Packers in Chicago, familiarly known 
 on Change as "Old Gorgon Graham." to 
 his Son. Pierrepont. facetiously known 
 to his intimates as "Piggy." 
 
 Montreal : The Montreal News Company. 
 Limited, 1902 
 

 ""r" "t^.*"*." *" "* "^ ''•'"«>»■>■ of c««i., i» 111. —, _. 
 
TO 
 
 CYRUS CURTIS 
 
 A SELF-MADE MAN 
 
 I 
 
CONTFNTS 
 
 I. From John Graham, at the Union Stock Yard* 
 to Chicago, to hi. «,n, Pierrepont, at Harvard 
 UniverBtty, Cambridge, Mass. 
 
 Mr. Pierrepont hat just become a memhef, 
 in good and regular Handing, of the Freth- 
 mon ciOM 
 
 tt Prom John Graham, at the Union Stock Yards 
 In Chicago, to his son, Pierrepont, at Harvard 
 University. 
 
 Mr. Pierrepont's expente account luu ju*t 
 paeeed under hi, father's eye, and ha, fur- 
 nithed him with a tewt for tome plain par- 
 tioularitie,. ... 
 
 HL Prom John Graham, at the Union Stock Yards 
 in Chicago, to his son, Pierrepont. at Harvard 
 University. 
 
 Mr. Pierrepont find, Cambridge to hit KHng, 
 and hat tugjetted that he take a pott-gradu- 
 ate courte to fUl up tome gapt which he ha, 
 found in hit education. 
 
 TV. Prom John Graham, head of the house of 
 Graham 4 Co., at the Union Stock Yards in Chi- 
 cago, to his son, Pierrepont Graham, at the Wal- 
 dorf-Astoria, in New York. 
 
 ifr. Pierrepont ha, suggetted the grand tour 
 0* a proper finiah to hit education. . 
 
 vii 
 
 PIOI 
 
 18 
 
 46 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 V. From John Oraham, head of the houw of 
 Graham & Co., at the Union Stock Yard, in Chi- 
 oago, to his .on, Plerrepont Graham, at Lake 
 Moo^fatchemawamuc, in the Maine woods. 
 
 Mr. Pierrepont ha, mritten to hi, father 
 vithdramng hi, niggation. ... 67 
 
 VI. From John Oraham, en route to Texa., to 
 Pierrepont Graham, care of Graham t Co., Union 
 Stock Yard., Chicago. 
 
 Mr. Pierrepont ha,, entirely uiithout inten- 
 tion, oauKd a little eonfuHon tn the mail,, 
 and it ha, come to hi, father', notice in 
 the course of bueine,,. ... gg 
 
 Vll. From John Graham, at the Omaha Branch 
 of Graham 4 Co., to Pierrepont Oraham, at the 
 Union Stock Yard., Chicago. 
 
 Mr. Pierrepont han't found the method, 
 of the worthy Milligan altogether to hi, li- 
 king, and he ha, oommented rather freely 
 on them. 
 
 Vni. From John Graham, at Hot Spring., Arkan- 
 .as, to his son, Pierrepont, at the Union Stock 
 Yards in Chicago. 
 
 Mr. Pierrepont ha, ju,t been promoted from 
 the mailing to the hilling de,k and, in oon- 
 tequence, hi, fathi i, feeling rather " mel- 
 low " toward him. 
 
 vlii 
 
 81 
 
 9S 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 DC. From John Graham, «t Hot Spring., Arkan- 
 sas, to his son, Pierrepont, at the Union Steele 
 Yards in Chicago. 
 
 Mr. Pierrepont hai teen <nt>M(in; morv 
 heavily in rotes than hit father thinki hit 
 meant mirrant, and he triet to turn Aw 
 thoughtt to ttaple grooerie: . ^13 
 
 X. From John Graham, at the Union Stocic Yards 
 in Chicago, to his son, Pierrepont, at the Com- 
 mercial House, Jeffereonviile, Indiana. 
 
 Mr. Pierrepont hat been promoted to the 
 position of traveling laletman for the houte, 
 and hat ttarted out on the road. 127 
 
 Xr. From John Graham, at tlie Union Stocic Yards 
 in Chicago, to his son, Pierrepont, at The Plant- 
 ers' Palace Hotel, at Big Gap, Kentucky. 
 
 Mr. Pierreponft orders are email and hit 
 expentet are large, so hit father feelt petti- 
 mistio over his prospects. 141 
 
 XII. From John Grahtm, at the Union Stock Yards 
 in Chicago, to his son, Pierrepont, at little Del- 
 monico's, Prairie Centre, Indiana. 
 
 Mr. Pierrepont has annoyed hit father by 
 accepting his criticisms in a spirit of gentle, 
 but most reprehensible, resignation. . . 157 
 
 XIII. From John Graham, at the Union Stock 
 Yards in Chicago, to his son, Pierrepont, care of 
 The Hoosicr Grocery Co., Indianapolis, Indiana. 
 
 Mr. Pierreponft orders have been looking 
 up, to the old man givct him a pat on the 
 laek-4>ut not too hard a one. . 
 
 177 
 
 IX 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 V«d. in Chlcr ,., to U. «n. Pi.rr.pont, tt n. 
 Tr.Td«. iu.t, N«, Albany, IndiaJT 
 
 *»•. PiempoHt hat taken a Unit n«tr <. 
 
 v7J:i'^™'!'"" °"''"'' •' *■■• Union Stodc 
 Y.rd. in Chicgo. to bi. «„. Pi,„.pont .t T^ 
 Scrub 0.k.. Spring !,.,„, Michig.n ' ^ 
 
 . 200 
 
 hof, K.ri.b«l, Au.tri., to hi. «„, Pi.rr,pont, .t 
 the Union Stock Y.rd., Chicgo. 
 
 *r. PinrepotU hat ,Tmcn mild tgrnptom, 
 
 **'^'*t^tering,ome,impler«nedie,. gj, 
 
 XVB. Pron, Job, Or.b.m, at tb. London Hou« 
 o OraUm « Co., to Ma «,n, Pi,rr.pont, .TZ 
 Union Stock Yard, in C!bicago. 
 
 *r. K«rjpo»* ha, u>riUen hi, father that 
 ^ 9'U^ng along /amo«.Jy <„ ».-. ^' 
 
 . 243 
 XVIIL Prom John Graham, at th. London Hou« 
 of Graham 4 Co., to hi. «.n, Pierrepont, at Z. 
 Union Stock Yard, in Chicago. ' « "«> 
 
 «1^' Jl!r^^* « ««rHrf o»«. „.^„ ,»„, 
 the old man i, a hear on lard and that the 
 lonsi are about to make him ctmb a tree m 
 
 I 
 
i 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 FMI 
 
 Xa. From John Qnhm. at th* Ntw York hoiut 
 of Or.h.m * Co.. to hto «»,, Hmopont, U th. 
 Union Stock Yard* in Cbingo. 
 
 The old man, on the myage home, hat met 
 a girl tcAo <n(«rM(« Mm and who <n twrn 
 —f to U inltntted in Mr. PierrtpoHt. nt 
 
 XX. From John Orohun, at th* BoitOD Boum 
 of Graham * Co., to hi. wn, Hwr^wnt, at th* 
 Union Stock Yard* in Chicago. 
 
 Mr. Pitrrtpont ha* told tht old man " tokaCt 
 ^elM*" and rtcoivtd a limittd timing. . Ml 
 
 1 
 
 XI 
 
■4~ 
 
 I 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 »3 F. R. GRUGER ,nd B. MARTIN JUSTICE 
 
 t 
 
 1. " 
 
 2. 
 1. 
 
 4, 
 8. 
 
 6. ' 
 
 7. ' 
 
 Young Mlowi COD* to m« looking for job* 
 •nd Ulllng no what a meui hoUM thaj , 
 li»T» bMn working for." . TrmMtfUat 
 
 . _, . ^ fating p. 
 
 OW Doe HooTor Hk«d mo right out in Sun- 
 i*j Bohool if I dldr want to b* urod." 4 
 
 • I h«T» MMi hundreds of bojra go to Europe 
 who didnt bring back a gmt deal ex- 
 ••pt a few trunki of badly fitting 
 olothee." jq 
 
 ' I put Jim Durham on the road to introduce 
 a new produet." • • . . 38 
 
 "Old Dick Stover was the woret hand at pro- 
 
 craatinating that I ever aaw." jq 
 
 "CharUe Chaie told me ha was President of 
 the Klondike Exploring, Gold Proapecting, 
 and Inunlgratlo': Company." 82 
 
 " Jim Donnelly, of the Donnelly l»roTi«ion Com- 
 p».ny, came Into my offlce with a fool grin 
 on hia fat face." .... 72 
 
 "Bill Budlong was always the last man to 
 
 come up to the mourners' bench." 84 
 
 "Clarence looked to me like another of his 
 
 father's bad breaks." .... 98 
 
 xiii 
 
i^:^iUSTRATlONS 
 
 iO. "You looked » hu^^ ■ ^<^ 
 
 "■ """ImTT """^ «" ' ««'e food no. 
 "*"y lived on was tobacco." 
 
 12. "Herr Doctor Par«»l,„, Von Mun.te,be« 
 
 ^ « pretty high.to„«l article." *" 
 
 13. "When John L. sm..n went through th. 
 
 .;ocJc..rd,itj„.t.in.p,y.hut:rtt 
 
 "■""::rcH.;^/"'"''^-^"»«"f."o. 
 
 p. 
 
 128 
 
 146 
 166 
 
 184 
 
 200 
 
 "•""';iSt;r^^'"'^"^"'--a 
 "•""":r.r::j;:rt'r--— »; 
 
 18. "M., Cur„„, with one of hi, roee, 1„ her 
 
 l»ir. watching him from a comer." 29, 
 
 216 
 
 248 
 
 268 
 
 f 
 
 XIV 
 
F«OM John Graham, 
 at the Uiiion Stock 
 Yards in Chicago, 
 to his son, Pierrepont, at 
 Harvard University, Cam- 
 bridge, Mass. Mr. Pierre- 
 pont has just been settled 
 by his mother as a mem- 
 ber, in good and regular 
 standing, of the Freshman 
 class. 
 
1 
 
 LETTERS/r<?;w a SELF-MADE 
 MERCHANT to his SON 
 
 Chicago, October 1, i89— ^ 
 Bear Pierrepont: Your Ma got back safe 
 this morning and she wants me to be sure to 
 tell you not to over-study, and I want to 
 tell you to be sure not to under-study. What 
 we're really sending you to Harvard for is 
 to get a little of the education that's so good 
 and plenty there. When it's passed around 
 you don't want to be bashful, but reach right 
 out and take a big helping every time, for I 
 want you to get your share. You'll find 
 that education's about the only thing lying 
 around loose in this world, and that it's 
 about the only thing a fellow can have aa 
 much of as he's willing to haul away. 
 Everything else is screwed down tight and 
 the screw-driver lost 
 
 I didn't have your adv mtages when I was 
 a boy, and you can't have mina Some men 
 I 
 
- ^ SELF-MADE MERCHANT'S 
 
 learn the value of money by not having any 
 and starting out to pry a few dollars loo^ 
 fn«n the odd millions that are lying 
 ^nd; ai.d some learn it by having fifty 
 thousand or so left to them and starting out 
 to spend it as if it were fifty thousand a 
 year. Some men learn the value of truth by 
 having to do business with liars; and some 
 by going to Sunday School. Some men 
 learn the cu^sedness of whiskey by having a 
 drunken father; and some by having a good 
 -other. Some men get an education from 
 other men a:ad newspapers and public li- 
 bnmes; and some get it from professors and 
 ^rchment«-it doesn't make any special 
 difteence how you get a half-nelson on the 
 nght thing, just so you get it and freeze on 
 to It The package doesn't count after the 
 J^8 been attracted by it, and in the end it 
 finds Its wp, to the aah heap. It's the qual- 
 ity of the goods inside which tells, when 
 they once get into the kitchen and up to 
 the cook. 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 i 
 
 You cim cure a ham in dry salt and you 
 can cure it in sweet pickle, and wlien you're 
 througli you've got pretty good eating eiOier 
 way, provided you started in with a sound 
 ham. If you didn't, it doesn't make any 
 special difference h.,v yo„ cured it^the 
 ham-tiyer's going to strike the sour spot 
 around the bone. And it doesn't make any 
 difference how much sugar and fancy pickle 
 you soak into a fellow, he's no good unless 
 he's sound and sweet at the core. 
 
 The first thing that any education ought 
 to give a man is character, and the second 
 thing. is education. That is where I'm a 
 little skittish about this college business. 
 I m not starting in to preach to you, because 
 I know a young fellow with the right sort 
 of stuff in him preaches to himself harder 
 than any one else can, and that he's mighty 
 often switched off the right path by having 
 It pointed out to him in the wrong way 
 
 I remember when I was a boy, and I 
 wasn't a very bad boy, as boys go, old Doc 
 3 
 
Hoover got a notion in his head that I on.ht 
 to Join the Church, and he scared n,e out of it 
 
 Sunday School if I didn't want to be saved. 
 
 2, '° '"^'"^ '»'• "'^ «««r the servicj 
 and praying with me. Of course I wanted 
 
 to be saved, but I didn't want to be saved 
 quite 80 publicly. 
 
 When a boy's had a good mother he's got 
 a good conscience, a^d when he's got a gL 
 eonscence he don't need to have right and 
 
 iTrfr'"'''"- ^-"•-t^ourMa's 
 left and the apron strings are cut, you're 
 
 naturaily running up against a ne;i:nsL 
 Uon every minute, but if you'll «imp,y „«« 
 
 a thing which looks «weet and sound on 
 
 t^ Skin, to see if you can't fetch up a sour 
 smell from around the bone, you'l, be all 
 
 I'm anxious that you should be a good 
 
 2°:^'^"* I'- -o- anxious that'yo^ 
 Should be a good clean man. And if you 
 
 4 
 
■• Old Doc Hoover asked me right 
 out in Sunday School if I didn't want 
 to be saved.*' 
 
Ill < 
 
eareson^uchifthereareafewho^"* 
 
 wWe the second caa make you a ma.. 
 E .cation's a good deal like eating-afel 
 
 roast beef and TorPtnhToo ^"""/"«^ o' 
 
 which one startwi ti,^ ^ * 
 
 kill«. .• *^^"'^<* 'or Pain- 
 
 faller m your insides, or to gness, next 
 -om,ng, Which one made yon bel^; L , 
 personal devil the night befoz^. ZaJ 
 whUe a fellow ca.'t figure out to aTo' nTe 
 Whether it's Latin or algebra or; 
 
 history 
 
 or 
 

 _A_SELF-M ADE MERCHANT'S 
 what among the aolidB that is building him 
 up In this place or that, he can go right 
 along feeding them in and betting that 
 they're not the things that turn his tongue 
 fazzy. It'8 down among the sweets, among 
 his amusements and recreations, that he'» 
 going to find his stomach-ache, and it's 
 there that he wants to go slow and to pick 
 and choose 
 
 It's not the first half, but the second half 
 ot a college education which n.erchant« 
 mean when they ask if a college education 
 pays. It's the Willie and the Bertie boys; 
 the chocolate eclair and tutti-frutti boys: 
 the la-d^ah and the baa-baa-biUy-goat 
 boys; the high cock-a-lo-rum and the cdck- 
 a^oodl^o boys; the Bah Jove!, halr^ 
 parted - in - the - middle, cigaroot - smoking, 
 Champagn^Charlie, up-all-nightand-in-all. 
 day boys that make 'em doubt the cash 
 value of the college output, and overtook the 
 roast-beef and blood-gravy boys, the shirt, 
 sleeves and high-water-pants boys, who take 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 their college education and make some fel- 
 low's business hum with It. 
 Does a College education pay? Does It 
 1 pay to feed In pork trimmings at five cent, 
 
 a pound at the hopper and draw out nice, 
 cunning, little "country" sausages at 
 twenty cents a pound at the other end? 
 Boes It pay to take a steer that's been run- 
 ning loose on the range and Uving on cactus 
 and petrified wood till he's just a bunch of 
 bt-b-wlre and sol^leather, and feed him 
 com till he's just a solid hunk of porter- 
 house steak and oleo oil? 
 
 You bet it pays. Anything that trains a 
 bay to think and to think quick pays; any- 
 thing that teaches a boy to get the answer 
 before the other fellow gets through biting 
 the pencil, pays. 
 
 College doesn't make fools; it develops 
 them. It doesn't make bright men; it de- 
 velops them. A fool will turn out a fool, 
 whether he goes to college or not, though 
 he'll probably turn out a different sort of a 
 
a bright. BtPong maa whether he's won. 
 
 •tiding . with . one . eye - .tinned 7olZ 
 dog school of the street- «nH * 
 Do»«).»^ , wreets and stores, or 
 
 polished up and slicked down In theglvj 
 
 yonr. order- to. the -waiter -and. IT 
 Blxteen.conrse.dinner school Of thfp^ 
 'e«o«. Bnt while the lack of a 0011^1 iT 
 cadon can't keep No. 1 down. haTng « 
 boosts No. 2 up. «»ving it 
 
 It's .imply the difference between Jump 
 1». rough-and-tumble, kick-with-the-heer 
 - ■•'-tt-ith-the-head nigger flghtTnrtd 
 tt.8 grm-and-look-pleasant, dodge-a^d-J^f 
 
 .ou-v^nd-tlll-you.««.a-?han'eT 
 land.on.th.«„ar.plexus style of the t«iuS 
 
 atWet. Both styles win lights, but the fS 
 
 iow with a little science is the better mn, 
 providing he's kept his muscle hard. If he 
 
 Wt.he'sinabadway.forhisfa.cyspi 
 rmg ,8 just going to aggravate the other 
 fellow so that he'll eat him up. 
 
Ot conne, ■ome men are Hke nin ft, 
 --700 educate the., the it 'JS;C 
 
 ZT Z '"* '''"'" '''^^ '^^^ oa their 
 ttcka NatnraJly, the place to «end aZ 
 
 Of that breed,, to the drcu.. not to coC 
 Speaking of educate! ni«. . 
 
 call, to mind the c«^lToU^ ""'""^'^ 
 «n-i 1,. **' "'•* ""an Whitaker 
 
 and hi. .on, Stanley T n-«j* /'***" 
 
 old man miffhty well t^ „ 
 wa, , „f ; ^ y^"« »80- He 
 
 " " '- «^ *'^"'^ men whom businm n.^ 
 
 -«at;theca„.reX^r:S-f- 
 Stan', brought to him in a pail s«,f m 
 
 i':::r.^^-^-Cschra'^ 
 
 hold ofTh„; r '""^^'-'^o^W quite lay 
 
 bntsofaraaIconldmakeout,theideawa. 
 9 
 
\^■^f^^Y 
 
 ?^a^^^3^i^ 
 
 A SELF-MADE MERCHAN T'S 
 that there was something in the air of the 
 Oxford ham-house that gave a fellow an 
 extra fancy smoke. 
 
 Well, about the time Stan was through 
 the undertaker cali^d by for the old man, 
 and when his assets were boiled down and 
 the water drawn off, there wasn't enough 
 left to furnish Staa with a really nourish- 
 ing meal. I had a talk with Stan about 
 what he was going to do, but some ways he 
 didn't strike me as having the making of a 
 good private of industry, let alone a cap- 
 tain, so I started in to get him a job that 
 would suit his talents. Got him in a bank, 
 but while he knew more about the history 
 of banking than the president, and more 
 about political economy than the board of 
 directors, he couldn't learn the difference 
 between a fiver that the Government turned 
 out and one that was run off on a hand 
 press in a Halsted Street basement Got 
 him a job on a paper, but while he knew six 
 different languages and all the facts about 
 lo 
 
JITTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 the Arctic regions, and the history of danc 
 ing from the days of Old Adam down t« 
 
 those of Old Niclc, he couldn't write „p a 
 satisfactory account of the Ice-Men's Ball 
 Could prove that two and two made four 
 by tngonometiy and geometiy, but couldn't 
 kan. to keep books; waa thick aB thieves 
 with all the high-toned poets, but couldn't 
 write a good, snappy, merchantable stree^ 
 car ad; knew a thousand diseases that 
 would take a man off before he could blink, 
 but couldn't sen a thousand-doUar tontine 
 Po icy; knew the lives of our Presidents as 
 well as if he'd been raised with them, bu" 
 l^uldn't place a set of tbe Library o the 
 
 ^t^ of the Kepublic, though CwL 
 Offered on little easy payments that made 
 
 them come as ea.y as borrowing them from 
 
 a fnend Finally I hit on what seemed to 
 
 b^^jus^ the right thing. I figured out that 
 
 nfonnation on hand, ought to be able to Job 
 
 It out to good advantage, and so I got him 
 
 II 
 
mm^ 
 
 ii 
 
 A MERCHANT'S LETT ERS 
 
 a place teaching. But it seemed that he'd 
 learned so much about the best way of 
 teaching boys, that he told his principal 
 nght on the jump that he was doing it all 
 wrong, and that made '.im sore; and he 
 knew so much about the dead languages 
 which was what he was hired to teach, that 
 he forgot he was handling live boys, and as 
 he couldn't tell it all to them in the regular 
 time, he kept them after hours, and that 
 made them sore and put Stan out of a job 
 again. The last I heard of him he was writ- 
 ing articles on Why Young Men Fail, and 
 making a success of it, because failing was 
 the one subject on which he was practical. 
 I simply mention Stan in passing as aa 
 example of the fact that it isn't so much 
 knowing a whole lot, as knowing a little 
 and how to use it that counts. 
 
 Your affectionate father, 
 
 John Geaham. 
 
 12 
 
No, 2 
 
 IF 
 
 iROMj 
 
 — -' Graham, 
 at the Union Stock 
 . Yards in Chicago^ 
 
 to his son, Pierrepont, at 
 Harvard University. 
 Mr. Pierrepont's exp 
 I account has just passed 
 under his father's eye 
 and has furnished him 
 
 w'th a text for some plain 
 particularities. 
 
A^^^rJi^i. :^3fm--.-:^^^^ 
 
*^^m!mM 
 
 n 
 
 Chicago, May 4, 189— 
 Dear Pierrepont: The cashier has just 
 handed me your expense account for the 
 month, and it fairly makes a fellow hump- 
 shouldered to look it over. When I told 
 you that I wished you to get a liberal edu- 
 cation, I didn't mean that I wanted to buy 
 Cambridge. Of course the bills won't break 
 me, but they will break you unless you are 
 very, very careful. 
 
 I have noticed for the last two years that 
 your accounts have been growing heavier 
 every month, but I haven't seen any signs 
 of your taking honors to justify the in- 
 creased operating expenses; and that is bad 
 business-a good deal like feeding his 
 weight in corn to a scalawag steer that 
 won't fat up. 
 
 I haven't said anything about this before, 
 as I trusted a good deal to your native com- 
 mon-sense to keep yon from making a fool 
 15 
 
_ A SELF.MI^DE MERCHANT'S 
 
 of yourself in the way that some of these 
 young fellows who haven't had to work for 
 " do. But because I have sat tight, I 
 don't want you to get it into yonr head that 
 the old man's rich, and that he can stand 
 it, because he won't stand it after you leave 
 college. The sooner you adjust your spend- 
 ing to what your earning capacity will be, 
 the easier they will find it to live together 
 The only sure way that a man can get 
 nch quick is to have it given to him or to 
 inherit it You are not going to get rich 
 that way-at leasi^ not until after you have 
 proved your abUity to hold a pretty impor- 
 tant position with the firm; and, of course, 
 there is just one place from which a man 
 can start for that position with Graham & 
 Co. It doesn't maie any differei.ce whether 
 he ,s the son of the old man or of the cellar 
 boss-that place is the bottom. And the 
 bottom in the office end of thi. business is a 
 seat at the mailing^iesk, with eight dollars 
 every Saturday night 
 i6 
 
 J 
 
i-'m. 
 
 I caa t hand out any ready-made success 
 to ym. It would do you no good, and It 
 would do the house harm. There is plenty 
 of room at the top here, but there is no 
 elevator in the building, starting, as you 
 do. with a good education, you should 
 be able to climb quicker than the fellow 
 who hasn't got it; but there's going to be 
 a fame when you begin at the factory when 
 yon won't be able to lick stamps so fast as 
 the other boys at the desk. Yet tie man 
 who hasn't licked stamps isn't fit to write 
 letters. Naturally, that is the time when 
 knowing whether the pie comes before the 
 ice-cream, and how to run an automobile 
 isn t going to be of any real use to you. 
 
 I simply mention these Oiings because I 
 am afraid your ideas as to the basis on 
 which you are coming with the house have 
 swelled up a little in the East I can give 
 you a start, but after that yoa will have to 
 dynamite your way to the front by yourself. 
 It IS all with the man. If you gave some 
 17 
 
;teui» •v^'iiHi':-.^ 
 
 A SELF-MADE MERCHANT'S 
 
 fellows a talent wrapped in a napkin to 
 start with in business, they would swap the 
 talent for a gold brick and lose the napkin; 
 and there are others that you could start 
 out with just a napkin, who would set up 
 with It in the dry-goods business in a small 
 way, and then coax the other fellow's talent 
 Into it 
 
 I hare pride enough to believe that you 
 have the right sort of stuff in you, but I 
 want to see some of it come out You will 
 never make a good merchant of yourself by 
 reversing the order in which the Lord de- 
 creed that we should proceed-leaming the 
 spending before the earning end of business. 
 Pay day is always a month off for the spend- 
 thrift, and he is never able to realize more 
 than sixty cents on any dollar that comes 
 to him. But a dollar is worth one hundred 
 and six cents to a good business man, and 
 he never spends the dollar. It's the man 
 who keeps saving up and expenses down 
 that buys an interest in the concern. That 
 i8 
 
'^m!Fm* 
 
 LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 Is where you are going to find yourself weak 
 If your expense accounts don't Ue; and th. y 
 generally don't lie in that particular way 
 though Baron Munchausen was the first 
 traveling man, and my drummers' bills still 
 show his inflnencfe 
 
 I know that when a lot of young men 
 get off by themselves, some of them think 
 that recklessness with money brands them 
 as good fellows, and that carefulness is 
 meanness. That is the one end of a college 
 education which is pure cussedness; and 
 that is the one thing which makes nine 
 business men out of ten hesitate to send 
 their boys off to school. But on the other 
 hand, that is the spot where a young man 
 has the chance to show that he is not a 
 lightweight I know that a good maay 
 people say I am a pretty close proposl- 
 tion; that I make every hog which goes 
 through my packing-house give up more 
 lard than the Lord gave him gross weight; 
 that I have improved on Nature to the ex- 
 19 
 
^/LM.m»^<Mm> 
 
 ^~- 
 
 A SELF-MADE MERCHANT'S 
 
 teBt of getting four hams out of aa animal 
 which begai. life with two; but you have 
 lived with me long enough to know that 
 my hand is usually in my pocket at the right 
 
 Now I want to say right here that the 
 meanest man alive is the one who is gener- 
 ous with money that he has not had to 
 Bweat for, and that the boy who is a good 
 fellow at some one else's expense would noi 
 work up into first-class fertilizer. That 
 same ambition to be known as a good fellow 
 has crowded my office with second-rate 
 clerks, and they always will be second-rate 
 clerks. If you have it, hold it down until 
 you have worked for a year. Then, if your 
 ambition runs to hunching up all week over 
 a desk, to earn eight dollars to blow on a 
 few rounds of drinks for the boys on Satur- 
 day night, there is no objection to your 
 gratifying it; for I will know that the Lord 
 didn't intend you to be your own boss. 
 You know how I begaa-I was started off 
 20 
 
 4 
 
,^m^^^, 
 
 i 
 
 "Have seen hundreds of hoys 
 go to Europe who didn't bring 
 back a great deal except a few 
 trunks of badly ft ting clothes." 
 

 :Mmmm 
 
•^iTs'- * ■■>■ 
 
 LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 with a kick, but that proyed a kick up, and 
 
 In the end every one since has lifted me a 
 
 lltOe bit higher. I got two dollars a week. 
 
 and slept under the counter, and you can 
 
 bet I knew just how many pennies there 
 
 were In each of those dollars, and how hard 
 
 the floor was. That Is what you hare got to 
 learn. 
 
 I remember when I was on the Lakes, our 
 -chooner was passing out through the draw 
 at BuflfaJo when I saw little Bill Riggg, the 
 butcher, standing up above me on the end of 
 the bridge with a big roast of beef in his 
 basket. They were a little short in the gaJ- 
 ey on that trip, so I called up to Bill and he 
 threw the roast down to me. I asked him 
 how much, and he yelled back, "about a 
 dollar." That was mighty good beef, and 
 when we struck Buffalo again on the return 
 trip, I thought I would like a little more of 
 It So I went up to Bill's shop and asked 
 him for a piece of the same. But this time 
 he gave me a litUe roast, not near so big as 
 21 
 
i! 
 
 A SELF-MADE MERCHANT 'S 
 
 the other, and it was pretty tough and 
 Btringy. But when I asked him how much, 
 he answered " about a dollar." He simply 
 didn't have any sense of values, and that's 
 the business man's sixth sense. Bill has al- 
 ways been a big, healthy, hard-working 
 man, but tonJay he is very, very poor. 
 
 The Bills ain't all in the butcher business. 
 I've got some of them right now in my oiBce, 
 but they wUl never climb over the railing 
 that separates the clerks from the execu- 
 tives. Yet if they would put in half the 
 time thinking for the house that they give 
 up to hatching out reasons why they ought 
 to be allowed to overdraw their salary ac- 
 counts, I couldn't keep them out of our pri- 
 vate oflaees with a pole-ax, and I wouldn't 
 want to ; for they could double their salaries 
 and my profits in a year. But I always lay 
 It down as a safe proposition that the fellow 
 who has to break open the baby's bank to- 
 ward the last of the week for car-fare isn't 
 going to be any Kussell Sage when it comes 
 22 
 
 "^^^^^^2^^' 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 to trading with the old man's money. He'd 
 punch my bank account as full of holes as a 
 car'oad of wild Texans would a fool stock- 
 man that they'd got in a corner. 
 
 Now I know you'll say that I don't un- 
 derstand how it is; that you've got to do as 
 
 the other fellows do; and that things have 
 changed since I was a boy. There's nothing 
 
 mit. Adam invented all the diL'erent ways 
 m which a young man can make a fool of 
 himself, and the college yell at the end of 
 them is just a frill that doesn't change es- 
 sentials. The boy who does anything just 
 because the other fellows do it is apt to 
 scratch a poor man's back all his Ufa He's 
 the chap that's buying wheat at ninely- 
 seven cento the day before the market 
 breaks. They call him "the country" in 
 the market reports, but the city's full of 
 him. It's the fellow who has the spunk to 
 think and act for himself, and sells short 
 when prices hit the high C and the house is 
 standing on ite liind legs yelling for more^ 
 «3 
 
that site to the directors' meetings when he 
 gete on toward I'orty. 
 
 We've got an old steer out at the packing- 
 house that stands around at the foot of the 
 ronway leading „p to the killing pens, look- 
 ng for all the world like one of the village 
 fathers sitting on the cracker box before Te 
 groceiy-sort of sad-eyed. dmmy old cuss 
 -always has two or three straws from his 
 cud sticking out of the corner of his mouth. 
 Ton never saw a steer that looked as if he 
 ook less interest in things. But by and by 
 the boys drive a bunch of steers toward him 
 or cows maybe, if we're cabining, and then 
 you'll see Old Abe move off up that runway 
 sort of beckoning the bunch after him with 
 that wicked old stump of a tail of his, as if 
 there was something mighty interesting to 
 steers at the top, and something that every 
 Texan and Colorado, raw from the prairies 
 ought to have a look at to put a metropoU- 
 taai finish on him. Those, steers just natur- 
 ally follow along on up that runway and 
 
 I- 1 
 
2^theralUngpens. But just a« they get 
 to the top, Old Abe, son.eways, gets iLl 
 the crowd, and he isn't among those present 
 When the gates axe closed and the^^ 
 trouble begins for his new friends. 
 
 I never saw a dozen boys together that 
 ttere wasn't an Old Abe among them. If 
 you find your crowd following him, keen 
 -ayjromit There a. «„.^ i'^J 
 safest to be lonesoma Use a little common- 
 sense, caution and conscience. You can 
 Stock a Store with those three commodities, 
 when you get enough of them. But you'^ 
 got to begin getting them young. They 
 ajn't catching after you toughen up T 
 
 You needn't write me if you feel your- 
 self getting them. The symptoms will show 
 in your expense account Good-by; life's 
 too short to write letters and New York's 
 calling me on the wire. 
 
 Tour affectionate father, 
 
 John Obaham. 
 25 
 
I No, 3 |[ 
 
 FROM John Gralum, 
 at the Union Stock 
 Yards in Chicago, 
 'to bis son, Pierrtpoat, at 
 Harvard' University, 
 Mr. Pierrepont fiuds Cam- 
 bridge to his lilcing, and 
 has suggested that he take 
 a post-gradnate course to 
 fill up some gaps which hi 
 has found in his education 
 
 i^uurse lo 
 vbich he I I 
 ducation. I I 
 
Ill 
 
 Jnne 1, 189— 
 Dear Pierrepont: No, I can't say that I 
 think anything of your post-graduate course 
 Idea. You're not going to be a poet or' a 
 P^fessor, but a packer, and the place to 
 take a postgraduate course for that calling 
 IB m th p^y^g.^^^^ Some n>en learn 
 all th^ know from books; others from life; 
 both kinds are narrow. The first are all 
 tlieory; the second are all practice. It's the 
 fellow who knows enough about practice to 
 test his theories for blowholes that gives 
 the world a shove ahead, and finds a fair 
 margin of profit in shoving it 
 
 Th^s a chance for everything you have 
 earned, from Latin to poetry, in the pack- 
 Jng business, though we don't use much 
 poetry here except in our street-car ads. 
 and about the only time our products arj 
 given Latin names is when the State Board 
 Of Health condemns them. So I think 
 29 
 
I 
 
 I 
 
 A SELF-MADE MERCHA NT'S 
 
 you'll find It safe to go short a litUe on the 
 Mis of education; if you want them bad 
 enough you'll find a way to pick them up 
 later, after business hours. 
 
