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 little dinner it proved to be. At this moment a stranger entered and joined us at our meal. A very talkative individual he proved to be, and we soon discovered that he was a commercial traveller who drove about the country. "Ah!" he remarked, "you've to thank me for this dinner; they knew I was coming, it's my day, and they always have a nice little dinner ready for me. If you had come another day I fancy you would not have fared so well." Then we took the opportunity of discovering how the world looked as seen through the eyes of a commercial traveller. "Yes, I like the life, it's pleasant enough in the summer time driving from place to place. The work is not too hard, and one lives well. But it's the winter time I don't care for. It's not too pleasant then driving in the country when a bitter east wind is blowing, and hail or sleet are dashed against you. The country is very well, and pretty enough in the summer, but I prefer towns in the winter. You get wet driving in the open too at times; now I don't mind being wet and warm, but to be wet and cold is cruel; and mind you, you have always to come up smiling to your customers. Yes, you may well wonder at my coming to such an uncommercial-looking place as Swineshead, but it's in these little country towns nowadays that we do our best trade in spite of appearances; you see they supply the rural folk all around, for these people do not get their goods from the London stores like most of those do who live in the towns. The parcel post makes it hard for the provincial shopkeeper to get a living, it acts as a