THERE was very little about Perkins that was not peculiar. To mention
his peculiarities would be a long task; he was peculiar from the ground
up. His shoes had rubber soles, his hat had peculiar mansard ventilators
on each side, his garments were vile as to fit, and altogether he had
the appearance of being a composite picture.
We first met in the Golden Hotel office in Cleveland, Ohio. I was
reading a late copy of a morning paper and smoking a very fairish sort
of cigar, when a hand was laid on my arm. I turned and saw in the chair
beside me a beaming face.
“Just read that!” he said, poking an envelope under my nose. “No, no!”
he cried; “on the back of it.”
What I read was:
“Perkins's Patent Porous Plaster Makes all pains and aches fly faster.”
“Great, isn't it?” he asked, before I could express myself. “That first
line, 'Perkins's Patent Porous Plaster,' just takes the cake. And the
last line! That is a gem, if I do say it myself. Has the whole story in
seven words. 'All pains and aches!' Everything from sore feet to
backache; all the way from A to Z in the dictionary of diseases.
Comprehensive as a presidential message. Full of meat as a refrigerator-
car. 'Fly faster!' Faster than any other patent med. or dope would make
them fly. 'Makes!' They've got to fly! See? 'Perkins's Patent Porous
Plaster MAKES all pains and aches fly faster,' 'makes ALL pains and
aches fly faster,' 'makes all pains and aches fly FASTER.' Isn't she a
beaut.? Say, you can't forget that in a thousand years. You'll find
yourself saying it on your death-bed:
“'Perkins's Patent Porous Plaster
Makes all pains and aches fly faster.'”