One last story from Amy Likins, the lady book agent—

One day in 1872 she was going about her rounds in Stockton, filling orders that she had taken on a previous trip. (Every sale required two trips for a book agent — one to take the order and one to deliver the book or engraving.) After filling all her orders she set out for the “Flouring Mill.”

On the way, I noticed a policeman following me, but did not care, as I knew I had not been guilty of any crime. At the Mill I offered the engraving for sale; when I came out the policeman stepped up to me, and said, “Madam, have you a license?” I told him no, that I did not require any. He replied, ” You will have to come along with me, and we will see about that. If you don’t come along peaceably, I will have to arrest you.”

I acknowledge I was angry, and somewhat frightened. I was then forty-three years old, and had never been in a lawsuit of any kind, and always had a great horror of them. I told him I would go with him to the City Attorney’s office, for I knew he would see justice done me.

She knew the City Attorney would treat her with justice, since she had met him earlier that morning, and had “learned that he was a Mason and an Odd Fellow, and had taken the Rebecca degree.” Nevertheless, it was an humiliating ordeal to go through the streets, looking like she had been arrested by a policeman.

As I walked up the street, with him close beside me, also the usual battalion of urchins that are always ready to gather around when there is a disturbance of the peace, I was so hurt and mortified, that, by the time I reached the Attorney’s Office, it was awhile before I could tell him of my situation, for weeping. He tried to cheer me with his kind words, saying he thought I did not require a license, but he would go and see the County Clerk. The policeman seemed bewildered, and could not understand why the attorney should take such an interest in me. This was the second time the Rebecca degree had been beneficial.

Bidding me remain in his office, he went out, but soon returned, saying it was all right, I did not require a license; also, said the policeman ought to be made to pay me for the time I had lost. I thanked him for his kindness, and went to the Hotel, for my mind was in no condition to battle with the rough trials of canvassing.

The next day she set out to visit the State Insane Asylum, not only to seek orders from the staff, but also to view the inmates and their accommodations. This was considered a perfectly acceptable thing to do at that time.

She met the doctor in charge who gave her “permission to go through the Ladies’ Department, and over the grounds” and sent her with an attendant to find the “Supervisoress.” On her tour she saw the rooms, “scrupulously clean,” and “many ladies sitting around ; some of them looking very melancholy, with downcast eyes, seeming to be unconscious of anything that was passing; others were laughing and chatting, and looked and acted rationally.” She was told that one woman she met, dressed in finery, thought she was a great queen, and another who filled her room with paintings, thought herself a great painter.

The attendant offered to take me to some of the rooms where the patients were violent. I thanked her, and said I did not wish to go. I have visited the Asylums in Lexington, Kentucky, and Columbus, Ohio. In each I saw many lady patients, and I must say of all the insane people I ever saw, there were not any of them had a good shaped head.

Amy was, no doubt, a believer in Phrenology.

 When we reached the hall below, I thanked the attendant and took my leave. As I passed out through the grounds, I could hear the screams of the raving maniacs, in both the ladies’ and gentlemen’s departments. I then took a solemn vow that I would never again visit an Insane Asylum, unless I should be so unfortunate as to have some friend or relative confined there.

A sad end to the lady book agent’s trip to Stockton.

There accounts have only taken us halfway through the Six Years Experience as a Book Agent. If you want to read more on your own, the book is available at the Internet Archive and the Library of Congress.