 The main thing is to get a start along 
 right lines, and that is what I sent yon to 
 college for. I didn't expect you to carry 
 off all the education in sight-l knew you'd 
 leave a little for the next fellow. But I 
 wanted you to form good mentaJ habits, 
 jnst as I want you to hare clean, straight 
 physical ones. Because I was run through 
 a threshing machine when I was a boy, and 
 didn't begin to get the straw out of my hair 
 till I was past thirly, I haven't any sym- 
 pathy with a lot of these old fellows who go 
 around bragging of their ignorance and 
 Baying that boys don't need to know any- 
 thing except addition and the « best policy » 
 brand of honesty. 
 
 We started in a mighty different world, 
 and we were all ignorant together. The 
 Lord let us in on the ground floor, gave us 
 3° 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 corner lota, a.,d then started In to improve 
 the adjacent property. We didn't have to 
 know fra^uons to figure out our proflta 
 Now a merchant needs astronomy to see 
 them, and when he locates them they are 
 out somewhere near the fifth decimal placa 
 There are sixteen ounces to the pound still, 
 but two of them axe wrapping paper in a 
 good many stores. And there're just as 
 many chances for a fellow a« ever, but 
 they're a little gun shy, and you can't catch 
 them by any such coarse method as putting 
 salt on their tails. 
 
 Thirty years ago, you could take an old 
 muzzle-loader and knock over plenty of 
 ducks in the city limite, and Chicago wasn't 
 Cook County then, either. You can get 
 
 them still, but you've got to go to Kanka- 
 kee and take a hammerless along And 
 ^hen I started in the packing business it 
 was all straight sailing-no frills-just 
 turning hogs into hog meai^-dry salt for the 
 niggers down South and sugar-cured for 
 31 
 
 1^ 
 
A SELF-MADE MERCHANT'S 
 
 the white folks up North. Everything elae 
 vaa sausage, or thrown away. But when 
 we get through with a hog nowadays, he's 
 scattered through a hundred different cans 
 and packages, and he's all accounted for. 
 What we used to throw away is our profit 
 It takes doctors, lawyers, engineers, poets, 
 and I don't know what, to run the busi- 
 ness, and I reckon that improvements which 
 call for parsons will be creeping in next 
 Naturally, a youns maa who expects to hold 
 his own when he is thrown in with a lot 
 of men like these must be as clean and 
 sharp as a hound's tooth, or some other 
 fellow's simply going to eat him up. 
 
 The first college man I ever hired was old 
 John Durham's son, Jim. That was a good 
 many years ago when the house was a much 
 smaller aflfair. Jim's father had a lot of 
 money till he started out to buck the uni- 
 verse and comer wheat And the boy took 
 all the fancy courses and trimmings at col- 
 lege. The old man was mighty proud of 
 32 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SOM 
 
 Jim. Wanted Mm to be a literary fellow. 
 
 Bat old Dnrhain found out what every one 
 
 learns who gets his ambitions mixed np 
 
 with number two red-that there's a heap 
 
 of it lying around loose In the country. The 
 
 bears did quick work and kept the cash 
 
 wheat coming in so lively that one settUng 
 
 day half a down of us had to get under 
 
 the market to keep It from going to ever^ 
 
 lasting smash. 
 
 That day made young Jim a candidate 
 tor a job. It didn't take him long to de- 
 cide that the Lord would attend to keep- 
 ing up the visible supply of poetry, and that 
 he had better turn his attention to the 
 stocks of mess pork. Next morning he was 
 laying for me with a letter of introduction 
 when I got to the office, and when he found 
 that I wouldn't have a private secretary at 
 ^y price, he applied for every other posi- 
 tion on the premises right down to office 
 boy. I told him I waa sorry, but I couldn't 
 do anytiiing for him then; tiiat we were 
 33 
 
A.f ;t..^ 
 
 A SELF-MADE MERPHAMTr.g 
 letting men go, but I'd keep him in mind, 
 and 80 on. The fact w«. tliat I didn't think 
 a fellow with Jim's training would be much 
 8«wd,anjhow. But Jim hung on-«aid he'd 
 taken a fancy to the house, and wanted to 
 work for it Used to call by about twice 
 a week to find out If anything had turned 
 up. 
 
 Finally, after about a month of this, he 
 wore me down so that I stopped him one 
 day as he was passing me on the street. I 
 thought I'd find out if he really was so 
 red-hot to work as he pretended to be; be- 
 «Jdeii, I felt that perhaps I hadn't treated 
 the boy just right, as I had delivered quite 
 a jag of that wheat to his father myself 
 
 "Hello, Jim," I called; "do you still 
 want that job? " 
 
 "Yes, sir," he answered, quick as light- 
 ning. * 
 
 " Well, I tell you how it is, Jim," I said, 
 looking up at him-he was one of those 
 Husky, lazy-moving six-footer*-" I don't 
 34 
 
x\c 
 
 LETTERS TO HIS SO N 
 
 ■ee any chance in the office, but I under- 
 •tand they can use another good, strong 
 man in one of the loading gangs." 
 
 I thought that would setOe Jim and let 
 me out, for it's no joke lugging beef, op 
 rolling barrels and tierces a hundred yarda 
 or so to the cars. But Jim came right back 
 at me with, " Done. Who'll I report to? " 
 
 That sporty way of answering, as If he 
 was closing a bet, made me surer than ever 
 that he was not cut out for a butcher. But 
 I told him, ana off he started hot-foot to 
 find the foreman. I sent word by another 
 ronte to see that he got plenty to do. 
 
 1 forgot all about Jim until ^^out three 
 months later, when Ms name was handed 
 np to me for a new place and a raise in 
 pay. It seemed that he had sort of abolished 
 his job. After he had been rolling barrels 
 a while, and the sport had ground down one 
 of his shoulders a couple of inches lower 
 than the other, he got to scheming around 
 for a way to make the work easier, and he 
 35 
 
rl T "^ '"' ^ "^^ *»' "^'^'I'^al rail- 
 road system, by which the barrels could be 
 
 swung out Of the storerooms and run 4ht 
 aongintott.eca™.a.dtwoor«.reemt 
 
 thought Jin. wa« lazy, but he had put the 
 
 house ,ntlje way of saving so muchloney 
 ^at I couldn't Are him. So I raised his 
 
 T^' "^^ """^^ him aa assistant time- 
 k^r an, checker. Ji. ,ept at this fot 
 ^ree or four months, until his feet began 
 to hurt hzm, I guess, a^d then he was out 
 of a job again, it seems he had heard 
 something of a new machine for registering 
 ^e men, that did away with most of thf 
 timekeepers except the fellows who watched 
 the machines, and he kept after the Superin- 
 tendent until he got him to put them in. 
 Of course he claimed a raise again for ef- 
 'ecting such a saving, aad we just had to 
 allow It. 
 
 I was beginning to take ai. interest in 
 Jun. so I brought him up into the office and 
 36 
 
set hm to copying circular letters. We 
 used to send out a raft of them to the trada 
 That was just before the general adoption 
 of typewriters, when ihey were still In the 
 experimental staga But Jim hadn't been 
 m the office plugging away at the letters 
 tov a month before he had the writer's 
 cramp, and begaa nosing around agnin 
 The first thing I fa^ew he was sickinT 
 agents for the new typewriting machine ^n 
 to me, and he kept them pounding away 
 nntd they had made me give them a trial 
 Then It was all up with Mister Jim's job 
 again. I raised his salary without his ask- 
 mgtor it this time, and put him out on the 
 road to introduce a new product that we 
 were making— beef extract 
 
 Jim made two trips without selling 
 enough to keep them working overtime at 
 the factory, and then he came into my 
 Office with a long story about how we were 
 doing it all wrong. Said we ought to go 
 for the consumer by advertising, and make 
 37 
 
A SELF-MADE MERCHANT' S 
 
 the trade come to us, instead of chasing it 
 up. 
 
 That was so like Jim that I just laughed 
 at first; besides, that sort of advertising was 
 a pretty new thing then, and I was one of 
 the old-timers who didn't take any stock 
 in it But Jim just kept plugging away at 
 me between trips, until finally I took him 
 oflP the road and told him to go ahead and 
 try it in a small way. 
 
 Jim pretty nearly scared me to death that 
 first year. At last he had got into some- 
 thing that he took an interest in— spending 
 money— and he just fairly wallowed in it 
 Used to lay awake nights, thinking up new 
 ways of getting rid of the old man's profits. 
 And he found them. Seemed as if I couldn't 
 get away from Graham's Extract, and 
 whenever I saw it I gagged, for I knew it 
 was costing me money that wasn't coming 
 back; but every dme I stajrted to draw in 
 my horns Jim talL.d to me, and showed me 
 38 
 
•' I put Jim Durham out an the 
 road to introduce a new product." 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SO N 
 
 where there was a fortune waiting for me 
 just around the comer. 
 
 Graham's Extract started out by being 
 something that you could mate beef-tea 
 out of— that was all. But before Jim had 
 been fooling with it a month he had got his 
 girl to think up a hundred different ways 
 in which it could be used, and had adver- 
 tised them all. It seemed there was nothing 
 you could cook that didn't need a dash of 
 it. He kept me between a chill and a sweat 
 all the time. Sometimes, but not often, I 
 just had to grin at his foolishness. I re- 
 member one picture he got out showing six- 
 teen cows standing between something that 
 looked like a letter-press, and telling how 
 eveiy pound or so of Graham's Extract 
 contained the juice squeezed from a herd of 
 steers. If an explorer started for the North 
 Pole. Jim would send him a case of Extract, 
 and then advertise that it was the great heat- 
 maker for cold climates; and if some other 
 
 39 
 
A SELF-MADE MEROHamt's 
 
 fellow started across Africa he sent him a 
 case, too, and advertised what a bully drink 
 It was serred np with a litUe ica 
 
 He broke out in a new place every day, 
 and eve,7 «me he brake out it cost the 
 house money. Finally, I made up my mind 
 to swallow the loss, and Mister Jim was 
 just about to lose his job sure enough, when 
 the orders for Extract began to look up, and 
 he got a reprieve; then he began to make 
 expenses, and he got a pardon; and finally 
 a rush came that left him high and diy in 
 a permanent placa Jim waa all right in 
 h« way, but it was a new way, and I hadn't 
 been broad-gauged enough to see that it wa« 
 a better way. 
 
 That was where I caught the connection 
 between a college education and business. 
 I ve aJways made it a mie to buy bndns, 
 ,7 IVe learned now ttat the better trained 
 they are the faster they find reasons for 
 getting their salaries raised. The fellow 
 who hadn't had the training may be just as 
 40 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 smart, but he's apt to paw the air when 
 he's reaching for ideas. 
 
 I suppose you're asking why, if I'm so 
 hot for education, I'm against this post 
 graduate course. But habite of thought 
 ain't the only thing a fellow picks up at 
 college. 
 
 I see you've been elected President of 
 your class. I'm glad the boys aren't down 
 on you, but while the most popular maa 
 in his class isn't always a failure in busi- 
 ness, being as popular as that takes up a 
 heap of time. I noticed, too, when you were 
 home Easter, that you were running to 
 sporty clothes and cigarettes. There's noth- 
 ing criminal about either, but I don't 
 hire sporty clerks at all, and the only part 
 of the premises on which cigarette smoking 
 is allowed is the fertilizer factory. 
 
 I simply mention this in passing. I have 
 every confidence in your ultimate good 
 sense, and I guess you'll see the point with- 
 out my elaborating with a meat ax my 
 41 
 
A^M 
 
 _ A MERCHANT'S LETT ERS 
 
 rea«,ns for thinking that you've had enough 
 college for the present 
 
 Your affectionate father, 
 
 John Obaham. 
 
 42 
 
1 
 
 FROM John Graham, 
 head of the home 
 of Graham & Co. 
 at the Union Stock Yardi 
 in Chicago, to hii son, 
 Pierrepont Graham, .t 
 WaIdorf-A«toria, 
 
IV 
 
 i 
 
 June 25, 189— 
 Dear Pierrepont: Your letter of the sev- 
 enth twista around the point a good deal 
 like a setter pup chasing his tail. But i 
 gather from it that you want to spend a 
 couple of months in Europe before coming 
 ou here and getting your nose in the bull- 
 ring. Of course, you are your own boss 
 now and you ought to be able to judge 
 better than any one else how much time 
 you have to waste, but it seems to me, on 
 general principles, that a young man of 
 twenty-two, who is physically and mentally 
 sound, and who haan't got a dollar and has 
 never earned one, can't be getUng on some- 
 body's pay-roll too quick. And in this 
 connection it is only fair to tell you that I 
 have instructed the cashier to discontinue 
 your allowance after July 15. That gives 
 you two weeks for a vacation— enough to 
 make a sick boy well, or a lazy one lazier. 
 45 
 
_ A SELF-MADE MERCHANT'S 
 
 I hear a good deal about men who won't 
 take vacations, and who kill themselves by 
 overwork, but It's nsnally worry or whiskey. 
 It's not what a man does during working- 
 hours, but after them, that breaks down 
 his health. A fellow and his business should 
 be bosom friends in the ofiSce and sworn 
 enemies out of it. A clear mind is one that 
 i» swept clean of business at six o'clock 
 every night and isn't opened up for it again 
 until after the shutters are taken down 
 next morning. 
 
 Some fellows leave the office at night and 
 start out to whoop it up with the boys, and 
 some go homfe to sit up with their troubles 
 —they're both in bad company. They're the 
 men who are always needing vacations, and 
 never getting any good out of them. What 
 every man does need once a year is a change 
 of work-that is, if he has been curved up 
 over a desk for fifty weaks and subsisting 
 on birds and burgundy, he ought to take 
 to fishing for a living aad try bacon and 
 46 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 
 ejfjpi, with a little gpring water, for dinner 
 But coming from Hnrrard to tlie packing" 
 house will give you change enough this year 
 to keep you in good trim, even if you didn't 
 have a fortnight's leeway to run loose. 
 
 You will always find it a safe rule to take 
 a thing Just ai> quick as it is ofTered- 
 eBpecially a Job. It Is never easy to get 
 one except when you don't want Itj but 
 when you have to get work, and go after 
 it with a gun, you'll find it as shy an an old 
 crow that every farmer in the county haa 
 had a shot at 
 
 When I was a young fellow and out of 
 
 a place, I always made it a rule to take the 
 
 first job that offered, and to use it for bait 
 
 You can catch a minnow with a worm, aad 
 
 a bass will take your minnow. A good fat 
 
 bass will tempt an otter, and then you've 
 
 got something worth skinning. Of course, 
 
 there's no daager of your not being able to 
 
 get a job with the house— in fact, there is 
 
 no real way in which you can escape getting 
 
 
A SELF-MADE MERCHANT'S 
 
 III 
 
 one; but I don't like to see you shy oflf every 
 time the old man geta close to you with the 
 halter. 
 
 I want yon to learn right at the outset 
 not to play with the spoon before you take 
 the medicine. Putting oflf an easy thing 
 makes it hard, and putting oflf a hard one 
 makes it impossibla Procrastination is 
 the longest word in the language, but there's 
 only one letter hetween it» ends when they 
 occupy their proper places in the alphabet. 
 Old Dick Stover, for whom I once clerked 
 in Indiana, was the worst hand at pro- 
 crastinating that I ever saw. Dick was 
 a powerful hearty eater, and no one ever 
 loved meal-time tetter, but he used to keep 
 turning over in bed mornings for just an- 
 other wink and staving off getting up, until 
 finally his wife combined breakfast and 
 dinner on him, and he only got two meals a 
 day. He wa« a mighty religious man, too, 
 but he got to putting oflf saying his prayers 
 until after he was in bed, and then he would 
 48 
 
I- 
 
 LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 keep passing them along until his mind was 
 clear of worldly things, and in the end he 
 would drop off to sleep without sayine them 
 at aJl. What between missing the Sunday 
 morning service and never being seen on 
 his knees, the first thing Dick knew he was 
 turned out of the church. He had a pretty 
 good business when I first went with him, 
 but he would keep putting off firing his 
 bad clerks until they had lit out with the 
 petty cash; and he would keep putting oflf 
 raising the salaries of his good ones until 
 his competitor had hired them away. Fin- 
 ally, he got so that he wouldn't discount his 
 bills, even when he had the mon^; and 
 when they came due he would give notes so 
 as to keep from paying out his cash a little 
 longer. Running a business on those linee 
 is, of course, equivalent to making a will 
 in favor of the sheriff and committing sui- 
 cide so that he can inherit The last I 
 heard of Dick he was ninety-three years old 
 and just about to dia That was ten years 
 49 
 
A SELF-MADE MERCHANT'S 
 
 ago, and I'll bet he's liring yet I aimply 
 mention Dick in passing as an instance of 
 how habits rule a man's life. 
 
 There is one excuse for every mistake a 
 man can make, but only on& When a fel- 
 low makes the same mistake twice he's got 
 to throw up both hands and own up to care- 
 lessness or cussedness. Of course, I knew 
 that you would make a fool of yourself 
 pretty often when I jsent you to college, and 
 I haven't been disappointed. But I ex- 
 pected you to narrow down the number of 
 combinations possible by making a different 
 sort of a fool of yourself every time. That 
 is the important thing, unless a fellow has 
 too lively an imagination, or haa none at 
 all. You are bound t» try this European 
 foolishness sooner or later, but if yoa will 
 wait a few years, you will approach it in an 
 entirely different spirit— and you will come 
 ba«k with a good deal of respect for the 
 people who have sense enough to stay at 
 home. 
 
 50 
 
* * Old Dick Stover taas the toorst hand 
 at procrastinating that 1 ever saw.^* 
 
^Oim/ M^^ 
 
.if^f w .^ 
 
 LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 I piece out from yonr letter that jou ex- 
 pect a few months on the other side will 
 sort of put a polish on you. I don't want 
 to seem pessimistic, but I have seen hun- 
 dreds of boys graduate from college and 
 go over with the same idea, and they didn't 
 bring back a great deal except a few trunks 
 of badly fitting clothes. Seeing the world 
 is like charity— it covers a multitude of 
 sins, and; like charity, it ought to begin 
 at homa 
 
 Culture is not a matter of a change of 
 climate. You'll hear more about Browning 
 to the square foot in the Mississippi VaUey 
 than you will in England. And there's as 
 much Art talk on the Lake front as in the 
 Latin Qaarter. It may be a Uttle different, 
 but it's there. 
 
 I went to Europe once myself. I was 
 pretty raw when I left Chicago, and I was 
 pretty sore when I got back. Coming and 
 going I was simply sick. In London, for 
 the first time in my life, I was taken for an 
 51 
 
A SELF-MADE MERCHANT 'S 
 
 easy thing. Every time I went into a store 
 there was a bull movement The clerks all 
 knocked off their regular work and started 
 in to mark up prices. 
 
 They used to tell me that they didn't 
 have any gold-brick men over there So 
 they don't. They deal in pictnre»-old 
 masters, they call them. I bought two- 
 you know the one»-tho8e hanging in the 
 waiting-room at the st«ck yards; and when 
 I got back I found out that they had been 
 painted by a measly little fellow who went 
 to Paris to study art, after Bill Harris had 
 found out that he was no good as a settling 
 clerk. I keep 'em to remind myself that 
 there's no fool like an old American fool 
 when he gets this picture paresis. 
 
 The fellow who tried to fit me out with 
 a coat-of-arms didn't find me so eaj^. i 
 picked mine when I first went into business 
 for myself-a charging steeiv-and it's reg- 
 istered at Washington. It's my trade- 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 . 
 
 mark, of course, and that's the only coat^f. 
 arms an American merchant has any bmri- 
 ness with. It's penetrated to erery qnarter 
 of the globe in the last twenty years, and 
 every soldier in the world has carried it- 
 In his knapsack. 
 
 I take just as much pride in it as the fel- 
 low who inherits his and can't find any 
 place to put it, except on his carriage door 
 and his letter-head-and it's a heap more 
 profitable. It's got so now that every job- 
 ber in the trade knows that it staads for 
 good quality, and tiat's all any English- 
 man's coat-of-arms can stand for. Of 
 course, an American's can't stand for any- 
 thing mnch-generally it's the bumed-in-the 
 skin brand of a snob. 
 
 After the way some of the descendant« of 
 the old New York Dutchmen with the hoe 
 and the English general storekeepers have 
 turned out, I sometimea feel a little uneasy 
 about what my greatgrandchildren may 
 53 
 
A MERCHANT'S LETTRPS 
 
 do, but we'll jnst stick to the trade-mark 
 and try to live up to it while the old man's 
 in the saddle 
 
 I simply mention these things in a general 
 way. I have no fears for yon after yon'v( 
 been at work for a few years, and haT. 
 stmck an average between the packing- 
 honse and Harvard; then if you want to 
 gM2e over a wider range it can't hurt you. 
 But for the present you will find yourself 
 pretty busy trying to get into the winning 
 class. 
 
 Tour affectionate father, 
 
 John Ghaham. 
 
 54 
 
FROM John Grah.ni, 
 head of the home 
 of Graham & C" , 
 at the Union Stock Ya.;!! 
 in Chicago, to his ion, 
 Pierrepont Graham, at 
 Lake Mooagatchemawa- 
 muc, in the Maine woods. 
 Mr. Pierrepont has writ- 
 ten to his father withdraw- 
 ing his suggestion. 
 
 , 
 
 J 
 
m.m 
 
 . 
 
 Jnly 7, I89u_ 
 Dear Pierrepont: Yours of the fourth 
 
 ha8^erlghtriug,audit«.y,„.oretothe 
 number of words n«ed than anyletter that 
 Ihave ever received from you. I remember 
 reading once that some fellows use lan- 
 gnage to conceal thought; but It's been my 
 e.perien<«.that a good many more use U 
 instead of thought. 
 
 A business man's couTersation should be 
 regulated by fewer and simpler rules than 
 aay other function of the humai. animal. 
 They are: 
 
 Hare something to say. 
 
 Say it 
 
 Stop talking. 
 
 Beginning before you know what you 
 want to say and keeping on after you have 
 said It lands a merchant in a lawsuit or the 
 poorhouse, and the first is a short cut to the 
 second. I maintain a legal department here, 
 57 
 
Moiocorr itsoiuTinN tist chakt 
 
 (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) 
 
 ^ /APPLIED ItVMGE In 
 
 ^^ 1653 Eait Uain StrMt 
 
 SS^S Rochsstar, Nts York U609 USA 
 
 ^S (^'^) *^2 - 0300 - Phone 
 
 ^= <716) 288~S989-Fax 
 
^ \4 
 
 A SELF-MADE MERCHANT'S 
 
 and it costs a lot of money, but it's to keep 
 me from going to law. 
 
 It's all right when yon are calling on a 
 girl or talking with friends after dinner 
 to run a conversation like a Sunday-school 
 excursion, with stops to pick flowers; but 
 in the oflSce your sentences should be the 
 shortest distance possible between periods. 
 Cut out the introduction and the perora- 
 tion, and stop before you get to secondly. 
 You've got to preach short sermons to catch 
 sinners; and deacons won't believe they need 
 long ones themselves. Give fools the first 
 and women the laBt word. The meat's 
 always in the middle of the sandwich. Of 
 course, a little butter on either side of it 
 doesn't do any harm if it's intended for a 
 man who likes butter. 
 
 Remember, too, that it's easier to look 
 wise than to talk wisdom. Say less than 
 the other fellow and listen more than you 
 talk; for when a man's listening he isn't 
 telling on himself and hei's flattering the fel- 
 
 S8 
 
 li 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 low who is. Give most men a good listener 
 and most women enough note-paper and 
 they'll tell all they know. Money talks— but 
 not unless its owner has a loose tongue, and 
 then its remarks are always offensive. Pov- 
 erty talks, too, but nobody wants to hear 
 what it ha8 to say. 
 
 I simply mention these things in passing 
 because I'm afraid you're apt to be the 
 fellow who's doing the talking; just as I'm 
 a little afraid that you're sometimes like 
 the hungry drummer at the dollar-a-day 
 house — inclined to kill your appetite by eat- 
 ing the cake in the centre of the table be- 
 fore the soup comes on. 
 
 Of course, I'm glad to see you swing into 
 line and show the proper spirit about com- 
 ing on here and going to work; hut you 
 mustn't get yourself all "het up" before 
 you take the plunge, because you're bound 
 to find the water pretty cold at first. I' 
 seen a good many young fellows paoS 
 through and out of this office. The first 
 59 
 
 •H 
 
J; 
 
 A SELF-MADE MERCHANT 'S 
 
 week a lot of them go to work they're in a 
 sweat for fear they'll be flred; and the sec- 
 ond week for fear they won't be. By the 
 third, a boy that's no good has learned just 
 how little work he caji do and keep his job; 
 while the fellow who's got the right stuff 
 in him is holding down his own place with 
 one hand and beginning to reach for the 
 job just ahead of him with the other. I 
 don't mean that he's neglecting his work; 
 but he's beginning to take notice, and that's 
 a mighty hopeful sign in either a young 
 clerk or a young widow. 
 
 You've got to handle the first year of 
 your business life about the way you would 
 a trotting horse. Warm up a little before 
 going to the post— not enough to be in a 
 sweat, but just enough to be limber and 
 eager. Never start off at a gait that you 
 can't improve on, but move along strong 
 and well in hand to the quarter. Let out a 
 notch there, but take it calm enough up to 
 the half not t» break, aiid hard enough not ' 
 60 
 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 to fall back into the ruck. At the three- 
 quarters you ought to be going faat enough 
 to poke yo ? nose out of the other fellow's 
 dust, and running like the Limited in the 
 stretch. Keep your eyes to the front aJI thp 
 time, and you won't be so apt to shy at the 
 little +hings by the side of the track. Head 
 up, tail over the dashboard— that's the way 
 the winners look in the old pictures of Maud 
 S. and Dexter and Jay-Eye-See. And 
 that's the way I want to see you swing by 
 the old man at the end of the year, when we 
 hoist the numbers of the fellows who are 
 good enough to promote and pick out the 
 salaries which need a little sweetening. 
 
 I've always taken a good deal of stock in 
 what you call "Blood-will-tell" if you're 
 a Methodist, or " Heredity " if you're a Uni- 
 tarian; and I don't want you to come along 
 at this late day and disturb my religious 
 beliefs. A man's love for his children and 
 his pride are pretty badly sBarled up in 
 this world, and he can't always pick them 
 6i 
 
■^4 ;,4r^ 
 
 A SELF-MADE MERCHANT'S 
 
 apart I think a heap of you aad a heap of 
 the house, and I want to see you get along 
 well together. To do that you must start 
 right. It's just as necessary to make a 
 good first impression in business as in 
 courting. You'll read a good deal about 
 "love at first sight" in novels, and ttere 
 may be something in it for all I know; but 
 I'm dead certain there's no such thing as 
 love at first sight in business. A man's got 
 to keep company a long time, and come 
 early and stay late and sit close, before he 
 can get a girl or a job worth having. There's 
 nothing comes without calling in this world, 
 and after you've called you've generally got 
 to go and fetch it yourself. 
 
 Our bright young men have discovered 
 how to make a pretty good article of potted 
 chicken, and they don't need any help from 
 hens, either; and you can smell the clover 
 in our butterine if youVe developed the 
 poetic side of your nose; but none of the 
 boys have been able to discover anything 
 62 
 
" Charlie Chase told me he was 
 President of the Klondike Exploring, 
 Gold Prospecting and Immigration 
 Company." 
 
'I II 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 that will pass as a gubstitute for work, even 
 in a boarding-house, though I'll give aome of 
 them credit for having tried pretty hard. 
 
 I remember when I was selling goods for 
 old Josh Jennings, back in the sixties, and 
 had rounded up about a thousand in a sav- 
 ings-bank—a mighty hard thousand, that 
 came a dollar or so at a time, and every dol- 
 It ^ with a little bright mark where I had bit 
 it— I roomed with a dry-goods clerk named 
 Charlie Chase. Charlie had a hankering to 
 be a rich man ; but somehow he could never 
 see any connection between that hankering 
 and his counter, except that he'd hint to me 
 sometimes about an heiress who used to 
 squander her father's money shamefully for 
 the sake of having Charlie wait on her. Bnt 
 when it came to getting rich outside the dry- 
 goods business and getting rich in a hurry, 
 Charlie was the man. 
 
 Along about Tuesday night— he was paid 
 on Saturday— he'd stay at home and begin 
 to Bchemfc He'd commence at eight o'clock 
 63 
 
m 
 
 - ^ SELF-MADE MERCHANTT 'S 
 
 and start a magazine, maybe, and beforo 
 midnight he'd be turning away subscribers 
 because his prese. couldn't print a big 
 enough edition. Or perhaps he wouldn't 
 feelUterary that night, and so he'd invent a 
 system for speculating in wheat and go on 
 pyraaJding hie purchases till he'd made the 
 b«t that Cheops did look like a flve-cent 
 plate of ice cream. All he ever needed was 
 a few hundred for a starter, and to get that 
 he'd decide to let me in on the ground floor. 
 I want to say right here that whenever any 
 
 one offers to let you in on the ground floor 
 t s a pretty safe rule to take the elevator to 
 the roof garden. I never exactly refused to 
 lend Charlie the capital he needed, but we 
 generally compromised on haJf a dollar next 
 morning, when he was in a huriy to make 
 the store to keep from getting docked. 
 
 He dropped by the ofBce last week, a little 
 bent and seedy, but ail in a glow and trem- 
 bling with excitement in the old way. Told 
 me he was President of tie Klondike 
 64 
 
V 
 
 LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 Exploring, Gold Progpectlng and Immlgrar 
 tion Company, with a capital of ten millions, 
 I guessed that he wa» the board of dipectora 
 and the capital stock and the exploring and 
 the prospecting and the immigrating, too— 
 everything, in fact, except the business card 
 he'd sent in; for CharUe always bad a gift 
 for nosing out printers who'd trust hi-n. 
 Said that for the sake of old Omes he'd let 
 me have a few thousand shares at fifty cents, 
 though they would go to par in a year. In 
 the end we compromised on a loan of ten 
 dollars, and Charlie went away happy. 
 
 The swamps are full of raaor-backs like 
 Charlie, fellows who'd rather make a million 
 a r ght in their heads than five dollars a 
 d. : in cash. I have always found it cheaper 
 to lend a maa of that build a little money 
 than to hire him. As a matter of fact, I 
 have never known a fellow who was smart 
 enoagh to think for the house days and for 
 himself nights. A man who tries that is 
 usually a pretty poor thinker, and he isn't 
 6s 
 
A MERCHANT'S LETTRRS 
 
 any 
 
 much good to either; but if there's 
 choice the honae gets the wont of It 
 
 I Blmply menOon these UtUe things in a 
 general way. If yon can taJce my word for 
 some of them yon are going to save yourself 
 a whole lot of trouble. There are others 
 which I don't speak of because life is too 
 short and because it seems to afford a fellow 
 a heap of satisfaction to pull the trigger for 
 himself to see if it is loaded; asd a lesson 
 learned at the muzzle has the virtue of never 
 being forgotten. 
 
 You report to MiUigaa at the yards at 
 eight sharp on the fifteenth. You'd better 
 figure on being here on the fourteenth, be- 
 cause MiUigan's a pretty touchy Irishman, 
 and I may be able to give you a point or two 
 that will help you to keep on his mellow 
 side. He's apt to feel a little sore at taking 
 on in his department a man whom he hasn't 
 passed on. 
 
 Your affectionate father, 
 
 John Qbaham. 
 66 
 
No, 
 
 FROM John Gr«h»m. 
 •nroutetoTejMi^to 
 PlcrrepontGrahim. 
 Mre of G-ihtffl & Co 
 Unton Stock Y«rd,, chl- 
 eifo. Mr. Pierreponthu, 
 entirely without intention. 
 c»uied4littIeeonftMionin 
 the maila, tnd it hu com* 
 «o hit father'! notice in 
 the conrie of busineu. 
 
▼I 
 
 PwvATB Cab PAENASScs,Aiig. 15,189— 
 Dear Pierrepont: Perhaps it's just as 
 well that I had to hurry last night to make 
 my train, and so had no time to tell you some 
 things that are laying mighty heavy on my 
 mind this morning. 
 
 Jim Donnelly, of the Donnelly Provision 
 Company, came into the oflSce in the after- 
 noon, with a fool grin on his fat face, to tell 
 me that while he appreciated a note which 
 he had just received in one of the firm's 
 envelopes, beginning "Dearest." and con- 
 taining an invitation to the theatre to-mor^ 
 row night, it didn't seem to have any real 
 bearing on his claim for shortage on the 
 last carload of sweet pickled uams he had 
 bought from ns. 
 
 Of course, I sent for Milligan and went 
 
 for him pretty rough for having a mailing 
 
 clerk so no-account as to be writing personal 
 
 letters in office hours, and .;:ch a blunderer 
 
 69 
 
I'll, 
 
 A SELF-MADE MERCHANT'S 
 
 aa to mix them up with the firm's corres- 
 pondence. Milligan just stood there like a 
 dumb Irishman and let me get tlirongh 
 and go back and cuss him out all over again, 
 Tdth some trimmings that I had forgotten 
 the first time, before he told me that you 
 were the fellow who had made the bull. Nat- 
 urally, I felt pretty foolish, and, while I 
 tried to pass it oflf with something about 
 your still being green and raw, the ice was 
 mighty thin, and you had the old man run- 
 ning tiddledies. 
 
 It didn't make me feel any sweeter about 
 the matter to hear that when Milligan went 
 for you, and asked what you supposed Don- 
 nelly would think of that sort of business, 
 you told him to « consider the feelings of the 
 girl who got our brutal refusal to allow a 
 claim for a few hundredwdght of hams." 
 
 I haven't any special objection to your 
 writing to girls and telling them that they 
 are the real sugar *;nred article, for, after 
 70 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 all, if jon overdo it, it's your breach-of- 
 ppomise suit, but yon must write before 
 eight or after six. I have bought the stretch 
 between those hours. Your time is money— 
 my money— and when you take half an hour 
 of it for your own purposes, that is just a 
 petty form of petty larceny. 
 
