"Oh, very well!" said he, "go on and try for yourself. Bought wit is
the best, if you don't pay too dear for it. You are young yet, and a
little experience of this kind may do you no harm in the long run."
"I'm willing to take the risk, for I think I have counted the cost
pretty accurately. As for a failure, I don't mean to know the word.
There is a wide field of enterprise before me, and I intend to occupy
it fully."
The old gentleman shrugged his shoulders in return, but volunteered no
more of his good advice.
A week before the first number of the "Gazette and Reflex" was ready, I
called in my prospectuses, in order to have the thousand or fifteen
hundred names they contained regularly entered in the
subscription-books with which I had provided myself. I had rented an
office and employed a clerk. These were two items of expense that had
not occurred to me when making my first calculation. It was rather a
damper on the ardency of my hopes, to find, that instead of the large
number of subscribers I had fondly expected to receive, the aggregate
from all quarters was but two hundred!
One very active friend, who had guarantied me fifty himself, had but
three names to his list; and another, who said I might set him down for
a hundred, had not been able to do any thing, and, moreover, declined
taking the paper himself, on the plea that he already took more
magazines and newspapers than he could read or afford to pay for.
Others gave as a reason for the little they had done, the want of a
specimen number, and encouraged me with the assurance, that as soon as
the paper appeared, there would be a perfect rush of subscribers.
In due time, the first number appeared, and a very attractive sheet it
was--in my eyes. I took the first copy that came from the press, and,
sitting down in my office, looked it over with a feeling of paternal
pride, never before or since experienced. A more beautiful object, or
rather one that it gave me more delight to view, had never been
presented to my vision. If doubt had come in to disturb me, it all
vanished now. To see the "Gazette and Reflex" would be enough. The two
hundred "good names" on my list were felt to be ample for a start. Each
copy circulated among those would bring from one to a dozen new
subscribers. I regretted exceedingly that the type of the first form of
the paper had been distributed. Had this not been the case, I would
have ordered an additional thousand to be added to the three thousand
with which I commenced my enterprise.
Saturday was the regular publication day of the paper, but I issued it
on the preceding Wednesday. That is, served it to my two hundred
subscribers and had it distributed to the daily press. With what
eagerness did I look over the papers on Thursday morning, to see the
glowing notices of my beautiful "Gazette and Reflex." I opened the
first one that came to hand, glanced down column after column, but not
a word about me or mine was there! A keener sense of disappointment I
have never experienced. I took up another, and the first words that met
my eyes were:
"We have received the first number of a new weekly paper started in
this city, entitled the 'Literary Gazette and Weekly Reflex.' It is
neat, and appears to be conducted with ability. It will, no doubt,
receive a good share of patronage."
I threw aside the paper with an angry exclamation, and forthwith set
the editor down as a jealous churl. In one or two other newspapers I
found more extended and better notices; but they all fell so far short
of the real merits of my bantling, that I was sadly vexed and
disheartened. To have my advent announced so coldly and ungraciously,
hurt me exceedingly. Still, I expected the mere announcement to bring a
crowd of subscribers to my office; but, alas! only three presented
themselves during the day. Generously enough, they paid down for the
paper in advance, thus giving me six dollars, the first income from my
new enterprise and the earnest of thousands that were soon to begin
pouring in like a never-failing stream.
My friends called one after another, to congratulate me on the
beautiful appearance of my paper, and to predict, for my encouragement,
its widely extended popularity. I believed all they said, and more. But
for all this, by the time the second number made its appearance, my
list had only increased one hundred. Still, on reflection, this
appeared very good, for at the rate of a hundred a week, I would have
five thousand in a year.
"Why don't you employ canvassers?" inquired one. "There are hundreds in
the city who will take the paper if it is only presented to them."
Acting on this hint, I advertised for men to solicit subscribers. Five
of those who applied were chosen and distributed through five different
sections of the city. I agreed to pay fifty cents for every good
subscriber obtained. This was, of course, a pretty heavy drawback upon
my expected income, but then it was admitted on all hands that a
subscriber was worth fifty cents, as after he was once obtained he
would doubtless remain a subscriber for years.
At the close of the first day my men brought in an average of ten
subscribers each. The agreement was, that I was to pay them twenty-five
cents on the name of a new subscriber being handed in, and the
remaining twenty-five cents when the subscription due at the expiration
of the first three months was collected. So I had twelve dollars and a
half cash, to pay down. But then my list was increased to the extent of
fifty names. The average of new subscribers from my agents continued
for a couple of weeks, and then fell off sensibly. By the end of two
months, my canvassers left the field, some of them sick of the
business, and others tempted by more promising inducements.
Many of the country papers noticed my "Gazette and Reflex" in the most
flattering manner, and not a few of them copied my prospectus. This had
the effect to bring me in a few hundred subscribers by mail, with the
cash, in a large number of cases in advance. About one-third, however,
promised to remit early.
