"I attained my twenty-third birthday a month after I received my

diploma. On that day I took stock of the capital with which I was to

step into the world and earn my own living. My stock taking showed

perfect health, my college education and $300, my share of my father's

estate after the expenses of my college course had been paid.

"In spite of the protests of many of my friends I decided to become a

business woman instead of entering one of the professions. I believed

that a well conducted tea room in a college town where there was nothing

of the kind would pay well, and I proceeded to open a place.

"After renting a suitable room I invested $100 in furnishings. Besides

having a paid announcement in the college and town papers I had a

thousand leaflets printed and distributed.

"Though I couldn't afford music I did have my rooms decorated profusely

with flowers on the afternoon of my opening. As it was early in the

autumn the flowers were inexpensive and made a brave show. My only

assistant was a young Irish woman whom I had engaged for one month as

waitress, with the understanding that if my venture succeeded I would

engage her permanently.

"We paid expenses that first afternoon, and by the end of the week the

business had increased to such an extent that I might have engaged a

second waitress had not so many of my friends persisted in shaking their

heads and saying the novelty would soon wear off. During the second week

my little Irish girl and I had so much to do that on several occasions

our college boy patrons felt themselves constrained to offer their

services as waiters, while more than one of the young professors after a

long wait left the room with the remark that they would go elsewhere.

"Of course it was well enough to laugh as we all knew there was no

'elsewhere,' but when I recalled how ready people are to crowd into a

field that has proved successful, I determined no longer to heed the

shaking heads of my friends. The third week found me not only with a

second assistant but with a card posted in a conspicuous place

announcing that at the beginning of the next week I would enlarge my

quarters in such a way as to accommodate more than twice as many guests.

"Having proved to my own satisfaction that my venture was and would be

successful, I didn't hesitate to go into debt to the extent of $150.

This was not only to repair and freshen up the new room but also to

equip it with more expensive furnishing than I had felt myself justified

in buying for the first.

"Knowing how every little thing that happens is talked about in a

college town, I was sure the difference in the furnishings of the rooms

would prove a good advertisement. I counted on it to draw custom, but

not just in the way it did.

"Before I realized just what was happening I was receiving letters from

college boys who, after proclaiming themselves among my very first

customers, demanded to know why they were discriminated against. I had

noticed that everybody appeared to prefer the new room and that on

several occasions when persons telephoning for reservations had been

unable to get the promise of a table in there, they had said they would

wait and come at another time. What I had not noticed was that only men

coming alone or with other men, and girls coming with other girls, would

accept seats in the first room.

"I learned from the letters of 'my very first patrons' that no gentleman

would take a girl to have tea in a second class tea room. They were not

only hitting at the cheaper furnishings of my first room but also at the

waiter whom I had employed, because I felt the need of a man's help in

doing heavy work. The girl in her fresh apron and cap was more

attractive than the man, and because he happened to serve in the first

room he also was second class.

"No, I couldn't afford to buy new furniture for that room, so I did the

only thing I could think of. I mixed the furniture in such a way as to

make the two rooms look practically alike. I hired another girl and

relegated the man to the kitchen except in case of emergency.

"Although my custom fell off in summer to a bare sprinkling of guests

afternoons and evenings and to almost no one at lunch, I kept the same

number of employees and had them put up preserves, jams, syrups, and

pickles for use the coming season. I knew it would not only be an

economical plan but also a great drawing card, especially with certain

of the professors, to be able to say that everything served was made on

the place and under my own supervision.

"My second winter proved so successful that I determined to buy a home

for my business so that I might have things exactly as I wished. I was

able to pay the first instalment, $2,500, on the purchase price and

still have enough in bank to make alterations and buy the necessary

furnishings.

"The move was made during the summer, and when I opened up in the autumn

I had such crowds afternoons and evenings that I had to put extra tables

in the halls until I could get a room on the second floor ready. At

present I have two entire floors and often have so many waiting that it

is next to impossible to pass through the entrance hall.

"Three summers ago I opened a second tea room at a seashore resort on

the New England coast. I heard of the place through a classmate whose

family owned a cottage down there. She described it as deadly dull,

because there was nothing to do but bathe and boat unless you were the

happy possessor of an automobile or a horse.

"I was so much interested in her description of the place that I went

down one warm day in April and looked things over. I found a stretch of

about three miles of beach lined with well appearing and handsome

cottages and not a single place of amusement. The village behind the

beach is a lovely old place, with twenty or more handsome old homes

surrounded by grand trees. There are two or three small stores, a post

office, two liveries and the railroad station half a mile away.

"Before I left that afternoon I had paid the first month's rent on the

best of the only two cottages to be rented on the beach. Of course it

needed considerable fixing up and that had to be done at my own expense,

but as I was getting it at a rental of $200 for the season I was not

worried at the outlay. The cottages told me enough of the character of

the people who summered on that beach to make me sure that I would get

good interest on all the money spent.

"Immediately after commencement I shut up my college tea rooms, leaving

only the kitchen and storeroom open and in charge of an experienced

woman with instructions to get more help when putting up preserves and

pickles made it necessary. Then I moved.

"The two first days on the beach my tea room didn't have a visitor.

People strolled by and stared at the sign, but nobody came in to try my

tea. The third day I had a call from my landlord, who informed me that

he had been misled into letting me have his cottage, and offering to

return the amount paid for the first month's rent, he very politely

requested me to move out.

"After considerable talking I discovered that the cottagers didn't like

the way my waitresses dressed. They were too stylish and my rooms

appeared from the outside to be so brilliantly lighted that they thought

I intended to sell liquor.

"I didn't accept the offered rent, neither did I agree to move out, but

I did assure my landlord that I would go the very day anything really

objectionable happened on my premises. I told him of my success in the

college town and then invited him to bring his family the following

afternoon to try my tea.

"Well, they came, they saw, and I conquered. That evening all the tables

on my piazza were filled and there was a slight sprinkling indoors. A

few days later the classmate who had told me of the place came down for

the summer and my troubles were at an end.

"The secret of my success is hard work and catering to the taste of my

patrons. Had I opened either a cheap or a showy place in the college

town, I would not have gained the good will of the faculty or the

patronage of the best class of students. If my prices had been too high

or the refreshments served not up to the notch, the result would not

have been so satisfactory.

"Knowing one college town pretty well, I knew just about what was needed

in the student's life; that is, an attractive looking place, eminently

respectable, where you can take your best girl and get good things to

eat well served at a reasonable cost.

"The needs of the beach were pretty much the same. People can't stay in

the water all the time, neither can they spin around the country or go

to an unlighted village at night in their carriages and automobiles. My

tea room offers a recreation, without being a dissipation.

"Another point about which many people question me is the effect of my

being a business woman on my social standing. I haven't noticed any

slights. I receive many more invitations than it is possible for me to

accept. I go with the same set of girls that I did while I was in

college.

"Two of my classmates are lawyers, more than one is a doctor, and three

have gone on the stage. I know that my earnings are far more than any of

theirs, and I am sure they do not enjoy their business any more than I

do. If I had to begin again I would do exactly as I have done, with one

exception--I would lay out the whole of my $300 in furnishing that first

tea room instead of keeping $75 as a nest egg in bank."

* * * * *

(_Country Gentleman_)

Two illustrations:

1. Half-tone reproducing photograph of dressed chickens with

the caption, "There is this rule you must observe: Pick your

chickens clean."

2. Reproduction in type of shipping label.

BY PARCEL POST

ONE MAN'S WAY OF SERVING THE DIRECT-TO-CONSUMER MARKET

By A. L. SARRAN

If you live within a hundred and fifty miles of a city, if you possess

ordinary common sense and have the ability to write a readable and

understandable letter, you may, from September to April of each year,

when other farmers and their wives are consuming instead of producing,

earn from fifty to a hundred and fifty dollars net profit each month.

You may do this by fattening and dressing chickens for city folks, and

by supplying regularly fresh country sausage, hams, lard and eggs.

This is not an idle theory. Last September I began with one customer;

today--this was written the end of March--I have nearly 500 customers to

whom I am supplying farm products by parcel post.

Instead of selling my chickens to the huckster or to the local poultry

house for twelve cents a pound, I am selling them to the consumer in the

city for twenty cents a pound, live weight, plus the cost of boxing and

postage. Not only that, I am buying chickens from my neighbors at a

premium of one to two cents over the huckster's prices, "milk feeding"

them, and selling them to my city customers at a profit of six to seven

cents a pound.

I buy young hogs from my neighbors at market prices and make them into

extra good country sausage that nets me twenty-five cents a pound in the

city, and into hams for which I get twenty-five cents a pound,

delivered. The only pork product on which I do not make an excellent

profit is lard. I get fifteen cents a pound for it, delivered to the

city customer, and it costs me almost that much to render and pack it.

At this writing storekeepers and egg buyers in my county are paying the

farmer seventeen cents for his eggs. I am getting twenty-five cents a

dozen for eggs in thirty-dozen eases and twenty-nine cents a dozen in

two-dozen boxes. My prices to the city man are based upon the Water

Street, Chicago, quotation for "firsts," which, at this writing, is

nineteen cents. If this price goes up I go up; if it goes down I go

down.

