THE WORK OF THE BOOK AGENT.
THERE is probably no class of workers in the busy hive of the commercial mart that has received more abuse, has had more ill-natured flings thrust at it, than the one laboring, under the title of book solicitors, for the dissemination of knowledge. Even the lightning-rod man, the life-insurance agent, or the thousand and one canvassers for this and that patent, have escaped the reproachful and opprobrious epithets heaped on the head of a book solicitor, and yet it can truly be said that there are no more active, patient, persevering, and intelligent workers than those catering in this way to the mental feeding of the public. In the business of canvassing one meets all kinds and classes, and that it takes all sorts of people to make a community is a truism most forcibly impressed on the mind of a book solicitor. He will go to one house, and, on asking to see Mr. or Mrs. So-and-so, will be invited in, and, on stating his business, will be most courteously received and given time and attention. He will go next door and be made at once to understand that the sooner he departs the better for him; or still a little further on Mr. or Mrs. So-and-so opens the door for him, and, standing on the threshold, he states his business, when, with a most courteous, "Excuse me," he finds the door slammed in his face and he is left to moralize on the rudeness of his fellow-beings. Sometimes he will be left standing on the stoop like a beggar, while the servant girl goes to see if her master or mistress will receive him, or, if he is allowed to stand in the hall, the servant casts furtive glances at him as she goes upstairs, fearing he may be a sneak thief in disguise.—Chicago Tribune.