To announce your wares as superior to all that have been yet before the public; to publish testimonial letters from all the worthy folk who have been cured by your drug; to merely describe yourself as honest and industrious, when seeking a situation,—the day for all this is past.
After the ordinary, it became necessary to adopt the extraordinary, and, in these times, it is as much as the marvellous can do to produce any effect.
The most effective bait is the illustrated advertisement. Here, for instance, is the "Capilline," which makes the hair and whiskers grow as if by magic. You have to be so careful in handling the stuff, that if a drop were to fall, say, on your nose, a tuft of hair would immediately grow thereon. On the left, you see a poor fellow, bald, whiskerless, and wan. A young lady is turning her back on him with a look of disgust. The illustration is entitled, "Before using Capilline—Refused." On the right, you see a superb male beauty, adorned with a luxuriant growth of hair and beard. The same young lady reposes her head on his shoulder, and raises her rapturous eyes to his. Underneath are the words, "After using Capilline—Accepted." But the most marvellous part of it is, that the "Capilline" has changed the cut of the man's coat. First he was dressed in a lank, threadbare, shapeless sack; after having used the magic elixir, he has bloomed into the pink of tailoring perfection.
I culled the following advertisement from one of the New York papers:
"As Collector or Salesman.—Slim, sleek, slender, sharp, shrewd, sensible, sarcastic Yank, seeks a situation in some store,[17] hotel or office, as collector or salesman; has highest references, and push and cheek of an army mule: can sell goods or collect bills with any man on the continent of North America (Buck's County, Penn., included)."
The next specimen is an idyll. It is entitled, Her Heart and a Cottage. "For hours she was lost in ecstasy, gazing into her lover's eyes. 'How beautiful you are,' she said, 'and how happy you look! Darling, say that it is I who am the cause of your happiness.' The handsome young man tenderly kissed the lips of his dear one. 'Yes,' he said, 'it is because you love me that I am so happy, but I owe my look of resplendent health to Dr. Benson's syrup.'"
A Chicago draper thus advertises his annual sale:
"Sell or Perish—Pay or Die—I must get rid of my stock this week."
On a hairdresser's shop, I read:
"Tonsorial Palace—Professor Rogers has your hair cut under his own supervision. How is it cut?—As You Like It (Shakespeare)."