Inquiries by mail came pouring in from all over the country. Most of the correspondents enclosed postage stamps, and to those who did not we wrote anyhow, enclosing the prescription. I wrote to each of them about as follows:
“Dear Sir:—Your favor of recent date just received, and I take great pleasure in sending you the prescription, as advertised. I desire to particularly caution you that it must be used strictly in accordance with directions. Have it put up at a place where only first-class drugs are kept. The articles are so delicate that they must be pure and fresh.
“You may find it difficult to procure a few of the ingredients named in this prescription, especially if you reside in a small town. I would inform you that in such case I have made arrangements with a reliable pharmacist here, who will put up the entire prescription and forward it by express, all charges prepaid, for one dollar and thirty cents.
Yours truly,
“Hospital Nurse.”
As the ingredients I had hinted at as hard to procure, though they had nice sounding names, never were heard of by any country druggists; those who decided to use the prescription according to the direction invariably sent me their orders, and I returned them a number one, tip-top pile remedy, which cost just thirty cents. My partner got materials at wholesale prices, and now-a-days every one knows the tremendous profits at which such things are sold at retail.
I did not live economically by any means, but after I got started this thing more than paid my expenses, while my friend and partner, the drug clerk, had enough laid up to insure his diploma as an M. D., and probably this very day would as soon think of dying as running a professional advertisement in a newspaper.
I worked this pile scheme until the novelty of it wore off, and then began to think of hitting the road again. It was while making the rounds in New York City, looking for something to handle, that I accidentally strolled into a trade auction house.
I made a purchase there, which, for a time, I feared was going to turn out a total loss. I bought three hundred and eighty pocket bibles. My bid was made “for fun,” and when they were knocked down to me at a ridiculously low price I had to take them, though I had no idea of how they were going to be disposed of. I was not exactly the sort of individual, either in manner or appearance, to travel around selling the good book; and I had my doubts if I could get rid of them, even if I tried.
They were beauties, though, bound in morocco, with gilt edges and tuck covers; and the longer I had them the more I was convinced there were plenty of people hungering and thirsting for the books, if I only knew who they were, and how to reach them.