Going After Them

Our lumber man, McMellow, is quite a hustling fellow, he’s ever after trade. He says, “I’ve faith in jumping around for biz, and humping--I’ve always found it paid. I think,” remarks McMellow, “that there’s a streak of yellow in any gloomy lad, who spends his time complaining, against the breeching straining, and says that trade is bad.

“My trade is what I make it; and I could blamed soon break it, if I had doleful dumps, but when I find things dragging, I set my brains a-wagging and do some fancy humps.

“Today I heard John Abel intends to build a stable, about eight miles from town; as there was nothing doing, and no excitement brewing, to hold this village down, I thought I’d go and meet him, and to some language treat him, and sell a little bill; and right there I enrolled him a customer and sold him the roof-tree and the sill.

“Keep busy is my motto; I have a small tin auto that scoots along with vim; and when I hear some granger intends to build a manger, I burn the road to him. The people see me scooting, they see me skally-hooting, mile after breezy mile; they say, ‘He is so busy, he fairly makes us dizzy--we kind o’ like his style.’

“And when they want some woodwork--and want the best of good work, which is the Curtis kind--or joists or lath or siding, to me they come a’riding--that’s business, do ye mind?”

You never see him slouching, you never see him grouching, or talking of despair; he always keeps things humming, he’s always up a-coming, his hind feet in the air.