business and other topics. Of late years, Mr. Reuter had not given the business his active attention. His health had been somewhat impaired, necessitating at one time his departure for abroad, where he spent about a year in his native land, Germany. But he has a worthy successor in the person of his son, Louis Reuter; a young man of splendid education and business training, he bids fair to continue the success of the industry started by his father. [Mr. Reuter died Nov. 34. 1916.]
A Hartford Florist, John Coombs
Other parts of New England proved equally attractive and profitable to me. My first visit to Hartford, Conn., dates about as far back as that to Westerly. Among the many friends I made there, John Coombs was one of the first. There was never a time in my recollection when Mr. Coombs did not favor me with an order, either for florists' supplies or horticultural products. Contrary to the general notion that New Englanders are self-centered and short in their manner of dealing with "drummers," Mr. Coombs never was anything but friendly. Not only did he give me his own trade, but he seemed to take a personal interest in my success, and often asked me if I called on his competitors, and if not, why not. Contrary also to the custom of many never to recommend a competitor, he would always have a good word to say about all of them. Among those he wanted me to visit was the late A. Whiting, whose place of business, now conducted by Carl Peterson, is located in West Hartford.
A. Whiting of West Hartford
My first call upon Mr. Whiting was anything but encouraging. I found a man late in his seventies, or perhaps in his early eighties, seated upon a chair in an antiquated office, with a number of trade and daily papers, around him. He was engrossed in reading. My pleasant "Good morning, sir" remained unanswered. My stereotyped expression about the particular weather of that day was likewise ignored. When I came to the real point—that of business—he glared at me in a way that said more eloquently than words that he had no business for me, and that I had better not waste my time and breath.
Thus "encouraged," I took my departure, vowing never to return. Mr. Coombs, however, thought otherwise. He knew Mr. Whiting better than I did, and on my next visit to Hartford he urged me again to renew my efforts in Mr. Whiting's direction. Reluctantly, and more to please Mr. Coombs than myself, I undertook the unpleasant task.
The result was again disastrous. Mr. Whiting would have none of me. There were other young men whom he knew better, who had wives and children to support, and in whose welfare he was more interested than in mine. In the face of this information, there was nothing to do but take my departure. When I went out of the door that second time, I was sure nothing under Heaven could induce me to enter it again.
But again Mr. Coombs viewed the matter in a different light. He could see no reason why Mr. Whiting and I should not get together. As to Mr. Whiting's peculiarities—why, that was a mere trifle! Unworthy of any young drummer's consideration! The young, Mr. Coombs thought, should make allowance for the old, and persist until their point is gained.
It is one thing to make up your mind never to do a thing, and quite another to adhere to your decision. Notwithstanding my vows never to see Mr. Whiting, I saw him again and again, and we became great friends in the end.
It happened in this manner:
The late William K. Harris told me how in 1886, during the second S. A. F. convention, held in Philadelphia, Mr. Whiting brought with him at his own expense a man who had the courage and audacity and requisite botanical knowl-
