“Over to England,” he said. “There is a firm in Liverpool that have advertised that they want an agent here, and I’m going over to apply for the job.”
“Can’t you do it by letter?” I asked.
“That’s just it,” said Robinson, with a chuckle, “all the other men will apply by letter. I’ll go right over myself and get there as soon or sooner than the letters. I’ll be the man on the spot, and I’ll get the job.”
He was quite right. He went over to Liverpool, and was back in a fortnight with English clothes and a big salary.
But I cannot recommend his story to my friends. In fact, it should not be told too freely. It is apt to be dangerous.
I remember once telling this story of Robinson to a young man called Tomlinson who was out of a job. Tomlinson had a head two sizes too big, and a face like a bun. He had lost three jobs in a bank and two in a broker’s office, but he knew his work, and on paper he looked a good man.
I told him about Robinson, to encourage him, and the story made a great impression.
“Say, that was a great scheme, eh?” he kept repeating. He had no command of words, and always said the same thing over and over.
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