I got my customers by newspaper advertising--almost exclusively. It is a

comforting belief that one satisfied customer will get you another, and

that that customer will get you another, and so on, but it has not so

worked out in my experience. Out of all my customers less than twelve

have become customers through the influence of friends.

My experience has taught me another thing: That direct advertising does

not pay. By direct advertising I mean the mailing of letters and

circulars to a list of names in the hope of selling something to persons

whose names are on that list.

I tried it three times--once to a list of names I bought from a dealer

in such lists; once to a list that I myself compiled from the society

columns of two Chicago dailies; and once to a classified list that I

secured from a directory.

The results in these cases were about the same. The net cost of each new

customer that I secured by circulars and letters was $2.19. The net cost

of each new customer that I secured by newspaper advertising was

fifty-four cents.

Not every city newspaper will get such results. In my case I selected

that paper in Chicago which in my judgment went into the greatest number

of prosperous homes, and whose pages were kept clean of quack and

swindling advertisements. I used only the Sunday issues, because I

believe the Sunday issues are most thoroughly read.

The farmer will want to use, and properly so, the classified columns of

the paper for his advertising. But he should patronize only that paper

whose columns provide a classification especially for farm and food

products.

I spent twelve dollars for advertising in one clean Chicago daily with a

good circulation, and got three orders. The trouble was that my

advertisement went into a column headed "Business Personals," along with

a lot of manicure and massage advertising.

He on the farm who proposes to compete with the shipper, commission man

and retailer for the city man's trade should devote his efforts to

producing food of a better quality than the city man is accustomed to

get via the shipper-commission-man-retailer route. Wherefore I proposed

to give the city man the fattest, tenderest, juiciest, cleanest,

freshest chicken he could get--and charge him a profitable price in so

doing.

When I wrote my advertisements I did not stint myself for space. An

advertisement that tells no reason why the reader should buy from the

advertiser is, in my opinion, a poor advertisement. Therefore, I told my

story in full to the readers of the Sunday paper, although it cost me

six cents a word to do it. Here is a sample of my advertising:

I send young, milk-fed chickens, ready for the cook, direct to you

from the farm. These chickens are fattened in wire-bottomed,

sanitary coops, thus insuring absolute cleanliness, on a ration of

meal, middlings and milk. The chicken you get from me is fresh; it

is killed AFTER your order is received; is dressed, drawn, cooled

out for 24 hours in dry air, wrapped in waxed paper and delivered to

you on the morning of the third day after your order is mailed; it

is fat, tender and sweet. The ordinary chicken that is fattened on

unspeakable filth in the farmer's barnyard, and finds its way to

your table via the huckster-shipper-commission-man-retailer route

cannot compare with one of mine. Send me your check--no stamps--for

$1.15 and I will send you a five-pound--live-weight--roasting

chicken for a sample. If it does not please you I'll give your money

back. Add 62 cents to that check and I'll mail you in a separate box

a two-pound package of the most delicious fresh-ground sausage meat

you ever ate. Made from the selected meats of young hogs only; not

highly seasoned. These sausage cakes make a breakfast fit for a

President. Money back if you don't like them.

A. L. SARRAN.

Notice that I told why the reader should buy one of my chickens rather

than a chicken of whose antecedents he knew nothing. That it paid to

spend six cents a word to tell him so is proved by the fact that this

particular advertisement brought me, in four days, twenty-three orders,

each accompanied by a check. I repeated my advertisements in Sunday

issues, stopping only when I had as many customers as I could take care

of.

Getting a customer and keeping him are two different propositions. A

customer's first order is sent because of the representation made in the

advertisement that he read. His second and his subsequent orders depend

upon how you satisfy him and continue to satisfy him.

My rule is to select, weigh, dress, draw, handle, wrap and box the

chicken with the same scrupulous care that I would exercise if the

customer were actually present and watching me.

I have another rule: The customer is always right. If he complains I

satisfy him, immediately and cheerfully. It is better to lose a chicken

than to lose a customer.

I am now about to make a statement with which many of my readers will

not agree. It is more than true; it is so important that the success of

a mail-order business in dressed chickens depends upon a realization of

it. It is this: _A majority of farmers and their wives do not know what

constitutes a fat chicken._

I make this statement because of the experience I have had with country

folks in buying their chickens for my feeding coops. If they really

consider to be fat the chickens which they have assured me were fat,

then they do not know fat chickens. A chicken can be fat to a degree

without being so fat as he can or should be made for the purpose of

marketing.

There is a flavor about a well-fattened, milk-fed chicken that no other

chicken has. Every interstice of his flesh is juicy and oily. No part of

him is tough, stringy muscle, as is the case if he is "farm-fattened"

while being allowed to range where he will.

If you think your chicken is a fat one, pick it up and rub the ball of

your thumb across its backbone about an inch behind the base of the

wings. If the backbone is felt clearly and distinctly the chicken is not

fat.

I fatten my chickens in coops the floors of which are made of heavy wire

having one-inch mesh; underneath the wire is a droppings pan, which is

emptied every day. My coops are built in tiers and long sections. I have

ninety of them, each one accommodating nine chickens. I have enough

portable feeding coops with wire bottoms and droppings pans underneath

to enable me to feed, in all, about one thousand chickens at one time.

Chickens should be fed from ten to fourteen days in the coops. I give no

feed whatever to the chicken the first day he is in the coop, but I keep

a supply of sour milk in the trough for him. I feed my chickens three

times a day.

At seven A.M. I give them a fairly thick batter of meal, middlings or

oat flour, about half and half, and sour milk. I feed them only what

they will clean up in the course of half an hour. At noon I feed them

again only what they will clean up in half an hour. This feed is the

same as the morning feed except that it is thinner. About four o'clock I

give them a trough full of the same feed, but so thick it will barely

pour out from the bucket into the trough.

The next morning the troughs are emptied--if anything remains in

them--into the big kettle where the feed is mixed for the morning

feeding. The idea is this: More fat and flesh are made at night than in

the daytime; therefore see that no chicken goes to bed with an empty

crop.

About the eighth to tenth day force the feeding--see to it that the

chicken gets all it will eat three times a day.

By keeping an accurate account of the costs of meal, milk, and so on, I

find that I can put a pound of fat on a coop-fed chicken for seven

cents. When one considers that this same pound brings twenty cents, and

that milk feeding in coops raises the per pound value of the chicken

from twelve to twenty cents, one must admit that feeding chickens is

more profitable than feeding cattle.

Do not feed your chicken anything for twenty-four hours before killing

it. Do not worry about loss in weight. The only weight it will lose will

be the weight of the feed in its crop and gizzard, and the offal in its

intestines--and you are going to lose that anyway when you dress and

draw it. If you will keep the bird off feed for twenty-four hours you

will find that it will draw much more easily and cleanly.

Hang the chicken up by the feet and kill it by bleeding it away back in

the mouth. Let it bleed to death. Grasp the chicken's head in your left

hand, the back of its head against the palm of your hand. Do not hold it

by the neck, but grasp it by the bony part of its head and jaws. Reach

into the throat with a three-inch, narrow, sharp knife and cut toward

the top and front of the head.

You will sever the big cross vein that connects the two "jugular" veins

in the neck, and the blood will pour out of the mouth. If you know how

to dry-pick you will not need to be told anything by me; if you do not

know it will do you no good to have me tell you, because I do not

believe a person can learn to dry-pick chickens by following printed

instructions. At any rate, I could not. I never learned until I hired a

professional picker to come out from town to teach me.

So far as I can judge, it makes no difference to the consumer in the

city whether the chicken is scalded or dry-picked. There is this to be

said for the scalded chicken--that it is a more cleanly picked chicken

than the dry-picked one. The pin feathers are more easily removed when

the chicken is scalded.

On the other hand, there are those feed-specializing,

accurate-to-the-ten-thousandth-part-of-an-inch experts, who say that the

dry-picked chicken keeps better than the scalded one. If the weather is

warmer than, say, seventy-five degrees, it might; under that, there is

no difference.

I do the most of my selling in Chicago, and my place is a hundred and

fifty miles south of that city; if a scalded chicken will keep when I am

selling it that far away it will keep for almost anyone, because none of

you is going to sell many chickens at any point more than a hundred and

fifty miles from your place.

There is this caution to be observed in scalding a chicken: Do not have

the water too hot. I had trouble on this score, and as a result my

chickens were dark and did not present an appetizing appearance. Finally

I bought a candy thermometer--one that registered up to 400 degrees. By

experimenting I found that 180 degrees was the point at which a chicken

scalded to pick the easiest, but that a chicken scalded at 165 degrees

presented a better appearance after being picked and cooled. Whichever

method you use, observe this rule: Pick your chicken clean.