 Milligan tells me that you are quick to 
 learn, and that you can do a powerful lot of 
 work when you've a mind to; but he adds 
 that it's mighty seldojp your mind takes that 
 particular turn. Tour attention may be on 
 the letters you are addressing, or you may 
 be in a comatose condition mentally; he 
 never quite knows until the returns come 
 from the dead-letter office. 
 
 A man can't have his head pumped out 
 like a vacuum pan, or stuffed full of odds 
 and ends like a bologna sausage, and do his 
 work right. It doesn't make any difference 
 how mean and trifling Oie tiling he's doing 
 may seem, that's tiie big ihina and tiie only 
 71 
 
vu, 
 
 A SELF-MADE MERCHAN T'S 
 
 thing for him just then. Business is like 
 oil-it won't mix with anything but 
 business. 
 
 You can resolve everything in the world, 
 even a great fortune, into atoms. And the 
 fundamental principles which govern the 
 handling of postage stamps and of millions 
 are exactly the same. They are the common 
 law of business, and the whole practice of 
 commerce is founded on them. They are so 
 simple that a fool can't learn them; so hard 
 that a lazy man won't 
 
 Boys are constantly writing me for advice 
 about how to succeed, and when I send them 
 my receipt they say that I am dealing out 
 commonplace generalities. Of course I am, 
 but that'y what the receipt calls for, and if a 
 boy will take these commonplace generaJ- 
 ities and knead them into his job, the mix- 
 ture'U be cake. 
 
 Once a fellow's got the primary business 
 virtues cemented into his character, he's 
 safe to buUd on. But when a clerk crawls 
 72 
 

 " Jim Donnelly of the Donnelly Pro- 
 vision Comply came into my office with 
 afoot grin on his fat face." 
 
 *fff 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 into the office in tht morning like a rick set- 
 ter pup, and leaps from his stool at night 
 with the spring of a tiger, I'm a little afraid 
 that if I sent him off to take charge of a 
 branch house he wouldn't always be around 
 when customers were. He's the sort of a 
 chap who would hold back the sun an hour 
 every morning and have it gain two every 
 afternoon if the Lord would give him the 
 same discretionary powers that He gave 
 Joshua. And I have noticed that he's the 
 fellow who invariably takes a timekeeper 
 as an insult He's pretty numerous in busi- 
 ness offices; in fact, if the glance of the 
 human eye could affect a clockface in the 
 same way that a man's country cousins af- 
 fect their city welcome, I should have to buy 
 a new timepiece for the office every morning. 
 I remember when I was a boy, we used to 
 have a pretty lively camp-meeting every 
 summer, and Elder Hoover, who was ac- 
 counted a powerful exhorter in our parts, 
 would wrastle with the sinners and the 
 
 73 
 
 H 
 
I'll 
 
 A SELF-MADE MERCHAN T'S 
 backsliders. There waa one old chap in the 
 town-Bill Budlong-who took a heap of 
 pride in being the simon pure cuss. Bill 
 was always the last man to come up to the 
 mourners' bench at the camp-meeting and 
 the first one to backslide when it was over. 
 Used to brag around about what a hold 
 Satan had on him and how his sin was the 
 original brand, direct from Adam, put up 
 In cans to keep, and the can-opener lost. 
 Eoc Hoover would get the whole town safa 
 in the fold and then have to hold extra meet- 
 ings for a couple of days to snake in that 
 miserable Bill; but, in the end, he always 
 got religion and got it hard. For a month or 
 two afterward, he'd make the chills run 
 down the backs of us children in prayer- 
 meeting, telling how he had probably been 
 the triflingest and omeriest man alive before 
 he was converted. Thf^n, along toward hog- 
 killing time, he'd backslide, and go around 
 bragging that he was standing so close to 
 74 
 
He kept thlB up for about ten yea«, get 
 ting vainer and vainer of hi, staying qn^ 
 
 2ZT "' """"""' "^«° '^^ ^' '- ' ad 
 rounded up all the likeliest Mnners in the 
 
 bunch he announced that the meetings were 
 over for that year. 
 
 BinTT r "^ ''''^''•■'•^'^°« -"^ than 
 B,ll when he heard that there wasn't goW 
 
 to be any extra session for him. He got up 
 a.d «a.d he reckoned another meeting wouW 
 
 old Sataa loosening; but Doc Hoover was 
 
 d^on told off to wrastle wl«. hi^ but 
 Doc wouldn't listen to that. Said he'd been 
 wasting time enough on him for ten years 
 to save a county, and he had just about 
 
 himself; o,at what he really needed mo« 
 
 than religion was common-sense and a con- 
 
 75 
 
A SELF-MADE MERCHANT'S 
 
 Tirf'on that time in thte world wu too valu- 
 able to be frittered away. If he'd get that 
 in his head he didn't think he'd be so apt to 
 trifle with eternity; and if he didn't get It, 
 religion wouldn't be of any special use to 
 him. 
 
 A big merchant finds himself In Doc 
 Hoover's fix pretty often. There are too 
 many likely young sinners in his office to 
 make it worth while to bother long with the 
 BUls. Very few men are worth wasting 
 time on beyond a certain pwnt, and that 
 point is soon reached with a fellow who 
 doesn't show any signs of wanting to help. 
 Naturally, a green man always comes to a 
 house in a pretty subordinate position, and 
 it isn't possible to make so much noise with 
 a firecracker as with a cannon. But you 
 can tell a good deal by what there is left of 
 the boy, when you come to inventory him on 
 the fifth of July, whether he'll be safe to 
 trust with a cannon next year. 
 76 
 
 1 
 
It Ln't the IltOe extra money that yon 
 may make for the house by learning the 
 fundamental buBlness virtues which counta 
 -0 much as It Is the effect that It has on your 
 
 ehmctera.d that of those about you, a.d 
 ^.peciany on the judgment of the old man 
 when he's casting around for the fellow to 
 AH he vacancy just ahead of you. He's 
 P^tty apt to pick some one who keeps sep^ 
 rate ledger accounts for work and for fun, 
 
 Who gives the house sixteen ounces to the 
 pound, and, on general principles, to pass 
 
 bytte one Who is late at the end Where he 
 ought to be early, and early at the end where 
 he ought to be late. 
 
 I simply mention these things in passing, 
 but. frankly, i am afraid that you have a 
 B^eakoftheBillinyou^andyouca.;;:: 
 go^ Clerk, let alone a partner, until you get 
 ^ont I try not to be narrow when rm 
 weighing up a young fellow, and to allow 
 for soakage and leakage,, ud then to 2; 
 77 
 
 i 
 
A MERCHANT'S LETTERS 
 
 in a little for good feeling; bat I don't trade 
 with a man whom I find deliberately mark- 
 ing up the weight* on me. 
 
 Thii Ig a fine country we're running 
 through, bat it's a pity that it doera't raiu 
 more hoga. It wemg to take a farmer a 
 long time to learn that the' beet way to sell 
 hia com is on the hoof. 
 
 Toar affectionate father, 
 
 John Obaham. 
 
 P. 8. I Jut had to allow Donnelly hia 
 claim on those hams, though I was dead sure 
 onr weigh t« were right, and it cost the house 
 rixty dollars. But your fool letter took all 
 the snap out of our argument I get hot 
 every time I think of it 
 
 ill: 
 
 78 
 
4- 
 
 FROM John Gnlum, 
 at the Omaha Branch 
 of Graham & Co., 
 to Pierrepont Graham, at 
 the Union Stock Yardi, 
 Chicago. Mr. Pierrepont 
 hain't found the methoda 
 of the worthy Milligin al- 
 together to hii lilcing, and 
 ne hu commented rather 
 freely on them. 
 
II 
 
 I! 
 
 if 
 
 I 
 
 
VII 
 
 Omaha, September 1, 189— 
 Dear Pierrepont : Yours of the 30tli 
 ultimo strikes me all wrong. J don't like to 
 hear yon say that you can't work under 
 MiUigan or aay other man, for it shows 
 a fundamental weakness. And '"len, too, 
 the house isn't interested in knowing how 
 you like your boss, but in how he likes you. 
 I understand all about Milligan. He's a 
 cross, cranky old Irishman with a temper 
 tied up in bow-knots, who prods his men 
 with the bnll-stick six days a week and 
 schemes to get them salary raises on the 
 seventh, when he ought to be listening to the 
 sermon; who puts the black-snake on a 
 clerk's hide when he sends a letter to Osh- 
 kosh that ought to go to Kalamazoo, and 
 begs him oflf when the old man wants to have 
 him fired for it Altogether he's a hard, 
 crabbed, generous, soft-hearted, loyal, bully 
 old boy, who's been with the house since we 
 8i 
 
4 
 
 A SELF-MADE MERCHA NT'S 
 
 took down the shnttera for the flpst time, 
 and who's going to stay with it till we put 
 them up for the last time. 
 
 But all that apart, you want to get it 
 flnnly fixed in your mind that you're going 
 to have a MiUigan over you all your life, 
 and if it isn't a Milligaa it will be a Jones 
 or a Smith, and the chances are that you'll 
 find them both harder to get along with than 
 this old fellow. And if it isn't Milligan or 
 Jones or Smith, and you ain't a butcher, but 
 a parson or a doctor, or even the Presi- 
 dent of the Uuited States, it'll be a way- 
 back deacon, or the undertaker, or the 
 machine. There isn't any such thing as 
 ^eing your own boss in this world unless 
 you're a tramp, and then there's the con- 
 stable. 
 
 Like the old man if you can, but give him 
 no cause to dislike you. Keep your self-re- 
 spect at any cost, and your upper lip stiff 
 at the same figure. Criticism can properly 
 come only from above, and whenever you 
 82 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 - 
 
 4 
 
 discover that your boss is no good you may 
 rest easy that the man who pays his salary 
 shares your secret Learn to give bacli a 
 bit from the base-burner to let the village 
 fathers get their feet on the fender and the 
 sawdust box in range, and you'll find them 
 making a little room for you in turn. Old 
 men have tender feet, and apologies are poor 
 salve for aching corns. Bemember that 
 when you're .in the right you can afford to 
 keep your temper, and that when you're in 
 the wrong you can't afford to lose it. 
 
 When you've got an uncertain cow it's all 
 O. K. to tie a figure eight in her tail, if you 
 ain't thirsty, and it's excitement you're 
 after; but if you want peace and her nine 
 quarts, you will naturally approach her 
 from the side, and say, So-boss, in about 
 the same tone that you would use if you 
 were asking your best girl to let you hold 
 her hand. 
 
 Of course, you want to be sure of your 
 natural history facts and learn to distin- 
 83 
 
It 
 
 'I' 
 
 A SELF-MADE MERCHAN T'S 
 
 gnish between a cow that's a kicker, but 
 whose intendons axe good if she's ap- 
 proached with proper respect, and a hooker, 
 who is vicious on general principles, and 
 any way you come at her. There's never 
 any use fooling with an animal of that sort, 
 brute or human. The only safe place is the 
 other side of the fence or the top of the 
 nearest tree. 
 
 When I was clerking in Missouri, a fellow 
 named Jeff Hankins moved down from Wis- 
 consin and bought a litUe clearing just out 
 side the town. Jeflf was a good talker, but a 
 bad listener, and so we learned a heap about 
 how things were done in Wisconsin, but he 
 didn't pick up much information about the 
 habits of our Missouri fauna. When it came 
 to cows, he had had a liberal education and 
 he m .le out all right, but by and by it got 
 on to ploughing time and Jeff naturally 
 bought a mule— a little moth-ea'^3n cuss, 
 with sad, dreamy eyes and droopy, wiggly- 
 woggly ears that swung in a circle as ea^ 
 84 
 
I 
 
 " Bill Badlong was always the last 
 man to come up to the mourners' bench.' ' 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 as if they ran on ball-bearings. Her owner 
 didn't give her a very good character, but 
 Jeff was too busy telling how much he knew 
 about horses to pay much attenUon to what 
 anybody WW saying about mules. So finally 
 the seller turned her loose in Jeff's lot, told 
 him he wouldn't hare any trouble catching 
 her if he approached her right, and hurried 
 off out of range. 
 
 Next morning at sunup Jeff picked out a 
 bridle and started off whistling Buffalo 
 Gals— he was a powerful pretty whistler 
 and could do the Mocking Bird with varia- 
 tions—to catch the mule and begin his 
 plowing. The animal was feeding as peace- 
 ful as a water-color picture, and she didn't 
 budge; but when Jeff began to get nearer, 
 her ears dropped ba«k along her neck as if ' 
 they had lead in them. He knew that symp- 
 tom and so he closed up kind of cautious, 
 aiming for her at right angles and gurgling, 
 "Muley, mnley, here muley; that's a good 
 mnley," sort of soothing and caressing-like. 
 85 
 
A SELF-MADE MERCHANT'S 
 
 BtiU 8he didn't stir and Jefif got right up 
 to hep and put one ann over her back and 
 began to reach forward with the bridl^ 
 when something happened. He never could 
 explain just what it was, but we judged 
 from the marks on his person that the mule 
 had reached forward and kicked tie seat of 
 his trousers wiUi one of her prehensile hind 
 feet; and had reached back and caught him 
 on the last button of his waistcoat with one 
 of her limber fore feet; and had twisted 
 around her elastic neck and bit off a mouth- 
 ful of his hair. When Jeff regained con- 
 sciousness, he reckoned that the only really 
 safe way to approach a mule was to drop on 
 it from a balloon. 
 
 I simply mention this little incident as an 
 example of the fact that there are certain 
 animals with which the Lord didn't intend 
 white men to fool. And you will find that, 
 as a rule, the human varieties of them are 
 not the fellows who go for you rough-shod, 
 Uke Milligan, when you're wrong. It's when 
 86 
 
 ■ 
 
 I!; -!• 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 you come across one of those gentlemen who 
 have more oil in their composition than any 
 two-legged animal has a right to have, that 
 you should be on the lookout for concealed 
 deadly weapons. 
 
 I don't mean that you should dlBtrast a 
 man who is affable and approachable, but 
 you want to learn to distinguish between 
 him and one who is too affable and too ap- 
 proachable. The adverb makes the differ- 
 ence between a good and a bad fellow. The 
 bunco men aren't all at the county fair, and 
 they don't all operate with the little shells 
 and the elusive pea. When a packer haa 
 learned all that there is to learn about quad- 
 rupeds, he knows only one-eighth of his 
 business; the other seven-eighths, and the 
 important seven-eighths, has to do with the 
 study of bipeds. 
 
 I dwell on this because I am a little dis- 
 appointed that you should have made such 
 a mistake in sizing up Milllgan. He isn't 
 the brightest man in the ofllce, but he la 
 87 
 
_A SELF-MADE MERCHANT 'S 
 loyal to me and to the house, and when you 
 have been in burinew as long aa I have you 
 will be Inclined to put a pretty high value 
 on loyalty. It is the one commodity tliat 
 hasn't any market value, and it's the one 
 that you can't pay too much tor. You can 
 trust any number of men with your mon^, 
 but mighty few with your reputation. Half 
 the men who are with the house on pay day 
 are against it the other six. 
 
 A good many young 'ellows come to me 
 looking for jobs, and start in by telling me 
 what a mean house they have been working 
 for; what a cuss to get along with the senior 
 partner was; and how little show a bright, 
 progressive clerk had with him. I never 
 get veiy far with a critter of that claas, be- 
 cause I know that he wouldn't like me or 
 the house if he came to work for ns. 
 
 I don't know anything that a young busi- 
 
 nese man ought to keep more entirely to 
 
 Limself than his dislikes, unless it is his 
 
 likes. It's generally expensive to have either, 
 
 88 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 bnt it'8 bankruptcy to tell about them. If. 
 an right to Bay nothing about the dead but 
 
 good, but it's better to apply the rule to the 
 living, and especially to the house which 1. 
 paying your salary. 
 
 Just one word before I close, as old Doc 
 Hoover used to say, when he was coming 
 nto the stretch, but still a good ways off 
 from the benediction. I have noticed that 
 you are inclined to be a little chesty and 
 Btarchy around the olHce. Of course, it's 
 g«»d business, when a fellow hasn't much 
 behind his forehead, to throw out his chest 
 and attract attention to his shirt-front. But 
 as you begin to meet the men who have done 
 something that makes them worth meeting 
 you will find that there are no " keep off the 
 grass » or « beware of the dog " signs around 
 their premises, and that they don't motion 
 to the orchestra to play slow music while 
 they talk. 
 
 Superiority makes every man feel its 
 equal. It is courtesy without condescen- 
 89 
 
f 
 
 A MERCHANTS LETT ERS 
 ■Ion; affability withont familiarity; «lf. 
 •nfflclency without .elflrtnew; aimpliclty 
 without mlde. It weigh. Bixteen ounces 
 to the pound without the package, and It 
 doesn't need a four-colored label to make it 
 to. 
 
 We are coming home from here. I am a 
 little disappointed in the shewing that this 
 house has been making. Pound for pound 
 It is not getting nearly so much out of Its 
 hogs as we are In Chicago. I don't know 
 Mt where the leak is, but If they don't do 
 better next month I am coming back here 
 with a shotgun, and there's going to be a 
 pretty heavy n.ortality among our head men. 
 Your affectionate father, 
 
 John Gbaham. 
 
 90 
 
No. 6 
 
 
 FROM John Gnhim, 
 It Hot Spring!, Ar- 
 ktniu, to his ion, 
 Ficrrcpont, at the Union 
 Stock Yard) in Chicago. 
 Mr Picrrepont hu juit 
 been promoted irom the 
 mailing to the billing deik 
 and, in coniequence, hii 
 father ia feeling rather 
 "mellow" toward him. 
 
 i 1 
 
,i ;r 
 
 "^■■y^-:/-.T 
 
i*"';*!^«t£5 
 
 VIII 
 
 Hot Springs, January 15, 189— 
 Dear Pierrepont: They've run me 
 through the scalding vats here till they've 
 pretty nearly taken all the hair off my hide, 
 but that or something else h^ loosened up 
 my joints so that they don't squeai any more 
 when I walk. The doctor says he'll have 
 my rheumatism cured in thirty days, so I 
 guess you can expect me home in about a 
 fortnight For he's the breed of doctor that 
 IS always two weeks ahead of his patients' 
 condition when they're poor, and two weeks 
 behind it when they're rich. He calls him- 
 self a specialist, which means that it costs 
 me ten doUars every time he has a look in 
 at my tongue, against two that I would pay 
 the family doctor for gi-atifying his curi- 
 osity. But I guess this specialist business 
 Js about the only outlet for marketing the 
 ' arplus of young doctors. 
 Efi^inda me of the time when we wen 
 93 
 
 ' i 
 
 I mm 
 
 m 
 
i 
 
 t 
 
 14 1 
 
 A SELF-MADE MERCHANT'S 
 piling up canned corned beef in stock faster 
 than people would eat it, and a big drought 
 happened along in Texas aad began driyfng 
 he canners in to the packing-house quicker 
 than we could tuck them away in tin. Jim 
 Durham tried to "stimulate the consump- 
 tion as he put it, by getting out a nice little 
 
 booklet called, "A Hundred Dainty Dishes 
 from a Cm," and telling how to work off 
 corned beef on the family in various dis- 
 gmses; but, aft«r he had schemed out ten 
 different combinations, the other ninety 
 
 turned out to be corned-beef hash. So that 
 was no usei 
 
 But one day we got together and had a 
 mce, fancy, appetizing label printed, and 
 we didn't economize on the gHt-a picture 
 of a steer so fat that he looked as if he'd 
 break his legs if they weren't shored up 
 pretty quick with props, and with blue rib- 
 bons tied to his horn.. We labeled it "Blue 
 Ribbon Beef-For Fancy Family Trade" 
 Wid chained an extra fen cents a dozen for 
 94 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 the cans on which that speciaJ label was 
 pasted. Of course, people just naturally 
 wanted it 
 
 There's nothing helps convince some men 
 that a thing has merit like a little gold on 
 the label. And it's pretty safe to bet that if 
 a fellow needs a six or seven-syllabled word 
 to describe his profession, he's a com doctor 
 when you come to look him up in the dic- 
 tionaiy. And then you'll generally find him 
 in the back part of the book where they tuck 
 away the doubtful words. 
 
 But that isn't what I started out to say. 
 I want to tell you that I was very, very glad 
 to learn from your letter that you had been 
 promoted to the billing desk. I have felt 
 all along that when you got a little of the 
 nonsense tried out of you there would be a 
 residue of common-sense, and I am glad to 
 have your boss back up my judgment 
 There's two things you just naturally don't 
 expect from human nature— that the 
 Widow's tombstone estimate of the departed, 
 95 
 
Jfi^M 
 
 on which she is trying to conyince the neigh- 
 
 IZTT "''*'■ "'"^^ J*"'^«-«"* tJ^-t he 
 went to Hearen, and the father's estimate 
 of the son, on which he is tiding to pass him 
 along ,nto a good salary, will be conserra- 
 
 .1^"^ *''* ^'^^"^ '°*^ ""y '°J»d and 
 spiked down wheri I hired the widow's son a 
 few years ago. His name waa Clarence 
 Clarence St. Clair Hick^aM his father 
 used to keep books for me when he wasn't 
 picking the winners at Washington Park or 
 figuring out the batting averages of the Chi- 
 cago* He was one of those quick men who 
 always have their books posted up half an 
 hour before closing time for three weeks of 
 the month, and spend the evenings of the 
 fourth hunting up the eight cents that they 
 are out on the trial balance. When he died 
 lus ^fe found that his life insurance had 
 lapsed the month before, and so she brought 
 Clarence down to the office and aaked me to 
 give him a job. 
 
 96 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 Clarence wasn't exactly a pretty boy; in 
 fact, he looked to me like another of his 
 father's bad breaks; but his mother seemed 
 to think a heap of him. I learned that he 
 would have held the belt in his Sunday- 
 school for long-distance verse-reciting if the 
 mother of one of the other boys hadn't fixed 
 the superintendent, and that it had taken a 
 general conspiracy of the teachers in his 
 day-school to keep him from walking off 
 with the good-conduct medal. 
 
 I couldn't just reconcile those statements 
 with Clarence's face, but I accepted him at 
 par and had him passed along to the head 
 errand boy. His mother cried a little when 
 she saw him marched oflP. aud asked me to 
 see that he was treated kindly and wasn't 
 bullied by the bigger boys, because he had 
 been " raised a pet." 
 
 A number of unusual things happened in 
 
 the offices that morning, and the head office 
 
 boy thought Clarence might be able to ex- 
 
 plain some of them, but he had an alibi 
 
 97 
 
.««-*3'jira-*fe.* 
 
 ISiS^&ia^il^-. 
 
 mm 
 
 A SELF-MADE MERCHANT'S 
 
 ready every tim^-eren when a bookkeeper 
 found the yault filled with cigarette smoke 
 and Clarence in it hunting for something he 
 couldn't describe. But as he was a new boy 
 no one waa disposed to bear down on him 
 very hard, so his cigarettes were taken 
 away from him and he was sent back to his 
 bench with . warning that he had used up 
 all his explanations. 
 
 Along toward noon,a big Boston customer 
 came in with his little boy-a nice, plump, 
 stall-fed youngster, with black velvet pants 
 and hair that was just a little .jiger thaa 
 was safe in the stock-yards district. And 
 while we were talking business, the kid wan- 
 dered oflf to the coat-room, where the errand 
 boys were eating lunch, which was a pretty 
 desperate pla«e for a boy with velvet pants 
 on to go. 
 
 As far aa we could learn from Willie 
 when he came out of his convulsions, the 
 boys had been very polite to him and had in- 
 sisted on his joining in a new game which 
 98 
 
 r,i!W^'^^ 
 
6^; m .-'■ 
 
 " Clarence looked to 
 me like another of bis 
 father's bad breaks," 
 
i 
 
 M: If 
 

 LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 Clarence had just inventea, cared pajlng 
 pig-sticker. And, because he was company, 
 Clarence told him. that he could be the pig 
 Willie didn't know just what being the pig 
 meant, but, as he Md his father, it didn't 
 sound very nice and he waa afraid he 
 wouldn't like it. So he tried to pass along 
 the honor to some one else, but Clarence 
 insisted that it was " hot stuff to be the pig " 
 and before Willie could rightly judge what 
 was happening to him, one end of a rope had 
 been tied around his left ankle and the 
 other end had been passed over a transom 
 bar, and he was dangling headforemost in 
 the air, while Clarence threatened his jugu- 
 lar with a lath sword. That was when he 
 let out the yell which brought his father and 
 me on the jump and scattered the boys all 
 over the stock yards. 
 
 Willie's father canceled his bologna con- 
 tract and marched off muttering something 
 about "degrading surroundings brutalizing 
 the young;" and Clarence's mother wrote 
 99 
 
■^f.. --^ 
 
 A SELF-MADE MERCHAN T'S 
 me that I was a bad old man who had held 
 her husband down all his life and now 
 wouldn't give her son a show. For, nat- 
 urally, after that little Incidenti I had told 
 the boy who had been raised a pet that he 
 had better go back to the menagerie. 
 
 I ^mply mention Clarence in passing as 
 an instance of why I am a litUe slew to trust 
 my judgment on my own. I ^av . always 
 found that, whenever I thought a heap of 
 anything I owned, there was nothing liJce 
 getting the other fellow's views expressed 
 in figures; and the other fellow is usually a 
 pessimist when he's buying. The lady on 
 the dollar is the only woman who hasn't any 
 sentiment in her make-up. And if you reaJly 
 want a look at the solid facts of a thing yon 
 must strain off the sentiment first. 
 
 I put you under Milligan to get a view of 
 you through his eyes. If he says that you 
 are good enough to be a billing clerk, and to 
 draw twelve dollars a week, I guess there's 
 no doubt about it For he's one of those 
 100 
 
3m 
 
 LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 " 
 
 men that never show any real enthusiasm 
 except when they're cussing. 
 
 Naturally, it's a great saUsfaction to see 
 a streak or two of business ability beginning 
 to show under the knife, because when it 
 comes closing time for me it will make it a 
 heap easier to know that some one who bears 
 the name will take down the shutters in the 
 morning. 
 
 Boys are a good deal like the pups that 
 fellows sell on street comer»-they don't 
 always turn out as represented. You buy 
 a likely setter pup and raise a spotted coach 
 dog from it, and the promising son of an 
 honest butcher is just as like as not to turn 
 out a poet or a professor. I want to say 
 In passing that I have no real prejudice 
 against poets, but I believe that, if you're 
 going to be a Milton, there's nothing like 
 being a mute, inglorious one, as some fello^v 
 who was a little sore on the poetry business 
 once put it Of course, a packer who un- 
 derstands something about the versatility of 
 
 lOI 
 
■ ,-1 <' 
 
 A SELF-MADE MERCHAN T'S 
 cottonseed oil need never turn down orden 
 for lord because the run of hogs is light, and 
 a father who understands human nature can 
 turn out an imitation parson from a boy 
 whom tie Lord intended to go on the Board 
 of Trade. But on general principles it's 
 best to give your cottonseed oil a Latin name 
 and to market it on its merits, and to let 
 your boy follow his bent, even if it leads him 
 into the wheat pit If a fellow hjw got 
 poetry in him it's bound to come out sooner 
 or later in the papers or the street cars; and 
 the longer you Iceep it bottled up the harder 
 it comes, and the longer it takes the paUent 
 to recover. There's no eaaier way to cure 
 foolishness than to give a man leave to be 
 foolish. And the only way to show a fel- 
 low that he's chosen the wrong business is 
 to let him try it. If it really is the wrong 
 thing you won't have to argue with him to 
 quit, and if it isn't you haven't any right to. 
 Speaking of bull-pups that turned out to 
 be terriers naturally calls to mind the case 
 
 I02 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 of my old friend Jeremiah Simpklns' son. 
 There isn't a sollder man in the Boston 
 leather trade than Jeremiah, nor a bigger 
 scamp that the law can't touch than his son 
 Kwa. There isn't an ounce of real mean- 
 ness in Ezra's whole body, but he's just 
 naturally and unintentionally a maverick. 
 When he came out of college his father 
 thought that a few years' experience in the 
 hide department of Graham & Co. would be 
 a good thing for him before he tackled the 
 leather business.. So I wrote to send him on 
 and I would give him a job, supposing, of 
 course, that I was getting a yearling of the 
 steady, old, reliable Simpklns strain. 
 
 I was a little uneasy when Ezra reported, 
 because he didn't just look as if he had had 
 a call to leather. He was a tall, spare iVew 
 Englander, with one of those knobby fore- 
 heads which has been pushed out by the 
 overcrowding of the brain, or bulged by the 
 thickening of the skull, according as yon 
 like or dislike the man. His manners were 
 103 
 
A SELF-MADE MERr HATvrT'cj 
 
 easy or familiar by the same standard. He 
 tow me right at the start that, while he 
 didn t know just what he wanted to do he 
 was dead sure that it wasn't the leather 
 business. It seemed that he had said the 
 same thing to his father and that the old 
 man had answered, "Tut, tut," and told 
 him to forget it and to learn hides 
 
 Simpkins learned all that he wanted to 
 know about the packing industry in thirty 
 days, and I learned all that I wanted to 
 know about Ezra in the same time. Pork- 
 packing seemed to be the only thing that he 
 wasn t interested in. I got his resignation 
 one day just five minutes before the one 
 which I was having written out for him waa 
 •*ady ; for I will do Simpkins the justice to 
 ^y that there was nothing slow about him 
 He and his father split up, temporarily, over 
 It, and, of course, it cost me the old man's 
 trade and friendship. I want to say right 
 here that the easiest way in the world to 
 make enemies is to hire friends. 
 104 
 
I lost sight of Simpkins for a while, and 
 then he turned up at the office one morning 
 as friendly and familiar as ever. Said he 
 was a reporter and wanted to interview me 
 on the December wheat deal. Of course I 
 wouldn't t»Ik on that, but I gave him a litUe 
 fatherly advice-told him he would sleep in 
 a ha^l bedroom all his life if he didn't quit 
 his foolishness and go back to his father, 
 though I didn't really believe it He thanked 
 me and went off and wrote a column about 
 what I might have said about December 
 wheat, and somehow gave the impression 
 that I had said it 
 
 The uext I heard of Simpkins he was 
 dead. The Associated Press dispatches an- 
 nounced it, the Cuban Junta confirmed it 
 and last of all, a long dispatch from Simp- 
 kins himself detailed the circumstance-, lead- 
 mg up to the " atrocity," as the headlines in 
 his paper called it 
 
 I got a long wire from Ezra's father ask- 
 ing me to see the managing editor and get 
 I OS 
 
A SELF-MADE MERCHANT'S 
 
 at the facts for him. It seemed that the 
 paper had thought a heap of Simpkins, and 
 that he had been sent out to Cuba as a cor- 
 respondent, and stationed with the Insur- 
 gent army. Simpkins in Cuba had evidently 
 lived up to the reputation of Simpkins in 
 Chicago. When there waa any news he 
 sent it, and when there wasn't he just made 
 news and sent that along. 
 
 The first word of his death had come in 
 his own letter, brought across on a filibuster- 
 ing steamer and wired on from Jacksonville. 
 It told, with close attention to detail- 
 something he had learned since he left me 
 —how he had strayed away from the little 
 band of insurgents with which he had been 
 out scouting and had blundered into the 
 Spanish lines. He had been promptly made 
 a prisoner, and, despite his papers proving 
 his American citizenship, and the nature of 
 his job, and the red cross on his sleeve, he 
 had been tried by drumhead court martial 
 and sentenced to be shot at dawn. All this 
 1 06 
 
^''W. 
 
 LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 he had written out, and then, that his ac- 
 count might be complete, he had gone on 
 and imagined his own execution. This was 
 written in a sort of pigeon, or perhaps you 
 would call it black Spanish, English, and 
 let on to be the work of the eyewitness to 
 whom Simpkins had confided his letter. He 
 had been the sentry over the prisoner, and 
 for a small bribe in hand and the promise of 
 a larger one from the paper, he had turned 
 his back on Simpkins while he wrote out 
 the story, and afterward had deserted and 
 carried it to the Cuban lines. 
 
 The account ended : « Then, as the order 
 to fire was given by the lieutenant, Seflor 
 Simpkins raised his eyes toward Heaven and 
 cried : ' I protest in the name of my Amer- 
 ican citizenship ! ' " At the end of the letter, 
 and not intended for publication, waa 
 scrawled: "This is a bully scoop for you, 
 boys, but it's pretty tough on me. Goor'-by. 
 Simpkins." 
 The managing editor dashed a tear from 
 107 
 
A SELF-MADE MERCHAN T'S 
 
 Ms eye when he read this to me, and gulped 
 a little as he said : « I can't help it; he waa 
 
 such a d d thoughtful boy. Why, he 
 
 even remembered to inclose descriptions for 
 the pictures!" 
 
 Simpkins' last story covered the whole of 
 the front page and three columns of the sec- 
 ond, and it just naturally sold cords of 
 papers. His editor demanded that the State 
 Department take it up, though the Spau- 
 iards denied the execution or any previous 
 knowledge of any such person as this Seflor 
 Simpkins. That made another page in the 
 paper, of course, and then they got up a 
 memorial service, which was good for three 
 columns. One of those fellows that you can 
 And in every olfice, who goes around and 
 makes the boys give up their lunch money 
 to buy flowers for the deceased aunt of the 
 cellar boss' wife, managed to collect twenty 
 dollars among our clerks, and they sent a 
 floral notebook, with « Gone to Press," done 
 1 08 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 in blue irimortelles on the cover, as their 
 " tribute ' 
 
 I put on a plug hat and attended the 
 service out of respect for his father. But I 
 had hardly got back to the office before I 
 received a wire from Jamaica, reading: 
 " Cable your correspondent here let me have 
 hundred. Notify father all hunk. Keep it 
 dark from others. Simpkins." 
 
 I kept it dark and Ezra came back to life 
 by easy stages and in such a way as not to 
 attract any special attei Jon to himself. He 
 managed to get the impression around that 
 1 ■ been snatched from the jaws of death 
 Oj ^ rescue party at the last moment. The 
 last I heard of him he was in New York aiid 
 drawing ten thousand a year, which was 
 more than he could have worked up to in 
 the leather business in a century. 
 
