“One time,” he asserted, “I travelled in Bibles, in shot-guns, rye whisky, and a patent preparation warranted to cure anyone of the drink habit though between ourselves that whisky was more likely to do that than anything I’ve ever met. I did hear of a man who, having bought a dozen bottles of my rye, passed away inside a week. So after that I added coffins to my other lines. They paid as well, if not better, than any of the others. I carried baby linen and wedding rings, and a little series of popular handbooks on popular subjects, like How to get Rid of your Wife, and How to Divorce your Husband, and that sort of thing. I may say, without fear of contradiction, that that trip I stood for ai varied a lot of goods as any drummer on that road.”
His name, so he said, was Abednego P. Thompso
