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"Well," I asked, "won't you give me money enough to get out of town?" "No, sir; if five cents would take you to California, you should walk it before I'd give you that amount." I then asked if she didn't think I was getting in rather close quarters? "Well," she exclaimed, "you have always been determined to 'hus'le, so now keep 'hus'ling."
I had just money enough to pay our traveling expenses, and explained to my wife we had better leave on the morning train, which would get us into Ann Arbor at two o'clock in the afternoon. And as that day would be Saturday, I could "hus'le" out and sell polish enough to pay our rent and buy provisions for over Sunday. She agreed with me and we started accordingly.
It took about two hours time and the whole bushel of coke to start it, and I was obliged to "hus'le" back after another load forthwith. We were successful in getting a good fire started, but very soon discovered that it required a full bushel of coke at a time in the fire-box to keep it up, even during moderate weather.
We held frequent consultations, and discussed the situation with a feeling that our prospects were not the brightest. I again ventured to suggest that I ought to get out and "hus'le," as winter would soon be upon us, and my family would need money.
Of course I was not so indiscreet as to relate how I had accomplished it. After I had become better acquainted with this firm, and they had become regular customers, I related the facts to them, much to their amusement. I continued to hus'le, as before. My health was not first-class, but I improved rapidly, and was very soon in a better condition physically than I had been for years.
I remember during that siege, a coal and wood-dealer offered me a position in his office at fifteen dollars per week, which I declined with thanks, explaining that I had started out in life to "hus'le," and try and accomplish something of my own accord; and to go to work in a stupid, quiet business on a salary, at that late day, would be a disgrace to the profession.
The Doctor worried, fretted, stormed, fumed, and declared I was to blame for the whole cussed thing. I then, began to talk about going out "hus'ling" again. "Oh, yes; it's well enough for you to talk. You can 'hus'le, but what can I do? I'd look nice running around peddling your cussed old dope, wouldn't I?"
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