After my chicken has cooled out enough so the flesh will cut easily, I

draw it. I chop off the head close up, draw back the skin of the neck a

couple of inches, and then cut off the neck. The flap of skin thus left

serves to cover the bloody and unsightly stub of the neck. Next I open

up the chicken from behind and below the vent and pull out the

gizzard--if the chicken has been kept off feed for twenty-four hours the

empty crop will come with it--intestines and liver. I remove the gall

bladder from the liver, open and clean the gizzard, and replace it and

the liver in the chicken.

Then I cut a slit across the chicken just back of the keel of the breast

bone. I cut the feet off at the knee joint and slip the drumstick

through this slit. Then I lay the chicken up to cool out overnight. The

next morning it may be wrapped and boxed, and is then ready for mailing.

Wrapping and boxing must not be slighted. The clean, sanitary appearance

of the chicken when it is unpacked in the kitchen of your customer goes

a long way toward prejudicing that customer in your favor. I buy thirty

pounds of waxed paper, twenty-four by thirty-six inches, and have the

paper house cut it in two. This gives me 1000 sheets, each eighteen by

twenty-four inches, for the price of a ream of the full size--at this

time about five dollars, or a half cent a sheet.

Each chicken is wrapped in one sheet of this waxed paper, and is then

packed in a corrugated paper box made especially for sending chickens by

parcel post.

I buy three sizes of these boxes. One size, which costs me four cents

each, will hold one four-pound chicken when dressed and drawn. The next

size, costing five cents each, will hold two very small chickens, or one

large chicken. The third size, costing six cents each, will hold two

large chickens, three medium-sized ones, or four small ones.

Do not use makeshifts, such as old shoe boxes. In the first place, your

shipment is not properly protected by such a box; in the second place,

your postmaster is likely to refuse to accept it for mailing, as he

would be justified in doing; and in the third place, your customer

receives his chicken in a box that has been used for he wonders what,

and has been in he wonders what places.

It is for this reason that I never ask a customer to return a box to me.

I do not want to use a box a second time. If I were a city man, getting

my chickens by mail, I should want them sent to me in a brand-new box,

made for the special purpose of sending chickens by mail--and I'd want

them in no other box. Then I'd feel sure of them.

The cost of shipping by parcel post is low. I live ten miles from my

county seat, and the postage required to send a five-pound, live-weight

chicken, dressed and boxed, from my place to town is eight cents. The

postage required to send that same five-pound chicken from here to

Chicago, one hundred and fifty miles, is eight cents. The express

company charges twenty-six cents for the same service, and does not

deliver so quickly.

But parcel-post delivery was not always so admirably done in Chicago.

When I began shipping up there last September it was no uncommon thing

for my packages to be so delayed that many chickens would spoil.

I recall the "straw that broke the camel's back." I mailed twenty-six

chickens one day--and in due course I received thirteen letters, each

advising me of the same mournful event. The chicken had spoiled because

of delay in delivery. My wife wanted to quit. I didn't. I made good the

losses to the customers and prepared a label, a copy of which I

forwarded to the Third Assistant Postmaster General at Washington,

asking his permission to use it, and telling him of the vexatious and

expensive delays in delivering my packages in Chicago.

In due time I received the desired permission, and ordered the labels

printed. The scheme worked. Every time a package was not delivered on

schedule time the customer notified me, and I made complaint to the

postmaster at Chicago.

Gradually the service improved until now I have no trouble at all. If I

were to ship two packages today to the same address in Chicago, sending

one by parcel post and the other by express, I believe the parcel-post

package would be delivered first. At any rate, it has been done for me.

The weakness in the parcel-post delivery lies in the fact that

perishable products--such as dressed chickens--cannot be handled in warm

weather. I think that if the Post Office Department would cut some of

its red tape and permit the shipment of air-tight packages in air-tight

conveyors this particular problem could be solved.

You will, of course, have more or less correspondence with your

customers. By all means use your own letterheads, but do not let your

printer embellish them with cuts of roosters, chickens, pigs, or the

like. Not that we are ashamed of them; far be it from such. You do not,

however, need to have a sheet of paper littered up with pictures of

imaginary animals in order to convince your customer that you are

selling the meats of that animal. I like a plainly printed letterhead

that carries my name, my address and my business. That's all.

By all means keep books on your farm-to-table venture, if you undertake

it. Set down on one side of the page what you pay for boxes, labels,

postage, and so on, including what you pay yourself for chickens at your

huckster's prices. On the other side of the page set down what your city

customer pays you. Add up the pages, do a simple sum in subtraction, and

you will know just how much you have made.

If I kept only twenty-five hens I should sell my eggs and my chickens

direct to the city consumer. When the farmer learns to sell direct

instead of letting the huckster, the poultry house, the commission man,

the dresser and the retailer stand between him and the consumer, then

poultry raising will become really profitable.

There are too many folks who sell their eggs and "take it out in trade."

* * * *

_(Saturday Evening Post)_

One large illustration, a wash drawing, made by a staff artist.

SALES WITHOUT SALESMANSHIP

BY JAMES H. COLLINS

"Say, you're a funny salesman!" exclaimed the business man. "Here I make

up my own mind that I need two motor trucks and decide to buy 'em from

your company. Then I send for a salesman. You come down and spend a week

looking into my horse delivery, and now you tell me to keep my horses.

What kind of a salesman do you call yourself anyway?"

"What made you think you needed motor trucks?" was the counterquestion

of the serious, thick-spectacled young chap.

"Everyone else seems to be turning to gasoline delivery. I want to be up

to date."

"Your delivery problem lies outside the gasoline field," said the

salesman. "Your drivers make an average of ninety stops each trip. They

climb stairs and wait for receipts. Their rigs are standing at the curb

more than half the time. Nothing in gasoline equipment can compete with

the horse and wagon under such conditions. If you had loads of several

tons to be kept moving steadily I'd be glad to sell you two trucks."

"Suppose I wanted to buy them anyway?"

"We could not accept your order."

"But you'd make your commission and the company its profit."

"Yes; but you'd make a loss, and within a year your experience would

react unfavorably upon us."

So no sale was effected. Facts learned during his investigation of this

business man's delivery problem led the salesman to make suggestions

that eliminated waste and increased the effectiveness of his horse rigs.

About a year later, however, this business man sent for the salesman

again. He contemplated motorized hauling for another company of which he

was the president. After two days' study the salesman reported that

motor trucks were practicable and that he needed about five of them.

"All right--fill out the contract," directed the business man.

"Don't you want to know how these trucks are going to make you money?"

asked the salesman.

"No; if you say I need five trucks, then I know that's just what I

need!"

A new kind of salesmanship is being developed in many lines of

business--and particularly in the rebuilding of sales organizations made

necessary by the ending of the war and return to peace production.

"Study your goods," was the salesman's axiom yesterday. "Study your

customer's problem," is the viewpoint to-day; and it is transforming the

salesman and sales methods.

Indeed, the word salesman tends to disappear under this new viewpoint,

for the organization which was once charged largely with disposing of

goods may now be so intimately involved in technical studies of the

customers' problems that selling is a secondary part of its work. The

Sales Department is being renamed, and known as the Advisory Department

or the Research Staff; while the salesman himself becomes a Technical

Counsel or Engineering Adviser.

Camouflage? No; simply better expression of broader functions.

As a salesman, probably he gave much attention to the approach and

argument with which he gained his customer's attention and confidence.

But, with his new viewpoint and method of attack, perhaps the first step

is asking permission to study the customer's transportation needs, or

accounting routine, or power plant--or whatever section of the latter's

business is involved.

The experience of the thick-spectacled motor-truck salesman was typical.

Originally he sold passenger cars. Then came the war, with factory

facilities centered on munitions and motor trucks. There being no more

passenger cars to sell, they switched him over into the motor-truck

section. There he floundered for a while, trying to develop sales

arguments along the old lines. But the old arguments did not seem to

fit, somehow.

It might have been possible to demonstrate the superior construction of

his motor truck; but competitors would meet point with point, and

customers were not interested in technicalities anyway. He tried service

as an argument; but that was largely a promise of what motor trucks

would do for people after they bought them, and competitors could always

promise just as much, and a little more.

Company reputation? His company had a fine one--but motor-truck

purchasers wanted to know the cost of moving freight. Price? No argument

at all, because only one other concern made motor trucks calling for so

great an initial investment.

So Thick-Specs, being naturally serious and solid, began to dig into

motor trucks from the standpoint of the customer. He got permission to

investigate delivery outfits in many lines. Selling a five-ton motor

truck to many a business man was often equivalent to letting Johnny play

with a loaded machine gun. Such a vehicle combined the potentiality of

moving from fifty to seventy-five tons of freight daily, according to

routing and the number of hours employed; but it involved a daily

expense of twenty-five dollars.

The purchaser could lose money in two ways at swift ratios, and perhaps

unsuspectingly: He might not use his full hauling capacity each day or

would use it only half the year, during his busy season. Or he might

underestimate costs by overlooking such items as interest and

depreciation.