 Fifty or a hundred years ago, when there 
 was good money in poetry, a man with 
 Simpkins' imagination would naturally 
 109 
 
A MERCHANT'S LETTERS 
 
 have been a bard, as I beUeve they used to 
 call the top-notchers; and, -once he was 
 turned loose to root for himself, he instinc- 
 tively smelled out the business where he 
 could use a litUe poetic license and made a 
 hit in it 
 
 When a pup has been born to point par- 
 tridges there's no use trying to run a fox 
 with him. I was a little uncertain about 
 you at first, but I guess the Lord intended 
 you to hunt with the pack. Get the scent 
 in your nostrils and keep your nose to the 
 ground, and don't worry too much about 
 the end of the chase. The fun of the thing's 
 in the run and not in the finish. 
 
 Your affectionate father, 
 
 John Obaham. 
 
 no 
 
I No.9 I 
 
 FROM John Grahim, 
 at Hot Springs, Ar- 
 kansas, to his son, 
 Pierrepont, at the Union 
 Stock Yards in Chicago. 
 Mr. Pierrepont has been 
 investing more heavily in 
 roses than his lather thinks 
 his means warrant, and he 
 tries to turn his thoughu 
 to staple groceries. 
 
 '=i} 
 
Iw 
 
IZ 
 
 Hot Springs, January 30, 189— 
 Dear Pierrepont: I knew right off that I 
 had made a mistake when I opened the in- 
 closed and saw that it was a bill for fifty- 
 two dollars, « for roses sent, as per orders, 
 to Miss Mabel Dashkam." I don't just place 
 Miss Dashkam, but if she's the daughter of 
 old Job Dashkam, on the open Board, I 
 should say, on general principles, that she 
 was a fine girt to let some other fellow 
 marry. The la«t time I saw her, she in- 
 ventoried about 110,000 as she stood— al- 
 lowing that her diamonds would scratch 
 glass— and that's more capital than any 
 woman has a right to tie up on her back, I 
 don't care how rich her father is. And 
 Job's fortune is one of that brand which 
 foots up to a million in the newspapers and 
 leaves the heirs in debt to the lawyers who 
 settle the estate. 
 Of coarse I've never had any real ezperi- 
 "3 
 
A SELF-MADE MERCHA NT'S 
 ence In tWa .parking buainew, except with 
 your Ma; but I've watched from the other 
 Bide of the fence while a heap of fellows 
 were getting it, and I should say that marry. 
 Ing a woman like Mabel Dashkam would be 
 the first step toward becoming a grass wid- 
 ower. I'll bet if you'll tell her you're mak- 
 ing twelve a week and ain't going to get any 
 more till, you earn it, you'll find that you 
 can't push within a mile of her even on a ' 
 Soo icebreaker. She's one of those women 
 with a heart like a stock-tlcker-it doesn't 
 beat over anything except mon^. 
 
 Of course you're in no position yet to 
 think of being engaged even, and that's why 
 I'm a little afraid that you may be planning 
 to get married. But a twelve-dollar clerk, 
 who owes flfty-two dollars for roses, needs 
 a keeper more than a wife. I want to say 
 right here that there always come a time 
 to the fellow who blows flfty-two dollars at 
 a lick on roses when he thinks how many 
 staple groceries he could have bought with 
 114 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 the money. After all, there-B no fool like 
 a young fool, because in the nature of thlngi 
 he's got a long time to live. 
 
 I suppose I'm fanning the aJr when I ask 
 you to be guided by my judgment in this 
 matter, because, while a young fellow will 
 consult his father about buying a horse, he's 
 cock-sure of himself when it comes to pick- 
 ing a wife. Marriages may be made in 
 Heaven, but most engagements are made in 
 the ba«k parlor with the gas so low that a 
 fellow doesn't really get a square look at 
 what he's taking. While a man doesn't see 
 much of a girl's family when he's courting, 
 he's apt to see a good deal of it when he's 
 housekeeping; and while he doesn't marry 
 his wife's father, there's nothing in the mar- 
 riage vow to prevent the old man from bor- 
 rowing money of him, and you can bet if 
 he's old Job Dashkam he'll do it A man 
 can't pick his own mother, but he can pick • 
 his son's mother, and when he chooses a 
 father-in-law who plays the bucket shops, 
 lis 
 
A SELF-MADE MERCHANT'S 
 
 he needn't be .nrpriwd If hi. own wn pl». 
 the ra«e«, "^ 
 
 Never marry a poor girl who'a been railed 
 like a rich one. She-B simply traded the 
 Tirtuea of the poor for the vlcea of the rich 
 without going long on their good points. 
 To marry for money or to marry without 
 money 1. a crime. There's no real objection 
 to marrying a woman with a fortune, but 
 there is to manying a fortune with a 
 woman. Money makes the mare go, and it 
 makes her cut up, too, unless she's used to it 
 and you drive her with a snaffle-bit. 
 
 WUle yon are at it, there's nothing like 
 picking out a good-looking wife, because 
 even the handsomest woman looks homely 
 sometimes, and so you get a little variety; 
 but a homely one can only look worse than 
 usual. Beauty is only skin deep, but that's 
 deep enough to satisfy any reasonable man. 
 (I want to say right here that to get any 
 sense out of a proverb I usuaJly find that I 
 have to turn it wrong side out) Then, too^ 
 ii6 
 
 w 
 
^nw4 
 
 LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 If a fellow's bound to marry a fool, and a 
 lot of men hare to If thej're going to hitch 
 up into a well-matched team, there>« nothing 
 like picking a good-looking one. 
 
 I simply mention them things ic a grai- 
 eral way, because it seems to me, from the 
 gait at which you're starting off, that you'll 
 likely find yourself roped and branded any 
 day, without quite knowing how it hap- 
 pened, and I want you to understand that 
 the gir' who marries you for my money is 
 getting a package of green goods in more 
 ways than one. I think, though, if you 
 really understood what marrying on twelve 
 a week meant, you woul'i iave bought a bed- 
 room set instead of roses with that "fifty-two 
 you owa 
 
 Speaking of marrying the old man's 
 money by proiy naturally takes me back to 
 my old t»wn in Missouri and the case of 
 Chauncey Witherspoon Hoskins. Chaun- 
 cey's father was the whole village, barring 
 the railroad station and the saloon, and, of 
 117 
 
A SELF-MADE MERCH ANT'S 
 
 cou„eChanncey thought that he was some- 
 
 wL' '"''"''"'''"• «°»»e^««.butnot 
 jnst the '.md that Chauncey thought he waa. 
 He 8t«od about flye foot three te his pumps, 
 had a nice pinky complexion, pretty wavy 
 hair, and a curly mustache. All he needed 
 was a blue ribbon around his neck to make 
 you call, « Here, FIdo," when he came into 
 the room. 
 
 Still I beliere he must have been pretty 
 popular with the ladies, because I can't 
 think of him to this day without waaUng 
 to punch his head. At the church sociables 
 he used to hop around among them, chipping 
 and chirping like a dicky-bird picking up 
 seed; and he wa« a great hand to play the 
 piano, and sing saddish, sweetish songs to 
 them. Always said the smooth thing aad 
 aaid it easy. Never had to choke and swal- 
 low to fetch it up. Never stepped through 
 his partner's dress when he began to dance 
 or got flustered when he brought her refresh- 
 ments and poured the coffee in her lap to 
 Ii8 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 cool instead of in the saucer. We boys who 
 couldn't walk across the floor without feel- 
 ing that our pants had hiked up till they 
 showed our feet to the knees, and that we 
 were carrying a couple of canvased bams 
 where our bands ought to be, didn't like 
 him; but the girls did. You can trust a 
 woman's taste on everything cept men; 
 and it's mighty lucky that she slips up th^re 
 or we'd pretty nigh all be bachelors. I 
 might add that you can't trust a man's taste 
 on women, either, and that's pretty lucky, 
 too, because there are a good many old maids 
 in the world as it is. 
 
 One time or another Chauncey lolled in 
 the best room of every house in our town, 
 and we used to wonder how he managed to 
 browse up and down the streets that way 
 without getting into the pound. I never 
 found out till after I married your Ma, and 
 she told me Chauncey's heart secrets. It 
 really wasn't violating any confidence, be- 
 cause he'd told them to every girl in town. 
 119 
 
A SELF-MADE MERCHANT'S 
 
 Seems he used to get terribly sad as soon 
 as he was left alone with a girl and began 
 to hint about a tragedy in his past— some- 
 thing that had blighted his whole life and 
 left him without the power to love again— 
 and lots more slop from the same pail. 
 
 Of course, every girl in that town had 
 known Chauncey pince he wore short pants, 
 and ought to have known that the nearest to 
 a tragedy he had ever been was when he sat 
 in the top gallery of a Chicago theatre and 
 saw a lot of barnstormers play Othello. But 
 some people, and especially very young peo- 
 pie, don't think anything's worth believing 
 unless it's hard to believa 
 
 Chauncey worked along these lines until 
 he was twenty-four, and then he made a mis- 
 take. Most of the girls that he had grown 
 up with had married oflf, and while he was 
 waiting for a new lot to come along, he 
 began tw shine up to the widow Sharpless, 
 a powerful, well-preserved woman of forty 
 or thereabouts, who had been bom with her 
 120 
 
J£rTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 eye-teeth cut. He found her uncommon 
 sympathetic. And when Chauncey finally 
 came out of hi. trance he was the stepfather 
 of the widow's four children. 
 
 She was very kind to Chaunceyf and 
 treated him like one of her own sons; but 
 she was very, very firm. There was no gal- 
 livanting off alone, and when they went out 
 m double harness strangers used to annoy 
 him considerable bj patting hin. on the 
 head and saying to his wife: "What a 
 bright-looking chap your son is, Mrs. Hos- 
 kins!" 
 
 She was almost seventy when Chauncey 
 buried her a while back, and they say that 
 he began to take notice again on iie way 
 home from the funeral. Anyway, he 
 crowded his mourning into sixty days-«nd 
 I reckon there was plenty of room in them 
 to hold all his grief without stretching- 
 and his courting into another sixty. And 
 four months after date he presented his 
 matrimonial papers for acceptance. Said 
 III 
 
A SELF-MADE MERCHANT'S 
 
 he was tired of this mother-and-son foolish- 
 ness, and wasn't going to leave any room for 
 doubt this time. Didn't propose to have 
 people sizing his wife up for one of his an- 
 cestors any more. So he married Lulu 
 Littlebrown, who was just turned eight- ftn. 
 Chauncey was over fifty then, and wizened 
 up like a late pippin that has been out over^ 
 night in an early frost 
 
 He toot Ln to Chicago for the honey- 
 moon, and Mose Greenebaum, who happened 
 to be going up to town for his fall goods, got 
 into the parlor car with them. By and by 
 the porter came around and stopped beside 
 Chauncey. 
 
 "Wouldn't your daughter like a pillow 
 under her head? " says he. 
 
 Chauncey just groaned. Then— "Git; 
 you Senegambian son of darkness!" And 
 the porter just naturally got 
 
 MoBe had been taking it all in, and now 
 he went back to the smoking-room and 
 passed the word along to the drummers 
 122 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 there. Every little while one of them would 
 lounge up the aisle to Chauncey and ask if 
 he couldn't lend his daughter a magazine, 
 or give her an orange, or bring her a drink 
 And the language that he gave back in re- 
 turn for these courtesies wasn't at all fitting 
 in a bridegroom. Then Mose had another 
 happy thought, and dropped off at a way 
 station and wired the clerk at the Palmer 
 House. 
 
 When they got to the hotel the clerk was 
 on the lookout for them, and Chauncey 
 hadn't more than signed his name before he 
 reached out over his diamond and said: 
 " Ah, Mr. Hoskins; would you like to have 
 your daughter near you? " 
 
 I simply mention Chauncey in passing 
 aa an example of the foolishness of thinking 
 you can take any chances with a woman 
 w^o has really decided that she wants to 
 marry, or that you can average up matri- 
 monial mistakes. And I want you to re- 
 member that marrying the wrong girl is 
 123 
 
A MERCHANT'S LETT ERS 
 
 the one mistake that you've got to live with 
 an your life. I think, though, that if you 
 tell Mabel what your assetg are, she'll de- 
 cide she won't be your particular mistaka 
 Your affectionate father, 
 
 John Gbaham. 
 
 124 
 
No. 10 
 
 FROM John Graham, 
 at the Union StocJc 
 Yarda in Chicago, 
 to his ion, Pierrepont, at 
 the Commercial House, 
 Jeffersonville, Indiana. 
 Mr. Pierrepont has betn 
 promoted to the position 
 of traveling salesman for 
 the hotue, and has started 
 out on the road. 
 
"^^^ .t ."^ 
 
• 
 
 Chicago, March 1, 189— 
 Dear Pierrepont: When I saw you irtart 
 off yesterday I was just a little uneasy; 
 for yon looked so blamed important and 
 chesty that I am inclined to think yon will 
 tell the first customer who says he doesn't 
 like OUT sausage that he knows what he can 
 do about it Repartee makes reading lirely 
 but business dull. And what the house' 
 needs is more orders. 
 
 Sausage is the one subject of all others 
 that a fellow in the packing business ought 
 to treat solemnly. Half the people in the 
 world take a joke seriously from the start, 
 and the other half if yon repeat it often 
 enough. Only last week the head of our 
 sausage department started to put out a 
 tin-tag brand of frankfurts, but I made him 
 take it off the market quicker than light- 
 ning, because I knew that the first fool who 
 Baw the tin-tag would ask if that was the 
 127 
 
tin 
 
 u\ 
 
 A SELF-MADE MERCH ANT'S 
 license. And, though people would grin a 
 UtUe at flMt, they'd begin to look wrfous 
 after a while; and whenerer the butcher 
 tried to sell them our brand they'd imagine 
 they heard the bark, and ask for « that real 
 country sausage » at twice as much a pound. 
 He laughs best who doesn't laugh at all 
 when he's dealing with the public. It has 
 been my experieiice that, eren when a man 
 has a sense of humor, it only really carries 
 him to the point where he will join in a 
 laugh at the expense of the other fellow. 
 There's nothing in the world sicker-looking 
 than the grin of the man who's trying to 
 join in heartily when the laugh's on him, 
 and to pretend that he likes it 
 
 Speaking of sausage with a registered 
 pedigree calls to mind :. little experience 
 that I had last year. A fellow came into 
 the office here with a shriveled-up toy 
 spaniel, one of those curly, hairy little fel- 
 lows that a woman will kiss, and then 
 grumble because a fellow's mustache tickles. 
 128 
 
" Tou botid so Hamid important anil 
 eitity when you star ted off." 
 
■m-:^iwessik . 
 
-. 
 
 Said he wanted to Bell him. I wasn't really 
 
 d^po^ to add a dog to my troubles. bTo" 
 IJeneral principles I asked hln. what " 
 . wanted for the litUe cuss. " ^'"'* " 
 
 The fellow hawed and choked and r^ h.J 
 away a tear. Finally, he fetched out tl 
 he loved the dog Hke a son, and that It bX 
 haheart to think Of parting with hlm.rha 
 
 afto he had named the price he was asking 
 
 Zr^Z'T '*"* " ^"^ ""^ 'ecord-breaking! 
 
 dogs; that It wasn't really money he wa* 
 
 alr^w .* ^""^ ^'"^^ '°'- *»»« "tt'e ehap. 
 Said that I had a rather pleasant face and 
 he knew that he could trust me to t,«it 
 
 i^'.'^'^r^'— gift-he wouiii: 
 
 me hare him for five hundred 
 "Cents?" says I. ' 
 "Dollars." says he. without blinking 
 
 says 1.°"^" *" ^ " """"'^ ^* "•** P''^^'" 
 
 "H you thought more of quality," says 
 129 
 
A SELF-MADE MERCHA NT'S 
 
 he, in a tone of sort of dignified reproof, 
 "and 1688 of quantity, yonr brand would 
 enjoy a better reputation." 
 
 I was pretty hot, I can tell you, but I 
 had laid myself open, so I just said: "The 
 sausage business is too poor to warrant our 
 paying any such price for light-weights. 
 Bring around a bigger dog and then we'll 
 talk;" but the 'fellow only shook his head 
 sadly, whistled to Dandy, and walked off. 
 
 I simply mention this rttle incident as 
 an example of the fact that when a man 
 cracks a joke in the Middle Ages he's apt to 
 aflfect the sausage market in the Nineteenth 
 Century, and to lay open an honest butcher 
 to the jeers of every dog-stealer in the street 
 There's such a Oiing as carrying a joke too 
 far, and the fellow who keeps on pietending 
 to believe that he's paying for pork and 
 getting dog is pretty apt to get dog in the 
 end. 
 
 But all that aside, I want you to get it 
 firmly fixed in yocr mind right at the start 
 13Q 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 I 
 
 that this trip is only an experiment, and 
 that I am not at all snre you were cut out 
 by the Lord to be a drummer. But you can 
 flgnre on one thing-that you will never 
 become the pride of the pond by starting out 
 to cut figure eights before you are firm on 
 your skates. 
 
 A real salesman is one-part talk and nine- 
 parts judgment; and he uses the nine-parte 
 of judgment to tell when to use the one-part 
 of talk. Goods ain't sold under Marquess 
 of Queensberry rules any more, and you'll 
 find that knowing how many rounds the Old 
 'Un can laat against the Boiler-Maker won't 
 really help you to load up the junior partner 
 with our Corn-fed brand hams. 
 
 A good many salesmen have an idea that 
 buyers are only interjsted in baseball, and 
 funny stories, and Tom Lipton, and that 
 business is a side line with them; but as a 
 matter of fact mighty few men work up to 
 the position of buyer through giving up their 
 office hours to Ustening to anecdotes. I 
 »3i 
 
A SELF-MADE MERCH ANT'S 
 
 nerer saw one that liked a dnunmer'B jokes 
 more thaa an eighth of a cent a pound on 
 a tieree of lard. What the house really 
 sends you out for is orders. 
 
 Of course, you want to be nice and mel- 
 low with the trade, but always remember 
 that mellowness carried too far becomes 
 rottenness. You can buy some fellows with 
 a cheap cigar pd some with a cheap com- 
 pliment, and there's no objection to giving 
 a man what he likes, though I nerer knew 
 smoking to do anything good except a ham, 
 or flattery to help any one except to make a 
 fool of himself. 
 
 Real buyers ain't interested in much be- 
 sides your goods and your prices. Never 
 run down your competitor's brand to thm, 
 and never let them run down yours. Don't 
 get on your knees for business, but don't 
 hold your nose so high in the air that an 
 order can tratel under it without your see- 
 ing it You'll meet a good many people on 
 132 
 

 t>i«'X■"t'2afita^■ 
 
 LETTERS TO HIS SOM 
 
 the road that yon won't like, bnt the hon«e 
 
 needs their bnsiness. 
 Some fellows will tell yon that we play 
 
 the hose on onr dry salt meat before we ship 
 
 t, and that it shrinks in transit like a Bax 
 ter St^t Jew's all-wool snits in a ra^n 
 Btom; that they wonder how we mana^t" 
 P-k solid grisue in two-pound eans^tl 
 
 ttatrTV""'"''^*''^^"«*«"'-<^ 
 ttat the last car of lard was so strong 
 
 that ,t came back of its own accord from 
 ^ery retailer they shipped it f«. The first 
 
 fellow mil be lying, and the second will be 
 exaggerating, and the third may be telling 
 
 thetmth. With him yon mnst settle on the 
 spot; bnt always remember that a man 
 who 8 making a claim ne^er nnderestimateB 
 ^B case, a^d that you ca. generally compr,. 
 
 -^f^sometMng less than the first figure. 
 With the second you must sympathize, and 
 say that the matter will be reports tThead- 
 quarters and the boss of the canning-room 
 
A SELF-MADE MERCHANT 'S 
 
 called up on the carpet and made to promise 
 that it will never happen again. With the 
 first you needn't bother. There's no use 
 feeding expensive "hen-food" to an old 
 Dominick that suets ^gs. The chances are 
 that the car weighed out more than it was 
 billed, and that the fellow played the hose 
 on it himself and added a thousand pounds 
 of cheap salt before he jobbed it out to his 
 trada 
 
 Where you're going to sUp up at first is 
 in knowing which is which, but if you don't 
 learn pretty quick you'll not travel very far 
 for the house. For your own satisfaction I 
 will say right here that you may know you 
 are in a fair way of becoming a good drum- 
 mer by three things: 
 
 First— When you send ua Orders. 
 
 Second— More Orders. 
 
 Third— Big Orders. 
 
 If you do this you won't have a great deal 
 of time to write long letters, and we won't 
 have a great deal of time to read them, for 
 »34 
 
^wmm: 
 
 9m^^. 
 
 LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 we will be Teiy, very busy here maJcing and 
 shipping the goods. We aren't specially in- 
 terested in orders that the other fellow gets. 
 or in knowing how it happened after it ha* 
 happened. " yon like life on the road you 
 
 your address every day and yonr orders. 
 They Will tell ns all that we want to knX 
 about "the situation." 
 I wa« cured of sending information t« the 
 
 on the first trip which I made on the road! 
 I was traveling out of Chicago for Hammer 
 & Hawkins, wholesale dry-goods, gents' fur- 
 nishingH and notions. They started me out 
 to round up trade in the river towns down 
 is-gypt ways, near Cairo. 
 
 I hadn't more than made my first town 
 and siz^ „p the population before I began 
 to fe«l happy, because I saw that business 
 ought to be very good there. It appeared as 
 If everybody in that town needed something 
 in my line. The clerk of the hotel where I 
 
A SELF-MADE MERCHAN T'S 
 
 registered wore a dicky and his cuffs were 
 tied to his neck by pieces of string run up 
 his sleeves, aad most of the merchants on 
 Mala Street were In their shlrt^sleeve^-at 
 least those that had shirts were-and so far 
 as I could judge there wasn't a whole pair 
 of galluses among them. Some were using 
 wire, some a little rope, and others just faith 
 -buckled extra tight Pride of the Prairie 
 XXX flour sacks seemed to be the nobby 
 thing in boys' suitings there. Take it by and 
 large, if ever there was a towa which looked 
 as if it had a big, short line of dry-goods, 
 gents' furnishings and notions to cover, It 
 was that one. 
 
 But when I caught the proprietor of the 
 general store during a lull in the demand 
 for navy plug, he wouldn't even look at my 
 samples, and when I began to hint that the 
 people were pretty omeiy dressers he reck- 
 oned that he "would paste me one if I 
 wam't so young." Wanted to know what I 
 meant by coming swelling around in song- 
 136 
 
expense of people who made their livin, 
 honesu,. Allowed that whe. it can^e ^ 
 
 J-o^us get „pm. Clothes were the o^; 
 mat end-man's gag. 
 
 I noticed on the way back to the hotel 
 that every fellow holding „p a hitching^s 
 was lauehinff nnH t >, """sposi 
 
 down thes^r^t for th T "" '"' "^ "^^ 
 srrcet for the joke, not nndersfanrt 
 
 -« at fl.t that the reason Why /« 
 ^ *» learn that, while the Prince of 
 
 U'^ZZ''^"^ "" '""^^ "••"« ^'^ hate, 
 n s safer when you're out of his sphere of 
 -flnence to follow the styles that the hot^ 
 ^erk sete; that the place to sell clothes^ 
 
 >n the cxty, Where every one seems to have 
 Plenty of them; a.d that the place to Z 
 
 mess pork is in the county, Where evezy 
 one keeps hogs. That is why when a fellow 
 comes to me for advice about moving to a 
 new country, where there are more oppor- 
 tunities, I advise him-if he is built right 
 137 
 
A MERCHANT'S LETTERS 
 
 —to go to an old city where there is more 
 money. 
 
 I wrote in to the honae p -- 7 often on 
 that trip, explaining how it ,v , going over 
 the whole situation very cai 'uUy, and tell- 
 ing what our competitors were doing, wher- 
 ever I could And that they were doing any- 
 thing. I 
 
 I gave old Hammer credit for more curi- 
 osity than he possessed, because when I 
 reached Cairo I found a telegram from him 
 reading: "Know what our competitors are 
 doing: they are getting all the trade. But 
 what are you doing? " I saw then that the 
 time for explaining was gone and that the 
 moment for resigning had arrived; so I just 
 naturally sent in my resignation. That is 
 what we will expect from you— or orders. 
 Your affectionate father, 
 
 John Ghabam. 
 
 138 
 
jA.^hJI 
 
 FROM John Graham. 
 :*■ the Union Stock 
 Vardi in Chicago, 
 to hii ion. Pierrepont, at 
 The Planters' Palace 
 Hotel, at Big Gap, Ken- 
 tuclcjr. Mr. Pierreponf. 
 orders are small and his 
 expenses are large, so his 
 
 father feels pessimistic 
 over his 
 
fVr^ 
 
 !l ! 
 
ZI 
 
 Ohicaoo, April 10, 189— 
 
 JlT ^,!^'^*' You ought to be feeling 
 Eighty thankful to-day to the fellow yZ 
 nvent«l fractions, because while your se« 
 
 ing cost for last .onth was Within the ilt 
 
 tTn^^K^* """'"• ^--'e In the posi- 
 tion of the boy who was chased by the buU- 
 
 open to congratulations because he reached 
 
 'ellow up a tree. In the middle of a forty- 
 
 J^ 10, With a disappointed bull for I 
 Pany, is m a mighty bad fix. 
 
 I don't want to bear down hard on you 
 
 nght at the beginning Of your life on ^he 
 road, but I would feel a good deal ha^p L 
 over your showing if y„„ ^„,,^ ^^f ^ 
 ^ownright failure or a clean-cut sutes^ 
 once ,n a while, instead of always ZJ 
 B^-nt,,„„^h this way. It looks'^.T 
 
 a- tf you were trying only half as hard as 
 141 
 
 iy\ 
 
MldOCOPY nSOWTION TBT CHmKT 
 
 (ANSI end ISO TEST CHART No. 2) 
 
 1.0 
 
 Itt L£ 12.2 
 
 ■luu 
 
 lisl 
 
 JALi 
 
 ^ /APPLIED IIVMLdb Inc 
 
 j^^ 1653 East Main Street 
 ^^^ RochMlar. Naw York 14609 USA 
 -^="-^ (716) *e2 - 0300 - Phon« 
 Jggyi^B (716) 2Se - 5989 - Fa» 
 
A SELF-MADE MERCHANT'S 
 
 you could, and in trying it's tlie Becond half 
 tliat brings results. If tliere's one piece of 
 knowledge that is of less use to a fellow 
 than knowing when he's beat, it's knowing 
 (.hen he's done just enough work to keep 
 from being fired. Of course, you are bright 
 enough to be a half-way man, and to hold a 
 half-way placet on a half-way salary by 
 doing half the work you are capable of, but 
 you've got to add dynamite and ginger and 
 jounce to your equipment if you want to get 
 the other half that's coming to you. You've 
 got to believe that the Lord made the first 
 hog with the Graham brand burned in the 
 skin, and that the drove which rushed down 
 a steep place was packed by a competitor. 
 You've got to know your goods from A to 
 Izzard, from snout to tail, on the hoof and 
 in the can. You've got to know 'em like a 
 young mother knows baby talk, and to be 
 as proud of 'em as the young father of a 
 twelve-pound boy, without really thinking 
 that you're stretching it four pounds. 
 142 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 You've got to believe in yourself and make 
 your buyers take stock in you at par and 
 accrued interest. You've got to have the 
 scent of a bloodhound for an order, and the 
 grip of a bulldog on a customer. You've got 
 to feel the same personal solicitude over a 
 bill of goods that strays ofiP to a competitor 
 as a parson over a backslider, and hold 
 special services to brin^ it back into the 
 fold. You've got to get p every morning 
 with determination if you're going to go to 
 bed with satisfaction. You've got to eat 
 hog, think hog, dream hog-in short, go the 
 whole hog if you're going to win out in the 
 pork-packing business. 
 
 That's a pretty liberal receipt, I know, 
 but it's intended for a fellow who wants to 
 make a good-sized pie. And the only thing 
 you ever find in pastry that yon don't put 
 in yourself is flies. 
 
 You have had a wide-open chance during 
 the last few months to pick up a good deal 
 about the practical end of the business, and 
 H3 
 
A SELF-MADE MERCHA NT'S 
 
 between trips now you ought to spend every 
 spare minute in the packing-house getting 
 posted. Nothing earns better interest than 
 judicious questions, and the man who in- 
 vests in more knowledge of the business 
 than he has to have in order to hold his 
 job has capital with which to buy a mort- 
 gage on a bettei? one. 
 
 I may be mistaken, but I am just a little 
 afraid that you really did not get beyond a 
 bowing acquaintance with Mr. Porker when 
 you were here at the packinghouse. Of 
 course, there isn't anything particularly 
 pretty about a hog, but any animal which 
 has its kindly disposition and benevolent 
 inclination to yield up a handsome margin 
 of profit to those who get close to it, is 
 worthy of a good deal of respect and atten- 
 tion. 
 
 I ain't one of those who believe that a half 
 
 knowledge of a subject is useless, but it 
 
 has been my experience that when a fellow 
 
 has that half knowledge he finals it's the 
 
 144 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 oth^ half which would really come in 
 h^dy. So, .,hen a man's in the selling 
 end of th. business what he really needs to 
 know IS the manufacturing end; and when 
 he 8 in the factory he can't know too much 
 about the trade. 
 
 You're just about due now to run into a 
 smart Aleck buyer who'll show you a sample 
 of lard which he'll say was made by a com- 
 petitor, and ask what you think the grand 
 jury ought to do to a house which had the 
 nerve to label it « leaf." Of couree, you will 
 nose around it and look wise and say that, 
 while you hesitate to criticize,you are afraid 
 It would smell like a hot-box on a freight 
 If any one tried to fry doughnuts in it. 
 That ,s the place where the buyer will call 
 for Jack and Charlie to get in on the laugh, 
 and when he has wiped away the tears he 
 will f«ll yon that it is your own lard, and 
 prove it to you. Of course, there won't be 
 anything reaJly the matter with it, and if 
 yon had been properly posted you would 
 H5 
 
A SELF-MADE MERCHAN T'S 
 
 ' have looked snrprised when he showed it to 
 you and have said : 
 
 "I don't quite diagnose the case your 
 way, Mr. Smith ; that's a blamed sight better 
 lard than I thougLt Muggins & Co. were 
 making." And you'd have driven a spike 
 right through that fellow's litUe joko and 
 have nailed dowii his order hard and tight 
 with the same blow. 
 
 What you know is a club for yourself, 
 and what you don't know is a meatax for 
 the other fellow. That is why you want to 
 be on the lookout all the time for informar 
 Uon about the business, and to nail a fact 
 just as a sensible man nails a mosquito— 
 the first time it settles near him. Of course, 
 a fellow may get another chance, but the 
 odds are that if he misses the first opening 
 he will lose a good deal of blood before he 
 gets the second. 
 
 Speaking of finishing up a subject as yon 
 go along naturally calls to mind the case of 
 Josh Jenkinson, back in my home town. 
 146 
 

 ^.^ 
 
 mwIZ^?"^-""" '""'''' '" " "'tie feed 
 "' """y "ved "I was tobacco." 
 
i 
 
 ii. t— . 
 
 
 if^-'^Z 
 
 
'Wm^ 
 
 LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 
 As I first remember Josh, he was just bone 
 and by-products. Wasn't an ounce of real 
 meat on him. m fact, he was so blamed 
 thin that when he bought an outfit of clothes 
 lus wife used to make them over into two 
 smts for him. Josh would eat a little food 
 now and then, just to be sociable, but what 
 he really lived on was tobacco. Usually 
 kept a chew in one cheek and a cob pipe in 
 the other. He was a powerful hand for a 
 joke and had one of those porous heads and 
 movable scalps which go with a sense of 
 humor in a smaJl village. Used to scare n« 
 boys by drawing in on his pipe and letting 
 the smoke sort of leak out through his eyes 
 and ears and nose. Pretended that he was 
 the dcTil and that he was on fire inside. Old 
 Doc Hoover caught him at it once and told 
 ns that he wasn't, but allowed that he was 
 a blood relation. 
 
 Elder Hoover was a Methodist off the tip 
 of the sirloin. There weren't any evasions 
 or generalities or metaphors in his religion. 
 H7 
 
The lower layers of the hereafter weren't 
 Hades or Gehenna with him, but just plain 
 Hell and mighty hot, too, you bet His 
 creed was built of sheet iron and bolted to- 
 «e her with inch rivets. He kept the Are 
 going under the boiler night and day, and 
 he was so blam,ed busy stoking it that ho 
 didn't hare much time to map out the golden 
 streets. When he blew off it was super- 
 heated steam and you could see the sinners 
 who were in range fairly sizzle and parboil 
 and shrivel up. There was no give in Doc; 
 no compromises with creditors; no fire saloi. 
 He wasn't one of those elders who would let 
 a fellow dance the lancers if he'd swear off 
 on waltzing; or tell him it wa« all right to 
 play whist in the parlor if he'd give up 
 penny-ante at the Dutchman's; or wink at 
 his smoking if he'd quit whisky. 
 
 Josh knew this, so he kept away from 
 
 the camp-meeting, though the Elder gunned 
 
 for him pretty steady for a matter of five 
 
 years. But one summer when the meetinga 
 
 148 
 
_ LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 were extra interesting, it g„t «. l.nesome 
 sitting around with the whole town off in 
 the woodB that Josh sneaked out to th« edge 
 of the camp and hid behind soiuo butuea 
 where he could hear what was goi.g on. 
 The elder was carrying about two hundred 
 and fifty pounds, by the gauge, that day, 
 and with that pressure he naturally trayeli 
 Into the slnnere pretty fast The first thing 
 Josh knew he was out from under coyer and 
 P hallelujahing down between the seats to 
 the mourners' bench. When the elder saw 
 what was coming he turned on the forced 
 draft. Inside of ten minutes he had Josh 
 under conviction and had taken his pipe 
 and p..ug away from him. 
 
