dollar already expended."

So a man who advertises at all must keep it up until the public know who
and what he is, and what his business is, or else the money invested in
advertising is lost.

Some men have a peculiar genius for writing a striking advertisement,
one that will arrest the attention of the reader at first sight. This
fact, of course, gives the advertiser a great advantage. Sometimes a man
makes himself popular by an unique sign or a curious display in his
window, recently I observed a swing sign extending over the sidewalk in
front of a store, on which was the inscription in plain letters,

"DON'T READ THE OTHER SIDE"

Of course I did, and so did everybody else, and I learned that the man
had made all independence by first attracting the public to his business
in that way and then using his customers well afterwards.

Genin, the hatter, bought the first Jenny Lind ticket at auction for two
hundred and twenty-five dollars, because he knew it would be a good
advertisement for him. "Who is the bidder?" said the auctioneer, as he
knocked down that ticket at Castle Garden. "Genin, the hatter," was the
response. Here were thousands of people from the Fifth avenue, and from
distant cities in the highest stations in life. "Who is 'Genin,' the
hatter?" they exclaimed. They had never heard of him before. The next
morning the newspapers and telegraph had circulated the facts from Maine
to Texas, and from five to ten millions off people had read that the
tickets sold at auction For Jenny Lind's first concert amounted to about
twenty thousand dollars, and that a single ticket was sold at two