At the end of three months, according to promise, I was to pay my
printer and paper maker. Up to that time my cash receipts had been
three hundred dollars, but every cent was gone. My clerk had to be paid
seven dollars a week regularly, and a mail and errand boy, three
dollars. Advertising had cost me twenty-five dollars; account and
subscription books as much more; and I had paid over fifty dollars to
my agents for getting subscribers. Besides, there had been a dozen
little et ceteras of expense, not before taken into calculation.
Moreover, out of this three hundred dollars of income I had my own
personal expenses to pay.
In the thirteenth number of my paper, I gave notice that the three
months having expired, all subscriptions were due for the year
according to the terms, and called upon subscribers "to step to the
captain's office and settle." There were of unpaid subscribers now upon
my books the number of five hundred and forty, and my debt to printer
and paper maker was exactly nine hundred and eighty dollars, I having
kept on printing three thousand copies, under the belief that the list
must go up to that.
Day after day went by after this notice appeared, yet not a single man
answered to the invitation. I began to feel serious. Subscribers
continued to come in, though slowly, and people all spoke highly of the
paper and said it must succeed. But its success, so far, was not over
flattering. Finding that people would not take the plain hint I had
given, I went over the books and made out all the bills. One thousand
and eighty dollars was the aggregate amount due. These bills, except
those for the country, I placed in the hands of a collector, and told
him to get me in the money as quickly as possible. Those for the
country, about one hundred in number, I enclosed in the paper. On the
faith of this proceeding, I promised the paper maker and printer each
two hundred dollars in a couple of weeks.
Four days elapsed without my collector making his appearance, greatly
to my surprise. On the fifth day I met him in the street.
"Well, how are you coming on?" said I.
"Oh, slowly," he replied.
"I expected to see you a day or two ago."
"I had nothing of consequence to return. But I will be in on Saturday."
I felt a kind of choking in my throat as I turned away. On Saturday the
collector called--he opened his memorandum-book, and I my cash-book,
preparatory to making entries of money returned.
"Mr. A----," said the collector, "says he never pays in advance for any
thing."
"But the terms of the paper are in advance after the first three
months."
"I know."
"Did you call his attention to this?"
"Oh, yes! but he said he didn't care for your terms. He'd been swindled
once or twice by paying in advance, but never intended to give anybody
the opportunity to do the same thing again."
Mr. A---- was a man whom I had known for years. I cannot tell how hurt
and indignant I was at such language. He took my paper, knowing the
terms upon which it was published, and when I sent my bill, refused to
comply with the terms, and insulted me into the bargain. I turned to
his name on the subscription-book, and striking it off, said--
"He can't have the paper."
"Credit Mr. B---- with six months and discontinue," said the collector,
as he passed to the next name on his list. Mr. B---- was a man whom I
knew very well by reputation. I had looked upon him as one of my best
subscribers. He was a merchant in easy circumstances.
"Why does he wish it stopped?" I asked.
"He says he merely took the paper by way of encouraging the enterprise,
and never supposed he would be called upon to pay for it. He told Mr.
J----, who asked him to subscribe, that he had more papers now than he
wanted, and Mr. J---- said, No matter. He would have it sent to him by
way of adding another respectable name to the list."
"Very well," said I, as I entered the name of Mr. B---- in the
cash-book, "pass on."
This went fairly ahead of any thing I had ever dreamed of. I was too
much surprised even to make a remark on the subject.
"Mr. C---- was as mad as a March hare when I presented his bill."
"Indeed! Why?"
"He paid your agent when he subscribed!"
"Did you see his receipt?"
"Yes. The agent took a hat and paid him the difference."
"The scoundrel! And charged me a quarter in addition, for returning the
subscriber!"
"These canvassers are a slippery set."
"That's swindling!"
"The fellow won't quarrel with you about the terms, seeing that he
enjoys the hat."
"Too bad! Too bad! Well, go on."
"Mr. D---- paid two dollars, but wants you to stop at the end of the
year. He merely took a copy at the start by way of encouraging the
enterprise. Thinks highly of the paper, but can't afford to take it
longer than a year."
"Very well."
"Mr. E---- has paid."
"Well?"
"Mr. F---- says he never subscribed, and does not want it. He says, if
you will send to his house, you can get all the numbers. He told the
carrier not to leave it from the first."
"I paid an agent for his name."
"He says he told the agent that he didn't want the paper. That he took
more now than he could read."
"Swindled again!"
"Mr. G---- says he never saw the paper in his life."
"It's sent regularly."
"Some mistake in the carrier. Mr. H---- paid, and wishes the paper
discontinued."
"Very well."
"Mr. I---- says he can't afford to take it. His name was put down
without his consent."