THE ALUMNI JOURNAL 177 



ANECDOTES OF A DRUG CLERK'S TRAVELS. 



(Continued from last issue.) 



Leaving train at Golden Gate station, he found his man who was 

 postmaster of the village. Ahem, Mr. Johnson, am glad to see you, 

 anything I could do for you? "I came to see you about the position 

 at your father's place up at Dixon," he replied. "He was looking 

 for a clerk a week ago, Mr. Johnson, so we will telephone and find 

 out." He was such a winsome chap, a real tickler of humor, and 

 he could roll out the most illustrated tales.- Finding that his father 

 still wanted a clerk Johnson was directed to take the 4 P. M, train 

 from 'Frisco. Be assured you will be treated "O. K." You know, 

 Mr. Johnson, wages are low in San Francisco, where no more is 

 paid than you will receive with my father, and it has such pretty 

 residences and wealthy farmers mostly reside there, and also noted 

 for its pretty girls, I am sure you will like it, and after coating him 

 well with a whitewash brush Johnson left again doubtful of the 

 future. Catching the a|)pointed train, he soon was speeding as 

 before, to an unknown berg not even on some maps ; not knowing 

 but what the same fate as in Montana awaited him. At Port 

 Costa a beet factory was located, where beets are refined into sugar. 

 Next "Boneta," then Suisun (see-you-soon). He really felt con- 

 tented, for this meant that he was not far from Dixon. "Elmira 

 next," which sounded like old "New York" State, but a dream it 

 was ; as only a dozen houses were to be seen, with no life but a 

 hideous stillness gave proof that this was a dead one. 



Then the mysterious Dixon where Johnson was soon to live life 

 over once more. With a deep-drawn sigh he alighted, to first 

 behold the depot a neat little structure, a few hanging around 

 curious as country folks usually are, the express cart drawn close 

 to the baggage car and packages being hurled out upon it, all this 

 excitement for a beginner. A short block to walk when he stood 

 upon the main street, to the left a whole row of dilapidated one- 

 story stores, deserted, showed what prosperity held sway. Passing 

 three saloons, he finally stopped short at a sign marked Dr. Simon 

 Ambrose, drugs, paints, books, stationery and newspapers. Nerving 

 up he made a dive for the store, to be scrutinized from head to 

 foot, the doctor looking over his spectacles at him as if he was 

 some new ornament in this town of the plains. Dr. Ambrose of 

 clumsy stature, flattened nose and foxy look, then addressed him. 

 Let me get a look at you, Mr. Johnson, and with that he took 

 him by the arm and carefully looked him over to see that he was 

 not old and worn, as a horse dealer would a horse. "Guess you 

 will do all right, what say you, Phillip?" Phillip rather reluctantly 

 replied between his teeth hu, and smiled. He kept a curiosity shop 

 on one side of the store, while the doctor ran the other side. The 



