Not long ago a patron of a café in Chicago summoned his waiter and

delivered himself as follows:

"I want to know the meaning of this. Look at this piece of beef. See its

size. Last evening I was served with a portion more than twice the size

of this."

"Where did you sit?" asked the waiter.

"What has that to do with it? I believe I sat by the window."

"In that case," smiled the waiter, "the explanation is simple. We always

serve customers by the window large portions. It's a good advertisement

for the place."

"Advertising costs me a lot of money."

"Why I never saw your goods advertised."

"They aren't. But my wife reads other people's ads."

When Mark Twain, in his early days, was editor of a Missouri paper, a

superstitious subscriber wrote to him saying that he had found a spider

in his paper, and asking him whether that was a sign of good luck or

bad. The humorist wrote him this answer and printed it:

"Old subscriber: Finding a spider in your paper was neither good luck

nor bad luck for you. The spider was merely looking over our paper to

see which merchant is not advertising, so that he can go to that store,

spin his web across the door and lead a life of undisturbed peace ever


"Good Heavens, man! I saw your obituary in this morning's paper!"

"Yes, I know. I put it in myself. My opera is to be produced to-night,

and I want good notices from the critics."--_C. Hilton Turvey_.

Paderewski arrived in a small western town about noon one day and

decided to take a walk in the afternoon. While strolling ling along he

heard a piano, and, following the sound, came to a house on which was a

sign reading:

"Miss Jones. Piano lessons 25 cents an hour."

Pausing to listen he heard the young woman trying to play one of

Chopin's nocturnes, and not succeeding very well.

Paderewski walked up to the house and knocked. Miss Jones came to the

door and recognized him at once. Delighted, she invited him in and he

sat down and played the nocturne as only Paderewski can, afterward

spending an hour in correcting her mistakes. Miss Jones thanked him and

he departed.

Some months afterward he returned to the town, and again took the same


He soon came to the home of Miss Jones, and, looking at the sign, he


"Miss Jones. Piano lessons $1.00 an hour. (Pupil of Paderewski.)"

Shortly after Raymond Hitchcock made his first big hit in New York,

Eddie Foy, who was also playing in town, happened to be passing Daly's

Theatre, and paused to look at the pictures of Hitchcock and his company

that adorned the entrance. Near the pictures was a billboard covered

with laudatory extracts from newspaper criticisms of the show.

When Foy had moodily read to the bottom of the list, he turned to an

unobtrusive young man who had been watching him out of the corner of his


"Say, have you seen this show?" he asked.

"Sure," replied the young man.

"Any good? How's this guy Hitchcock, anyhow?"

"Any good?" repeated the young man pityingly. "Why, say, he's the best

in the business. He's got all these other would-be side-ticklers lashed

to the mast. He's a scream. Never laughed so much at any one in all my


"Is he as good as Foy?" ventured Foy hopefully.

"As good as Foy!" The young man's scorn was superb. "Why, this Hitchcock

has got that Foy person looking like a gloom. They're not in the same

class. Hitchcock's funny. A man with feelings can't compare them. I'm

sorry you asked me, I feel so strongly about it."

Eddie looked at him very sternly and then, in the hollow tones of a

tragedian, he said:

"I am Foy."

"I know you are," said the young man cheerfully. "I'm Hitchcock!"

Advertisements are of great use to the vulgar. First of all, as they are

instruments of ambition. A man that is by no means big enough for the

Gazette, may easily creep into the advertisements; by which means we

often see an apothecary in the same paper of news with a

plenipotentiary, or a running footman with an ambassador.--_Addison_.

_See also_ Salesmen and Salesmanship.