Last Wednesday the bell to our telephone rung violently at 8 o'clock in
the morning, and when we put our ear to the earaphone, and our mouth
to the mouthaphone, and asked what was the matter, a still small voice,
evidently that of a lady, said, “Julia has got worms, doctor.”
We were somewhat taken back, but supposing Julia was going fishing, we
were just going to tell her not to forget to spit on her bait, when a
male voice said, “O, go to the devil, will you?” We couldn't tell whose
voice it was, but it sounded like the clerk at the Plankinton House, and
we sat down.
There is no man who will go further to accommodate a friend than we
will, but by the great ethereal there are some things we will not do to
please anybody. As we sat and meditated, the bell rung once more, and
then we knew the wires had got tangled, and that we were going to have
trouble all day. It was a busy day, too, and to have a bell ringing
beside one's ear all day is no fun.
The telephone is a blessed thing when it is healthy, but when its liver
is out of order it is the worst nuisance on record. When it is out
of order that way you can hear lots of conversation that you are not
entitled to. For instance, we answered the bell after it had rung
several times, and a sweet little female voice said, “Are you going to
receive to-morrow?” We answered that we were going to receive all the
time. Then she asked what made us so hoarse? We told her that we had sat
in a draft from the bank, and it made the cold chills run over us to pay
it. That seemed to be satisfactory, and then she began to tell us what
she was going to wear, and asked if we thought it was going to be too
cold to wear a low neck dress and elbow sleeves. We told her that was
what we were going to wear, and then she began to complain that her new
dress was too tight in various places that she mentioned, and when the
boys picked us up off the floor and bathed our temples, and we told them
to take her away, they thought we were crazy.
If we have done wrong in talking with a total stranger, who took us for
a lady friend, we are willing to die. We couldn't help it. For an hour
we would not answer the constant ringing of the bell, but finally the
bell fluttered as though a tiny bird had lit upon the wire and was
shaking its plumage. It was not a ring, but it was a tune, as though an
angel, about eighteen years old, a blonde angel, was handling the other
end of the transmitter, and we felt as though it was wrong for us to sit
and keep her in suspense, when she was evidently dying to pour into our
auricular appendage remarks that we ought to hear.
And still the bell did flut. We went to the cornucopia, put our ear to
the toddy stick and said, “What ailest thou darling, why dost thy hand
tremble? Whisper all thou feelest to thine old baldy.” Then there
came over the wire and into our mansard by a side window the following
touching remarks: “Matter enough. I have been ringing here till I have
blistered my hands. We have got to have ten car loads of hogs by day
after to-morrow or shut down.” Then there was a stuttering, and then
another voice said, “Go over to Loomis' pawn shop. A man shot in”--and
another voice broke in, singing, “The sweet by and by, we shall meet
on that beautiful”--and another voice said--“girl I ever saw. She was
riding with a duffer, and wiped her nose as I drove by in the street
car, and I think she is struck after me.”
It was evident that the telephone was drunk, and we went out in the hall
and wrote on a barrel all the afternoon, and gave it full possession of
the office.
*****
Mr. Peck was recently extended an invitation to be present at a meeting
of the Iowa Commercial Travelers' Association, at Des Moines, and
respond to the toast: “Our Wives and Sweethearts, and Little Ones at
Home.” He couldn't be present, but he responded all the same, in the
following manner:
“That is the sweetest toast that man was ever called upon to respond to.
Very few traveling men who have good wives, loving sweethearts, and dear
little children at home, sending loving messages to them, often ever
stray very far from the straight and narrow path. There is no class of
men on earth that has greater temptations and better opportunities to be
'cusses on wheels' than the traveling men of the Northwest; and when I
say that they stand up under it a confounded sight better than the same
number of ministers or editors would, I don't want you to think I am
giving you any confectionery from my sample case.
“Through snows of winter, mud of spring and fall, and heat of summer,
the traveling man makes his connections and sends in his orders, and
seems to enjoy religion with the best of them. But the happiest days
for him and the shortest are those he spends at home with his wife, the
children or sweet-heart. There can be more tears brought to the eyes of
the traveling man by a little child putting its arms around his neck and
saying, 'My dear, precious papa,' than could be brought out by any other
press I know of, however powerful.
“I know there is occasionally a traveling man who always has his sign
out ready to be mashed, but he never neglects his business for any
foolish-ness. He would leave the finest country flirt that ever winked a
wink to sell a bill of brown sugar on sixty days' time.
“It is said that the average traveling man will keep a whole seat in a
car, and never offer to give half of it to a man, when, if a handsome
woman comes in, he will fly around and divide with her. Well, who the
deuce wouldn't? That shows that his heart is in the right place. A man
can go into the smoking car and sit on the wood box, but a woman has got
to sit down, at least that is the way I should explain it.
“Boys, may the trips become shorter each year, and the visits to the dear
ones at home be extended, so that in time you may be detailed to stay at
home always, with an increase of salary or an interest in the business;
and, I am sure, when the time comes you will be the happiest fellows
that ever had thousand mile tickets punched, and when your time comes to
attend the grand banquet above, and you appear before St. Peter at the
gate, and begin to open up your samples, he will simply look at your
business card and turn to the clerk and say, 'Give these boys all front
rooms, and see that there is a fire escape and plenty of towels, and
that the rooms are aired, and then step down to the box office and
reserve them some seats for the sacred concert this evening. Pass right
in now and get a check for your overshoes.'”