an altogether charming and spirited novel. The
reviewers spoke well of it, but the sale of the book hung fire. It was
the dull season,--May or June,--and there was no other novel of any
worth in the public mind. The salesman said to his employer: "Here's a
book that has a good chance for success. If you'll back me with some
good advertising, I'll guarantee to make that novel sell."

The publisher replied: "Go ahead, my son; I'll take a gamble on it."
(They really talk that way when they travel mufti.) So the salesman
induced the New York wholesalers to erect a pyramid of a thousand
copies in their respective stores, guaranteeing to take back the books
if they were not sold. This was done for the purpose of impressing the
buyers for country stores who were flocking into New York for their
fall purchases.

Next the retail booksellers were asked to take, on the same terms,
from one hundred to two hundred and fifty copies and pile them
conspicuously in their stores. As trade was dull and there was no one
big seller clamoring for public recognition at the time, the dealers
were willing to assist in the work of encouraging good literature.

Then an advertising campaign was planned. Critics there were a-plenty
who wagged a sad head because the advertising was undignified. What
they meant was that it was unconventional, was without the dignity of
tradition to give it its hallmark. It had, at least, the novelty of
originality, and answered the final test of good advertising in that
it attracted attention. Then the sale began, and as soon as New York
City was reporting it among the list of the six best sellers, the
salesman took to the road to carry on the campaign. The result was
eventually a sale reaching six figures.

But to get back to "Last Year's Nests." It is to be published June 1.
A few sample pages only have been printed, but blank paper fills out
to the bulk of the book as it will be. Illustrations--if they are
ready--are inserted, the title-page printed, and the whole is bound up
in a sample cover. This is technically known as a dummy, and serves to
show the prospective buyer merely the outward and visible sign of an
inward and spiritual appeal to public favor. For the purpose of
informing the bookseller it is worth but little more than the printed
title or a catalogue announcement. For all $1.50 novels look alike,
are printed on pretty much the same kind of paper, and bear covers
differing more in degree than kin