natched a towel from the rack, wiped off part
of the lather, seized his hat and coat, and was swearing like a pirate,
as he rushed out with his ears and neck full of lather.

Just as he passed out the barber came in, and I called, "Next!" at the
top of my voice. After crossing the street he started for the depot, but
continued to gaze towards the barber shop with a look of vengeance, as
he wiped off the lather with his handkerchief.

The barber was at a loss to understand the meaning of such actions on
the part of a customer; but I readily explained to him that the fellow
was mad because he didn't like our kind of soap.

A few moments later one of the regular customers came in, and had just
taken his seat in the chair, when I noticed marked on the mirror in
front of him, "Shaving, 10 cents."

I stepped to the glass and wiping the cipher off, made a 5 in its place.
Our customer quickly asked what that meant. I replied:

"That means that this shop has changed hands, and from this time on,
prices on all work done here will be sufficient to warrant success."

He jumped to his feet, declaring that he would not allow any man to come
such a game on him, and that he'd never pay fifteen cents for a shave.
He left the shop in high dudgeon, and the barber declared I'd ruin the
business in less than ten days.

I kept the price up, however, and after hiring a man to run it, made it
a paying investment. A few months later I sold out to the man who now
runs it. About a week after my experience in the barber shop, my horses
and carriage had been driven around in front of my place of business,
and myself and wife were about to take a drive. Two or three
acquaintances happened along, and we conversed with them for a few
moments before driving away. I noticed my late victim standing on the
sidewalk staring at me with all the eyes he had. We drove away, leaving
him still staring.

Not long after this, one of these friends just referred to came to my
office, and asked if I had anything to do with a barber shop at Woodlawn
Park.

With apparent surprise, I asked the meaning of the inquiry. He said the
day we went out for a drive a strange gentleman stepped up to him and
asked what that man's name was, and what he was doing with such a team.
My friend answered, "Why, that is Johnston, the wholesale jeweler, and
he owns that team."

"Wholesale nothing!" was the reply. "He is the barber at Woodlawn, or
thinks he is, at least, and I'l