Thick-Specs' first actual sale was not a motor truck at all, but a

motorcycle, made by another company. Within three months, however, this

motorcycle added two big trucks to a fleet of one dozen operated by a

wholesale firm. That concern had good trucks, and kept them in a

well-equipped garage, where maintenance was good. But at least once

daily there would be a road breakdown. Usually this is a minor matter,

but it ties up the truck while its puzzled driver tries to locate the

trouble.

When a motorcycle was bought for the garage, drivers were forbidden to

tamper with machinery on the road--they telephoned in to the

superintendent. By answering each call on his own motorcycle--about an

hour daily--the repairman kept equipment in such good shape that

valuable extra service was secured from the fleet each day.

The salesman-adviser did not originate this scheme himself, but

discovered it in another concern's motor-truck organization; in fact,

this is the advantage the salesman-adviser enjoys--acquaintance with a

wide range of methods and the knack of carrying a good wrinkle from one

business to another. He brings the outside point of view; and, because

modern business runs toward narrow specialization, the outside point of

view is pretty nearly always welcome, provided it is honest and

sensible.

In another case he had to dig and invent to meet a peculiar situation.

There was a coal company working under a handicap in household

deliveries. Where a residence stood back from the sidewalk coal had

often to be carried from the motor truck in baskets. This kept the truck

waiting nearly an hour. A motor truck's time is worth several dollars

hourly. If the coal could have been dumped on the sidewalk and carried

in later, releasing the truck, that would have saved expense and made

more deliveries possible.

A city ordinance prohibited dumping coal on the sidewalk except by

permit. Coal men had never tried to have that ordinance changed. But the

salesman-adviser went straight to the city authorities and, by figures

showing the expense and waste involved, secured a modification, so that

his customer, the coal company, got a blanket permit for dumping coal

and gave bonds as an assurance against abuse of the privilege. Then a

little old last year's runabout was bought and followed the coal trucks

with a crew to carry the coal indoors, clearing sidewalks quickly.

This salesman-adviser's philosophy was as simple as it was sound.

Confidence is the big factor in selling, he reasoned. Your customer will

have confidence in you if he feels that you are square and also knows

what you are talking about. By diligent study of gasoline hauling

problems in various lines of business he gained practical knowledge and

after that had only to apply his knowledge from the customer's side of

the problem.

"Put it another way," he said: "Suppose you had a factory and expected

to run it only one year. There would not be time to get returns on a

costly machine showing economies over a five-year period; but if you

intended to run your factory on a five-year basis, then that machine

might be highly profitable.

"In sales work it was just the same; if you were selling for this year's

profit alone, you'd close every sale regardless of your customer's

welfare. Let the purchaser beware! But if you meant to sell on the

five-year basis, then confidence is the big investment, and the most

profitable sale very often one you refuse to make for immediate

results."

He had a fine following when the draft reached him; and during the eight

months he spent in an Army uniform he utilized his knowledge of gasoline

transportation as an expert in Uncle Sam's motor service. Upon being

discharged he returned to his job and his customers, and to-day the

concern with which he is connected is taking steps to put all its

motor-truck salesmen on this advisory basis.

War shot its sales force to pieces--the Army and the Navy reached out

for men and tied up production facilities; so there was nothing to sell.

But war also gave a clean slate for planning a new sales force.

As old salesmen return and new men are taken on for sales instruction,

this concern trains them--not with the old sales manual, by standard

approach and systematic sales argument, but by sending them out into the

field to study gasoline hauling problems. They secure permission to

investigate trucking methods of contractors, department stores,

wholesale merchants, coal dealers, truck owners hauling interstate

freight, mills, factories and other lines of business. They investigate

the kinds and quantities of stuff to be moved, the territory and roads

covered, the drivers, the garage facilities. They ride behind typical

loads and check up running time, delays, breakdowns, gasoline and oil

consumption.

Engineering teaches people to think in curves. This youngster had to

make a curve of the grocer's trucking before he could visualize it

himself. His curve included factors like increase in stuff that had been

hauled during the past three years and additions to the motor equipment.

When you have a healthy curve showing any business activity, the logical

thing to do, after bringing it right down to date, is to let it run out

into the future at its own angle. This was done with the grocery curve,

and its future extension indicated that not more than three months later

the grocery house would need about four more five-ton motor trucks.

Closer investigation of facts behind the curve revealed an unusual

growth in sugar hauling, due to the increase in supply and removal of

consumer war restrictions. And that grocery concern bought additional

trucks for sugar within two months. With the insight made possible by

such a curve a salesman might safely have ordered the trucks without his

customer's knowledge and driven them up to his door the day the curve

showed they were needed.

"Here are the trucks you wanted to haul that sugar."

"Good work! Drive 'em in!"

What has been found to be sound sales policy in the motor truck business

applies to many other lines. Yesterday the salesman of technical

apparatus sought the customer with a catalogue and a smile--and a large

ignorance of the technical problems. To-day that kind of selling is

under suspicion, because purchasers of technical equipment have been led

to buy on superficial selling points and left to work out for themselves

complex technicalities that belong to the manufacturer of the equipment.

In the West during recent years a large number of pumps of a certain

type have been sold for irrigating purposes. Purchasers bought from the

catalogue-and-smile type of salesman, hooked their pumps up to a power

plant--and found that they lifted only about half the number of gallons

a minute promised in the catalogue. Manufacturers honestly believed

those pumps would do the work indicated in their ratings. They had not

allowed for variations in capacity where pumps were installed under many

different conditions and run by different men. The situation called for

investigation at the customer's end; when it was discovered that these

pumps ought to be rated with an allowance for loss of capacity a half to

two-thirds of the power, due to friction and lost power.

It might have been dangerous for the salesman to show up again in an

irrigation district where a lot of his pumps were "acting up," armed

only with his catalogue and smile. But when an engineer appeared from

the pump company to help customers out of their difficulties, he won

confidence immediately and made additional sales because people felt

that he knew what he was talking about.

The superintendent of a big machinery concern found that his expense for

cutting oils was constantly rising. Salesmen had followed salesmen,

recommending magic brands of the stuff; yet each new barrel of oil

seemed to do less work than the last--and cost more in dollars.

One day a new kind of visitor showed up and sent in the card of a large

oil company. He was not a salesman, but an investigator of oil problems.

The superintendent took him through the plant. He studied the work being

done by screw-cutting machines, lathes and other equipment operated with

cutting oil. Where salesmen had recommended brands without technical

knowledge of either the work to be done or the composition of the oil,

this stranger wrote specifications that cut down the percentage of

costly lard oil used on some work; and he eliminated it altogether on

others.

Moreover, he pointed out sheer losses of oil by picking up a handful of

metal cuttings from a box, letting them drip, measuring the oil that

accumulated and recommending a simple device for reclaiming that oil

before the waste metal was sold.

This new viewpoint in selling is developing in so many lines that to

enumerate them would be to make a national directory of business

concerns manufacturing milling machinery, office devices, manufacturing

and structural materials, equipment for the farm and the mine.

People who purchase such products have been accustomed to meeting two

different representatives of manufacturers: First, the salesman skilled

in selling, but deficient in technical knowledge.

"This chap is here to see how much he can get out of me," said the

prospective consumer to himself; and he was on his guard to see that the

visitor got as little as possible, either in the way of orders or

information.

The other representative came from the mechanical department to see how

present equipment was running, or perhaps to "shoot trouble." He was

long on technical knowledge, but probably dumb when it came to

salesmanship.

"This fellow is here to help me out of my troubles," said the customer.

"I'll see how much I can get out of him."

Presently manufacturers of equipment woke up to the fact that their

mechanical men--inspectors and trouble shooters--had a basis of

confidence which the salesman pure and simple was rapidly losing.

Moreover, the technical man gained a knowledge of the customer's

requirements that furnished the best foundation for selling new

equipment.

The salesman discovered the technical man and went to him for tips on

new equipment needed by customers whose plants he had visited. The

technical man also discovered the salesman, for it was plain enough that

equipment well sold--skillfully adjusted to the customer's needs--gave

the least margin for trouble shooting.

So there has been a meeting of minds; and to-day the salesman studies

the technicalities, and the technical man is learning salesmanship, and

their boss is standing behind them both with a new policy. This is the

policy of performance, not promises--service before sales. Under that

policy the very terms salesmanship and sales department are beginning to

disappear, to be replaced by new nomenclature, which more accurately

indicates what a manufacturer's representative can do for the customer,

and gives him access to the latter on the basis of confidence and good

will.

* * * * *

_(Munsey's Magazine)_

THE ACCIDENT THAT GAVE US WOOD-PULP PAPER

HOW A MIGHTY MODERN INDUSTRY OWED ITS BEGINNING TO GOTTFRIED KELLER AND

A WASP

BY PARKE F. HANLEY

On the day when President Wilson was inaugurated to his second term,

this country had its fiftieth anniversary of the introduction of

wood-pulp. Were it not for a series of lucky chances that developed into

opportunity, this wood-pulp anniversary might have remained for our

children's children.