 I am just a little inclined to think that 
 Josh would have backslid if he hadn't been 
 a practical joker, and a critter of that breed 
 IS about as afraid of a laugh on himself as 
 a raw colt of a steam roller. So he stuck it 
 out, and began to take an interest in meal 
 time. Kicked because it didn't come eight 
 149 
 
A SELF-MADE MERCHANTS 
 or ten times a day. The flm thing he knew 
 he had fatted up till he filled out hia half 
 •nit and had to put It away in camphor 
 Then he bonght a whole guit, living-nkeleton 
 
 'r- ^''**«^«ek8 he had strained a shonl. 
 fler Beam and looked a» if he waa wearing 
 tighta. So ho retired It from circulation 
 and moved up iaize. That one waa a lltUe 
 
 loose and it took him a good month to 
 crowd it. 
 
 kept right on bulging out, building on u, 
 addition here and putting out a bay window 
 there all the time retiring new suits, until 
 Us wife had fourteen of them laid away In 
 the chest 
 
 Said it didn't worry him; that he waa 
 bound to lose flesh sooner op later. That 
 he would catch them on the way down, and 
 wear them out one at a time. Bui, when he 
 got up to three hundred and fifty pounds 
 he just stuck. Tried exercise and dieting 
 and foreign waters, but he couldn't budge 
 150 
 
_ LETTERS TO HTS SON 
 
 «n ounce. I„ the end he had to give the 
 clothes to the Widow Doolan. who had fd 
 wen song in aworted sizeB. 
 I .Imply mention Josh in pa«ing ac an 
 
 example of the /act that a fellow cun't bank 
 on getting a chance to go back and take np 
 a thing that he has passed over once, anJ 
 to caJl yonr attention to the fact that a man 
 who knows his own business thoroughly will 
 And an opportunity sooner or later of reach- 
 lug the most hardened cuss of a buyer on his 
 route and of getting a share of his. 
 
 I want to caution you right here against 
 learning all there is to know about pork- 
 packing too quick. Business is a good deal 
 like a nigger's wool-it doesn't look very 
 deep, but there are a heap of kinks and 
 curves in it 
 
 When I was a boy and the fellow in pink 
 tights came into the ring, I used to think 
 he was doing all that could be reasonably 
 expected when he kept eight or ten glass 
 balls going in the air at once. But the 
 
A SELF-MADE MERCHAN T'S 
 
 beautiful lady in the blue tights would keep 
 right on handing him thing»-kero«ene 
 lamps and carving knives and miscellaneous 
 cutlery and crockery, and he would get them 
 going, too, without losing his happy smile. 
 The great tiouble with most young feUows 
 18 that they think they have learned all they 
 need to know and have given the audience 
 Its money's worth when they can keep the 
 glass balls going, and so they balk at tue 
 kerosene lamps and the rest of the imple- 
 ments of light housekeeping. But there's 
 no real limit to the amount of ertras a fel- 
 low with the right stuff in him will taie on 
 without losing his grin. 
 
 I want to see you come up smiling; I 
 want t» feel yon in the business, not only 
 on pay day but every other day! I want to 
 know that you are running yourself full 
 time and overtime, stocking up your brain 
 so that when the demand comes you will 
 have the goods to offer. So far, you pmmise 
 to make a fair to ordinary salesman among 
 
 IJ2 
 
LETTERS TO HI S^OM 
 
 our retail trade. I want to see you grow 
 >nto a car-lot man-so strong and big^at 
 you will force us to see thnf ^ 
 of place among the little fellows. Buck up! 
 Your affectionate father, 
 
 John Gbaham. 
 
 '53 
 
IE 
 
 No. 12 
 
 FROM John Graham, 
 at the Union Stock 
 Yards in Chicago, 
 to his son, Pierrepont, at 
 Little Uelmonico's, Prairie 
 Centre, Indiana. Mr. 
 Pierrepont has annoyed 
 his father by accepting his 
 criticisms in a spirit of 
 gentle, but most repre- 
 hensible, resignation. 
 
XII 
 
 Chicago, April IB, 189— 
 Dear Pierrepont: Don't ever write me an- 
 other of those sad, sweet, gentle snfiferer 
 letters. It's only natural thut a colt should 
 kick a trifle when he's first hitched np to 
 the break wagon, and I'm always a little sus- 
 picious of a critter that stands too quiet 
 under the whip. I know it's not meekness, 
 but meanness, that I've got to fight, and It's 
 hard to tell which is the worst 
 
 The only animal which the Bible calls 
 patient is an ass, and that's both good doc- 
 trine and good natural history. For I had 
 to make considerable -f a study of the Mis- 
 souri mule when I was a boy, and I discov- 
 ered that he's not really patient, but that 
 he only pretends to be. You can cuss 
 him out till you've nothing but holy 
 thoughts left in you to draw on, and you 
 can lay the rawhide on him till he's striped 
 like a circus zebra, and if you're cautious 
 ^57 
 
all the t,me that mule Will be getting meaner 
 
 T """^'^ "'''^'' ''^^'-S compound Tss- 
 
 fZ "'"^ "'''•*^ '''^^«' -d praetiZ 
 drop kicks in his stall after dark * 
 
 But my observation has taught me that the 
 ';2h «' ^- - the front half, and 
 
 shmd-sideflrst I suppose that you could 
 trao. one to travel that way, but it reall. 
 doesn't seem worth while when good road'- 
 sters are so cheap. 
 
 That's the way I feel about these young 
 fellows who la.y along trying to turn in at 
 7? gate where there seems t» be a little 
 shade, and sulking and balking whenever 
 yonsay«git.ap»tothem. They are the 
 men who are always howling that Bill 
 Bmith was promoted because he had a pull 
 and that they are being held down becaus^ 
 158 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 the manager is jealous of them. I've seen a 
 good many pulls in my time, but I never 
 saw one strong enough to lift a man any 
 higher than he could raise himself by his 
 boot straps, or long enough to reach through 
 the cashier's window for more money than 
 its owner earned. 
 
 When a fellow brags that he has a pull, 
 he's a liar or his employer's a fool. And 
 when a fellow whines that he's being held 
 down, the truth is, as a general thing, that 
 his boss can't hold him up. He just picks 
 a nice, soft spot, stretches out flat on his 
 back, and yells that some heartless brute 
 has knocked him down and is sitting on his 
 chest. 
 
 A good man is as full of bounce as a cat 
 with a small boy and a bull terrier after 
 him. When he's thrown to the dog from 
 the second-story window, he fixes while he's 
 sailing through the air to land right, and 
 when the dog jumps for the spot where he 
 hits, he isn't there, but in the top of the 
 
 ^59 
 
A SELF-MADE MERCHANT'S 
 
 tree acro88 the street. He's a good deal IfSe 
 the little red-headed cuss that we saw In 
 the football game you took me to. Every 
 time the herd stampeded it would start in 
 to trample and paw and gore him. One 
 minute the whole bunch would be on top 
 of him and th^ next he would be loping off 
 down the range, spitting out hair and pieces 
 of canvas jacket, or standing on one side as 
 cool as a hog on ice, watching the mess un- 
 snarl and the removal of the cripples. 
 
 I didn't understand football, but I under- 
 stood that little sawed-ofif. He knew his 
 business. And when a fellow knows his 
 business, he doesn't have to explain to peo- 
 ple that he does. It isn't what a man knows, 
 but what he thinks he knows that he brags 
 about Big talk means little knowledge. 
 
 There's a vast diflP^rence between having 
 a carload of miscellaneous facts sloshing 
 around loose in your head' and getting all 
 mixed up in transit, and carrying the same 
 assortment properly boxed aad crated for 
 i6o 
 
 WL 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 convenient handling and immediate de- 
 livery. A Iiam never weighs ho much as 
 when it's half cured. When it has soaked 
 in all the picl^le that it can, it has to sweat 
 out most of it in the smoke-house before it 
 is any real good; and when you've soaked 
 up all the information you can hold, you 
 will have to forget half of it before you will 
 be of any real use to the house. If there's 
 anything worse than knowing too little, it's 
 knowing too much. Education will broaden 
 a narrow mind, but there's no known cure 
 for a big head. The best you can hope is 
 that it will swell up and bust; and then, of 
 course, there's nothing left Poverty never 
 spoils a good man, but prosperity often does. 
 It's easy to stand hard times, because that's 
 the only thing you can do, but in good times 
 the fool-killer has to do night work. 
 
 I simply mention these things in a general 
 
 way. A. good many of them don't apply to 
 
 you, no doubt, but it won't do any harm 
 
 to maJce sure. Most men get cross-eyed 
 
 i6i 
 
A SELF-MADE MERCHANT'S 
 
 when thej come to size themselres up, and 
 ■ee an angel instead of what they're trying 
 to look at There'8 nothing that tells the 
 truth to a woman like a mirror, or that lies 
 harder to a man. 
 
 What I am sure of is that you have got 
 the Bulks too q\iiek. If you knew all that 
 you'll have to learn before you'll be a big, 
 broad-gauged merchant, you might have 
 something to be sulky about 
 
 When you've posted yourself properly 
 about the business you'll have taken a step 
 in the right direction— you will be able to 
 get your buyer's attention. All the other 
 steps are those which lead you into his con- 
 fldenca 
 
 Eight here you will discover that you are 
 in the fix of the young fellow who married 
 his best girl and took her home to live with 
 his mother. He found that the only way in 
 which be could make one happy was by 
 making the other mad, and that when he 
 tried to make them both happy he only suc- 
 162 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 ceeded in mailng them both mad. Naturally, 
 In the end, hia wife divorced him and his 
 mother disinherited him, and left her mon^ 
 to an orphan asylum, because, as she sen- 
 Bibly observed in the codicil, "orphans can 
 not be ungrateful to their parents." But if 
 the man had had a little tact he would have 
 kept them In separate houses, and have let 
 each one think that she was getting a trifle 
 the best of it, without really giving it to 
 either. 
 
 Tact is the knack of keeping quiet at the 
 right time; of being so agreeable yourself 
 that no one can be disagreeable to you; of 
 making inferiority feel like equality. A 
 tactful man can pull the stinger from a bee 
 without getting stung. 
 
 Some men deal in facts, and call Bill 
 Jones a liar. They get knocked down. 
 Some men deal in subterfuges, and say that 
 Bill Jones' father was a kettle-rendered liar, 
 and that his mother's mait-n name was 
 Sapphira, and that any one who beUevee in 
 163 
 
 niv^ 
 
A SELF-MADE MERCHANT'S 
 
 the Darwinian theory should pity rather 
 than blame their son. Thej get diiliked. 
 Bat your tactful man says that gince Baron 
 Munchausen no one has been so chuck full 
 of bully reminiscenctw as Bill Jones; and 
 when that comes back to Bill he is half 
 tickled to deaths because he doesn't know 
 that the higher criticism has hurl the 
 Baron's reputation. That man gets the 
 trade. 
 
 There are two kinds of information : one 
 to which everybody's entitled, and that is 
 taught at school; and one which nobody 
 ought t» know except yourself, and that Is 
 what you think of Bill Jones. Of course^ 
 where you feel a man is not square you will 
 be armed to meet him, but never on his own 
 ground. Make Mm be honest with you if 
 you can, but don't let him make you dis- 
 honest with him. 
 
 When yon make a mistake, don't make 
 the second one — ^keeping It to yourself. 
 Own up. The time to sort out rotten eggs 
 164 
 
 1^ 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 ta at the neat The deeper you hide them in 
 the caae the longer they stay In circulation, 
 and the worse imprearion they maJke when 
 they finally come to the breakfaat-table. A 
 mistake sprouts a lie when you coyer It up. 
 And one lie breeds enough distrust to choke 
 out the prettiest crop of confidence that a 
 fellow ever cultivated. 
 
 Of course, it's easy to have the confidence 
 of the house, or the confidence of the buyer, 
 but you've got to have both. The house pays 
 you your salary, and the buyer helps you 
 earn it. If you skin the buyer you will 
 lose your trade; and if you play tag with 
 the house you will lose your job. You've 
 simply got to walk the fence straight, for 
 if you step to either side you'll find a good 
 deal of air under you. 
 
 Even after you are able to command the 
 attention and the confidence of your buyers, 
 you've got to be up and dressed all day to 
 hold what trade is yours, and twisting and 
 turning all night to wriggle into some of 
 165 
 
.IT" 
 
 '.%^. 
 
 ■f 
 I 
 
 ' 
 
 A SELF-MADE MERCHA NT'S 
 
 the other fellow's. When business is good, 
 that is the time to force it, because it will 
 come eaay; and when it is bad, that is the 
 time to force it, too, because we will need 
 the orders. 
 
 Speaking of making trade naturally calls 
 to my mind my old acquaintance, Herr 
 Doctor Paracelsus Von Munsterberg, who, 
 when I was a boy, came to our town " fresh 
 from his healing triumphs at the Courts of 
 Europe," as his handb'lls ran, « not to make 
 money, but to confer on suffering mankind 
 the priceless boon of health; to make the 
 sick well, and the well better." 
 
 Munsterberg wasn't one of your common, 
 coarse, county-fair barkers. He was a pretty 
 high-toned article. Had nice, curly black 
 hair and didn't spare the bear's grease. 
 Wore a silk hat and a Prince Albert coat all 
 the time, except when he was orating, and 
 then he shed the coat to get freer action 
 with his arms. And when he talked he used 
 the whole language, you bet 
 i66 
 
 ?!S^'«®^ 
 
" Herr Doctor Par act bus ^on Mun- 
 itirtergwas a prettj high-toned article." 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 Of course, the Priceless Boon waa put up 
 in bottles, labeled Munsterberg's Miraculous 
 Medical Discovery, and, sim y to introduce 
 it, he was willing to sell the small size at 
 fifty cents and the large one at a dollar. In 
 addition to being a philanthropist the Doc- 
 tor was quite a hand at card tricks, played 
 the banjo, sung coon songs and imitated a 
 saw going through a board very creditably. 
 All these accomplishments, and the story 
 of how he cured the Emperor of Austria's 
 sister with a single bottle, drew a crowd, 
 but they didn't sell a drop of the Discovery. 
 Nobody in town was really sick, and those 
 who thought they were had stocked up the 
 week before with Quackenboss' Quick Qui- 
 nine Kure from a fellow that made just as 
 liberal promises as Munsterberg and sold 
 the large size at fifty cents, including a 
 handsome reprodi'ction of an old master for 
 the parlor. 
 
 Some fellows would just have cussed a 
 little and have moved on to the next town, 
 167 
 
A SELF-MADE MERCHANT'S 
 
 but Munstepberg made a beautiful speech, 
 praising the climate, and saying that in his 
 humble capacity he had been privileged to 
 meet the strength and beauty of many 
 Courts, but never had he been in any place 
 where strength was stronger or beauty beau- 
 tifuller than rigl^t here in Hoskins' Comers. 
 He prayed with all his heart, though it 
 y^Ba almost too much to hope, that the chol- 
 era, which was raging in Kentucky, would 
 pass this Eden by; that the yellow fever, 
 Ti'hich waa devastating Tennessee, would 
 halt abashed before this stronghold of 
 health, though he felt bound to add that it 
 was a peculiarly malignant and persistent 
 disease; that the smallpox, which was creep- 
 ing southward from Canada, would smite 
 the next town instead of onrs, though he 
 must own that it was no respecter of per- 
 sons; that the diphtheria and scarlet-fever, 
 which were sweeping over New England 
 and crowding the graveyards, could be kept 
 from crossing the Hudson, though they were 
 i68 
 
:^IIP 
 
 LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 great travelers and it was well to be pre- 
 pared for the worst; that we one and all 
 might providentially escape chills, head- 
 aches, coated tongue, pains in the back, loss 
 of sleep and .'••it tir&l feeling, but it was 
 almost too much to ask, even of such a gen- 
 erous climate. In any -vent, he begged us 
 to beware of worthless nostrums and base 
 imitations. It made him sad to think that 
 to-day we were here and that to-morrow 
 we were running up an undertaker's bill, all 
 for the lack of a small bottle of Medicine's 
 greatest gift to Man. 
 
 I could see that this speech made a lot of 
 women in the crowd powerful uneasy, and I 
 heard the Widow Judkins say that she was 
 afraid it was going to be " a mighty sickly 
 winter," and she didn't know as it would do 
 any harm to have some of that stuff in the 
 house. But the Doctor didn't offer the 
 Priceless Boon for sale again. He went 
 right from his speech into an imitation of a 
 dog, with a dn can tied to Ms tail, running 
 169 
 
A SELF-MADE MERCHANT'S 
 
 down Main Street and crawling under Si 
 Hooper's store at the far end of it— an imi- 
 tation, he told us, to which the Sultan was 
 powerful partial, " him being a cruel man 
 and delighting in torturing the poor dumb 
 beasts which the Lord has given us to love, 
 honor and cherish." 
 
 He kept this sojrt of thing up till he judged 
 it waa our bedtime, and then he thanked us 
 " one and all for our kind attention," and 
 said that as his mission in life was to amuse 
 as well as to heal, he would stay over till 
 the next afternoon and give a special 
 matinee for the litUe ones, whom he loved 
 for the sake of his own golden-haired Willie, 
 back there over the Rhine. 
 
 Naturally, all the women and children 
 turned out the next afternoon, though the 
 men had to be at work in the fields and the 
 stores, and the Doctor just made us roar for 
 half an hour. Then, while he was singing 
 an uncommon funny song, Mrs. Brown's 
 Johnny let out a howl. 
 170 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 The Doctor stopped short. « Bring the 
 poor little sufferer here, Madam, and let me 
 see if I can soothe his agony," says he. 
 
 Mrs. Brown was a good deal embarrassed 
 and more scared, but she pushed Johnny, 
 yelling all the time, up to the Doctor, who 
 began tapping him on the back and looking 
 down his throat. Naturally, this made 
 Johnny cry all the harder, and his mother 
 was beginning to explain that she « reckoned 
 she must hare stepped on his sore toe," 
 when the Doctor struck his forehead, cried 
 "Eureka."', whipped out a bottle of the 
 Priceless Boon, and forced a spoonful of it 
 into Johnny's mouth. Then he gave the boy 
 three slaps on the back and three taps on 
 the stomach, ran one hand along his wind- 
 pipe, and took a small button-hook out of 
 his mouth with the other. 
 
 Johnny made all his previous attempts at 
 
 yelling sound like an imitation when he saw 
 
 this, and he broke away and ran toward 
 
 home. Then the Doctor stuck one hand in 
 
 171 
 
A SELF-MADE MERCHANT 'S 
 
 over the top of his vest, waved the button- 
 hook in the other, and cried : " Woman, your 
 child is cured ! Your button-hook is found ! " 
 Then he went on to explain that when 
 baby swallowed safety-pins, or pennies, or 
 fish-bones, or button-hooks, or any little 
 household articles, that all you had to do 
 waa to give it a' spoonful of the Priceless 
 Boon, tap it gently fore and aft, hold your 
 hand under its mouth, and the little article 
 would drop out like chocolate from a slot 
 machine. 
 
 Every one was talking at once, now, and 
 nobody had any time for Mrs. Brown, who 
 was trying to say something. Finally she 
 got mad and followed Johnny home. Half 
 an hour later the Doctor drove out of the 
 Corners, leaving his stock of the Priceless 
 Boon distributed— for the usual considera- 
 tion—among all the mothers in town. 
 
 It was not until the next day that Mrs. 
 Brown got a chance to explain that while 
 the Boon might be aJl that the Doctor 
 172 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 claimed tor it, no one in her house had ever 
 owned a batton-hook, becauBe hep old man 
 wore jack-boote and she wore congress shoes, 
 and htOe Johnny wore just plain feet. 
 
 I simply mention the Doctor in passing, 
 not ai> an example in morals, but in methoda 
 Some salesmen think that selling is like 
 eating-to satisfy an existing appetite; but 
 a good salesman is like a good cook— he 
 can create an appetite when the buyer isn't 
 hungry. 
 
 I don't car-j bow good old methods are, 
 new ones are better, even if they're only 
 just as good. That's not so Irish as it 
 Bounds. Doing the same thing in the same 
 way year after year is like eating a quail 
 a day for thirty days. Along to.,ard the 
 middle of the month a fellow begins to long 
 for a broiled crow or a slice of cold dog. 
 Your affectionate father, 
 
 John Gs/lham. 
 
 '73 
 
No, 13 I 
 
 FROM John Gr«h«ni, 
 at the Union Stock 
 Yards in Chicago, 
 to his son, Pierrepont, 
 care oi The Hoosier Gro- 
 cery Co., Indianapolis, In- 
 diana. Mr. Pierrcpont's 
 orders have been looking 
 np, so the old man gives 
 him a pat on the hack- 
 but not too hard a one. 
 
XIII 
 
 Chicago, May 10, 189— 
 Dear Pierrepont: That order for a car- 
 load of Spotless Snow Leaf from old Shorter 
 is the kind of back talk I like. We can 
 stand a little more of the same sort of sass- 
 ing. I hare told the cashier that you will 
 draw thirty a week after this, and I want 
 you to have a nice s-it of clothes made and 
 Sfeuii the bill to the old man. Gel something 
 that won't keep people guessing whether 
 you follow the horses or do buck and wing 
 dancing for a living. Your taste in clothes 
 seems to be lasting longer than the rest of 
 your c.:'°ge education. You looked like a 
 young widow who had raised the second 
 crop of daisies over the deceased when you 
 were in here last week. 
 
 Of course, clothes don't make the man, 
 
 but they make all of him except his hands 
 
 and face during business hours, and that's 
 
 a pretty considerable area of the human ani- 
 
 177 
 
m:m 
 
 i-:tfe» 
 
 A SELF-MADE MERCHANT'S 
 
 uw 
 
 mal. A dirty shirt may hide a pure heart, 
 but it seldom covers a clean skin. If you 
 look aB if you had slept in your clothes, most 
 men will jump to the conclusion that you 
 have, and you will never get to know them 
 well enough to explain that your head is so 
 full of noble thoughts that you haven't time 
 io bother with the dandrufif on your shoul- 
 ders. And if you wear blu3 and white 
 striped pants aad a red necktie, you will 
 find it difficult to get close enough to a dea- 
 con to be invited to say grace at his table, 
 even' if you never play for anything except 
 eoflfee or beans. 
 
 Appearances are deceitful, I know, but so 
 long as they are, there's nothing like having 
 them deceive for us instead of against us. 
 I've seen a ten-cent shave and a five-cent 
 shine get a thousand-dollar job, and a cigar- 
 ette and a pint of champagne knock the bot- 
 tom out of a million-dollar pork comer. 
 Four or five years ago Mttle Jim Jaclson 
 had the bears in the provision pit hibemat- 
 178 
 
LETTExlS TO HIS SON 
 
 ing and living on their own fat till one 
 morning, the day after he had run the price 
 of mess pork up to twenty dollars and nailed 
 it there, some one saw him drinking a small 
 bottle just before he went on 'Change, and 
 told it round among the brokers on the 
 floor. The bears thought Jim must have 
 had bad news, to be bracing up at that time 
 in the morning, so they perked up and ever- 
 lastingly sold the mess pork market down 
 through the bottom of tie pit to solid earth. 
 There wasn't even a grease spot left of that 
 comer when they got through. As it hap- 
 pened, Jim hadn't had any bad news; he 
 just took the drink because he felt pretty 
 good, and things were coming his way. 
 
 But it isn't enough to be all right in this 
 world; you've got to look all right as well, 
 because two-thirds of success is making peo- 
 ple think you are all right So you have 
 to be governed by general rules, even though 
 yon may be an exception. People have seen 
 /our and four make eight, and the young 
 179 
 
 Wm^M. 
 

 A SELF-MADE MERCHANT'S 
 
 '.'^ 
 
 "^■^M I 
 
 man and the small bottle make a damned 
 fool so often that they are hard to convince 
 that the combination can work out any other 
 way. The Lord onf/ allows so much fun 
 for every man that He makes. Some get it 
 going fishing meat of the time and making 
 money the rest; some get it making money 
 most of the time and going fishing the rest. 
 You can take your choice, but the two lines 
 of business don't gee. The more money, the 
 less fish. The farther you go, the utraighter 
 you've got to walk. 
 
 I used to get a heap of solid comfort out 
 of chewing tobacco. Picked up the habit in 
 Missouri, and took to it like a Yankee to 
 pie. At that time pretty much every one in 
 those parts chewad, except the Elder and 
 the women, and most of them snuffed. 
 Seemed a ; 'ce, sociable habit, and I never 
 thought anything special about it till I 
 came North and your Ma began to tell me 
 it was a vile relic of barbarism, meaning 
 Missouri, I suppose. Then I confined opera- 
 
 i8o 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 tions to my office and took to fine cut in- 
 stead of plug, as being tonier. 
 
 Well, one day, about ten years ago, when 
 I was walking through the office, I noticed 
 one of the boys on the mailing-desk, a 
 mighty likely-looking youngster, sort of 
 working his jaws as he wrote. I didn't stop 
 to think, but somehow I was mad in a min- 
 ute. Still, I didn't say a word— just stood 
 and looked at him while he speeded up the 
 way the boys will when they think the old 
 man is nosing around to see whose salary he 
 can raise next 
 
 I stood over him for a matte..- of five min- 
 utes, and all the time he was pretending 
 not to see me at all. I will bay that he 
 was a pretty game boy, for he never weak- 
 ened for a second. But at last, seeing he 
 was about to choke to death, I said, sharp 
 and sudden—" Spit" 
 
 Well, sir, I thought it was a cloudburst 
 You can bet I was pretty hot, and I started 
 in to curl up that young fellow to a crisp. 
 i8i 
 
 
<*ff 
 
 A SELF-MADE MERCHANT'S 
 
 %.-m 
 
 I 
 
 But before I got out a word, something hit 
 me all of a sudden, and I just went up to 
 the boy and put my hand on his shoulder 
 and said, " Let's swear off, son." 
 
 Naturally, he swore off— he was so blamed 
 scared that he would have quit breathing if 
 I had asked him to, I reckon. And I had 
 to take my stoc^ of fine cut and send it to 
 the heathen. 
 
 I simply mention this little incident in 
 passing as an example of the fact that a 
 man can't do what he pleases in this world, 
 because the higher he climbs the plainer 
 people can see him. Naturally, as the old 
 man's son, you have a lot of fellows watch- 
 ing you and betting that you are no good. 
 If you succeed they will say it was an acci- 
 dent; and if you fail they will say it was a 
 cinch. 
 
 There are two unpardonable sins in this 
 
 world- -success and failure. Those who 
 
 succeed can't forgive a fellow for bdng a 
 
 failure, and those who fail can't forgive him 
 
 182 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 for being a succesa If you do succeed, 
 though, you will be too busy to bother very 
 much about what the failures think. 
 
 I dwell a little on this matter ol' appear- 
 ances because so few men are reaily think- 
 ing animals. Where one fellow reads a 
 stranger's character in his face, a hundred 
 read it in his get-up. We have shown a 
 dozen breeds of dukes and droves of college 
 presidents and doctors of divinity through 
 the packing-house, and the workmen never 
 noticed them except to throw livers at them 
 when they got in their way. But when John 
 L. Sullivan went through the stock yards 
 it just simply shut down the plant. The 
 men quit the benches with a yell and lined 
 up to cheer him. You see, John looked his 
 job, and you didn't have to explain to the 
 men that he was the real thing in prize- 
 fighters. Of course, when a fellow gets to 
 the point where he is something in particu- 
 lar, he doesn't have to care because he 
 doesn't look like anything special ; but while 
 183 
 
'J^M^' 'Li.^^.fTl^BmmiP 
 
 A SELF-MADE MERCHANT'S 
 
 a young fellow isn't anything in particular, 
 it is a mighty valuable asset if he looks like 
 something special. 
 
 Just here I want to say that while it's all 
 right for the other fellow to be influenced 
 by appearances, it's all wrong for you to 
 go on them. Back up good looks by good 
 character yoursea, and make sure that the 
 other fellow does the same. A suspicious 
 man makes trouble for himself, but a 
 cautious one saves it. Because there ain't 
 any rotten apples in the top layer, it ain't 
 always safe to bet that the whole ba-rel is 
 sound. 
 
 A man. doesn't snap up a horse just be- 
 cause he looks all right As a usual thing 
 that only makes him wonder what really is 
 the matter that tie other fellow wants to 
 sell. So he leads the nag out into the 
 middle of a ten-acre lot, where the light will 
 strike him good and strong, and examines 
 every hair of his hide, as if he expected to 
 find it near-seal, or some other base imitar 
 184 
 
^^■':°^h 
 
 •• Wben John L. Sullivan 
 went through the stock yards, 
 it iust simply shut Joan the 
 plant." 
 
m^iOMSfmt, ^M::^^^'m^mi^^ 
 
 LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 tion; and he squints under each hoof tor 
 the gread hailing sign of distress; tnd ho 
 peeks down his throat for dark secrets. If 
 the horse passes this degree the buyer drives 
 him twenty or thirty miles, expecting him to 
 turn out a roarer, or to find that he balks, 
 or shies, or goes lame, or develops some 
 other horse nonsense. If after all that there 
 are no bad symptoms, he offers fifty less 
 than the price asked, on general principles, 
 and for fear he has missed something. 
 
 Take men and horses, by and large, and 
 they run pretty much the same. There's 
 nothing like trying a man in harness a while 
 before you bind yourself to travel very far 
 with him. 
 
 I remember giving a nice-looking, clean- 
 shaven fellow a job on the billing-desk, just 
 on his looks, but he turned out such a poor 
 hand at figures that I had to fire him at the 
 end of a week. It seemed that the morning 
 he struck me for the place he had pawned 
 his razor for fifteen cents in order to get a 
 
 i8s 
 
A SELF-MADE MERCHANT'S 
 
 r 
 
 shaye. Naturally, if I had known that in 
 the first place I wouldn't haye hired him as 
 a human arithmetic. 
 
 Another time I had a collector that I Kt 
 a heap of store by. Always handled himself 
 just right when he talked to you and kept 
 himself looking right up to the mark. His 
 salary wasn't yery big, but he had such a 
 persuasiye way that he seemed to g(-t a 
 dollar and a half's worth of value out of 
 every dollar that he earned. Never crowded 
 the fashions and never gave 'em any slack. 
 If sashes were tho thing with summer 
 shirts, why Charlie had a sash, you bet, and 
 when tight trousers were the nobby trick in 
 pants, Charlie wore his double reefed. Take 
 him fore and aft, Charlie looked all right 
 and talked all right— always careful, always 
 considerate, always polite. 
 
 One noon, after he had been with me for 
 
 a year or two, I met him coming in from 
 
 his route looking glum; so I handed him 
 
 fifty dollars as a little sweetener. I never 
 
 1 86 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 saw a fifty cheer a man up like that one did 
 Charlie, and he thanked me just right— 
 didn't stutter and didn't slop over. I ear- 
 marked Charlie for a raise and a better job 
 right there. 
 
 Just after that I got mixed up with some 
 work in my private oiHee and I didn't look 
 around again till on toward closing time. 
 Then, right outside my door I met the office 
 manager, and he looked mighty glum, too. 
 
 " I was just going to knock on your door," 
 said he. 
 
 "Well?" I asked. 
 
 " Charlie Chasenberry is eight hundred 
 dollars Khort in his collections." 
 
 " Um— m," I said, without blinking, but 
 I had a gone feeling just the sama 
 
 " I had a plain-clothes man here to arrest 
 him this evening, but he didn't come in." 
 
 " Looks as if he'd skipped, eh? " I asked. 
 
 " I'm afraid so, but I don't know how. 
 He didn't have a dollar this morning, be- 
 cause he tried to overdraw his salary ac- 
 187 
 
 T 
 
aysns^fEaa^. ^ mmamk 
 
 _ A MERCHANT'S LETT ERS 
 count and I wouldn't let him, and he didn't 
 collect any blll» tonlay because he had al- 
 ready collected everything that wai, duo 
 this week and lost it bucking the tiger." 
 
 I didn't say anything, but I suspected 
 that there was a SEcker somewhere in the 
 ofhce. The next day I was sure of it, for I 
 got a telegram from the always polite and 
 thoughtful Charlie, dated at Montreal: 
 "Many, many thanks, dear Mr. Gra- 
 ham, for your timely assistance." 
 Careful as usual, you see, about the little 
 things, for there were just ten words in the 
 message. But that "Many, many thanks, 
 dear Mr. Graham," waa the closest to 
 slopping over I had ever known him to come 
 I consider the litUe lesson that Charlie 
 gave me as cheap at eight hundred and fifty 
 dollars, and I pa^s it along to you because 
 It may save you a thousand or two on your 
 experience account 
 
 Tour affectionate father, 
 
 John Gbahai:. 
 i88 
 
I*"?:. 
 
 >«i^ 
 
 
 FROM John Gr«h«ni, 
 *t the Union Stock 
 Yardf in Chicago, 
 to hii (on, Pierrepont, at 
 The Travelers' Rest, New 
 Albany, Indiana. Mr. 
 Pierrepont has taken a lit- 
 tle flyer in short ribs on 
 'Change, and hat acci- 
 denully come into the 
 line of his father's vision. 
 
I 
 
XIV 
 
 Chicago, July 15, 189— 
 Bear Pierrepont: I met young Horshey, 
 of Horshey & Horter, the grain and pro- 
 vision brokers, at luncheon yesterday, and 
 while we were talHng over the light run of 
 hogs yonr name came up somehow, and he 
 congratulated me on having such a smart 
 son. Like an old fool, I allowed that yon 
 were bright enough to come in out of the 
 rain if somebody called you, though I ought 
 to have known better, for it seems as if I 
 never start in to brag about your being 
 sound and sweet that I don't have to wind 
 up by allowing a rebate for skippers. 
 
 Horshey was so blamed anxious to show 
 that you were over-weight-he wants to 
 handle some of my business on 'Change- 
 that he managed to prove you a light-weight 
 Told me you had ordered him to sell a hun- 
 dred thousand ribs short last week, and that 
 he had just bought them in on a wire from 
 191 
 
A SELF-MADE MERCHANT'S 
 
 
 you at a profit of four hundred and sixty- 
 odd dollars. I was mighty hot, you bet, to 
 know that you had been speculating, but 
 I had to swallow and allow that you were 
 a pretty sharp boy. I told Horshey to close 
 out the account and send me a check for 
 your profits and I would forward it, as I 
 wanted to give you a tip on the market be- 
 fore you did any more trading. 
 
