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King Country Chronicle, Volume V, Issue 390, 26 August 1911, Page 7

"No, I don't want it," replied the country merchant to the agent who was trying to sell him a typewriter. "I had one in my store for three months, and it gave me so much trouble that I had to get rid of it." "Did you try to run it yourself?" was asked. "0, no. I had a girl from the city who knew all about it." "Perhaps you couldn't dictate your letters. Some folks find it very hard work." "I didn't try to. I sat down and wrote them out, and let the girl copy them. I didn't save no time there. Then I had to read them over and see if they were correct. Then I had to talk with her and see that she didn't get lonesome and quit her job. Then, a dozen times a day, I had to throw young fellows out of the store —young fellows that had come there to flirt with the girl. Then every old widower for ten miles around came in and made her an offer of marriage, and when she turned 'em clown I had to run 'em across to the saloon to show my sympathy." "Anything more ?" smiled the agent. "Just a little. My mother-in-law was indignant, my sister mad all through, and my wife sitting round the store for seven hours on a stretch and after the minister had given me the cold shoulder and the Masonic lodge threatened to bring charges against me, I let the poor girl go, and sold the machine for half-price. It was too much of a strain on the mind. You can do those things in the city and no one says a word, but out here it's fifty years too soon."— "Rochester Chronicle."