which address personal interests, and which
require an exercise of personal faith in the
individual who reads them. Advertisements which
divert an unthinking public, which excite
contemptuous astonishment in superficial minds,
which set flippant people asking each other,
" Who believes in this? Where are the people
who can possibly be taken in by it?" and so on,
are precisely the Advertisements to which I now
allude. To my wise belief in these beneficent
public offers of assistance to humanity, I am
indebted for the unruffled mental tranquillity in
which my life— a model life, as I venture to
think it— is now passed. I see my fellow-
creatures around me the dupes of their own fatal
incredulity; worn by cares, which never trouble
me; beset by doubts, from which I have escaped
for ever—I see this spectacle of general anxiety
and general wretchedness; and I find it
invariably associated with a sarcastic suspicion, an
irreverent disregard of those advertised roads to
happiness and prosperity along which I have
travelled, in my own personal case, with such
undeniable and such astonishing results. My
nature has been soft from infancy. My bosom is
animated by a perpetual glow of philanthropy.
I behold my species suffering, in all directions,
through its own disastrous sharpness— and I
compassionately come forward, in consequence,
to persuade humanity that its business in this
world is, not to make itself miserable by fighting
with troubles, but to keep itself healthy, wealthy,
and wise, by answering Advertisements.

I ask, believe me, very little. Faith and a few
postage stamps— I want nothing more to
regenerate the civilised world. With these treasures
in ourselves; and with (to quote a few widely-
known advertisements) " Graphiology," "Ten
Pounds weekly realised by either Sex,"
"Matrimony Made Easy," and " The Future
Foretold," all gently illuminating our path
through life, we may amble forward along our
flowery ways, and never be jolted, never be
driven back, never be puzzled about our right
road, from the beginning of the journey to the
end. Take my own case, as an instance; and
hear me while I record the results of personal
experience.

I shall abstain, at the outset, from quoting
any examples to establish the connexion
between advertisements and health; because I may
fairly assume, from the notoriously large sale of
advertised medicines, that the sick public is
well aware of the inestimable benefit to be
derived from an implicit confidence in quacks.
The means, however, of becoming, not healthy
only, but wise and wealthy as well, by dint of
believing in advertisements, are far less
generally known. To this branch of the subject I
may, therefore, address myself, with the
encouraging conviction that I am occupying
comparatively new ground.

Allow me, to begin by laying down two first
principles. No man can feel comfortably
wise, until he is on good terms with
himself; and no man can, rationally speaking, be on
good terms with himself until he knows himself.
And how is he to know himself? I may be
asked. Quite easily, I answer, by accepting
the means of information offered in the following
terms, and in all the newspapers, by a
benefactress of mankind:

"Know Thyself! The Original Graphiologist,
Miss Blank, continues her interesting and useful
delineations of character, from examination of the
handwriting, in a style peculiarly her own, and
which can be but badly imitated by the ignorant
pretenders and self-styled professors who have lately
laid claim to a knowledge of this beautiful science.
Persons desirous of knowing their own character, or
that of any friend, must send a specimen of writing,
stating sex and age, or supposed age, with fourteen
uncut penny postage stamps, to Miss Blank, for which
will be returned a detail of the gifts, defects, talents,
tastes, affections, &c., of the writer, with other things
previously unsuspected, calculated to guide in the
everyday affairs of life," &c. &c.

This advertisement is no invention of my own.
Excepting the lady's name, it is a true copy of
an original, which does really appear in all the
newspapers.

Off went my handwriting, and my fourteen
uncut stamps, by the next post. Back, in a day
or two (for Graphiology takes its time), came
that inestimable revelation of my character
which will keep me to the last day of my life on
the best and highest terms with myself.
I incorporate my own notes with the letter, as an
unquestionable guarantee of the truth of its
assertions, and a pleasing evidence, likewise, of
its effect upon my mind on a first reading:

"The handwriting of our correspondent is wanting
in firmness and precision." (Solely in consequence
of my having a bad pen.) " There is apparent
insincerity towards those who do not know you, but it
is only putting a covering on your really warm
heart." (How true!) "Large-minded, and
inclined to be very forgiving. Generous, but
not very open." (Well, if I must be one or the
other, and not both together, I would rather be
generous than open— for who can blame the closed
heart when accompanied by the open hand?) "Of
sterling integrity and inflexible perseverance."
(Just so!) " You are clever in whatever you
undertake— kindly— original— vivacious— full of
glee and spirit." (Myself! I blush to own it, but
this is myself, drawn to the life!) " You conceal
your real nature not so much from hypocrisy as
prudence— yet there is nothing sordid or mean about
you." (I should think not, indeed!) " You show
least when you appear most open, and yet you are
candid and artless." (Too true— alas, too true!)
" You are good-humoured, but it partakes more of
volatile liveliness than wit." (I do not envy the
nature of the man who thinks this a defect.)
"There is a melancholy tenderness pervades your
manner"— (there is, indeed! )— " when succouring
any one requiring your aid, which is at variance
with your general tone. In disposition you are
refined and sensitive."

With this brief, gratifying, and neatly-
expressed sentence, the estimate of my character
ended. It has been as genuinely copied from a
genuine original as the specimen which precedes
it; and it was accompanied by a pamphlet