For my “mark” I first selected a well-known individual, well up in public esteem; say, for instance, a merchant of high standing. Walking into his place of business I would say to one of the clerks near the door, “Is the proprietor in?”
“Yes, sir. Yonder is Mr. Denim.”
Agent (walking up to the proprietor).—“Pardon me, but are you Mr. Denim?”
Mr. D.—“That’s my name, sir.”
Agent.—“I am representing the Weekly Illustrated Rooster of New York and I want to put you down for a year’s subscription.”
Mr. D.—“Don’t want it. I’m taking too many papers now.”
Agent.—“Let me explain a little. The former manager of our paper died some months ago, and while the matter was kept up to its former high standard the business end was neglected, subscriptions expired without any effort to obtain renewals, and consequently half of our advertising got away from us. Now, a new man has taken hold, enlarged the paper, added new departments, and is offering special inducements in order to build up again. I am under contract to get seventeen thousand new subscribers in this state, and I’ll get them, if I have to give things away myself and be discharged for it.”
Mr. D. (growing interested).—“What sort of a paper is it?”
When you bring a man into the confidential history of a thing he at once begins to imagine that in some way he must belong to it.
Agent.—“It is a beautiful, clean, twenty paged paper, illustrated, and with sixteen departments. The news covers every form and condition of life, with accurate and thrilling pictures of the passing show. The bulk of the articles are of an editorial nature, being instructive, interesting and amusing. We have sixty-seven special correspondents in all parts of the world, who contribute regularly each week; and special articles are given from the best known pens in the universe. It is far above all contemporaneous sheets and costs no more.”