Have you ever given thought to the accidentalism of many great

discoveries? The element of haphazard is generally combined with a

series of coincidences. Looking back over the developments that led to

gigantic contributions to our civilization, one cannot fail to be struck

by the coordination of events. Apparently there always has been a

conspiracy of natural forces to compel men of thought and

resourcefulness to add another asset to progress.

Your earliest school readers have been full of these--for instance, Watt

and his steam-kettle, Franklin and his kite. Now the youngsters are

reading that the Wrights derived a fundamental principle of

aviation--the warping-tip--from the flight of crows. With the awe comes

a disquieting thought. How far back should we be were it not for these

fortuitous circumstances?

Among all the great things that have been given to the world in the last

three-quarters of a century, few measure beside the wood-pulp industry.

With its related trades and sciences, it is comprised within the ten

great activities of mankind. In manufacture and distribution, it employs

an army matching in size the Russian battle hordes. Its figures of

investment and production are comparable to the debts of the great war.

Yet it remained for a wasp and Gottfried Keller to bring us out of the

era of rag paper. Together, they saved us from a retardation of

universal thought. Therefore, let us consider the agents.

First, the wasp. She was one of a family of several hundreds, born in

the Hartz Mountains in the year 1839. When death claimed most of her

relatives at the end of the season allotted as the life of a wasp, this

survivor, a queen wasp, became the foundress of a family of her own.

She built her nest of selected wood-fibers, softened them to a pulp with

her saliva, and kneaded them into cells for her larvæ. Her family came

forth in due course, and their young wings bore them out into the world.

The nest, having served its purpose, was abandoned to the sun and the

rain.

Maeterlinck, who attributes emotions to plants and souls to bees, might

wrap a drama of destiny about this insect. She would command a leading

place in a cast which included the butterfly that gave silk to the

world, the mosquito that helped to prove the germ theory of disease, and

the caterpillar that loosed the apple which revealed the law of

gravitation to Sir Isaac Newton.

As to Keller, he was a simple German, by trade a paper-maker and by

avocation a scientist of sorts. One day in 1840--and this marks the

beginning of the accidents--returning home from his mill, he trod upon

the abandoned nest. Had not the tiny dwelling been deserted, he probably

would have cherished nothing but bitter reflections about the

irascibility of wasps. As it was, he stooped to see the ruin he had

wrought.

The crushed nest lay soft in his hand, soft and pliable, and yet tough

in texture. It was as soft as his own rag-made paper. It was not paper,

and yet it was very much like paper. Crumbling It in his fingers, he

decided that its material was wood-pulp.

Keller was puzzled to know how so minute a creature had welded wood into

a paperlike nest. His state of mind passed to interest, thence to

speculation, and finally to investigation. He carried his problem and

its possibilities to his friend, Heinrich Voelter, a master mechanic.

Together they began experiments. They decided to emulate the wasp. They

would have to granulate the wood as she had done. The insect had

apparently used spruce; they used spruce under an ordinary grindstone.

Hot water served as a substitute for the wasp's salivary juices.

Their first attempts gave them a pulp astonishingly similar to that

resulting from the choicest rags. They carried the pulp through to

manufacture, with a small proportion of rags added--and they had paper.

It was good paper, paper that had strength. They found that it possessed

an unlooked-for advantage in its quick absorption of printing-ink.

Have you followed the chain of accidents, coincidences, and fortunate

circumstances? Suppose the wasp had not left her nest in Keller's path.

What if he had been in haste, or had been driven off by the queen's

yellow-jacketed soldiers? What if he had no curiosity, if he had not

been a paper-maker, if he had not enjoyed acquaintance with Voelter?

Wood-pulp might never have been found.

Leaving Gottfried Keller and Voelter in their hour of success, we find,

sixteen years afterward, two other Germans, Albrecht and Rudolf

Pagenstecher, brothers, in the export trade in New York. They were

pioneering in another field. They were shipping petroleum to Europe for

those rising young business men, John D. and William Rockefeller. They

were seeking commodities for import when their cousin, Alberto

Pagenstecher, arrived from the fatherland with an interesting bit of

news.

"A few weeks ago, in a paper-mill in the Hartz, I found them using a new

process," he said. "They are making paper out of wood. It serves.

Germany is printing its newspapers on wood-pulp paper."

To his cousins it seemed preposterous that wood could be so converted,

but Alberto was convincing. He showed them Voelter's patent grants and

pictures of the grinders. The Pagenstechers went to Germany, and when

they returned they brought two of the grinders--crude affairs devised

for the simple purpose of pressing wood upon a stone. They also brought

with them several German mechanics.

A printer in New York, named Strang, had already secured the United

States rights of the new process. He was engaged in the manufacture of

calendered paper, and, therefore, had no occasion to use wood-pulp; so

he was willing to surrender the patents in exchange for a small

interest.

The Pagenstechers wanted water-power for their grinders, and they

located their first mill beside Stockbridge Bowl, in Curtisville, now

Interlaken, Massachusetts. On an outlay of eleven thousand dollars their

mill was built and their machinery installed. Two or three trials, with

cotton waste added to the ground wood, gave them their paper. Their

first product was completed on the 5th of March, 1867.

It was a matter of greater difficulty to dispose of the stock. The trade

fought against the innovation. Finally Wellington Smith, of the near-by

town of Lee, Massachusetts, was persuaded to try it. Rag-paper had been

selling at twenty-four cents a pound. Smith's mill still exhibits the

first invoice with the Pagenstechers, which shows the purchase of

wood-paper at eleven cents.

The paper was hauled to Lee in the dead of night, for Smith's

subordinates wished to spare him from the laughter of his fellow

millmen. It was sold, and proved successful, and the Pagenstechers were

rushed with orders. They built a second mill in Luzeme, New York, but

abandoned it soon afterward for the greater water-power to be obtained

at Palmer's Falls, where now stands the second largest mill in the

United States.

Manufacturers tumbled over themselves to get the benefit of the new

process. The originators in this country held the patent rights until

1884, letting them out on royalties until that time. With each new plant

the price of paper fell, until at one period it sold at one and a half

cents a pound.

Trial had proved that spruce was the only suitable wood for the pulp.

Until 1891 rags were combined in about one-quarter proportion. Then it

was found that other coniferous woods might be used to replace the rags,

after being submitted to what is called the sulfite process. In this

treatment small cubes of wood, placed in a vat, have their resinous

properties extracted, and the wood is disintegrated. A combination of

ground and sulfite wood makes the paper now used for news-print.

As has been told, the primary advantage of the wood-pulp paper was its

immediate absorption of ink. This made possible much greater speed in

printing, and led in turn to the development of the great modern

newspaper and magazine presses, fed by huge rolls of paper, which they

print on both sides simultaneously. These wonderful machines have now

reached the double-octuple stage--monsters capable of turning out no

less than five thousand eight-page newspapers in a single minute, or

three hundred thousand in an hour.

With the evolution from the flat-bed to the web or rotary presses there

came further development in typesetting-machines--the linotype, the

monotype, and others. With paper and presses brought to such

simplification, newspapers have sprouted in every town, almost every

village, and the total number of American periodicals is counted by tens

of thousands. There are magazines that have a circulation of more than a

million copies weekly. The leading daily newspapers in New York print

anywhere from one hundred thousand copies to four times as many, and

they can put extra editions on the streets at fifteen-minute intervals.

The aggregate circulation of daily newspapers in the United States is

close to forty million copies. Weekly newspapers and periodicals reach

fifty millions, and monthly publications mount almost to one hundred

millions; and all this would be impossible without wood-pulp paper.

The annual production of wood-pulp in the United States and Canada is

estimated by Albrecht Pagenstecher, the survivor of the innovators, to

be worth nearly five hundred millions of dollars. Take into

consideration the hundreds of thousands employed in the mills, the men

who cut and bring in the raw product, the countless number in the

printing, publishing, and distributing trades. Then hark back to the

accident that put the wasp's nest under the toe of Gottfried Keller!

* * * * *

(_Providence Journal_)

One zinc-etching illustration reproducing an old wood-cut of the ship,

with the caption, "The Savannah, First Steamship That Crossed the

Ocean."

CENTENNIAL OF THE FIRST STEAMSHIP TO CROSS THE ATLANTIC

(7-column head)

One hundred years ago this week there was launched at New York the ship

Savannah, which may be called the father of the scores of steamers that

are now carrying our soldiers and supplies from the New World to the Old

World.

The Savannah was the first ship equipped with steam power to cross the

Atlantic ocean. It made the trip in 25 days, using both sails and

engine, and the arrival of the strange craft at Liverpool was the cause

of unusual stir among our English cousins. Like every step from the

beaten path the idea of steam travel between the New World and the Old

World was looked upon with much scepticism and it was not until about 20

years later that regular, or nearly regular, steamer service was

established.

The launching of the Savannah took place on Aug. 22, 1818. It was not

accompanied by the ceremony that is accorded many of the boats upon

similar occasions to-day. As a matter of fact, it is probable that only

a few persons knew that the craft was intended for a transatlantic trip.

