Oh! fatal influence—that influence which the depraved and wanton Perdita wielded by means of her transcendant charms!
CHAPTER CXXIX.
THE ADVERTISING AGENT.
On the day after the one the incidents of which have just been related, Mr. Bubbleton Styles called, precisely as the clock struck eleven in the forenoon, upon an advertising agent dwelling in the immediate vicinity of Cornhill.
The agent, knowing that Mr. Styles was the registered promoter of a scheme which had obtained the patronage of the high and mighty Mr. Podgson, was particularly civil and urbane; and having bowed him into the private office, and presented him with a chair, he said, “Now, Mr. Styles, sir—what can I do for you?”
“I intend to give the newspapers a round of advertisements,” answered the City gentleman, pulling out his prospectuses.
“Softly—softly, my dear sir,” exclaimed the agent: “you must be guided by me in this. If you went to the generality of agents, they would say, ‘Oh! advertise by all means in every paper in existence:’—but I, Mr. Styles, am a little more conscientious. There are some journals, in fact, which are perfectly useless as advertising media: it would be money completely thrown away.”
“I am much obliged to you for your kindness,” said Mr. Styles. “Of course we shall advertise in the Times.”
“As a matter of course!” cried the agent. “’Tis the great daily Leviathan which every body sees, no matter what his politics may be. The Morning Chronicle, too, is a good medium: the Herald, Post, and Advertiser must likewise be included;—and it would be folly to omit the Sun, Globe, and Standard.”
“Well—and what about the Daily News and the Express?” asked Mr. Styles, apparently astonished that no reference should have been made to those print.