 I inclose the check herewith. Please in- 
 dorse it over to the treasurer of The Home 
 for Half Orphans and return at once. I will 
 see that he gets it with your compliments. 
 Now, I want to give you that tip on the 
 market There are several reasons why it 
 isn't safe for you to trade on 'Change just 
 now, but the particular one is that Graham 
 & Co. will fire jou if you do. Trading on 
 margin is a good deal like paddling around 
 the edge of the old swimming hole— it seems 
 safe and easy at first, but before a fellow 
 knows it he has stepped ofif the edge into 
 deep water. The wheat pit is only thirty 
 192 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 feet across, but it reaches clear down to 
 Hell. And trading on margin means trad- 
 ing on the ragged edge of nothing. When 
 a man buys, he's buying something that the 
 other fellow hasn't got. When a man sells, 
 he's selling something that he hasn't got 
 And it's been my experience that the net 
 profit on nothing is nit. When a speculator 
 wins he don't stop till he loses, and vhen 
 . he loses he can't stop till he wins. 
 
 You have been in the packing businesa 
 long enough now to know that it takes a bull 
 only thirty seconds to lose his hide; and if 
 you'll believe me when I tell you that they 
 can skin a bear just as quick on 'Change, 
 you won't have a Board of Trade Indian 
 using your pelt for a rug during the long 
 winter months. 
 
 Because you are the son of a pork packer 
 you may think that you know a little more 
 than the next fellow about paper pork. 
 There's nothing in it. The poorest men on 
 earth are the relations of millionaires. 
 »93 
 
%l ' 
 
 A SELF-MADE MERCHAN T'S 
 
 When I sell futures on 'Change, they're 
 against hogs that are traveling into dry salt 
 at the rate of one a second, and if the market 
 goes up on me I've got the solid meat to 
 deliver. But, if you lose, the only part of 
 the hog which you can deliver is the squeal. 
 I wouldn't bear down so hard on this 
 matter if mon^y was the only thing that a 
 fellow could lose on 'Change. But if a clerk 
 sells pork, and the market goes down, he's 
 mighty apt to get a lot of ideas with holes 
 in them and bad habifa as the small change 
 of Ms profits. And if the market goes up, 
 he's likely to go short his self-respect to 
 win back his money. 
 
 Most men think that they can figure up 
 all their assets in dollars and cents, but a 
 merchant may owe a hundred thousand dol- 
 lars and be solvent A man's got to lose 
 more than money to be broka When a 
 fellow's got a straight backbone and a clear 
 eye his creditors don't have to lie awake 
 nights worrying over his liabiUties. Yon 
 
■Jy^jLJiSi- 
 
 can hideyour meanness from your brain and 
 
 your tongue, bnt the eye and the backbone 
 
 wont keep secreta When the tongue lies, 
 
 the eyes tell the truth. 
 I know you'll think that tae old man is 
 
 bnckmg and kicking up a lot of dust over 
 a hannless little flyer. But IVe kept a heap 
 smarter boys than you out of Joliet when 
 they found it easy to feed the Board of 
 Trade hog out of my cash drawer, alter it 
 h^sucked up their savings in a couple of 
 
 You must leam not to overwork a dollar 
 any m. than you would a horse. Three 
 per cen. , a small load for it to draw; six, 
 a jafe one; when it p„Us in ten for you it's 
 likely working out West and vou've got to 
 watch to see that it doesn'tbuck; when it 
 makes twenty yon own a blame good critter 
 or a mighty foolish one, and you waait to 
 make dead s.re which ; but if it draws a hun- 
 dred it's playing the races or something 
 just as hard on horses and dollars, and the 
 ^95 
 
J 
 
 first thing you know you won't have even a 
 carcass to haul to the glue factory 
 
 I dwell a little on this matter of specula- 
 tion because you're got to live next door to 
 the Board of Trade all your life, and it's a 
 safe thing to know something about a neigh- 
 bor s dogB before you try to pat them. Sure 
 Thmp, straight Tips and Dead Cinches 
 wa come running out to meet you, waging 
 their tails and looking as innocent as if ttey 
 hadnt just killed a lamb, but they'U bite. 
 The only safe road to follow in speculation 
 leads straight away from the Board of 
 Trade on the dead run. 
 
 Speaking of sure things naturally calls 
 to mind the case of my old friend Deacon 
 Wiggleford, whom I used to know back 
 in Missouri years ago. The Deacon was a 
 powerful pious man, and he was good ac- 
 cording to his lights, but he didn't use a 
 very superior article of kerosene to keep 
 them burning. 
 Used to take up half the time in prayer- 
 196 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 meeting talking about how we were all weak 
 vesaels and stewards. But he was so blamed 
 busy exhorting others to giye out of the full- 
 ness with which the Lord had blessed them 
 that he sort of forgot that the Lord had 
 blessed him about fifty thousand dollars' 
 worth and put it all in mighty safe prop- 
 erty, too, you bet 
 
 The Deacon had a brother in Chicago 
 whom he used to call a sore trial. BrotSr 
 BUI wa« a broker on the Board of Trade 
 and, according to the Deacon, he was not 
 on y engaged in a mighty sinful occupation, 
 but he wa« a mighty poor steward of his sin- 
 fulgaans. Smoked two-bit cigars and wore 
 a ping hat Drank a little and cussed a 
 utle and went to the Episcopal Church, 
 
 hough he had been raised a Methodist aI 
 together it looked as if Bill was a pretty 
 hard nut ^ 
 
 Well, one fall the Deacon decided to go to 
 Chicago himself to buy his winter goods, and 
 naturally he hiked out to Brother Bill's to 
 197 
 
A SELF-MADE MERCHANT'S 
 
 '■v 
 
 stay, which was considerable cheaper for 
 him than the Palmer House, thougl , as he 
 told us when he got back, it made him sick 
 to see the wasta 
 
 The Deacon had his mouth all fixed to tell 
 
 Brother Bill that, in his opinion, he wasn't 
 
 much better than a faro dealer, for he used 
 
 to brag that he never let anything turn 
 
 him from his duty, which meant hia 
 
 meddling in other people's business. I want 
 
 to say right here that with most men duty 
 
 means something unpleasant which the 
 
 other fellow ought to do. As a matter of 
 
 fact, a man's first duty is to mind his own 
 
 business. It's been my experience that it 
 
 takes about all the thought and work which 
 
 one man can give to run one man right, and 
 
 if a fellow's putting in five or six hours a 
 
 day on his neighbor's character, he's mighty 
 
 apt to scamp the building of his own. 
 
 Well, when Brother Bill got home from 
 business that first night, the Deacon ex- 
 plained that every time he lit a two-bit cigar 
 198 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 he WM depriving a Zulu of twenty-flve help, 
 ful litUe tracts which might have made a 
 better man of him; that fast horses were a 
 snare and ping liats a wile of the Enemy 
 that the Board of Trade was the Temple' 
 of Belial and the brokers on it his sons and 
 servants. 
 
 Brother Bill listened mighty patiently to 
 him, and when the Deacon had pnmped out 
 all the Scripture that was in him, and was 
 beginning to suck air, he sort of slunk into 
 the conversation like a setter pup that's 
 been caught with the feathers on its chops. 
 "Brother Zeke," says he, "I shall cer- 
 tainly let your words soak in. I want to be 
 a number two red, hard, sound and clean 
 sort of a man, and grade contract on de- 
 livery day. Perhaps, as you say, the rust 
 has got into me and the Inspector won't 
 pass me, and if I con see it that way I'll 
 settle my trades and get out of the market 
 for good." 
 
 The Deacon knew that Brother Bill had 
 199 
 
A SELF-MADE MERCHANT'S 
 
 scraped together considerable property, and, 
 as he was a bachelor, It would come to him 
 in case the broker was remoTed by any 
 sudden dispensation. What he really feared 
 was that this money might be fooled away in 
 high living and speculation. And so he had 
 banged away iAto the middle of the flock, 
 hoping to bring down those two birds. Now 
 that it begpn to look as if he might kill 
 off the whole bunch he started in to hedge. 
 " Is It safe, William? " says he. 
 "As Sunday-school," says Bill, "if you 
 do a strictly brokerage business and don't 
 speculate." 
 
 " I trust, William, that you recognize the 
 responsibilities of your stewardship? " 
 
 Pill fetched a groan. "Zeke," says he, 
 "you cornered me there, and I 'Byte I 
 might as well walk up to the Captain's ofSce 
 and settle. I hadn't bought or sold a bushel 
 on my own account in a year till last week, 
 when I got your letter saying that you were 
 coming. Then I saw what looked like a 
 200 
 
" / ilnrted in to curl up 
 that ytung fellow to a cri,p." 
 
■ 
 
 ll 
 
 m 
 
 ml 
 
 59 
 
 m 
 
 
 T|S|i 
 
 ^i,. - .^ 
 
 
iwt: 
 
 "■I 
 
 LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 Mfc Chance to scalp the market for a conple 
 of cent* a buibel, and I bought 10,000 Sep- 
 tmber, intending to turn over the profit, 
 to yon as a little present, so that yon eonid 
 Bee the town and hare a good time without 
 it's costing yon anything." 
 
 The Deacon Judged from Bill's expression 
 that he had got nipped and was going to 
 try to unload the loss on him, so he changed 
 his face to tue one which be used when at. 
 tending the funeral of any one who hadn't 
 been a professor, and came back quick and 
 hard: 
 
 " I'm surprised, William, that you should 
 think I would accept money made in gam- 
 bling. Let this be a lesson to you. How 
 much did yon lose?" 
 
 "That's the worst of it-I didn't lose; I 
 made two hundred dollars," and Bill hore 
 another sigh. 
 
 " Made two hundred dollars! " echoed the 
 Deacon, and he changed his face again for 
 the one which he used when he found a lead 
 80I 
 
 n 
 
B ;i 
 
 Mi i 
 
 m 
 
 m 11 
 
 A SELF-MADE MERCH ANT'S 
 
 quarter in his till and couldn't remember 
 who had pnased it on him. 
 
 "Yes," Bill went on, "and I'm ashamed 
 of it, for you've made me see things in a 
 new light. Of course, after what you've 
 said, I know it would be an insult to offer 
 yon the mon^. And I feel now that it 
 wouldn't be right to keep it myself. I must 
 sleep on it and try to find the straight thing 
 to do." 
 
 I guess it really didn't interfere with 
 Bill's sleep, but the Deacon sat up with 
 the corpse of that two hundred dollars, you 
 bet. In the morning at breakfast he asked 
 Brother Bill to explain all about this specu- 
 lating business, what made the market go 
 up and down, and whether real corn or 
 wheat or pork figured in any stage of a deal. 
 Bill looked sort of sad and dreamy-eyed, as 
 if his conscience hadn't digested that two 
 hundred yet, but he was mighty obliging 
 about explaining everything to Zeke. He 
 202 
 
had changed his face for the one which he 
 wor. When he sold an easy customer ground 
 peas and chicory for O. G. Java. and^Z 
 
 now and then he gulped as if he was go nl 
 to start a hymn. When Bil, told him ho,^ 
 good a,d bad weather sent the mai t up 
 a^ddown he nodded ^d said that that part 
 
 rfiTd."^^'^^^^"-*^--^-- 
 
 " Not on the Board of Trade it isn't," Bill 
 ---^hacl.;«atleas,nottoanymar.i 
 -tent It's from the weather man or some 
 ''" "• *^« '=°™ belt, and, as the weather 
 
 --nsually guesses wrong. I reckon t^e^ 
 isn t any specml inspiration about it The 
 game IS to guess what's going to happen, not 
 
 what has happened, and by the timeSe real 
 weather comes along everybody has guessed 
 
 ^^ng and .noCed the market o«^ cent 
 
 That made the Deacon's chin whiskers 
 droop a little, but he began to ask questions 
 203 
 
A SELF-MADE MERCHANTS 
 
 again, and by and by he discovered that 
 away behind — ^about a hnndred miles be- 
 hind, but that was close enough for the 
 Deacon — a deal in futures there were real 
 wheat and pork. Said then that he'd beer 
 misinformed and misled; that speculation 
 was a legitimate business, Involving skill 
 and sagacity; that his last scruple was re- 
 moved, and that he would accept the two 
 hundred. 
 
 Bill brightened right up at that and 
 thanked him for putting it so clear and re- 
 moving the doubts that had been worrying 
 him. Said that he could speculate with a 
 clear conscience after listening to the Dea- 
 con's able exposition of the subject Was 
 only sorry he hadn't seen him to talk it over 
 before breakfast, as the two hundred had 
 been lying o heavy on his mind all night 
 that he'd got up early and mailed a check 
 for it to the Deacon's pastor and told him 
 to spend it on his poor. 
 204 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 Zeke took the evening train liome in order 
 to pry that check out of the elder, but old 
 Doc. Hoover waa a pretty quick stepper 
 hin^self and he'd blown the whole two hun- 
 dred as soon as he got it, buying winter coal 
 tor poor people. 
 
 I 8implj mention the Deacoi. in passing 
 as an example of the fact that it's easy for a 
 man who thinks he's all right to go all 
 wrong when he sees a c.uple of hundred 
 dollars lying around loose a little to one 
 . side of the straight and narrow path; and 
 that when he reaches down to pick up the 
 money there's usually a string tied to it and 
 a small boy in the bushes to give it a yank. 
 Easy-come money never draws interestj 
 easy-borrowed dollars pay usnty. 
 
 Of course, the Board of Trade and every 
 other commercial exchange have their legiti- 
 mate uses, but all you need to know just 
 now is that speculation by a fellow who 
 never owns more pork at a time than he sees 
 205 
 
 ! r 
 
A MERCHANT'S LETTER S 
 
 on hia breakfast plate isn't one of them. 
 When you become a packer you may go on 
 'Change as a trader; until then you can go 
 there only as a sucker. 
 
 Your affectionate father, 
 
 John Gbabau. 
 
 206 
 
No. 15 
 
 FROM John Graham, 
 at the Union Stock 
 Yards in Chicago, 
 to his son, Pierrepont, at 
 The Scrub Oaks, Spring 
 Lake, Michigan. Mr. 
 Pierrepont has been pro- 
 moted again, and the old 
 ■nan sends him a little 
 «dvice with his appoint- 
 ment 
 
ii 
 
 
XV 
 
 Chicago, September 1, 18»— 
 Dear Pierrepont: I judge from yours of 
 the twenty-ninth that you must hare the 
 black baas in those parts pretty well ter- 
 rorized. I never could quite figure it out, 
 but there seems to be something about a fish 
 that makes even a cold-water deacon see 
 double. I reckon it must be that while Eve 
 was learning the first principles of dress- 
 making from the snake, Adam was off bass 
 fishing and keeping his end up by learning 
 how to lie. 
 
 Don't overstock yourself with those fonrw 
 pound fish yams, tkough, because the boys 
 have been bringing them back from their 
 vacations till we've got enough to last us for 
 a year of Fridays. And if you're sending 
 them to keep in practice, yon might as well 
 quit, because we've decided to take you off 
 the road when you come back, and make 
 you assistant manager of the lard depart- 
 209 
 
 If 
 
 1 1 
 
II 
 
 A SELF-MADE MV^nxjf^j^j^ 
 
 week, a^d the duties of the position to do 
 
 your work so well th.. t the manager can'; 
 run the department without you^d Tha 
 
 :rrr."""^'^^*-----'^e 
 
 To do this you, will have to know lard • to 
 know yourself; „.d to know thoseTnde^ 
 
 ojwajs mat, If they would rathpp 
 
 But it was a good deal more to Jack Sum- 
 
 me^who^eldyournewMuntilwehadTo 
 promote him to canned goods. 
 
 Jack knew lard from the hog to the fr^ng 
 
 P^, was up on lard in history and reliSon 
 
 originated What he called thT«Hrr« 
 tteo^, proving that Moses' injunction 
 
 TT ^ """"^ ""^'^ ^^° d'^^olved by 
 the Circuit Court, because Noah includS 
 
 a couple of shoats in his cargo, and canl^ 
 ably, after tasting a slice broiled for tlie first 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 time; argued that all the great nations lived 
 on fried food, and that America was the 
 greatest of them all, owing to the energy- 
 producing qualities of pie, liberally short- 
 ened with lard. 
 
 It ^most broke Jack's heart when we 
 decided to manufacture our new cottonseed 
 oil product. Seedolline. But on reflection 
 he saw that it just gave him an eztra hold 
 on the heathen that he couldn't convert to 
 lard, and he started right out for the Hebrew 
 and vegetarian vote. Jack had enthusiasm, 
 and enthusiasm is the best shortening for 
 aay job; it makes heavy work light 
 
 A good many young fellows envy their 
 boss because they think he makes the rules 
 and can do as he pleases. As a matter of 
 feet, he's the only man in the shop who can't 
 Hes like the fellow on the tight-rop^ 
 there's plenty of scenery under him and lots 
 of room around him, but he's got to keep his 
 feet on the wire all the time and travel 
 straight ahead. 
 
 211 
 
lUl\: 
 
 A SELF-MADE MERCHAN T'S 
 A clerk haa just one boss to answer to— 
 the manager. But the manager ha« Jnst 
 as many bossea as he has clerks under him. 
 He can make rules, but he's the only man 
 who can't afford to break them now and 
 then. A fellow ig a boss simply because he's 
 a better man ^han those under him, and 
 there's a heap of responsIbiU^ in being 
 better than the next fellow. 
 
 No man can ask more than he gives. A 
 fellow who can't take orders can't give them. 
 If his rules are too hard for him to mind, 
 yon can bet they are too hard for the clerks 
 who don't get half so much for minding 
 them as he does. There's no alarm clock 
 for the sleepy man like an early rising man- 
 ager; and there's nothing breeds work in an 
 ofBce like a busy boss. 
 
 Of course, setting a good example is just 
 a small part of a manager's duties. It's not 
 enough to settle yourself firm on the box 
 seat— you must have every man under yon 
 hitched up right and well ta hand. Ton 
 212 
 
iHS!!^^ 
 
 ■cm:. 
 
 LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 can't work Individuals by general pul«. 
 Every man Ib a gpeclal case and needs a 
 ipecial pill, 
 
 Wten you fix up a snug little nest for a 
 Plymouth Rock hen and encourage her with 
 a nice porcelain egg, it doesn't always follow 
 that she has reached the fricassee age be- 
 cause she doesn't lay right off. Sometimes 
 she will respond to a little red pepper in 
 her food. 
 
 I don't mean by this that you ever want 
 to drive yonr men, because the lash always 
 leaves Its worst soreness under the skin. 
 A hundred men will forgive a blow in the 
 face where one will a blow to his self-esteem. 
 Tell a man the truth about himself and 
 shame the devil if you want to, but you won't 
 shame the man you're trying to reach, be- 
 cause he won't believe you. But if you can 
 start him on the road that will lead him to 
 the truth he's mighty apt to try to reform 
 himself before any one else finds him out 
 Consider carefully before you say a hard 
 ai3 
 
A SELF-MADE MERCHAN-rH 
 word to a man, but never let a chance to wy 
 a good one go b^ Praise judlclon,ly be- 
 stowed is money Inregtcd. 
 
 Never learn anything about yonr men 
 except irom themnelves. A good manager 
 need, no detectives, and the fellow who Zt 
 read human natpre can't mHuage it. The 
 phonograph records of a fellow's character 
 
 "elided in his face, and a man's days tS 
 the secrets of his nights. 
 
 Be slow to hire and quick to lire. The 
 time to discover Incompatibility of temper 
 and curl-papers is before the marriage cere- 
 mony. But when you find that you've hired 
 the wrong man. you can't get rid of him too 
 quick. Pay him an extra month, but don't 
 
 1 . T ^"""'" "'"^- ^ -^^^harged 
 c erk ,n the office is like a splinter in Se 
 thumb-a centre of soreness. There are no 
 exceptions to this rule, because there are no 
 exceptions to human nature. 
 
 Never threaten, because a threat is a 
 promise to pay that it isn't always con- 
 214 
 
 rwi'V" 
 
--^^^f 
 
 
 r* '?"'- y°" «^«dlt. Save a threat 
 
 need it In all your dealings, remember that 
 OHlay 18 your opportunity; to-morrow «ome 
 other fellow's. 
 
 Keep close to your men. When a fellow's 
 B tting on top of a mountain he's in a mighty 
 dignified and exalted position, but if he's 
 gazing at the clouds, he's missing a heap 
 of interesting and Important doings down in 
 the yal%. Never lose your dignitv, of 
 
 course, but tie it up in all the red tap; you 
 can find around the office, and tuck it away 
 In the safe. It's easy for a boss to awe his 
 clerks, but a man who is feared to his face 
 is hated behind his back. A competent 
 boss can move among his men without hav- 
 ng to draw an imaginary line between 
 them, because they will see the real one if it 
 exists. 
 
 Besides keeping in touch with your office 
 men, you want to feel your salesmen all the 
 
A SELF-MADE MERCHAM T'c 
 
 time. Send each of them a letter every day 
 so that they won't forget that we are making 
 goods for which we need orders j and insist 
 on their sending yon a line every day, 
 whether they have anything to say or not. 
 When a fellow has to write in six times a 
 week to the house, he uses up his explana- 
 tions mighty fast, and he's pretty apt to 
 hustle for business to make his seventh 
 letter interesting. 
 
 Right here I want to repeat that in keep- 
 ing track of others and their faults it's very 
 Tery important that you shouldn't lose sight 
 of your own. Authority swells up some fel- 
 lows so that they can't see their corns; but 
 a wise man tries to cure his own while .re- 
 membering not to tread on his neighbors'. 
 
 In this connection, the story of Lemuel 
 Hostitter, who kept the corner groceiy in 
 mj old town, naturally comes to mind 
 Lem was probably the meanest white man 
 in the State of Missouri, and it wasn't any 
 waJk-over to hold the belt in those days. 
 3l6 
 
uZ 1i.^°°i """^ ">'""•"> have <,„ 
 •f'"^"' l^iers ar, only i„,e„.,eJ 
 m funny sttriei." 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 Most grocers were satisfied to adulterate 
 their coffee with ground peas, but Lem was 
 so blamed mean that he adulterated the 
 peas first Bought skin-bruised hams and 
 claimed that the bruise was his private and 
 particular brand, stamped in the skin, show- 
 ing that they were a fancy article, packed 
 expressly for his fancy family trade. Ban 
 a soda-water fountain in the front of his 
 store with home-made syrups that ate the 
 lining out of the children's stomachs, and a 
 blind tiger in the back room with moonshine 
 whiskey that pickled their daddies' insides. 
 Take it by and large, Lem's character 
 smelled about as various as his store, and 
 that wasn't perfumed with lily-of-th^valley 
 you bet. ^' 
 
 One time and another most men dropped 
 into Lem's store of an evening, because there 
 wasn t any other place to go and swap lies 
 about the crops and any of the neighbors 
 Who didn't happen to be there. As Lem was 
 always around, in the end he was the only 
 217 
 
! 
 
 A SELF-MADE MERCH ANT'S 
 
 man in town whose meanness hadn't bee » 
 talked over in that grocery. Naturally, he 
 began to think that he was the only decent 
 white man in the county. Got to shaking 
 his head and reckoning that the town was 
 plum rotten. Said that such goings on 
 would make a pessimist of a goat. Wanted 
 to know if public opinion couldn't be 
 aroused so that decency would have a show 
 in the village. 
 
 Most men get information when they ask 
 for it, and in the end Lem fetched public 
 opinion all right. One night the local chap- 
 ter of the W. C. T. U. borrowed all the loose 
 hatchets in town and made a good, clean, 
 workmanlike job of the back part of his 
 store, though his whiskey was so mean that 
 even the ground couldn't soak it up. The 
 noise brought out the men, and they sort of 
 caught the spirit of the happy occasion. 
 When they were through, Lem's stock and 
 fixtures looked mighty sick, and they had 
 Lem on a rail headed for the county line. 
 2l8 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 I don't know when I've seen a more sur^ 
 prised man than Lem. He couldn't cuss 
 even. But as he never came back, to ask for 
 any explanation, I reckon he figured it out 
 that they wanted to get rid of him because 
 he was too good for the town.- 
 
 I simply mention Lem in passing as an 
 example of the fact that when you're through 
 sizing up the other fellow, it's a good thing 
 to step back from yourself and see how you 
 look. Then add fifty per cent to your esti- 
 mate of your neighbor for virtues that you 
 can't see, and deduct fifty per cent, from 
 yourself for faults that you've missed in 
 your inventory, and you'll have a pretty ac 
 curate result. 
 
 Your affectionate father, 
 
 John Gbaham. 
 
 219 
 
Tm^:-T;^2mkt- :jt 
 
 FROM John Graham, 
 at the Schw«t2er- 
 kasenhof, Karlsbad, 
 Austria, to his son, Pierre- 
 pont, at the Union Stock 
 Yards, Chicago. Mr. Pier- 
 repont has shown mild 
 •ymptoms of an attack of 
 society fever, and his 
 father is administering 
 some simple remedies. 
 
XVI 
 
 Kahibbad, October 6, 189u_ 
 Dear Pierrepont: If yon har-T,en to mn 
 across Doc Titherlngtonyou^dCte;^; 
 
 be strong enough to lick Mm by the toe I 
 8^ back. Between that ten-day boat which 
 be reeo^n^ended and these Dntoh docto™ 
 Im almost well and about broke S 
 
 c,n.reai^ have to take the bat;:U: 
 
 They toll me we had a pretty quiet trin 
 acrosn, an. Pm not saying thai we dd^f 
 
 bn?vT,l"*'''"*""-^''^«I--Hl 
 busy holding myself in my berth tha. I 
 
 c uldn^t get a chance to, ook out the port 
 bole to 3ee for myself. I reckon there isn't 
 2 ;^ aiive that can beat me at being 
 «eas,ck, unless it's a camel, and he's got 
 three stomacha 
 When I did get around I was a good deal 
 223 
 
A SELF-MADE MERCHANT'S 
 
 ■ 
 
 of a maverick— for all the old fellows were 
 playing poker in the Bmoklng-room and all 
 the young ones were lallygagglng under the 
 Iwats-until I found that we were carrying 
 a couple of hundred steers between decks. 
 They looked mighty homesick, you bet, and 
 I reckon they sort of sized me up as being a 
 long ways teom Chicago, for we cottoned to 
 each other right from the start. Take 'em 
 as th^ ran, they were a mighty likely bunch 
 of steers, and I got a heap of solid comfort 
 out of them. There must have been good 
 money in them, too, for they reached Eng- 
 land in prime condition. 
 
 I wish yon would tell our people at the 
 Beef House to look into this export cattle 
 business, and have all the facts and figures 
 ready for me when I get back. There seems 
 to be a good margin in it, and \iit;i our Eng- 
 lish house we are fixed up to hcndle it all 
 right at this end. It makes me mighty sick 
 to think that we've been sitting back on our 
 hindlegs and letting the other fellow run 
 224 
 
 '>m!s^ 
 
4:a^- 
 
 LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 away with tU. trade. We are packers, I 
 1U.0W, but that's no reason why we can't be 
 •Wppers, too. I want to milk the critter 
 coming and going, twice a day, and milk her 
 dry. Unless you do the whole thing you 
 can't do anything in business as it runs to- 
 day. There's still plenty of room at the top 
 but there isn't much anywheres else. 
 
 There may be reasons why we haven't 
 been able to tackle this exporting of live 
 catUe, but you can tell our people there that 
 they have got to be mighty good reasons to 
 wipe out the proUt I see in it. Of course, I 
 may have missed them, for I've only looked 
 into the business a litOe by way of recrea- 
 tion, but it won't do to say that it's not in 
 our line, because anything which carries a 
 profit on four legs is in our line. 
 
 I dwell a little on the matter because, 
 while this special case is out of your depart, 
 ment, the general principle is in it. The 
 way to think of a thing in business is to 
 think of it first, and the way to get a 
 225 
 
i.^^r^^£^iB. 
 
MKaOCOW HSOIUTION TEST CHART 
 
 (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No, 2) 
 
 ^ /APPLIED IM/OE Ine 
 
 ^F^ 16&'3 East Main StrMt 
 
 w''Si RoctiMlBr. N«w York 14509 US* 
 
 '^S C"6) 482 - 0300 - Phon. 
 
 ^S t^'C) 2M - 5989 •- Fax 
 
'f 
 
 A SELF-MADE MERCHANT'S 
 
 share of the trade is to go for all of it Half 
 the battle's in being on the hilltop first; and 
 the other half's in staying there. In speak- 
 ing of these matters, and in writing you 
 about your new job, I've run a little ahead 
 of your present position, because I'm count- 
 ing on you to catch up with me. But you 
 want to get it clearly in mind that I'm writ- 
 ing to you not as the head of the house, but 
 as the head of the family, and that I don't 
 propose to mix the two things. 
 
 Even as assistant manager of the lard 
 department, yon don't occupy a very im- 
 portant position with us yet. But the great 
 trouble with some fellows is that a little 
 success goes to their heads. Instead of hid- 
 ing their authority behind their backs and 
 trying to get close to their men, they use it 
 as a club to keep them oflF. And a boss with 
 a case of big-head will fill an office full of 
 sore heads. 
 
 I don't know any one who has better op- 
 portunities for making himself unpopular 
 226 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 than aa assistant, for the clerks are apt to 
 cuss him for all the manager's meanness, 
 and the manager is likely to find fault with 
 him for all the clerks' cussedness. But if he 
 explains his orders to the clerks he loses his 
 authority, and if he excuses himself to the 
 manager he loses his usefulness. A man- 
 ager needs an assistant to take trouble from 
 him, not to bring it to him. 
 
 The one important thing for you to re- 
 member all the time is not to forget. It's 
 easier for a boss to do a thing himself than 
 to tell some one twice to do it. Petty details 
 take up just as much room in a manager's 
 head as big ideas; and the more of the first 
 you store for him, the more warehouse room 
 you leave him for the second. When a boss 
 has to spend his days swearing at his assist- 
 ant and the clerks have to sit up nights 
 hating him, they haven't much time left to 
 swear by the house. Satisfactio • is the oil 
 of the business machine. 
 Some fellows can only see those above 
 227 
 
A SELF-MADE MERC HANT'S 
 them, and others can only see those under 
 them, but a good man is cross-eyed and can 
 see both ends at once. An assistant who be- 
 comes his manager's right hand is going to 
 find the left hand helping him; and it's not 
 hard for a cleric to find good points in a 
 boss who finds good ones in him. Pulling 
 from above and boosting from below make 
 climbing easy. 
 
 In handling men, your own feelings are 
 the only ones that are of no importance. I 
 don't mean by this that you want to swri- 
 flce your self-respect, but you must keep in 
 mind that the bigger the position the 
 broader the man must be to fill it And a 
 diet of courtesy and consideration gives 
 girth to a boss. 
 
 Of course^ all this is going to take so 
 much time and thought that you won't have 
 a very wide margin left for golf— especially 
 in the afternoons. I simply mention this 
 in passing, because I see in the Chicago 
 papers which have been sent me that you 
 zzH 
 
^^mjmm:W':^ 
 
 LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 were among the players on the links one 
 afternoon a fortnight ago. Golf's a nice 
 foolish game, and there aJn't any harm in it 
 80 fai- a^ I know except for the balls-the 
 «tiil balls at the beginning, the lost balls in 
 the middle, and the highbaJls at the end of 
 the game. But a young fellow who wants to 
 be a boss butcher hasn't much daylight to 
 waste on any kind of links except sausage 
 links. ^ 
 
 Of course, a man should have a certain 
 amount of play, just as a boy is entitled to a 
 piece of pie at the end of his dinner, but he 
 don't want to make a meal of it Any one 
 who lets sinkers take the place of bread and 
 meat gets bilious pretty young; and these 
 fellows who haven't any job, except to blow 
 the old man's dollars, are a good deal like 
 the little niggers in the pie-eating contest 
 at the County Fair-they'ye a-plenty of 
 pastry and they're attracting a heap of at 
 tention, but they've got a stomach-ache com- 
 ing to them by and by. 
 229 
 

 A SELF-MADE MERCHANT'S 
 
 I want to caution yon right here against 
 getting the society bug in your head. I'd 
 sooner you'd smoke these Turldsh cigarettes 
 which smell like a fire in the fertilizer fac- 
 tory. You're, going to meet a good many 
 stray fool;-) in the course of business eTcry 
 day without going out to hnat up the main 
 herd after dark. 
 
 Everybody over here in Europe thinks 
 that we haven't any society in America, and 
 a power of people in New York think that 
 we haven't any society in Chicago. But so 
 far as I can see there are just as many 
 ninety-nine-cent men spending million-dol- 
 lar incomes in one place as another; and the 
 rules that govern the game seem to be the 
 same in all three places— you've got to be a 
 descendant to belong, and the farther yon 
 descend the harder you belong. The only 
 difference is that, in Europe, the ancestor 
 who made money enough so that his family 
 could descend, has been dead so long that 
 they have forgotten his shop; in New York 
 2';o 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 he's so recent that they can only pretend to 
 have forgotten it; but in Chicago they can't 
 lose it because the ancestor is hustling on 
 the Board of Trade or out at the Stock 
 Yards. I want to say right here that I don't 
 propose to be an ancestor until after I'm 
 dead. Then, if you want to have some fellow 
 whose grandfather sold bad whiskey to the 
 Indians sniflf and smell pork when you come 
 into the room, you can suit yourself. 
 
 Of course, I may be oflf in sizing this thing 
 up, because it^s a little out of my line. But 
 it's been my experience that these people 
 who think that they are all the choice cuts 
 off the critter, and that the rest of us are 
 only fit for sausage, are usually chuck steak 
 when yon get them under the knife. I've 
 tried two or three of them, who had gone 
 broke, in the office, but when you separate 
 them from their money there's nothing left, 
 not even their friends. 
 