The keel of the boat was laid with the idea of building a sailing ship,

and the craft was practically completed before Capt. Moses Rogers, the

originator of the venture, induced Scarborough & Isaacs, ship merchants

of Savannah, to buy her and fit her with a steam engine for service

between Savannah and Liverpool.

The ship, which was built by Francis Fickett, was 100 feet long, 28 feet

broad and 14 feet deep. It had three masts which, of course, were of far

greater importance in making progress toward its destination than was

the steam engine.

Capt. Rogers had gained a reputation for great courage and skill in

sailing. He had already had the honor of navigating the sea with a

steamer, taking the New Jersey from New York to the Chesapeake in 1816,

a voyage which was then thought to be one of great danger for such a

vessel.

It was natural, then, that he was especially ambitious to go down in

history as the first master of a steam ship to cross the ocean. As soon

as the vessel had been purchased by the Savannah ship merchants, the

work of installing the engine was begun. This was built by Stephen Vail

of Speedwell, N.J., and the boiler by David Dod of Elizabeth, N. J.

The paddle-wheels were made of iron and were "detachable," so that the

sections could be removed and laid on the deck. This was done when it

was desired to proceed under canvas exclusively and was also a

precaution in rough weather.

In short, the Savannah was an auxiliary steamer, a combination of steam

and sail that later became well known in shipping. This is much like the

early development of the gasoline marine engine, which was an auxiliary

to the sail, a combination that is still used.

Capt. Rogers took the boat from New York to Savannah in eight days and

15 hours, using steam on this trip for 41½ hours. On May 26, 1819,

under Capt. Rogers, the Savannah set sail from her home port for

Liverpool and made the trip in 25 days.

As long as the trip took, the voyage was considerably shorter than the

average for the sailing ship in 1819, and this reduction in time was

accomplished in spite of the fact that the Savannah ran into much

unfavorable weather. Capt. Rogers used steam on 18 of the 25 days and

doubtless would have resorted to engine power more of the time except

for the fact that at one stage of the voyage the fuel was exhausted.

It was natural that the arrival of the steamer in English waters should

not have been looked upon with any great favor by the Englishmen. In

addition to the jeers of the sceptical, the presence of vessels was

accompanied by suspicion on the part of the naval authorities, and the

merchants were not favorably impressed.

When the Savannah approached the English coast with her single stack

giving forth volumes of dense black smoke, it was thought by those on

shore that she was a ship on fire, and British men-of-war and revenue

cutters set out to aid her. When the truth was known, consternation

reigned among the English officers. They were astonished at the way the

craft steamed away from them after they had rushed to assist what they

thought was a ship in distress.

The reception of the Savannah at Liverpool was not particularly cordial.

Some of the newspapers even suggested that "this steam operation may, in

some manner, be connected with the ambitious views of the United

States."

A close watch was kept on the boat while she lay in British waters, and

her departure was welcome. In the second volume of "Memoranda of a

Residence at the Court of St. James," Richard Rush, then American

Minister in London, includes a complete log of the Savannah. Dispatch

No. 76 from Minister Rush reports the arrival of the ship and the

comment that was caused by its presence as follows:

London, July 3,1819.

Sir--On the 20th of last month arrived at Liverpool from the United

States the steamship Savannah, Capt. Rogers, being the first vessel

of that description that ever crossed the sea, and having excited

equal admiration and astonishment as she entered port under the

power of her steam.

She is a fine ship of 320 tons burden and exhibits in her

construction, no less than she has done in her navigation across the

Atlantic, a signal trophy of American enterprise and skill upon the

ocean.

I learn from Capt. Rogers, who has come to London and been with me,

that she worked with great ease and safety on the voyage, and used

her steam full 18 days.

Her engine acts horizontally and is equal to a 72 horsepower. Her

wheels, which are of iron, are on the sides, and removable at

pleasure. The fuel laid in was 1500 bushels of coal, which got

exhausted on her entrance into the Irish Channel.

The captain assures me that the weather in general was extremely

unfavorable, or he would have made a much shorter passage; besides

that, he was five days delayed in the channel for want of coal. I

have the honor to be, etc., RICHARD RUSH.

To have made the first voyage across the Atlantic Ocean under steam was

a great accomplishment and brought no little credit to Capt. Rogers and

the United States. Pioneers in many ventures, the American people had

added another honor to their record. And this was even more of a credit

because in those early days skilled workmen were comparatively few on

these shores and the machine shops had not reached a stage of efficiency

that came a short time later.

There were, of course, in 1819 men who had developed into mechanics and

there were shops of some account, as the steamboat for short trips had

been in existence for some years. But the whole enterprise of planning a

steam voyage in which the boat should be headed due east was

characteristic of the boldness and bravery of the Americans.

The Savannah did not return to the States directly from England. It

steamed from Liverpool to St. Petersburg and brought forth further

comment from the Old World. She proved that the marine steam engine and

side-wheels were practicable for deep-sea navigation. The idea of

transatlantic travel under steam had been born and it was only necessary

to develop the idea to "shorten the distance" between the two

continents.

This pioneer voyage, however, was then looked upon more as a novelty

than as the inception of a new method of long-distance travel. The trip

had failed to demonstrate that steam was an entirely adequate substitute

for the mast and sail in regular service.

Since the Savannah was primarily a sailing vessel, the loss of steam

power by the crippling of the engine would not be serious, as she could

continue on her way with paddle-wheels removed and under full sail.

It was 19 years later that the idea of employing vessels propelled by

steam in trade between the United States and England came under the

serious consideration of merchants and ship builders. In the interval

the marine boiler and the engines had been improved until they had

passed the stage of experiment, and coasting voyages had become common

on both sides of the Atlantic.

The beginning of real transatlantic steam voyages was made by the Sirius

and the Great Western. The latter boat had been built especially for

trips across the ocean and the former was taken from the Cork and London

line. The Sirius started from Liverpool on April 4, 1838, and the Great

Western four days later. They arrived in New York within 24 hours of

each other, the Sirius at 10 p.m. on April 22 and the Great Western at 3

o'clock the following afternoon. Neither of the vessels carried much

sail.

These boats gave more or less irregular service until withdrawn because

of their failure to pay expenses. In 1839 the Cunard Company was formed

and the paddle steamers Britannia, Arcadia, Columbia, and Caledonia were

put into service.

From that time on the steamer developed with great rapidity, the value

of which was never more demonstrated than at the present time. It will

always be remembered, however, that this Capt. Rogers with his crude

little Savannah was the man whose bold enterprise gave birth to the idea

of transatlantic travel under steam.

* * * * *

(A syndicate Sunday magazine section of the _Harrisburg Patriot_)

SEARCHING FOR THE LOST ATLANTIS

By GROSVENOR A. PARKER

Not so long ago a stubby tramp steamer nosed its way down the English

Channel and out into the Atlantic. Her rusty black bow sturdily

shouldered the seas aside or shoved through them with an insistence that

brought an angry hail of spray on deck. The tramp cared little for this

protest of the sea or for the threats of more hostile resistance.

Through the rainbow kicked up by her forefoot there glimmered and

beckoned a mirage of wealthy cities sunk fathoms deep and tenanted only

by strange sea creatures. For the tramp and her crew there was a

stranger goal than was ever sought by an argosy of legend. The lost

cities of Atlantis and all the wealth that they contain was the port

awaiting the searchers under the rim of the western ocean.

It's no wild-goose chase that had started thus unromantically. The men

who hope to gain fame and fortune by this search are sure of their

ground and they have all the most modern mechanical and electrical aids

for their quest. On the decks of their ship two submarine boats are

cradled in heavy timbers. One of them is of the usual type, but the

other looks like a strange fantasy of another Jules Verne. A great

electric eye peers cyclops-wise over the bow and reaching ahead of the

blunt nose are huge crab-like claws delicate enough to pick up a gold

piece and strong enough to tear a wall apart.

These under-water craft are only a part of the equipment that Bernard

Meeker, a young Englishman, has provided to help him in his search for

the lost city. There are divers' uniforms specially strengthened to

resist the great pressure under which the men must work. Huge electric

lamps like searchlights to be lowered into the ocean depths and give

light to the workers are stacked close beside powerful generators in the

ship's hold. In the chart room there are rolls of strange maps plotting

out the ocean floor, and on a shelf by itself rests the tangible

evidence that this search means gold. It is a little bowl of strange

design which was brought up by a diver from the bottom of the Caribbean.

When this bowl first came to light it was supposed to be part of loot

from a sunken Spanish galleon, but antiquarians could find nothing in

the art of the Orient, or Africa, or of Peru and Mexico to bear out this

theory. Even the gold of which it was made was an alloy of a different

type from anything on record.

It was this that gave Meeker his first idea that there was a city under

the sea. He found out the exact spot from which the divers had recovered

the bowl, and compared the reckonings with all the ancient charts which

spoke of the location of fabled Atlantis. In one old book he located the

lost city as being close to the spot where the divers had been, and with

this as a foundation for his theories he asked other questions of the

men who had explored that hidden country. Their tale only confirmed his

belief.

