I shall be glad to show it to any one interested
enough to search it out, and to go into the details of the business and
show how I have been able to make it so remunerative.
Sam is with me no longer. For three years he did good service and saved
money, and the lurid nose grew dim. There is, however, a limit to human
endurance. Like victims of other forms of circular insanity, the
dipsomaniac completes his cycle in an uncertain period and falls upon
bad times. For a month before we parted company I saw signs of relapse
in Sam. He was loquacious at times, at other times morose. He talked
about going into business for himself, and his nose took on new color. I
labored with him, but to no purpose; the spirit of unrest was upon him,
and it had to work its own. I held him firm long enough to secure
another man, and then we parted, he to do business for himself, I to get
on as best I could. Sam painted his nose and raised chickens and other
things until his savings had flown; then he got a position with a woman
who runs a broiler plant, and for two years he has given good service.
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