Sketches New and Old by Mark Twain

default of anything else to say, I asked him if he was opening his shop

in our neighborhood.

He said he was. [I did not wish to appear ignorant, but I had hoped he

would mention what he had for sale.]

I ventured to ask him “How was trade?” And he said “So-so.”

I then said we would drop in, and if we liked his house as well as any

other, we would give him our custom.

He said he thought we would like his establishment well enough to confine

ourselves to it–said he never saw anybody who would go off and hunt up

another man in his line after trading with him once.

That sounded pretty complacent, but barring that natural expression of

villainy which we all have, the man looked honest enough.

I do not know how it came about exactly, but gradually we appeared to

melt down and run together, conversationally speaking, and then

everything went along as comfortably as clockwork.

We talked, and talked, and talked–at least I did; and we laughed, and

laughed, and laughed–at least he did. But all the time I had my

presence of mind about me–I had my native shrewdness turned on “full

head,” as the engineers say. I was determined to find out all about his

business in spite of his obscure answers–and I was determined I would

have it out of him without his suspecting what I was at. I meant to trap

him with a deep, deep ruse. I would tell him all about my own business,

and he would naturally so warm to me during this seductive burst of

confidence that he would forget himself, and tell me all about his

affairs before he suspected what I was about. I thought to myself, My

son, you little know what an old fox you are dealing with. I said:

“Now you never would guess what I made lecturing this winter and last

spring?”

“No–don’t believe I could, to save me. Let me see–let me see. About

two thousand dollars, maybe? But no; no, sir, I know you couldn’t have

made that much. Say seventeen hundred, maybe?”

“Ha! ha! I knew you couldn’t. My lecturing receipts for last spring and

this winter were fourteen thousand seven hundred and fifty dollars. What

do you think of that?”

“Why, it is amazing-perfectly amazing. I will make a note of it. And

you say even this wasn’t all?”

“All! Why bless you, there was my income from the Daily Warwhoop for

four months–about–about–well, what should you say to about eight

thousand dollars, for instance?”

“Say! Why, I should say I should like to see myself rolling in just such

another ocean of affluence. Eight thousand! I’ll make a note of it.

Why man! –and on top of all this am I to understand that you had still

more income?”

“Ha! ha! ha! Why, you’re only in the suburbs of it, so to speak.

There’s my book, The Innocents Abroad price $3.50 to $5, according to the

binding. Listen to me. Look me in the eye. During the last four months

and a half, saying nothing of sales before that, but just simply during

the four months and a half, we’ve sold ninety-five thousand copies of

that book. Ninety-five thousand! Think of it. Average four dollars a

copy, say. It’s nearly four hundred thousand dollars, my son. I get

half.”

“The suffering Moses! I’ll set that down. Fourteen-seven-fifty–eight-

two hundred. Total, say–well, upon my word, the grand total is about

two hundred and thirteen or fourteen thousand dollars! Is that

possible?”

“Possible! If there’s any mistake it’s the other way. Two hundred and

fourteen thousand, cash, is my income for this year if I know how to

cipher.”

Then the gentleman got up to go. It came over me most uncomfortably that

maybe I had made my revelations for nothing, besides being flattered into

stretching them considerably by the stranger’s astonished exclamations.

But no; at the last moment the gentleman handed me a large envelope, and

said it contained his advertisement; and that I would find out all about

his business in it; and that he would be happy to have my custom-would,

in fact, be proud to have the custom of a man of such prodigious income;

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