"The floor of the sea is covered with unusual coral formation," one of

them told him, "but it was the queerest coral I ever saw. It looked more

like stone walls and there was a pointed sort of arch which was

different from any coral arch I had ever seen."

That was enough to take Meeker to the Caribbean to see for himself. He

won't tell what he found, beyond the fact that he satisfied himself that

the "coral" was really stone walls pierced by arched doors and windows.

Meeker kept all his plans secret and might have sailed away on his

treasure hunt without making any stir if he had not been careless enough

to name one of his submarines "Atlantis." He had given out that he was

sailing for Yucatan to search for evidence of prehistoric civilization.

It is true that the shores of Yucatan are covered with the remnants of

great cities but the word "Atlantis" awoke suspicion. Questions followed

and Meeker had to admit the bare facts of his secret.

"Only half a dozen men know the supposed location of Atlantis," he

said, just before sailing, "and we don't intend to let any others into

the secret. Those who have furnished the money for the expedition have

done so in the hope of solving the mystery of the lost continent, and

without thought for the profit. The divers and the other men of the crew

have the wildest dreams of finding hoarded wealth. It is not at all

impossible that their dreams will come true, and that they will be

richly rewarded. At any rate they deserve it, for the work will be

dangerous.

"Our plans are simple enough. With the submarine of the usual type we

will first explore that part of the sea bottom which our charts cover.

This vessel has in its conning tower a powerful searchlight which will

reveal at least the upper portions of any buildings that may be there.

For work in greater depths we will have to depend on the 'Atlantis' with

its special equipment of ballast tanks and its hatch-ways for the

divers.

"You see, we do not plan to lower the divers from the steamer or from a

raft. Instead they will step directly out on the sea floor from a door

in the submarine which opens out of an air chamber. In this the diver

can be closed and the air pressure increased until it is high enough to

keep out the water. All that he has to do then is to open the door and

step out, trailing behind him a much shorter air hose and life line than

would hamper him if he worked from the surface. The air hose is armored

with steel links so that there will be no danger of an inquisitive shark

chopping it in two."

Previous to the diver's exploration the claws of the "Atlantis" will

search out the more promising places in the ruins. These claws work on a

joint operated electrically, and on the tip of each is a sensitive

electrical apparatus which sets off a signal in the conning tower of the

submarine. Crawling over the bottom like a strange monster, the claws

will also help to avoid collisions with walls when the depths of the

water veils the power of the searchlight.

There is, in addition, a small electric crane on the nose of the

submarine so that heavy objects can be borne to the surface. Meeker does

not expect to gain much in the way of heavy relics of the lost city, for

certain parts of the sea bottom are so covered with ooze that he

believes it only possible to clear it away through suction hose long

enough to make quick observation possible. The subaqueous lights which

will help this work are powerful Tungsten lamps enclosed in a steel

shell with a heavy prismatic lens at the bottom. These lamps are

connected to the power plant on the steamer by armored cables and will

develop 5,000 candle power each.

The generating station on the parent ship of the expedition, as the

rusty tramp is known, is as extensive as those on a first class liner or

a dreadnought. Little of the power will go for the benefit of the

steamer though. Its purpose is to furnish the light for the swinging

Tungstens and to charge the great storage batteries of the submarines.

These batteries run the many motors on which depends the success of the

work. If it were not for electricity, the searchers would be

handicapped. As it is they call to their aid all the strong magic of

modern days.

INDEX

"Accident that Gave Us Wood-Pulp Paper, The," 356

Adventure as a source of interest, 41.

Agricultural journals, 11, 20, 23;

articles in, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 78;

examples of articles in, 81, 248, 341;

excerpts from, 127,128, 156

Aims in feature writing, 46

Alliteration in titles, 179

Amateur writers, opportunities for, 7, 12

_American Magazine_, articles from, 76, 87;

excerpt from, 158

Amusements as a source of interest, 42

Analysis of articles on factory school, 107, 116

Analysis of special articles, 22;

outline for, 201

Animals as a source of interest, 41

Appeals, kinds of, 39;

combinations of, 45

"Arbor Day Advice," 57

Arrangement of material, 101

Balance in titles, 179

"Bedroom in Burlap, A," 68

Beginnings, 131;

structure of, 131;

types of, 132

_Boston Herald_, article from, 204

_Boston Transcript_, articles from, 209, 326;

excerpt from, 145

"Boys in Search of Jobs," 209

"Brennan Mono-Rail Car," 274

Browning, John M., personality sketch of, 89

"By Parcel Post," 341

Camera, use of, for illustrations, 194

Captions for illustrations, 196

"Centennial of First Steamship to Cross the Atlantic," 360

_Chicago Tribune_, excerpt from, 159

Children as a source of interest, 41

_Christian Science Monitor_, article from, 206

Clark, Thomas Arkle, personality sketch of, 87

Class publications, 11, 20, 23

College training for writing, 16

_Collier's Weekly_, excerpt from, 139

Collins, James H., article by, 349

Confession articles, 32, 70;

examples of, 71

"Confessions of a College Professor's Wife," 307

Contests for supremacy as a source of interest, 41

Correspondents as feature writers, 6

Cosgrove, John O'Hara, on Sunday magazine sections, 9

"County Service Station, A," 248

_Country Gentleman_, articles from, 248, 341;

excerpt from, 156

Cover page for manuscripts, 183;

form for, 184

Crime, presentation of, 47

Curiosity as a qualification for writers, 15

Definition of special feature article, 4

_Delineator_, article from, 293;

excerpt from, 152

Descriptive beginnings, 138

_Designer_, article from, 68

_Detroit News_, article from, 260;

excerpt from, 125

Diction, 161

Direct address beginnings, 157

Direct address titles, 178

Drawings for illustrations, 197;

mailing of, 197

Eaton, Walter Prichard, article by; 326

Editorial readers, 187

Editors, point of view of, 19

Entertainment as purpose of articles, 47;

wholesome, 47

Ethics of feature writing, 23, 47

_Everybody's Magazine_, article from, 281

_Every Week_, article from, 72

Examples, methods of presenting, 118

Exposition by narration and description, 52

Factory school, articles on, 102, 107, 115

Familiar things as a source of interest, 42

_Farm and Fireside_, article from, 81

Farm journals, 11, 20, 23, 78;

articles in, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34;

examples of articles in, 81, 248, 341;

excerpts from, 127, 128, 156

Figures of speech, as element of style, 163;

in beginnings, 144;

in titles, 176

Filing material, 38

"Forty Years Bartered for What?" 76

"Four Men of Humble Birth Hold World Destiny," 305

Free-Lance writers, 6

Gardiner, A.G., personality sketch of former kaiser by, 166, 167

"Gentle Art of Blowing Bottles, The," 233

Gibbon, Perceval, article by, 274

"Girls and a Camp," 213

_Good Housekeeping_, excerpts from, 141, 151

Greeley Smith, Nixola, article by, 115

"Guarding a City's Water Supply," 260

_Harper's Monthly_, excerpt from, 150

_Harper's Weekly_, excerpt from, 146

Hartswick, F. Gregory, article by, 233

Headlines, 170;

types of, 173;

methods of framing, 180

Hendrick, Burton J., article by, 53

How-to-do-something articles, 49, 78;

examples of, 68, 79

How-to-do-something units, 127

Hungerford, Edward, article by, 218

Ideals in feature writing, 23, 47

_Illustrated World_, excerpt from, 144

Illustrations, value of, 193;

photographs for, 194;

requirements for, 195;

captions for, 196;

mailing of, 197

Imperative beginnings, 157

Imperative titles, 178

Incidents, methods of presenting, 122

_Independent_, article from, 233;

excerpt from, 140

Indian princess, interview with, 59

Information, trivial _vs._ significant, 49

Informative articles, 49

Instances, methods of presenting, 118

Interest, sources of, 39

Interview type of article, 56;

examples of, 57

Interview on Arbor Day, 57;

with Indian princess, 59

"Job Lady, The," 293

Journalism, college courses in, 17

"Just Like Pocahontas of 300 Years Ago," 59

Kaempffert, Waldemar, on scientific subjects, 27

_Kansas City Star_, article from, 299;

excerpts from, 133, 145, 147, 154

Label titles, 173

Length of articles, 100

_Leslie's Weekly_, excerpts from, 135, 148, 157

London _Daily News_, excerpt from, 166, 167

Magazines, as field for articles, 11;

contributors to, 11;

study of, 21

Manuscripts, form for, 182, 184;

mailing, 186;

in editorial offices, 187;

rejected, 188;

accepted, 189

Manuscript record, 190

_McClure's Magazine,_ article from, 274;

excerpts from, 53, 151

McClure Newspaper Syndicate, 192

"Mark Twain's First Sweetheart," 299

_Milwaukee Journal_, article from, 305

_Munsey's Magazine_, article from, 356;

excerpts from, 136, 139

Mysteries as a source of interest, 40

Narrative article in third person, 91;

examples of, 92

Narrative beginnings, 134

"Neighborhood Playhouse, The," 240

"New Political Wedge, A," 281

Newspaper Enterprise Association, 192;

articles from, 89, 115;

excerpt from, 152

Newspaper Feature Service, 192;

excerpt from, 155

Newspaper work as training for magazine writing, 17

Newspapers, as field for articles, 5;

characteristics of, 8;

