The Daily Astorian

He Never Laid it Down

Years ago into a wholesale grocery in an eastern city walked a tall, muscular man evidently a fresh comer from some backwoods town. Accosting the first person he met, who happened to be the merchant himself, he asked: "You don't want to hire a man in your store, do you?" "Well," said the merchant, "I don't know. What can you do?" "Do?" said the man, "I rather guess that I can turn my hand to almost anything. What do you want done?" "Well, if I was to hire a man, it would be one that could lift well, a strong, wiry fellow; one, for instance, that could lift a sack of coffee like that yonder and carry it across the store and never lay it down." "There, now, cap'n," said the countryman, "that's just me. I can lift anything I can hitch to. You can't suit me better. What will you give a man that suits you?" "I'll tell you," said the merchant, "if you shoulder that sack of coffee and carry it across the store twice and never lay it down, I will hire you for one year at one hundred dollars a month." "Done," said the stranger. By this time every clerk in the store had gathered around and was waiting to join in the laugh against the man who threw the sack across his shoulder with perfect ease, and carrying it twice across the floor, went to a large hook that was fastened to the wall and hung it up, then turned to the merchant and said: "There, now, it may hang there till doomsday. I shall never lay it down. What shall I go about, mister? Just give me plenty to do and one hundred dollars a month and it's all right." The clerks broke into a laugh, and the merchant discomfited yet satisfied, kept his agreement, and to-day the green countryman is the senior partner in the firm and worth a million dollars.