198 GREEN TRAILS AND UPLAND PASTURES 



arranged in the most skilful manner, were all the con- 

 tents of a well-equipped dry goods store. Everything 

 was there, from the material for a new silk dress to garter 

 elastic and spools of thread (the spools were kept in a 

 tier of little drawers, I remember, which made a bright 

 pattern of colour when pulled out and displayed). 

 There was always much rushing about and snipping of 

 samples when "Mr. Wanamaker" drew near, and then a 

 great matching of these samples against the spools of 

 silk or cotton. His advice was regarded with great 

 deference, I recall, and was always given in measured, 

 judicial tones. 



Then there was the tin peddler and ragman, too, who 

 made periodical visits along the country roads. His 

 cart, less spick and span than "Mr. Wanamaker's," was 

 a curious contrivance, box-like in front, with a rack be- 

 hind in which were stowed the sacks of rags. Behind 

 the driver, like yellow plumes, stuck up a row of new 

 brooms. Smaller whisk brooms dangled from the sides, 

 and shining pans were suspended, also, which flashed 

 in the sun and rattled merrily on the rare occasions 

 when the dejected horse consented to trot. But the tin 

 peddler was no such elegant and eminent Anglo-Saxon 

 person as Mr. Lovejoy. Business with him was con- 

 ducted purely as business, and his thumb was carefully 

 watched as he weighed the rags on the rusty scales which 

 hung from the back of his wagon, giving a pot or a pan 

 or a broom in exchange. 