 I never see a fellow trying to crawl or to 
 buy his way into society that I don't think 
 231 
 
A SELF-MADE MERCHA NT'S 
 
 ot my old friend Hank Smith and his wife 
 Kate-Kate Botts slie wa« before he map- 
 ried her-and how they tried to butt their 
 way through the upper crust 
 
 Hank and I were boys together in Mis- 
 souri, and he stayed along in the old town 
 after I left I heard of him on and off as 
 tending store^a little, and farming a little, 
 and loaflng a good deal. Then I forgot all 
 about him, until one day a few years ago 
 when he turned up in the papers aa Captain 
 Henry Smith, the Klondike Gold King, just 
 back from Circle City, with a million in 
 dust and anything you please in claims. 
 There's never any Umit to what a miner may 
 be worth in those, except his imagination. 
 ■■ I was a little puzzled when, a week later, 
 my office boy brought me a card reading 
 Colonel Heniy Augustus Bottes-Smythe, 
 but I supposed it was some distinguished 
 foreigner who had come to size me up so 
 that he could round out his roaat on Chi- 
 232 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 cago in his new book, and I told the boy to 
 ■how the General In. 
 
 > I've got a pretty good memory for faces, 
 and I'd bought too much store plug of Hank 
 in my time not to know him, even with a 
 clean shave and a plug hat Some men dry 
 np with success, but it was just spouting out 
 of Haak. Told me he'd made his pile and 
 that he was tired of living on the slag heap; 
 that he'd spent his whole Ufe where money 
 hardly whispered, let alone talked, and he 
 was going now where it would shout 
 Wanted to know what was the use of being 
 a nob if a fellow wasn't the nobbiest sort of 
 a nob. Said he'd bought a house on Beacon 
 Hill, in Boston, and that if I'd prick up my 
 ears occasionally I'd hear something drop 
 into the Back Bay. Handed me his new 
 card four times and explained that it was 
 the rawest sort of dog to cany a brace of 
 names in your card holster; that it gave you 
 the drop on the swells every time, and that 
 «33 
 
i i 
 
 A SELF-MADE MERCHAN T'S 
 they JuBt had to throw up both hands and 
 PMs yon the pot when you showed down. 
 Said that Bottes waa old English for Botts, 
 and that Smythe was new American for 
 Smith ; the Anpistns was just a fancy touch, 
 a sort of high-card kicker. 
 
 I didn't explain to Hank, because it was 
 congratulation^ and not explanations that 
 he wanted, and I make it a point to show a 
 customer the line of goods that he's looking 
 for. And I never heard the full particulars 
 of his experiences in the East, though, from 
 what I learned afterward. Hank struck Bos- 
 ton with a bang, all right. 
 
 He located his claim on Beacon Hill, be- 
 tween a Mayflower descendant and a Dec- 
 laration Signer's greatgrandson, breeds 
 which believe that when the Lord made them 
 He was through, and that the rest of us just 
 happened. And he hadn't been in town two 
 hours before he started in to make improve- 
 ments. There was a high wrought-iron rail- 
 ing in front of his house, and he had that 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 gilded first thing, because, a, he said, he 
 wasn't running a receiving vault and he 
 didn't want any mistakes. Then he bought 
 a nice, open barouche, had the wheels 
 painted red, hired a nigger coachman and 
 started out in style to be sociable and get 
 acquainted. Left his card all th. way down 
 one side of Beacon Street, and then drove 
 back leaving it on the other. Everywhere 
 he stopped he found that the whole family 
 was out Kept it up a week, on and olT, but 
 d.dn t seem to have any luck. Thought that 
 the men must be hot sports and the women 
 great gadders to keep on the jump so much. 
 Allowed that they were the liveliest little 
 I'-t of fleas that he had ever chased. De- 
 'ided to quit trying to nail 'em one at a 
 ame, and planned out something that he 
 reckoned would round up the whole bunch. 
 Hank sent out a thousand Invitations to 
 his grand opening, as he called it; left one 
 at eveiy house within a mile. Had a brass 
 band on the front steps and fireworks on the 
 
I 
 
 A SELF-MADE MERCHANT 'S 
 root. Ordered forty kegs from the brewery 
 and hired a fancy mixer to aling together 
 mild Bnorts, aa he called them, for the ladles. 
 They tell me that, when the band got to 
 going good on the gtepe and the firework* 
 on the roof, even Beacon Street looked out 
 the windows to see what waa doing. There 
 must have been ten thousand people In the 
 street and not a soul but Hank and his wife 
 and the mixer in the house. Some one 
 yelled speech, and then the whole crowd 
 took it up, tin Hank came out on the steps. 
 He shut off the band with one hand and 
 stopped the fireworks with the other. Said 
 that speechmakiag wasn't his strangle-hold ; 
 that he'd been living on snowballs in the 
 Klondike for so long that his gas-pipe was 
 frozen; but that this welcome started the 
 ice and he thought about three fingers of 
 the plumber's favorite prescription would 
 cut out the frost. Would the crowd join 
 him? He had invited a few friends in for 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 the evening, but there seemed to be *ome 
 miHunderstandlng about the date, and he 
 hated to have good gtuff curdle on his hands. 
 While thlB wa« going on, the Mayflower 
 descendant was telephoning for the police 
 from one aide and the Signer's great-grand- 
 son from the other, and ju-t as the crowd 
 yelled and broke for the house two patrol 
 wagons full of policemen got there. But 
 they had to turn in a riot call and bring out 
 the reserves before they could breaJc np 
 Hank's little Boston tea-party. 
 
 After all, Hank did what he started out 
 to do with his party-rounded up all his 
 neighbors in a bunch, though not exactly 
 according to schedule. For next morning 
 there were so many descendants and great- 
 grandsons in the police court to prefer 
 charges that it looked like a reunion of the 
 Pilgrim Fathers. The Judge fined Hank 
 on sixteen counts and bound him over to 
 keep the peace for a hundred years. That 
 237 
 
A SELF-MADE MERCHANT'S 
 
 afternoon he left for the West on a special, 
 because the Limited didn't get there quick 
 enough. But before going he tacked on the 
 front door of his house a sign which read : 
 
 " Neighbors paying their part> calls 
 will please not heave rocks through 
 windows to attract attention. Not in 
 and not gbing to be. Gone back to 
 Circle City for a little quiet. 
 
 " Yours truly, 
 "Hank Smith. 
 
 " N. B. — Too swift for your uncle." 
 
 Hank dropped by my office for a minute 
 on his way to 'Frisco, Said he liked things 
 lively, but there was altogether too much 
 rough-house on Beacon Hill for him. 
 Judged that as the crowd which wasn't in- 
 vited was so blamed sociable, the one which 
 was invited would have stayed a week if it 
 hadn't slipped up on the date. That might 
 238 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 be the Boston idea, but he wanted a little 
 more refinement in his. Said he was a 
 pretty free spender, and would hold his end 
 up, but he hated a hog. Of course I told 
 Hank that Boston wasn't all that it waa 
 cracked up to be in the school histories, and 
 that Cirele City wasn't so tough as it read 
 in the newspapers, for there was no way of 
 making him understand that he might have 
 lived in Boston for a hundred years without 
 being invited to a strawberry sociable. Be- 
 cause a fellow cuts ice on the Arctic Circle, 
 it doesn't follow that he's going to be worth 
 beans on the Back Bay. 
 
 I simply mention Hank in a general way. 
 His case may be a little diflferent, but it isn't 
 any more extreme than lots of others all 
 around you over there and me over here. 
 Of course, I want you to enjoy good society, 
 but any society is good society where con- 
 genial men and women meet together for 
 wholesome amusement. But I want yo.u to 
 
 jini 
 
A MERCHANT'S LETT ERS 
 
 keep away from people who choose play for 
 a profession. A man's as good as he makes 
 himself, but no man's any good because his 
 grandfather waa. 
 
 Your affectionate father, 
 
 John Obaham. 
 
 i 
 
 240 
 
FROM John Graham, 
 at the London House 
 of Graham & Co., to 
 his son, Pierrepont, at the 
 Union Stock Yards in 
 Chicago. Mr. Pierrepont 
 has written his father that 
 he is getting along fa- 
 mously in his new place 
 

XVII 
 
 London, October 24, 189— 
 Dear Pierrepont: Well, I'm headed for 
 home at last, checked high and as full of 
 prance as a spotted circus horse. Those 
 Dutchmen ain't so bad as their language, 
 after all, for they've fixed up my rheuma- 
 tism so that I can bear down on my right leg 
 without thinking that it's going to b'^^ oft. 
 I'm glad to learn from your letter that 
 you're getting along so well in your new 
 place, and I hope that when I get home your 
 boss will back up all the good things which 
 you say about yourself. For the future, 
 however, you needn't bother to keep me 
 posted along this line. It's the one subject 
 on which m>/St men are perfectly frank, and 
 it's about the only one on which it isn't 
 necessary to be. There's never any use try- 
 ing to hide the fact that you're a jim-dandy 
 — ^you're bound to be found out Of course, 
 yon want to have your eyes open all the 
 
 243 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
A SELF-MADE MRRrw^iv7>r.c; 
 
 time for a good mm, but follow the old 
 
 maid 8 exaxnpl^iook under the bed and in 
 
 the closet, not in the mirror, for him A 
 
 mail who does big things is too busy to talk 
 
 about them. When the jaws really need ex- 
 ercise, chew gum. 
 
 Some men go through life on the Sarsapa. 
 riHa Theory-that Uiey're got to give a hun- 
 dred doses of, talk about themselves for 
 every dollar which thev taie in; and tb-H's 
 a pretty good theory when you're getting 
 a dollar for ten cents' worth of ingredients 
 But a maa who's giving a dollar's worth of 
 himself for ninety-nine cents doesn't need 
 to throw in any explanations. 
 
 Of course, you're going to meet fellows 
 nght along who pass as good men i„r a 
 while, because they say they're good men; 
 just as a lot of fives are in circulation which 
 are accepted at their face value until they 
 work up to the receiving teller. And you're 
 going to see these men taMng buzzards and 
 coining eagles from them that will fool 
 244 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 people 80 long as they can keep tiiem in the 
 air; but sooner or later they're bound to 
 swoop back to their dead horse, and you'll 
 get the buzzard smell. 
 
 Hot air can take up a balloon a long 
 ways, but it can't keep it there. And when 
 a fellow's turning flip-flops up among the 
 clouds, he's naturally going to have the 
 farmers gaping at him. But in the end 
 there always comes a time when the para- 
 chute fails f» work. I don't know anything 
 that's quite so dead as a man who's fallen 
 three or four thousand feet off the edge of a 
 cloud. 
 
 The only way to gratify a taste for 
 scenery is to climb a mountain. You don't 
 get up so quick, but you don't come down 
 so sudden. Even then, there's a chance that 
 a fellow may slip and fall over a precipice, 
 but not unless he's foolish enough to try 
 short-cuts over slippery places; though 
 some men can manage to fall down the hall 
 stairs and break their necks. The path isn't 
 «4S 
 
A SELF-MADE MERCHANT' S 
 
 the shortest way to the top, but It's usually 
 the sa/est way. 
 
 Life Isn't a spurt, but a long, steady 
 climb You can't run far up-hill without 
 stopping to sit down. Some men do a day's 
 work and then spend six lolling around ad- 
 miring it. They rush at a thing with a 
 whoop and use up all their wind in that 
 And when their're rested and have got it 
 back, they whoop again and start off in a 
 new direction. They mistake intention for 
 determination, and after they have told you 
 what they propose to do and get right up to 
 doing i<, they simply peter out 
 
 I've heard a good deal in my time about 
 the foolishness of hens, but when it comes 
 to right-down, plum foolishness, give me a 
 rooster, every time. He's always strutting 
 and stretching and crowing and bragging 
 about things with which he had nothing to 
 do. When the sun rises, you'd think that he 
 was making all the light, instead of all the 
 noise; when the farmer's wife throws the 
 246 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 acraps in the henyard, he crows as If he was 
 the provider for the whole fannyard and 
 wail asking a blessing on the food; when he 
 meets another rooster, he crows; and when 
 the other rooster licks him, he crows; and 
 80 he keeps It up straight through the day. 
 He even wakes up during the night and 
 crows a little on general principles. But 
 when yon hear from a hen, she's laid an egg 
 and she don't make a great deal of noise 
 about it, either. 
 
 I speak of these things in a general way, 
 because I want you to keep in mind all the 
 time that steady, quiet, persistent, plain 
 work can't be imitated or replaced by any- 
 thing just as good, and because your re- 
 quest for a job for Courtland Warrington 
 naturally brings them up. Ton write that 
 Court says that a man who has occupied his 
 position in the worid naturally can't 
 cheapen himself by stepping down into any 
 little piddling job where he'd have to do 
 nndignifled things. 
 
 247 
 
A SELF-MADE MERCHANT 'S 
 
 I want to start right out by saying that I 
 Vnow Court and his whole breed like a rine 
 factory, and that we can't nse him in onr 
 business. He's one of those fellows who 
 «tart in at the top and naturally work down 
 to the bottom, because that is where they 
 belong. His father gave him an interest In 
 he concern when he left college, and since 
 the old man failed three years ago and took 
 a salary himself, Court's been sponging on 
 him and waiting for a nice, dignified Job to 
 come along and steal him. But we are not 
 In the kidnapping business 
 
 The only undignified job I know of i, 
 loafing, and nothing can cheapen a man 
 who sponges instead of hunting any sort of 
 work because he's as cheap already as they 
 c^ be made. I never could quite nndeT 
 stand these fellows who keep down eveiy 
 decent instinct in order to keep up appear 
 ance, and who will stoop to any sort of real 
 meanness to boost up their false pride. 
 They always remind me of little Patlgr 
 248 
 
" Jim Hicks dared Fatty Wilkim 
 tt eat a piece of dirt. ' ' 
 
ti, 
 
 ll 
 
 I 
 
 I. 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 Wilkin,, who caine to live In „„r town back 
 
 thought a heap of Patty, and Patty thought 
 a heap of himself, or hi, ,ton.ach, whL 
 wa, the «„ne thing. Looked like he'd been 
 taken from a Joke book. U,ed to be a great 
 
 tretched a, tight a. a ^.nsage ,kln, and 
 ^«. how ed for painkiller. Spent all hi, 
 pennte, tor cake,, becan,e candy waan't 
 «Ilng enough. Hogged 'em In the ri.op, 
 tort^ he would ha^e to give «>me one a 
 Wte If he ate them on the street 
 
 J^'^Jl^" ^^^ '^^^'"'^ *^« to Patty, and 
 they didn't make any special secrer„f U 
 when he was around. He was a mighty 
 
 brave boy aud a mighty strong boy and I 
 «^i«ht, proud boy-with his month; but he 
 always managed to slip out of anything that 
 looked Mke a flght by having a sore hand 
 or a caae of the mumps. The truth of the 
 matter wu« that he was afraid of every- 
 
 thing except food, and that 
 249 
 
 was the thing 
 
t\\ 
 
 A SELF-MADE MERCHA NT'S 
 
 which was hurting him most It's mighty 
 seldom that a fellow's afraid of what he 
 ought to be afraid of in this world. 
 
 Of course, like most cowards, while Fatty 
 always had an excuse for not doing some- 
 thing that might hurt his skin, he would 
 take a dare to do anything that would hurt 
 his self-respect, for fear the boys would 
 laugh at him, or say that he was afraid, if 
 he refused. So one day during recess Jim 
 Hicks dared him to eat a piece of dirt 
 Fatty hesitated a little, because, while he 
 was pretty promiscuous about what he put 
 into his stomach, he had never included di t 
 in his bill-of-fare. But when the boys be- 
 gan to say that he was afraid, Fatty up and 
 swallowed it 
 
 And when he dared the other boys to do 
 the same thing and none of them would take 
 the dare, it made him mighty proud and 
 pufiFed up. Got to charging the bigger boys 
 and the loungers around the post-oflBce a 
 cent to see him eat a piece of dirt the size of 
 250 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 a hickoiy-nut Found there was good 
 money in that, and added grasshoppers, at 
 two cents apiece, as a side line. Found 
 them so popular that he took on chinch 
 bugs at a nickel, and fairly coined money 
 The last I heard of Fatty he was in a Dime 
 Museum, drawing two sa'Pries-one as 
 " The Fat Man," and the other as « Lannce- 
 lot. The Locust Eater, the Only Man Alive 
 with a Gizzard." 
 
 You are going to meet a heap of Fatties, 
 first and last, fellows who'll eat a little 
 dirt "for fun" or to show off, and who'll 
 eat a little more because they find that 
 there's some easy money or times in it. It's 
 hard to get at these uien, because when 
 they've lost everything they had to be proud 
 of, they still keep their pride. You can 
 always bet that when a fellow's pride makes 
 him touchy, it's because there are some 
 mighty raw spots on it • 
 
 It's been my experience that p/ide is usu- 
 ally a spur to the strong and a drag on the 
 251 
 
 I 
 
 i: 
 
weai. It dme. the strong man along and 
 ho ds the weak one back. It mates the 
 fellow witi the stiff upper lip and the 
 square jaw smile at a laugh and langh at n 
 «neer; it keeps his conscience straight and 
 h.s back humped oyer his work; it makes 
 him appreciate the little things and flght 
 for the big ones. But it makes the fellow 
 with the retreating forehead do the thing 
 that looks right, instead of the thing that is 
 nght; ,t makes him fear a laugh and shrivel 
 up at a sneer; it makes him live to-day on 
 to-morrow's salary; it makes him a cheap 
 imitation o some Willie who ha« a little 
 more money than he has, without giving 
 him zip enough to go out and force luck 
 for himself. 
 
 I never see one of these fellows swelling 
 around with their petty larceny pride that 
 I don't think of a little experience of mine 
 when I was a boy. An old fellow caught me 
 lifting a watermelon in his patch, one after- 
 noon, and instead of cuffing me and letting 
 252 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 me go, as I had expected if I got caught, he 
 led me home by the ear to my ma, aod told 
 her what I had been up to. 
 
 Your grandma had een raised on the 
 old-fashioned plan, and she had nerer heard 
 of these new-fangled theories of reasoning 
 gently with a child till it« under lip begins 
 to stick out and its eyes to fill with tears as 
 It sees the error of its ways. She fetched 
 the tears all righl, but she did it with a 
 trunk strap or a slipper. And your grand- 
 ma was a pretty substantial woman. Noth- 
 ing of the tootsey-wootsey about her foot, 
 and nothing of the airy-fairy trifle about 
 her slipper. When she was through I knew 
 that I'd been licked-polished right off to a 
 poinf^and then she sent me to my room 
 and told me not to poke my nose out of it 
 till I could recite the Ten Commandmente 
 and the Sunday-school lesson by heart 
 
 There was a whole chapter of it, and an 
 Old Testament chapter at that, but I laid 
 right into it because I knew ma, and supper 
 
A SELF-MADE MERCHA NT'S 
 
 was only two hours oflf. I can repeat that 
 chapter still, forward and backward, with- 
 out missing a word or stopping to catch my 
 breath. 
 
 Every now and then old Doc Hoover used 
 to come into the Sunday-school room and 
 scare the scholars into fits by going around 
 from class to class and asking questions. 
 That next Sunday, for the first time, I was 
 glad to see him happen in, and I didn't try 
 to escape attention when he worked around 
 to our class. For ten minutes I'd been 
 busting for him to ask me to recite a 
 verse of the lesson, and, when he did, 
 I simply cut loose and recited the 
 whole chapter and threw in the Ten 
 Commandments for good measura It sort 
 of daaed the Doc, because he had come 
 • me for information about the Old Testa- 
 ment before, and we'd never got much be- 
 yond, And Ahab begat Jaha^, or words to 
 that effect But when he got over the shock 
 he made me stand right up before the whole 
 254 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 school and do it again. Patted me on the 
 head and said I was " an honor to my par- 
 ents and an example to my playmates." 
 
 I had been looking down all the time, 
 feeling rJ-'hty proud and scared, but at that 
 I couldn't help glancing up to see the other 
 boys admire me. But the first person my 
 eye lit on waa your gi-andma, standing in 
 the back of the room, where she had stopped 
 for a moment on her way up to church, and 
 glaring at me in a mighty unpleasant way. 
 " Tell 'em, John," she said right out loud, 
 before everybody. 
 
 There was no way to run, for the Elder 
 had hold of my hand, and there was no 
 place to hide, though I reckon I could have 
 crawled into a rat hole. So, to gain time, I 
 blurted out: 
 "Tell 'em what, mam?" 
 " Tell' em how you come to have your les- 
 son so nice." 
 
 I learned to hate notoriety right then and 
 there, but I knew there wcs no switching 
 
A MERCHANT'S LETTERS 
 
 her off on to the weather when she wanted to 
 talk religion. So I shut my eyes and let it 
 come, though it caught on my palate once or 
 twice on the way out 
 " Hooked a watermelon, mam." 
 There wasn't any need for further par- 
 ticulars with that crowd, and they simply 
 howled. Ma led me up to our pew, allow- 
 ing that she'd tend to me Monday for dis- 
 gracing her in public that way — and she 
 did. 
 
 That was a twelve-grain dose, without 
 any sugar coat, but it sweat more cant and 
 false pride out of my system than I could 
 get back into it for the next twenty years. 
 I learned right there how to be humble, 
 which is a heap more important than know- 
 ing how to be proud. There are mighty few 
 men that need any lessons in that. 
 
 Your affectionate father, 
 
 John GEAH-iM. 
 
 256 
 
No. 18 
 
 FROM John Graham, 
 at;the London House 
 o{ Graham & Co.', to 
 hi« son, Fierrepont, at the 
 Union Stock Yards in 
 Chicago. Mr. Fierrepont 
 is worried over rumors 
 that the old man is a bear 
 on lard, and that the longs 
 «re about to make him 
 climb a tree. 
 
 i,' 
 
XVIII 
 
 London, October 27, 18ft— 
 Dear Pierrepont: Yonra of the twenty- 
 first inst to hand and I note the inclosed 
 clippings. Ton needn't pay any special at- 
 tention to this newspaper talk about the 
 Comstock crowd having caught me short a 
 big line of November lard. I never sell 
 goods without knowing where I can find 
 them when I want them, and if these fellows 
 try to put their forefeet in the trough, op 
 start anj' shoving and crowding, they're 
 going to find me forgetting my table 
 manners, too. For when itcomes to funny 
 business I'm something of a humorist my- 
 self. And while I'm too old to run, I'm 
 young enough ia stand and fight. 
 
 First and last, a good many men have 
 gone gunning for me, but they've always 
 planned the obsequies before they caught 
 the deceased. I reckon there hasn't been a 
 time in twenty years when there wasn't a 
 *59 
 
I 
 
 . A SELF-MADE MERCHANT 'S 
 nice "Gate. Ajar" piece all made up and 
 ready for me in some office near the Board 
 of Trade. But the first essential of a quiet 
 funeral is a willing corpse. And I'm still 
 sitting up and taldng nourishment 
 
 There are two things you never want to 
 pay any attention t^-abuse and flatteiy 
 The first can't harm you and the second 
 can t help you. Some men are lilte yellow 
 dogs-when you're coming toward them 
 they'll jump up and try to licit your 
 hands; and when you're walking away 
 from them they'll snealt up behind and 
 snap at your heels. Last year, when 
 I was bulling the marltet, the longs all 
 said that I was a kind-hearted old philan- 
 thropist, who was laying awake nights 
 scheming to get the farmers a top price for 
 their hogs; and the shorts allowed that I 
 was an infamous old robber, who was steal- 
 ing the pork out of the workingman's pot. 
 As long as you can't please both sides in 
 260 
 
_ LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 thi* world, there's nothing like plea«lnir 
 youp own Bide. i^'caaing 
 
 Th^ are niighty few people who can see 
 any Bide to a thing except their own irfde I 
 remember once I had a vacant lot out on 'the 
 Avenue and a lad^ came into my office and 
 in a soothing-Blrupy way asked If I would 
 lend It to her as she wanted to build a cr^cke 
 on It I hemtated a litUe, because I had 
 
 never heard of a c^cAc before, and some- 
 ways It sounded sort of foreign a.d mZ 
 
 though the woman looked like a good^tfl' 
 re^.ab^ old heifer. But she explL^ S 
 
 aor^.,w,3 baby farm, Where old maids 
 went to wash and feed and stick pins In 
 other i^ple-s children while their mothers 
 were oflf at wnrt f\t 
 
 noti..ng ,n that to get our pastor or the 
 
 ^^;:f7 ;:'"^*°'^''- to ^o ahead 
 
 She went off happy, but about a week later 
 
 she dropped in again, looking sort of dis- 
 
 satisfied, to find out if I wouldn't build the 
 261 
 
[M.:::. 
 
 A SELF-MADE MERCHANT 'S 
 
 criche iteelf. It seemed like a worthy ob- 
 ject, 80 I Bent some carpenters over to 
 knock together a long frame pavilion. She 
 was mighty grateful, you bet, and I didn't 
 see hep again for a fortnight Then she 
 called by to say that bo long as I was in 
 the buslnesi, and th^ didn't cost me any- 
 thing special, would I mind giving her a 
 few cows. She had a surprised and grieved 
 expression on her face as iihe talked, and the 
 way she put it made me feel that I ought 
 to be ashamed of myself for not having 
 thought of the live stock myself. So I threw 
 in half t dozen cows to provide the refreah- 
 ments. 
 
 I thought that was pretty good measure, 
 but the carpenters hadn't more than finished 
 with the pavilion before the woman tele- 
 phoned a sharp message to ask why I hadn't 
 had it painted. 
 
 I was too busy that morning to quarrel, 
 so I sent word that I would fix it up; and 
 when I was driving by there next day the 
 262 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 painters were hard at work on It There 
 wa« a Blxty-foot frontage of that shed on the 
 Avenue, and I saw right off that It was just 
 a natural signboard. So I called over the 
 boss painter and between us we cooked up 
 a nice little ad that ran something like this: 
 
 Graham's Extract: 
 It Makes the Weak Strong. 
 
 \^c\\, sir, wuen she saw the ad next morn- 
 ing that old hen just scratched gravel. 
 Went all around town saying that I had 
 given a flve-hundred-dollar shed to charity 
 and painted a thousand-dollar ad on it Al- 
 lowed I ought to send my check for that 
 amount to the criche fund. Kept at it till 
 I began to think there might be something 
 In it, after all, and sent her the money. 
 Then I found a fellow who wanted to build 
 in that neighborhood, sold him the lot cheap, 
 and got out of the criche industry. 
 
 I've put a good deal more than work into 
 my business, and I've drawn a good deal 
 263 
 
 1: 
 
^m^'m^m:^^M 
 
 A SELF-MADE MERCHAN T'S 
 
 more than money out of it: but the only 
 thing I've ever put into it which didn't draw 
 dividends in fuu or dollars was worry. 
 That is a branch of the trade which yon 
 want to leave to our competitors. 
 
 I've always found worrying a blamed 
 sight more uncertain than horse-racing- 
 it's harder to pick a winner at it You go 
 home worrying because you're afraid that 
 your fool new clerk forgot to lock the safe 
 after you, and during the night the lard 
 refineiy bums down; you spend a year 
 fretting because you think Bill Jones is 
 going to cut you out with your best girl, P^d 
 then you spend ten worrying because he 
 didnt; you worry over Charlie at college 
 because he's a litUe wild, and he writes you 
 that he's been elected president of the T. 
 M. 0. A.; and yon worry over William be- 
 cause he's so pious that you're afraid he's 
 going to throw up everything and go to 
 China as a missionaiy, and he draws on you 
 tor a hundred; you worry because you're 
 264 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 afraid your business is going to smash, and 
 your liealth busts up instead. Worrying is 
 the one game in which, if you guess right, 
 you don't get any satisfaction out of your 
 smartness. A busy man has no time to 
 bother with it He can always find plenty 
 of old women in skirts or trousers to spend 
 their days worrying over their own troubles 
 and to sit up nighta waking his. 
 
 Speaking of handing over your worries 
 to others naturally calls to mind the Widow 
 Williams and her son Bud, who was a play- 
 mate of mine when I was a boy. Bud was 
 the youngest of the Widow's troubles, and 
 she was a woman whose troubles seldom 
 came singly. Had fourteen altogether, and 
 four pair of 'em were twins. Used to turn 
 'em loose in the morning, when she let out 
 her cows and pigs to browse along the 
 street, and then she'd shed all worry over 
 them for the rest of the day. Allowed that 
 If they got hurt the neighbors would bring 
 t'iem home; and that if they got hungry 
 265 
 
 III 
 
 hmi-w£m^^ 
 

 A SELF-MADE MERCHA NT'S 
 they'd come home. And someways, the 
 Jhde drove always showed up safe and 
 flirty about meaJ tima 
 
 I've no doubt she thought a lot of Bud 
 but when a woman has fourteen it sort of 
 unsettle* her mind so that she caa't focus 
 her affections or play any favorites. And 
 «o when Bud's clothes were found at the 
 swimming hole one day, and no Bud inside 
 ttem. she didn't take on up to the expecta- 
 tions of the neighbors who had brought the 
 Bews, and who were standing around wait- 
 ing for her to go off into something special 
 in the way of higa-strikes. 
 
 She aJlowed that they were Bud's clothes, 
 all nght, but she wanted to know where the 
 remains were. Hinted that there'd be no 
 funeral, or such like expensive goings-on, 
 until some one produced the deceased. Take 
 her by and large, she was a prett, cool, 
 calm cucumber. 
 
 But if she showed a little too much Chris- 
 tian resignation, the rest of the town was 
 266 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 mightily stirred up over Bud's death, and 
 every one just quit work to tell each other 
 Avhat a noble little fellow he was; and how 
 his mother hadn't deserved to have such a 
 bright little sunbeam in her home; and to 
 drag the river between talks. But they 
 couldn't get a rise. 
 
 Through all the worry and excitement the 
 Widow was the only one who didn't show 
 any special interest, except to ask for re- 
 sults. But finally, at the end of a week 
 when they'd strained the whole river 
 through their drags and hadn't anything to 
 show for it but a collection of tin cans 
 and dead catfish, she threv a shawl over 
 her head and went down the street to the 
 cabin of Louisiana Clytemnestra, an old 
 yellow woman, who would go into a trance 
 for four bits and find a fortune for you for 
 a dollar. I reckon she'd have called herself 
 a clairvoyant nowadays, but then she was 
 just a voodoo woman. 
 Well, the Widow said she reckoned that 
 267 
 
A SELF-MADE MERCHANTS 
 
 boys ought to be let out as well as in for 
 half price, and so she laid down two bits, 
 allowing that she wanted a few minutes' 
 private conversation with her Bud. Clytle 
 said she'd do her best, but that spirits were 
 mighty snift- and high-toned, even when 
 they'd only been poor white trash on earth, 
 and it might, make them mad to be caUed 
 away from their high jinks if they were tak- 
 ing a little recreation, or from their high- 
 priced New York customers if they were 
 working, to tend to cut-rate business Still, 
 she'd have a try, and she did. But aft-^r 
 having convulsions for half an hour, she 
 gave it up. Reckoned that Bud was up to 
 some cussedness ofif somewhere, and that he 
 wouldn't answer for any two-bits. 
 
 The Widow was badly disappointed, but 
 she allowed that that was just like Bud. 
 He'd always been a boy that never could be 
 found when any one wanted him. So she 
 went ofif, saying that she'd had her money's 
 worth in seeing Clytie throw those fancj; 
 268 
 
" Elder Hoover was accounted a 
 powerful exhort er in our parts." 
 
fi^ 
 
 i^F^ 
 
 £« 
 
 
i!*IO^t: 
 
 LETTERS TO HIP SON 
 
 fits. But next day Bhe came again and paid 
 down four bite, and Clytie reckoned that 
 that ought to fetch Bud sure. Someways 
 though, she didn't have any luck, and finally 
 the Widow suggested that she call up Bud-fe 
 father-Buck Williams had been dead a 
 matter of ten years-and the old man re- 
 sponded promptly. 
 
 « Where's Bud? " asked the Widow. 
 
 Hadn't laid eyes on him. Didn't know 
 he'd come across. Had he joined the church 
 before he started? 
 
 " No." 
 
 Then he'd have to look downstairs for 
 him. 
 
 Clytie told the Widow t» call again and 
 they'd get him sure. So she came back next 
 day and laid down a dollar. That fetched 
 old Buck Williams' ghost on the jump, you 
 bet, but he said he hadn't laid eyes on Bud 
 yet They hruled the Sweet By and By with 
 a drag net, but they couldn't get a rap from 
 Wm. Clytie trotted out George Washing- 
 269 
 
iTk »::■!. 
 
 f . ; 
 i 
 
 A SELF-MADE MERCHANT S 
 
 ton, and Napoleon, and Billy Patterson, and 
 Ben Franklin, and Captain Kidd, just to 
 show that there was no deception, bnt they 
 couldn't get a whisper even from Bud. 
 
 I reckon Clytie had been stringing the 
 old lady along, intending to produce Bud's 
 spook as a sort of red-flre, calcium-light, 
 Krand-march-if-the- Amazons climax, but she 
 didn't get a chanca For right there the old 
 lady got up with a mighty set expression 
 around her lips and marched out, muttering 
 that it was just as she had thought all along 
 —Bud wasn't there. And when the neigh- 
 bors dropped in that afternoon to plan out 
 a memorial service for her " lost lamb," she 
 chased them off the lot with a broom. Said 
 that they had looked in the river for him 
 and that she had looked beyond the river 
 for him, and that they would just stand pat 
 now and wait for him to make the next 
 mova Allowed vhat if she could once get 
 her hands in « that lost lamb's " wool there 
 might be an opening for a funeral when she 
 270 
 
miiW0^-Y' 
 
 LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 got through with Lira, but ther.> wouldn't 
 be till then. Altogether, it looked as if 
 there was a heap of trouble coming to Bud 
 if he had made any mistake and was still 
 alive. 
 
 The Widow found her « lost lamb " hiding 
 behind a rain-barrel when she opened up 
 the house next morning, and there was a 
 mighty touching and affecting scena In 
 fact, the Widow must have touched him at 
 least a hundred times and eveiy time he 
 was affected to tears, for she was using a 
 bed slat, which is a powerfully str< ,g moral 
 agent for making a boy see the error of his 
 ways. And it was a month after that before 
 Bud could go down Main Street without 
 some man who had called him a noble little 
 fellow, or a bright, manly little chap, while 
 he was drowned, reaching out and fetching 
 him a clip on the ear for having come back 
 and put the laugh on him. 
 
