A clever linendraper, who wishes to succeed in business, should look cautiously at the splendid establishments of his neighbours, and then try to eclipse them all. If his rival's shop-front reaches to the second floor, let his touch the third. Double the size of the plate-glass, have fifty times more brass, and a hundred times more gas, and he will take all their business away from them as easily as a watch in a crowd. Never mind the goods, but for heaven's sake look to the French polish! Remember this—A crust on silver is known to be better than venison on crockeryware. The "extensive alteration of premises," if well advertised, will fill the house like the first night of a new theatre; velvets with cotton backs, silks thin as tracing paper, calicoes half plaster of Paris, will fetch prices higher than a murderess's ringlets.
As soon as this novelty has died away, an enterprising tradesman should have a "disastrous fire," by way of a jolly, house-warming. Hang up a few scorched blankets outside the shop, with a placard stating that 20,000 are for sale, and down will rush the ladies like sparrows to a pea-sowing. Dresses soiled a little in one corner—so as not to show—by the water from the engines in the back scullery—will look dirt cheap at twice their original price.
ALARMING SACRIFICE
But the grand coup—the end and aim of a real downright spirited man of business—is his own ruin. For decency's sake he must defer this until he has been in business six months at least. With the first-rate poster of "Frightful Bankruptcy!" up come the ladies, each one with the week's housekeeping money, to pick up something from the most distressing wreck. The idea of such a vast concern going to pieces draws down the beauteous wreckers like an Indiaman on a rock. To keep up the excitement, issue every Monday morning a notice that the stock "must be sold in a week," and go on every month increasing the amount of loss from fifty until it reaches two hundred per cent. under prime cost. If the tickets to each article are well scratched through and marked anew, and marked again in red ink, the success is certain. Three ruins, and a spirited salesman may change his name, take a Clapham villa, and keep his nag like a gentleman.
It is a cruel thing, but such is the spirit of competition abroad, that defy it as you will, it is not to be intimidated. Like goose for dinner, there is no keeping it down. If Smith and Co. challenge Europe in shirtings, Jones and Co. challenge the world in sheetings. Get a good idea and all your rivals instantly seize upon it; it's positively disgusting.
The other day a genius in the silk trade hit upon so excellent a plan, that it is a positive disgrace to the nation he is not allowed to patent it. He was in the ruin line (his sixteenth), and wishing to go to the dogs in style, advertised in all the papers that, previous to the doors being opened, a grand scramble of bonnets would take place. Thirty thousand Dunstables would be positively thrown away into the gutter from the first floor. Of course the attendance was terrific. A band was engaged, and at night the shop was illuminated, and the word "ruin," in blood red lamps, appearing over the shop-door. With the first shower of bonnets the scene was exciting in the extreme, the music playing "Hurrah for the bonnets so new."