Sunday magazine sections of, 9;

study of, 21;

as source of subjects, 33

_New York Evening Post_, articles from, 213, 242;

excerpt from, 150

_New York Evening Sun_, excerpt from, 154

_New York Sun_, article from, 336

_New York Times_, excerpts from, 119, 137, 145, 155, 158

_New York Tribune_, excerpts from, 129, 141

_New York World_, articles from, 92, 240;

excerpt from, 133

Nose for news in feature writing, 14

Notebook, value of, 37

"Now the Public Kitchen," 92

Observation, personal, as a source of subjects and material, 28

"Occupation and Exercise Cure, The," 264

Official documents as a source of material, 34

_Ohio State Journal_, article from, 59

Origin of special feature articles, 3

Outline for analysis of feature articles, 201

Outline of articles on factory schools, 105-07

Outlining articles, value of, 99;

method of, 105

_Outlook_, articles from, 95, 264;

excerpts from, 126, 133, 135, 146, 156

Overline for illustrations, 197

"Paradise for a Penny, A," 326

Paradoxical beginnings, 144

Paradoxical titles, 175

Paragraphs, length and structure of, 168

Payment, rate of, 7;

time of, 190

Personality sketches, 85;

examples of, 87

Personal experience articles, 62;

examples of, 63

Personal experience as a source of subjects, 30

Personal observation as a source of subjects, 28

Personal success as a source of interest, 43

_Philadelphia Public Ledger_, excerpt from, 130

Photographs, value of, 193;

securing, 194;

requirements for, 195;

sizes of, 195;

captions for, 196;

mailing of, 197

_Pictorial Review_, article from, 331

Planning an article, 99, 102

_Popular Science Monthly_, excerpt from, 147

Practical guidance articles, 49, 78;

examples of, 79

Practical guidance units, 127

Processes, methods of presenting, 125

Prominence as a source of interest, 42

_Providence Journal_, article from, 360;

excerpt from, 142

Purpose, definiteness of, 45;

statement of, 50

Qualifications for feature writing, 14

Question beginnings, 153

Question titles, 177

Quiller-Couch, Sir Arthur, on jargon, 163

Quotation beginnings, 149

Quotation titles, 176

_Railroad Man's Magazine_, excerpt from, 148

Readers, editorial, 187

Readers, point of view of, 19, 20

Recipes, methods of presenting, 127

Reporters as feature writers, 6, 17

Revision of articles, 168

Rhyme in titles, 179

Romance as a source of interest, 41

"Sales without Salesmanship," 349

_San Francisco Call_, excerpt from, 155

_Saturday Evening Post_, articles from, 218, 307, 349

Scandal, presentation of, 47

Scientific publications as a source of subjects and material, 27, 35

"Searching for the Lost Atlantis," 364

Sentences, structure of, 165;

length of, 166

Shepherd, William G., article by, 305

Siddall, John M., on curiosity, 15;

on readers' point of view, 21;

on making articles personal, 45

"Singular Story of the Mosquito Man, The," 242

"Six Years of Tea Rooms," 336

Slosson, Edwin E., on scientific and technical subjects, 27

Sources of subjects and material, 25

Space rates for feature articles, 7

Staff system on magazines, 11

Statistics, methods of presenting, 122

Stevenson, Frederick Boyd, on Sunday magazine sections, 10

Stovaine, beginning of article on, 53

Striking statement beginnings, 143

Striking statement titles, 175

Study of newspapers and magazines, 21

Style, 160

Subjects for feature articles, 25

_Successful Farming_, excerpts from, 127, 128

Summary beginnings, 132

Sunday magazine sections, 9

Syndicates, 6, 192

Syndicating articles, 191

_System_, article from, 79;

excerpt from, 137

"Taking the School to the Factory," 107

"Teach Children Love of Art Through Story-Telling," 204

Technical publications as a source of subjects and material, 27, 35

"Ten Acres and a Living," 81

"They Call Me the 'Hen Editor,'" 63

"Things We Learned to Do Without," 72

Time of payment for articles, 190

Timeliness in feature articles, 39

Titles, 170;

types of, 173;

methods of framing, 180

"Tommy--Who Enjoys Straightening Out Things," 87

_Tractor and Gas Engine Review_, excerpt from, 153

Trade journals, 11, 23;

articles in, 30;

article from, 79;

excerpts from, 137, 153

Training for feature writing, 16

Types of beginnings, 131

Types of special articles, 55

Types of titles, 170

Typographical style, 183

Units in articles, 117

"Wanted: A Home Assistant," 331

Weed, Inis H., article by, 281

Welfare of other persons as a source of interest, 43

Wheeler, Howard, on newspaper men as magazine writers, 18

"Where Girls Learn to Wield Spade and Hoe," 206

White, Frank Marshall, article by, 264

"Who'll Do John's Work?" 79

_Woman's Home Companion_, article from, 63

Women as feature writers, 13

"Wonderful America! Thinks Little Austrian," 116

Words, choice of, 161

Writers, opportunities for amateur, 7, 12

"Your Porter," 218

ENGLISH FOR COLLEGE COURSES

EXPOSITORY WRITING

By MERVIN J. CURL.

Gives freshmen and sophomores something to write about, and helps them

in their writing.

SENTENCES AND THINKING

By NORMAN FOERSTER, University of North Carolina, and J.M.

STEDMAN, Jr., Emory University.

A practice book in sentence-making for college freshmen.

A HANDBOOK OF ORAL READING

By LEE EMERSON BASSETT, Leland Stanford Junior University.

Especial emphasis is placed on the relation of thought and speech,

technical vocal exercises being subordinated to a study of the

principles underlying the expression of ideas. Illustrative selections

of both poetry and prose are freely employed.

ARGUMENTATION AND DEBATING (_Revised Edition_)

By WILLIAM T. FOSTER, Reed College.

The point of view throughout is that of the student rather than that of

the teacher.

THE RHETORICAL PRINCIPLES OF NARRATION

By CARROLL LEWIS MAXCY, Williams College.

A clear and thorough analysis of the three elements of narrative

writing, viz.: setting, character, and plot.

REPRESENTATIVE NARRATIVES

Edited by CARROLL LEWIS MAXCY.

This compilation contains twenty-two complete selections of various

types of narrative composition.

THE STUDY AND PRACTICE OF WRITING ENGLISH

By GERHARD R. LOMER, Ph.D., and MARGARET ASHMUN.

A textbook for use in college Freshman courses.

HOW TO WRITE SPECIAL FEATURE ARTICLES

By WILLARD G. BLEYER, University of Wisconsin.

A textbook for classes in Journalism and in advanced English

Composition.

NEWSPAPER WRITING AND EDITING

By WILLARD G. BLEYER.

This fully meets the requirements of courses in Journalism as given in

our colleges and universities, and at the same time appeals to practical

newspaper men.

TYPES OF NEWS WRITING

By WILLARD G. BLEYER.

Over two hundred typical stories taken from representative American

newspapers are here presented in a form convenient for college classes

in Journalism.

HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY

1421

FOR COLLEGE LITERATURE COURSES

HISTORY AND CRITICISM

BOTTA--Handbook of Universal Literature.

GRUMBINE -- Stories from Browning.

HINCHMAN AND GUMMERE -- Lives of Great English Writers from Chaucer to

Browning.

MATTHEWS -- A Study of Versification.

MAYNADIER -- The Arthur of the English Poets.

PERRY -- A Study of Prose Fiction.

PERRY -- A Study of Poetry.

ROOT -- The Poetry of Chaucer.

SIMONDS --A Student's History of English Literature.

SIMONDS -- A Student's History of American Literature.

BAKER -- Dramatic Technique.

BROOKE -- The Tudor Drama.

MATTHEWS -- A Study of the Drama.

SCHELLING -- A History of the Elizabethan Drama. 2 vols.

ANTHOLOGIES

POETRY

HOLT -- Leading English Poets from Chaucer to Browning.

NEILSON AND WEBSTER -- The Chief British Poets of the Fourteenth and

Fifteenth Centuries.

PAGE -- The Chief American Poets.

WESTON -- The Chief Middle English Poets.

PROSE

ALDEN -- Readings in English Prose of the Eighteenth Century.

ALDEN -- Readings in English Prose of the Nineteenth Century.

Part I; Part II; Complete.

FOERSTER -- The Chief American Prose Writers.

THE DRAMA

DICKINSON -- Chief Contemporary Dramatists, First Series.

DICKINSON -- Chief Contemporary Dramatists, Second Series.

MATTHEWS -- Chief European Dramatists.

NEILSON -- The Chief Elizabethan Dramatists (except Shakespeare) to the

Close of the Theatres.

HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY

1825