 No one except the Widow ever really got 
 at tie straight of Bud's conduct, but it ap- 
 271 
 
A MERCHANT'S LET TERS 
 peared that he left home to get a few Indian 
 scalps, and that he came back for a lltUe 
 bacon and com pone. 
 
 I Bimply menUon the Widow in paBsing 
 88 an example of the fact that the time to 
 do your worrying is when a thing ig all 
 oTer, and that the way to do it is to leave 
 it to the neighbors. I sail for home to- 
 morrow. 
 
 Yonr affectionate father, 
 
 John Gbaham. 
 
 27a 
 
JSi,^'1L- 
 
 FROM John Graham, 
 at the New York 
 house o< Graham & 
 Co., to his ion, Pierrepoiit, 
 at the Union Stoclc Yards 
 in Chicago. The old man, 
 on the voyage home, has 
 met a girl who interests 
 him and who in turn 
 seems to be interested in 
 Mr. Pierrepont. 
 
 ^I 
 
^/:>i.«:■^•«^2W^f^ 
 
rrf^ 
 
 XIX 
 
 New York, November 4, 18fr— . 
 Dear Pierrepont: Who is this Helen 
 Heath, and what are your Intentions there? 
 She knows a heap more about you than she 
 ought to know If they're not serious, and I 
 know a heap lees about her than I ought to 
 know If they are. Hadn't got out of sight of 
 land before we'd become acquainted some- 
 how, and she's been treating me like a father 
 clear across the Atlantic. She's a mighty 
 pretty girl, and a mighty nice girl, and a 
 mighty sensible girl— in fact she's ao exactly 
 the sort of girl I'd like to see you marry that 
 I'm afraid there's nothing In It. 
 
 Of course, your salary isn't a large one 
 yet, but you can buy a whole lot of happiness 
 with fifty dollars a week when you have the 
 right sort of a woman for your purchasing 
 agent. And while I don't go much on love 
 in a cottage, love in a flat, with fifty a week 
 aa a starter, is just about right, if the girl la 
 275 
 
t ' 
 
 I. 
 
 ' III! 
 
 A SELF-MADE MERCHAN T'S 
 
 jn8t about right If she isn't, it doesn't 
 make any special difference how you start 
 out, you're going to end up all wrong. 
 
 Money ought never to be «fte consideration 
 ininarriage, but it always ought to be o con- 
 sideration. When a boy and a girl don't 
 think enough about money before the cere- 
 mony, they're going to have to think alto- 
 gether too much about it after; and when a 
 man's doing sums at home evenings, it 
 comes kind of awkward for him to try to 
 hold his wife on his lapt 
 
 There's nothing in this taJk that two can "~ 
 live cheaper Uian one. A good wife doubles 
 a man's expenses and doubles his happiness, 
 and that's a pretty good investment if a fel- 
 low's got the money to invest I have met 
 women who had cut their husband's ex- 
 penses in half, but ti^ needed the money 
 because they had doubled their own I 
 might add, too, that I've met a good maaiy 
 husbands who had cut their wives' expenses 
 in half, and thqr fit naturally into any dis- 
 276 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 cnssion of our business, because they are 
 hogs. There's a point where economy be- 
 comes a Tice, and that's when a man ikres 
 its practic" to his wife. 
 
 An unmarried man is a good deal Uke a 
 piece of unimproved real estab.—he may be 
 worth a whole lot of money, but he isn't of 
 any particular use except to build on. The 
 great trouble with a lot of these fellows is 
 that they're " made land," and if you dig 
 down a few feet yon strike ooze and booze 
 under the layer of dollars that their daddies 
 dumped in od top. Of course, the only way 
 to.deal with a proposition of that sort is to 
 drive forty-foot piles clear down to solid 
 rock and then to lay railroad iron and ce- 
 ment till you've got sometfiing to build on. 
 But a lot of women will go right ahead with- 
 out any preliminaries and wonder what's the 
 matter when the walls begin to crack and 
 tumble about their ears. 
 
 I never come across a case of this sort 
 without thinking of Jack Carter, whose fa- 
 277 
 
 
.: < 
 
 A SELF-MADE MERCHANT'S 
 
 ther died about ten years ago and left Jack 
 a million dollars, and left me as trostee of 
 both until Jack reached his twenty-flfth 
 birthday. I didn't relish the job particu- 
 larly, because Jack was one of these char- 
 lotte-russe boys, all whipped cream and 
 sponge cake and high-priced flavoring ex- 
 tracts, without any filling qualities. There 
 wasn't any special harm in him, but there 
 wasn't any special good, either, and I always 
 feel that there's more hope for a fellow who's 
 an out and out cuss than for one who's 
 simply made up of a lot of Uttle trifling 
 meannesses. Jack wore mighty warm 
 clothes and mighty hot vests, and the girls 
 all said that he was a perfect dream, but I've 
 never been one who could get a great deal 
 of satisfaction out of dreams. 
 
 It's mighty seldom that I do an exhibition 
 mile, but the winter after I inherited Jack 
 —he was twenty-three years old then— your 
 Ma kept after me so strong that I finally put 
 on my fancy harness and let her trot me 
 278 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 around to a meet at the Ralstons one eye- 
 ning. Of course, I was in the Percheron 
 class, and so I just stood around with a lot 
 of heavy old draft horses, who oughtto have 
 been resting up in their stalls, and watched 
 the three-year-olds prance and cavort round 
 the ring. Jack was among them, of course, 
 daacing with the youngest Churchill girl, 
 and holding her a litUe tighter, I thought, 
 than was necessary to keep her from falling. 
 Had both ends working at once— never 
 missed a stitch with his heels and was turn- 
 ing out a steady stream of fancy work with 
 his month. And all the time he was look- 
 ing at that girl as intent and eager as a 
 Scotch terrier at a rat hole. 
 
 I happened just then to be pinned into a 
 comer with two or three women who 
 couldn't escape— Edith Curzon, a great big 
 brunette whom I knew Jack had been pretty 
 soft on, and little Mabel Moore, a nice roly- 
 poly blonde, and it didn't take me long to 
 see that they were watching Jack with a 
 279 
 
 l\ 
 
 t.i :; 
 
A SELF-MADE MERCHANT'S 
 
 haii-pnlllflg itch in their flnger-tips. In 
 fact, it looked to me as if the young scamp 
 
 was a good deal more popular than the facts 
 about him, as I knew them, warranted him 
 in being. 
 
 I slipped out early, but next erening. 
 When I was sitting in my little smoking, 
 room. Jack dame charging in, and, without 
 any sparring for an opening, burst out with : 
 " Isn't she a stunner, Mr. Graham ! " 
 I allowed that Miss Curzon was some- 
 thing on the stun. 
 
 ^ "Miss Curzon, indeed," he sniffed. 
 " She's well enough in a big, black way, but 
 
 Miss Churchill " and he began to paw 
 
 the air for adjectives. 
 
 " But how was I to know that you meant 
 Miss Churchill?" I answered. "It's just 
 a fortnight now since you told me that Miss 
 Curzon was a goddess, and that she was go- 
 ing to reign in your life and make it a 
 heaven, or something of that sort I forget 
 280 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 just the words, but they were mighty beauti- 
 ful thoughts and did you credit" 
 
 « Don't remind me of it," Jack groaned. 
 " It makes me sick every time I think what 
 an ass I've been." 
 
 I allowed that I felt a little nausea my- 
 self, but I told him that this time, at least, 
 he'd shown some sense; that Miss Churchill 
 was a mighty pretty girl and rich enough so 
 that her liking him didn't prove anything 
 worse against her than bad judgment; and 
 that the thing for him co do was to quit his 
 'oolishness, propose to her, and dance the 
 ', toe, and a one, two, three with her for 
 the rest of his natural days. 
 
 Jack hemmed and hawked a little over 
 this, but finally he camor out with it: 
 
 " That's the deuce of it," says be. « I'm 
 in a beastly mess— I want to marry her— 
 she's the only girl in the world for mfr-the 
 only one I've ever really loved, and I've pro- 
 posed—that is, I want to propose to her 
 281 
 
A SELF-MADE MERCHA NT'S 
 
 but I'm engaged to Edith Curzon on the 
 quiet" 
 
 " I reckon you'll marry her, then," I sale' ; 
 " because she strikes me as a young womfin 
 who's not going to lose a million doUani 
 without putting a tracer after it" 
 
 " And that's not the worst of it," Jack 
 went on. i 
 
 "Not the worst of it! What do yon 
 
 mean! You haven't married her on the 
 
 quiet, too, have you? " 
 
 " No, but there's Mabel Moore, you know." 
 
 I didn't know, but I guessed. «Tou 
 
 haven't been such a double-barreled donkey 
 
 as to give her an option on yourself, too? " 
 
 " No, no; but I've said things to her which 
 
 she may have misconstrued, if she's inclined 
 
 to be literal." 
 
 " You bet she is," I answered. " I never 
 saw a nice, fat, blonde girl who took a mil- 
 lion-dollar offer as a practical joke. What 
 is it you've said to her? ' I love you, dar- 
 a8a 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 ling,' or sometliing about aa foxy and non- 
 committal." 
 
 " Not that— not that at all; but she may 
 have stretched what I said to mean that." 
 
 Well, sir, I just laid into that fellow when 
 I heard that, though I could see that he 
 didn't think it was refined of me. He'd 
 never made it any secret that he thought 
 me a pretty coarse old man, and his face 
 showed me now that I was jpjrring his deli- 
 cate works. 
 
 " I suppose I have been indiscreet," he 
 said, « but I must say I expected something 
 different from you, after coming out this 
 way and owning up. Of course, if you don't 
 care to help me " 
 
 I cut him short there. " I've got to help 
 you. But I want you to tell me the truth. 
 How have you managed to keep this Curzon 
 girl from announcing her engagement to 
 you? " 
 
 " Well," and there was a scared grin on 
 283 
 
i 
 
 - ^ SELF-MADE MERCHANT 'r 
 
 Jack's face now; «l told her that yon, as 
 trnrtee nnder father's will, had certain un- 
 pleasant powers over n.y mon^-ln fact, 
 aiat most of it would revert to Sis if I n.ar^ 
 ried against yonr wishes, and that yon dis- 
 
 iked her, and that she must work herself 
 into yonr good graces before we could ttink 
 of announciig our engagement." 
 
 rsaw right off that he had told Mabel 
 Moore the same thing, and that was why 
 
 2Z T" "^ "^ «° »»"^«^ PoUte t^ 
 ^^e thought before So I rounded on him 
 
 ^Yc^^^engaged to that Miss Moore, too, 
 
 " I'm afraid so." 
 
 « Why didn't you come out like a man and 
 say so at first? " 
 
 "Icouldn'ivMr.Graham. Someways it 
 
 seemed like piling it up so, and you take 
 such a cold-blooded, unsympathetic view of 
 these things." 
 
 284 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 « Perhaps I do; yog, I'm afraid I do. How 
 far are jou committed to Miss Churchill? » 
 
 Jack cheered right np. « I'm all right 
 there, at leaat She hasn't answered." 
 
 " Then you've a«ked? " 
 
 " Why, so I have; at least she may take it 
 for something like asking. But I don't care; 
 I want to be committed there; I can't live 
 without her; she's the only » 
 
 I saw that he was beginning to foam up 
 again, so I shut him off straight at the 
 spigot Told him to save it till after the 
 ceremony. Set him down to my desk, and 
 dictated two letters, one to Edith Curzon 
 and the other to Mabel Moore, and made 
 him sign and seal them, then and there. 
 He twisted and squirmed and tried to wiggle 
 off the hook, but I wouldn't give him any 
 Black. Made him come right out and say 
 that he was a yellow pup; that he had made 
 a mistake; and that the stuff was all off, 
 though I worded it a little different from 
 285 
 
A SELF-MADE MERCHAN T'S 
 
 that Blung In some fancy words and high- 
 toned phraaes. 
 
 You see, I had made up my mind that the 
 best of a bad matter was the Churchill girl, 
 and I didn't propose to hare her commit 
 herself, too, until I'd sort of cleared away 
 the wreckage. Then I reckoned on copper- 
 riveting their engagement by announcing it 
 myself and standing over Jack with a shot- 
 gun to see that there wasn't any more non- 
 sense. They were both so lightheaded and 
 lightwalsted and light-footed that it seemed 
 to me that they were just naturally mates. 
 
 Jack reached for those letters when they 
 were addressed and started to put them in 
 his pocket, but I had reached first. I reckon 
 he'd decided that something might happen 
 to them on their way to the post-offlce; but 
 nothing did, for I called in tl butler and 
 made him go right out and maU them then 
 and there. 
 
 I'd had the letterB dated from my house, 
 and I made Jack spend the night there. I 
 286 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 reckoned it might be as well to keep him 
 within reaching distance for the next day or 
 two. He showed up at breakfast in the 
 morning looking like a calf on tJie way to 
 the killing pens, and I could see that hi.i 
 thoughts were mighty busy following the 
 postman who was delivering those letters. 
 I tried to cheer him up by reading some 
 litUe odds and ends from the morning paper 
 about other people's troubles, but they 
 didn't seem to interest him. 
 
 "They must just about have received 
 them," he finally groaned into his coffee cup. 
 "Why did I send them! What will those 
 girls think of me! They'll cut me dead— 
 never apeak to me again." 
 
 The butler came in before I could tell him 
 that this was about what we'd calculated on 
 their doing, and said: "Beg pardon, sir, 
 but there's a lady asking for you at the tele- 
 phone." 
 
 " A lady ! " says Jack. " Tell her I'm not 
 here." Talk to one of those girls, even from 
 287 
 

 A SELF-MADE MERCHANT S 
 
 aMfediBtaocel Hegnessednot Hetnni«d 
 as pale as a hog on Ice at the thought of It. 
 
 " I'm Borry, Blr," said the man, '< but I've 
 already said that you were breakfaaUng 
 here. She said It was very important" 
 
 I could see that Jack's curiosity was al- 
 ready getting the best of his scare. After 
 all, he threw out, feeling me^, it might be 
 best to hear what she had to say. I thought 
 so, too, and he went to the instrument and 
 shouted " Hello ! " in what he tried to make 
 a big, brave voice, but it wobbled a little aJl 
 thesama 
 
 I got the other end of the conversation 
 from him when he was through. 
 
 "Hello! Is that yon, Jack?" chirped 
 the Curzon girl. 
 
 " Tefi. Who is that? " 
 
 « Edith," came back. « I have your letter, 
 but I can't make out what it's all about 
 Come this afternoon and tell me, for we're 
 still good friends, aren't we, Jack? " 
 
 " Yes— certainly," stammered Jack. 
 288 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 " And you'll come? " 
 
 " Ytm," he answered, and cut her off 
 
 He had hardly recovered from thig shock 
 when a mewenger boy came wifh a note, ad- 
 dressed in a woman's writing. 
 
 "Now for it," he said, and breaking the 
 seal read: 
 
 "'Jack dear.- Yonr horrid note doesn't 
 «ay any .iing, nor explain anything. Come 
 this afternoon and tell what it means to 
 
 Mabel.' " 
 
 "Here's a go," exclair,i.>d Jack, but he 
 looked pleased in a sort of sneaking way. 
 
 What do yon think of it, Mr. Graham?" 
 
 " I don't like it" 
 
 " Think they 'ntend to cut up? " he asked 
 
 " Like a sausage machine; and yet I don't 
 see how they can stand for you after that 
 letter." 
 
 " Well, shall I go? » 
 
 " Yes, in fact I suppose you must go; but 
 Jack, be a man. Tell 'em plain and straight 
 289 
 
 Ml 
 
A SELF-MADE MERCHANT 'S 
 
 that yon don't love *em as yon should to 
 marry 'em; say yon saw youp old girl a few 
 days ago and found yon loved her still, or 
 something from the same trough, and stick 
 to it. Take what yon deserve. If they hold 
 you up to the bull-ring, the only thing you 
 can do is to propose to take the whole bunch 
 to Utah, and let 'em share and share alike. 
 That'll settle it Be firm." 
 
 " As a rock, sir." 
 
 I made Jack come downtown and lunch 
 with me, but when I started him off, about 
 two o'clock, he looked so like a cat padding 
 up the back-stairs to where she knows 
 there's a little canary meat — scared, but 
 happy—that I said once more: "Now be 
 firm, Jack." 
 
 « Firm's the word, sir," was the resolute 
 answer. 
 
 " And unyielding." 
 
 "As the old guard." And Jack puffed 
 himself out till he was as chesly as a pigeob 
 on a bam roof, and swung off down the 
 290 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 street looking mighty fine and manly from 
 the rear. 
 
 I never reaJly got the straight of it, but I 
 pieced together these particnlara later. At 
 the comer there was a flower store. Jack 
 stepped Inside and sent a box of roses by 
 special messenger to Miss Cur t, so there 
 might be something to start conversation 
 when he got there. Two blocks farther on 
 he passed a second florist's, turned back and 
 sent some lilies to Miss Moore, for fear she 
 might think he'd forgotten her during the 
 hour or more before he could work around 
 to her house. Then he chased about and 
 found a third florist, from whom he ordered 
 some violets for Miss Churchill, t» remind 
 ber that she had promised him the first 
 dance at the Blairs' that night Your Ma 
 told me that Jack had nice instincts about 
 these little things which women like, and 
 always put a good deal of heavy thought 
 into selecting his flowers for them. It's been 
 my experience that a critter who has in- 
 391 
 
A SELF-MADE MERCHANT'S 
 
 Btincts instead of Bense belongs in the 
 bnshes with the dicky-birds. 
 
 No one ever knew just what happened to 
 Jack during the next three hoars. He 
 showed up at his club about five o'clock with 
 a mighty concdted set to his jaw, but it 
 dropped asiif the spring had broken when 
 he caught sight of me waiting for him in the 
 reading-room. 
 
 " You here? " he asked as he threw him- 
 self into a chair. 
 
 "You bet," I said. "I wanted to hear 
 how you made out You settled the whole 
 business, I take it?" but I knew mighty 
 well from his looks that he hadn't settled 
 anything. 
 
 "Not — not exactly — ^that is to say, en- 
 tirely; but I've made a very satisfactory be- 
 ginning." 
 
 " B^an it all over again, I suppose." 
 
 This hit so near the truth that Jack 
 jumped, in spite of himself, and then he 
 burst out with a really swear. I couldn't 
 292 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SOli 
 
 have been more surprised if your Ma had 
 cussed. 
 
 " Damn it, sii, I -yon't stand any more of 
 your confounded meddling. Those letters 
 were a piece of outrageous brutality. I'm 
 brealting oft with the girls, but IVe gone 
 about it in a gentler and, I hope, more dig- 
 nified, way." 
 
 " Jack, I don't believe any such stuff and 
 gnff. You're tied up to them har Jer and 
 tighter than ever." 
 
 I could see I'd made a bull's ^e, for Jack 
 began to bluster, but I cut him short with: 
 
 " Go to the devil your own way," and 
 walked out of the club. I reckon that Jack 
 felt mighty disturbed for as much as an 
 hour, but a good dinner took the creases 
 out of his system. He'd found that Miss 
 Moore didn't intend to go to the Blaire', and 
 that Miss Curzon had planned to go to a 
 dance with her sister somewheres else, so 
 he calculated on having a clear track for a 
 trial spin with Miss Churchill. 
 
 293 
 
A SELF-MADE MERCHANT'S 
 
 I surprised your Ma a good deal that eve- 
 ning by allowing that I'd go to the Blaire' 
 myself, for it looked to me as if the finals 
 might be trotted there, and I thought I'd 
 better be around, because, while I didiit see 
 much chance of getting any sense into Jack's 
 head, I felt i ought to do what I could on 
 my friendship account with his father. 
 
 Jack was talking to Miss Churchill when 
 I came into the room, and he was tending 
 to business so strictly that he didn't see me 
 bearing down on him from one side of the 
 room, nor Edith Curzon's sister, Mrs. Di k, 
 a mighty capable young married woman,' 
 bearing down on him from the other, nor 
 Miss Curzon, with one of his roses in her 
 hair, watching him from a comer. There 
 must have been a council of war between the 
 sisters that afternoon, and a change of their 
 plans for the evening. 
 
 Mrs. Dick bf». me stalking Jack, but I 
 was just behind, a close second. He didn't 
 294 
 

 " Mill Curzan, with one of 
 bis roies in her hair, watching 
 him from a corner." 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 we her until she got right up to him and 
 rapped him on the am with her fan. 
 
 "Dear Jack," she says, all smiles and 
 sugar; "dear Jack, I're just heard. Edith 
 haa told me, though I'd suspected something 
 for a long, long time, you rogue," and she 
 fetched him another kittenish clip with the 
 fan. 
 
 Jack looked about the way I once saw old 
 Miss Curley, the president of the Good Tem- 
 plars back in our town in Missouri, look at 
 a party when she half-swallowed a spoonful 
 of her ice cream before she discovered that 
 it waa flavored with liquor. 
 
 But he stammered something and hurried 
 Miss Churchill away, though not before a 
 fellow who was going by had wrung his 
 hand and said, '< Congratulations, old chap. 
 Just heard the news." 
 
 Jack's only idea seemed to travel, and to 
 travel far and faat, and he dragged his part- 
 ner along to the other end of the room, while 
 
A SELF-MADE MERCHAN T'S 
 
 I followed the band. We had almost gone 
 the length of the course, when Jack, who 
 had been staring ahead mighty hard, shied 
 and balked, for there, not ten feet away, 
 Btood Miss Moore, carrying his lilies, and 
 blushing and smiling at something young 
 Blakely was 'saying to her. 
 
 I reckon Jack guessed what that some- 
 thing was, but just then Blakely caught 
 sight of him and rushed up to where he was 
 standing. 
 
 "I congratulate you, Jack," he said. 
 " Miss Moore's a charming girl." 
 
 And now Miss Churchill slipped her hand 
 from his arm and turned and looked at Jack. 
 Her lips were laughing, but there was some- 
 thing in her eye which made Jack turn his 
 own away. 
 
 "Oh, you lucky Jack," she laughed. 
 " You twice lucky Jack." 
 
 Jax;k simply curled up : « Wretched mis- 
 take somewhere," he mumbled. "Awfully 
 hot here-get you a glass of water," and he 
 296 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 pushed off. He dodged apound Miss Moore, 
 and made a flank movement which got him 
 by Miss Curzon and safely to the door. He 
 kept on ; I followed. 
 
 I had to go to New York on business next 
 day. Jack had already gone there, bought a 
 ticket for Europe, and was just loafing 
 around the pier trying to hurry the steamer 
 off. I went down to see him start, and he 
 looked 80 miserable that I'd have felt sorry 
 for him if I hadn't seen him look miserable 
 before. 
 
 "Is it generaUy known, sir, do you 
 think? " he asked me humbly. « Can't you 
 hush it up somehow?" 
 
 "Hush it up! You might as well say 
 ' Shoo ! ' to the Limited and expect it to stop 
 for you." 
 
 "Mr. Graham, I'm simply heartbroken 
 over it all. I know I shall never reach 
 Liverpool. I'll go mad on the voyage across, 
 and throw myself overboard. I'm too deli- 
 cately strung to stand a thing of this sort." 
 297 
 
"Delicate rat. I Ton haven't nerve 
 enonghnotto.tandlt,»I«,d. «B«cenp 
 
 JlT^"" "^ "^^ ""'^ •»' mechaalcaUy 
 a^d looked at n.e without ^ng me, for M, 
 grleMlmmed eye., m .tracing al^ng the 
 deck, had lit on that pretty lltLsono.! 
 baggage, Fanny Fairfax. And aa I Parted 
 off he waa leaiiing over her In the same old 
 way, looking into her brown eye« aa if he 
 •aw a full-conrse dinner there. 
 " "^^ of your being on board ! " I heard 
 
 Wmaay. « I'm the luckleet feUow alive; 1^ 
 Jove, I am I" ' '' 
 
 keeping him in order now. I don't go much 
 on graaa widows, but I give her credit for 
 ^nga tty^.^, «''«'•'««" Jack ao 
 tame that he eats out of her hand, and so 
 welHr^nol that he don't allow str^gers to 
 
 I inherited one Jack-I couldn't help 
 398 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SO N 
 
 that But I don't propoae to wake up and 
 And another one in the familj. go yon 
 write me what's what by return. 
 
 Tour affectionate father, 
 
 John Gbabah. 
 
 299 
 
FROM John GnJum, 
 tt the Boitoii HouM 
 ol Graham & Co., to 
 hli ion, Pierrepont, at th« 
 Union Stock Yarda in 
 Chicago. Mr. Pierrtpont 
 haa told the old man 
 what'a what" and re- 
 ceived a limited bleiaing 
 
 Jl 
 
XX 
 
 BOBTON, November H, 180— 
 Dear Pierrepont: If that's what, it's all 
 nght. And yon can't get married too qnick 
 to suit the old man. I believe in short en- 
 gagemente and long marriages. I don't see 
 any sense in a fellow's sitting around on the 
 mourner's bench with the sinners, after he's 
 really got religion. The time to size up the 
 other side's strength is before the engage- 
 ment. * ' 
 
 Some fellows propose to a girt before they 
 know whether her front and her back hair 
 match, and then holler that they're stuck 
 when they find that she's got a cork leg and 
 a glass eye as well. I haven't any sympathy 
 with them. They start out on the princiLle 
 that married people have only one meal a 
 day, and that of fried oysters and tutti- 
 frutti ice-cream after the theatra Natur- 
 ally, a giri's got her better nature and her 
 best complerion along under those circum- 
 303 
 
A SELF-MADE MERCHANT'S 
 
 stances; but the really valuable thing to 
 know is how she approaches ham and eggs 
 at seven a. m., and whether she brings her 
 complexion with her to the breakfast table. 
 And these fellowK make a girl believe that 
 they're going to spend all the time between 
 eight and eleven p. m., for the rest of their 
 lives, holding a hundred and forty pounds, 
 live weight, in their lap, and saying that it 
 feels like a feather. The thing to find out 
 is whether, when on^ of them gets up to 
 holding a ten pound baby in his arms, for 
 five minutes, he's going to carry on as if it 
 weighed a ton. 
 
 A girl can usually catch a whisper to the 
 eflfect that she's the showiest goods on the 
 shelf, but the vital thing for a fellow to know 
 is whether her ears arc sharp enough to hear 
 him when he shouts that she's spending too 
 much money and that she must reduce ex- 
 penses. Of course, when you're patting and 
 petting and feeding a woman she's going to 
 purr, but there's nothing like stirring her 
 304 
 
np a little now and then to see if «j.o •. 
 
 «- and W. things When r.^^^;^^'*^ 
 
 I waiit to say right here that there's only 
 
 ZLT' more aggravating in this Jd' 
 
 th^ a woman who gets noisy when she's 
 
 -ad and float's one who gets quiet Th 
 first breaks her spell of temper with the 
 
 -cter^bnt the second simmers tiong 
 your berth-keeps yon scared and ready to 
 lamp for fear she's 'going to blow^Ly 
 
 -nnte; but She never does and get« it o"r 
 with— just drizzles it out 
 
 Ton can punch your brother when he 
 
 tT *'; '""''^' '"* y«"'-« got to love your 
 Jife A violent woman drives a fellow to 
 dnnk, but a nagging one drives him crazy. 
 She takes h,s fault, and ties them to him 
 l.ke a tan can to a yellow dog's tail, and the 
 harder he runs to get away from them the 
 more he hears of them. 
 
 I simply mention these things in a general 
 way, aad in the spirit of the preacher atle 
 
 >^s^:^siMsmi 
 
|i 
 
 A SELF-MADE MERCHANT'S 
 
 fnneral of the man who wasn't " a profes- 
 sor " — because it's customary to make a few 
 appropriate remarks on these occasions. 
 From what I saw of Helen Heath, I reckon 
 she's not getting any the best of it. She's 
 what I call a mighty eligible young woman — 
 pretty, bright, sensible, and without any 
 fortune to make her foolish and you a fool. 
 In fact, you'd have to sit up nights to make 
 yourself good enongh for her, even if you 
 brought her a million, instead of fifty a 
 week. 
 
 I'm a great believer in women in the home, 
 but I don't take much stock in them in the 
 oiHee, though I reckon I'm prejudiced and 
 they've come to stay. I never do business 
 with a woman that I don't think of a little 
 incident which happened when I was first 
 married f» your Ma. We set up housekeep- 
 ing in one of those cottages that you read 
 about in the story books, but that you want 
 to shy away from, when it's put up to you to 
 live in one of them. There were nice climb- 
 306 
 
Cttp 
 
 LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 mg roses on the front porch, but no running 
 water in the kitchen; there were a-plenty of 
 old fashioned posies in the front yard, and 
 a-plenty of rats in the cellar; there was half 
 an acre of ground out back, but so little room 
 inside that I had to sit with my feet out a 
 window. It was just the place to go for a 
 picnic, but it's been my experience that a 
 fellow does most of his picnicking before 
 he's married. 
 
 Your Ma did the cooking, and I hustled 
 for things to cook, though I would take a 
 shy at It myself once in a while and get up 
 my muscle tossing flapjacks. It was pretty 
 rough sailing, you bet, but one way and an- 
 other we managed to get a good deal of sat- 
 isfaction out of it, because we had made up 
 our minds to take our fun as we went along 
 With most people happiness is something 
 that IS always just a day off. But I have 
 made it a rule never to put oflf being happy 
 till to-morrow. Don't accept notes for hap- 
 piness, because you'll find that when they're 
 307 
 
f i 
 
 HI, 
 
 A SELF-MADE MERCH ANT'S 
 
 due they're never paid, but just renewed for 
 another thirty days. 
 
 I wa« clerking in a general store at that 
 time, but I had a little weakness for live- 
 stock, even then; and while I couldn't af- 
 ford to plunge in it exactly, I managed to 
 buy a likely Ihtle shoat that I reckoned on 
 carrying through the Summer on credit and 
 presenting with a bill for board in the Fall. 
 He was just a plain pig when he came to us, 
 and we kept him in a little sty, but we 
 weren't long in finding out that he wasn't 
 any ordinary root-and-grunt pig. The first I 
 knew your Ma was calling him Toby, and 
 had turned him loose. Answered to his name 
 like a dog. Never saw such a sociable pig. 
 Wanted to sit on the porch with us. Tried 
 to come into the house evenings. Used to 
 run down the road squealing for joy when 
 he saw me coming home from work. 
 
 Well, it got on towards November and 
 Toby had been making the most of his op- 
 portunities. I never saw a pig that turned 
 308 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 corn into fat so fast, and the stouter he got 
 the better his disposition grew. I reckon I 
 was attached to him myself, in a sort of a 
 sneaking way, but I was mighty fond of hog 
 meat, too, and we needed Toby in the 
 kitchen. So I sent around and had him 
 butchered. 
 
 When I got home to dinner next day, I 
 noticed that your Ma looked mighty solemn 
 as she set the roast of pork down in front 
 of me, but I strayed oflf, thinking of some- 
 thing else, as I carved, and my wits were 
 off wool gathering sure enough when I said : 
 "Will you have a piece of Toby, mv 
 dear?" ' 
 
 Well sir, she just looked at me for a mo- 
 ment, and then she burst out crying and ran 
 away from the table. But when I went 
 after her and asked her what was the 
 matter, she stopped crying and was mad in 
 a minute all the way through. Called me 
 a heartless, cruel cannibal. That seemed ' 
 to relieve her so that she got over her mad 
 309 
 
A SELF-MADE MERCHAMT'a 
 
 m 
 
 md began to cry again. Begj^' me to take 
 Toby out of pickle and to bmy him in tlie 
 garden. I reasoned with her, ar.. , , j,e end 
 I made her see that any obseqn ...^ for Toby 
 with pork at eight cents a pound, would be a 
 pretty expensive funeral for us. But first 
 and last she h^ managed to take ray appe- 
 tite away so that I didn't want any roast 
 pork for dinner or cold pork for supper. 
 That night I took what was left of Toby 
 to a store keeper at the Crossing, who I 
 knew would be able to ga^e on his hams 
 without bursting into tears, and got a pretty 
 fair price for him. 
 
 I Simply mention Toby in passing, as an 
 example of why I believe women weren't 
 cut out for bu8ines8-^t least for the pork- 
 packing business. I've had dealings with a 
 good many of them, first and last, and it's 
 been my experience that when they've got a 
 weak case they add their sex to it and win, 
 and that when they've got a strong case they 
 subtract their sex from it and deal with you 
 310 
 
LETTERS TO HIS SON 
 
 , 
 
 I 
 
 harder thoB a man. They're simply bound 
 to win either way, and I don't like to play 
 a game where I haven't any show. When 
 a clerk makes a fool bre- \, I don't want to 
 beg his pardon for calliig his attention to 
 it, and I don't wapt him to blush and 
 tremble and leak a little brine into a fancy 
 pocket handkerchief. 
 
 A little change is a mighty soothing 
 thing, and I like a woman's ways too much 
 at home to care very much for them at the 
 office. Instead of hiring women, I try to 
 hire their husbands, and then I usually have 
 thorn both working for me. There's noth- 
 ing like a woman at home to spur on a man 
 at the office. 
 
 A married man is worth more salary than 
 a single one, because his wife makes him 
 worth mora He's apt to go to bed a litUe 
 sooner and to get up a little earlier; to go 
 a little steadier and to work a little harder 
 than the fellow who's got to amuse a differ- 
 ent girl every night, and can't stey at home 
 3" 
 
r' i 
 
 A MERCHANT'S LETTRRS 
 
 to do It That', why I'm going to raise yonr 
 ■alary to ieventy-flTe dollars a week the day 
 yon many Helen, and that's why I'm going 
 to quit writing these letters-Pm simply 
 going to turn you over to her and let her 
 keep yon In order. I bet she'll do a better 
 job than I have. 
 
 Your affectionate father, 
 
 John Graham.' 
 
 TRE Ein> 
 
 312 
 
 "* ' "^ J^' ' 
 
jm