ROMANCE IN TRADE.

Gisborne Times, Volume XXV, Issue 2138, 22 July 1907, Page 1

ROMANCE IN TRADE.

A FOB TUN 14 l''Dl! A CLIN HA

In the latter half. of the eighteenth rcuturv tlioro iti e (nun of Doncaster a certain amiable nil aecoinplished pemiquier and yingeon-haflier wlm went by lne name of Mr. Mui'tin, Ue " ,,s 'j I"! 1 " son of address and talent, Ai U c oualitv in flic neighborhood ol D.mi,‘aster made a resort ol his shop, and he was on terms of respectful atlaLil it— with the squire and the pa rsun. A man of social temperament. Mr. Martin luifl n lmbit of standing at his shop door excliaii'ing conversation with his neighbors and any chance pedestrians who happened to pass his tyny. This habit of Mr. Martin’s was not in. ltsell remarkaide. hut as ire shall sec it was like many another slight thing in lim, the direct source of a sequence ol remarkable circumstances. One pleasant April morning, there being no customers in his slum fur flic moment, Mr. Martin pufsuyd-his habit, doffed his apron, and proceeded to enjoy a pinch of snuff oil bis doorstep. He found little in the street to arouse his interest until his attention was suddenly arrested In- a soldier pacing aimlessly to and fro at some little distance. The soldier o v,as a stranger to Doncaster, and Mr. Martin at once mentally inquired bis business in the town. The soldier wiLs a handsome enough fellow with a good-humored, dissipated face and straight nose and a drooping under! ip. He evidently took some pride in his appearance. His uniform was smart and his buttons bright, liis neckcloth clean and his hoots polished to a handsome

gloss. Seeing liiln loiter in the street Mr. Martin judged the occasion favorable for a little conversation. “A fine morning, trooper,” lie remarked. The soldier looked up, gave the perruquier a keen glance, anil smiled. “Fine, indeed, sir,” .said he, “for those who have a light heart.” Mr. Martin raised his eyebrows.

“1 iiope, trooper, we have all light hearts on a morning such as this.” “It’s a pious hope, sir, but I doubt of its being true.” The man spoke in such lugubrious tones that Mr. Martin was quite startled. For the moment ho wondered if the soldier had some secret crime plaguing his conscience, but on second thoughts ho dismissed this possibility. The fellow bad a decent face and an honest manner. I’ro-* bn My lie was recovering from an un-' wise indulgence in strong liquors. “I hope, my man,” said Mr, Martin, “that you are not one of those unfortunate persons who can be anythin!' but cheerful oil such a morning.” The soldier shrugged his shoulders and began whistling a tune. Mr. Martin observed him fixedly. “I believe you’re in trouble, my man.” lie ventured at length.

“You believe true, sir." “And tho nature of votir trouble ?’

“It’s just like this, sir. I’ve overstayed my. leave, and if f ever get back to my quarters I shall get a cold welcome from my sergeant and a warm one from ‘the cut.’ ” “Dear mo!” exclaimed Mr. Martin. “Why loiter here?”. “What would you do, sir?” “Do! J should take tho coach.” “The coach is small good to a mail without a guinea in liis pocket.” Mr. Martin thrust liis hand into his pocket, and then hesitated.

The soldier was an utter stranger to him, and his story might very proliablv prove to be the veriest fabrication. But the fellow’s look made a stronw appeal. “My mau,” said Mr. Martin, “if I give you the guinea will you give me your name?”

“No, but I will give you more. .Something that will be a fortune to a Ilian in your manner of business. Look lierc ; do you see my boots?” “They are very fine boots,” observed Mr. Martin.

The soldier thrust liis hand into his pocket, pulled out a jiiece of dirty paper, and handed it, with an elaborate bow, to Mr. Martin. “What’s this?” exclaimed the good perruquier, in tones of the most utter bewilderment.

“A recipe for the boot-blacking!” “The boot-blacking?” “Yes, I polish my officers’ boots with it, but where it came from I shan’t say. Leastways it is the finest in the land and but little known.”

Air. Martin read tlie recipe, reread it, turned it over in liis hands, and finally folded it up. _ He smiled good-liumouredly, pulled out a guinea, and handed it to the soldier. He wished the soldier good fortune on his journoy, bade him good-day, and went back to liis shop, still in a state of perplexed astonishment. Soon afterwards a customer arrived, and Mr. Martin straightway forgot the recipe’s existence. But after several days ho remembered it. It so happened that Mr. Martin had a cousin in London, one Mr. Day. who carried on the business of fashionable perruquier and barber to qual■t v people in Tavistock street, in Covent Garden. This Mr. Day was a person of great business address and acumen. .To-day we should call him a smart man. In those days one spoke of him as an honest trader

possessed of the liveliest discrimination, who moved about his business concerns with infinite celerity. Mr. Martin, feeling that he might hold within his grasp the possibilities of a magnificent fortune, determined to consult his cousin, Mr. Day, on the .mutter. Accordingly he booked a seat on the London coach for liis son, vlio arrived in town, hurried to Tavistock street. Goveiit Garden, and forthwith imparted to Air. Day the circumstances of - his father’s strange encounter with the soldier, together with the recipe for bootblacking. Air. Day received these confidences in a characteristic fashion. He at. once started to experiment with the recipe, and wa's soon convinced that lie was in possession of the finest article of its kind existent. The two cousins now determined to further their operations on a larger scale. They rclinqiiished Hie modest emoluments to be dcrivc-fl from their former businesses, gave up all concern for the chins and beads of tlie aristocracy, and concentrated their energies on preparing a blacking for hoots. Towards this end they entered into partnership in Tavistock street. The firm was called Day and -Martin.