The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, September 20, 1903, Page 7

THE SUNDAY OALL. ionable preacher goes abroad for a tion and the devil works overtime 1 the pulpit. B SR ? ’\_f“‘, 5 The wheels in a man's head are not RV X — always wheels of fortune, but are more ft. gular spin ginn mever points to prizes. P gy suRE o i Tgfadid One’s nose on a grindstone often sharpens one’s wits. ' . - - The fellow who sizes up a fish generall P ey g ly tells she biggest "8 When 2 man ralls at the success of another it is time to pet up stakes that he will be left at the post. Bl STy Size up your friends !:y lhz size of your purse. - There is always time enough to i i ol oy get married if girls would - - - If you work with a sing-song whine it will get on your nerves. But the Song of i - ope is always an allegro W T A titled Englishwoman has an entire menage of women, :n;!:men, Pgud:neu and all. What makes some women + s e He laughs best who laughs at the other fellow. 9 Sl Some people are not in half as great a hurry to get mar- ried as they rxn to get unmarried. g Y A weoman's beauty is her first claim. If she adds to besuty wit and graciousness, men marvel To hear a woman’y cleverness praised is proof that she is unattrac- tive personally. To hear both her beauty and wit praised perfect. | to 2 woman only through his selfishness. for his own sake and through his fear - - - - ort on matrimony, but two g on alimony. g | Two very good people would bore one another to death. A man a wife should be contra N N - first glance at a man settles the question of low who either pilots him; z self to ruin or the girl to the devil. Once in a great while he slips his trolley and bumps into a success, - - * A woman’s intuitions should always guard her. The woman who plunges into love is more apt to be happy than the woman who argues herself or is argued into a love affair, . L At A colicky baby is not the only thing that will keep one awake at night (but it'l.bld ‘enough, goodness knows). - Being disappointed in love or disappointed in matrimony is very different with long odds on love. - S - People & who think themselves awfully unlucky are often onj g . * * The fellow who knows it all seldom has sense enough to know a thing or two. = = Some people are such an easy mark that they ought to go through life labeled “All in trouble call.” A telephone attachment would not be s bad idea, so that you ring up for what you want. - b - It does not cost much to blow off a lot of hot air, but to, blow off the dust might sometimes be a pretty expensive experience. s s » A man who tries to work off his surplus wit on the street car conductor sometimes gets more than the change for his fare. - - - When people marry for fun the laugh is on them. Ed - - A virtuous consciousness that you are doing and seeing everything naughty keeps the sad-eyed reformer busy. W ol Hope will not amount to much unless you hustle for the, things you hope for. .1 The fellow with an abiding faith is he who believes im- plicitly in himself, even when he knows he is lying. - * - Love controls the matrimonial market, but money often corners it. Ll Prosperity often deals knockout blows first at the he: then at the solar plexus. * * A man does not amount to much when he has to travel on the reputation of his ancestors. - - * A woman will keep herself perfectly miserable over her love affairs and still p:rs‘uade‘hene.lf that she is happy. Put your trust in Providence, but hustle for a job. -+ now and then contracts will come back to England because of dissatisfac- 'WHY AMERICANS ARE MORE SUCCESSFUL THAN BRITONS | NE of the reasons Jonathan is ahead of John is that he has BY JOHN FOSTER FRAZER n abiding confidence he cannot be other than successful. The average Englishman has a touch of the pessimist in If you meet him abroad it is generally by accident ver what his profession is. If he is a business n he probably tries to hide it, He is self-depreciatory, sposed to minimize the achievements of his firm. body to say of h “He does not advertise,” he hand, the American business man is absorbed, heart and He loves to talk “shop.” This He loves to tell you all he buoyancy of good spirits and of anything. He has got the elf, and his newspapers tell iagnificent fellow in the world, that he invented every- t the rest of the world are played-out toddlers in his wake. Of se he wrong. What the European student of American qfinlrs finds xing is the lack of proportion and perspective in appreciation of their y t by Americans themseclves. r, this is put aside, when all has been said about bragging, n the American character an enthusiasm, an absolute sure- s of success which is part of the battle toward success itself. Failures in ness make the Englishman hesitate. Failures in the United States sat- fy the American that so many competitors are now out of the way, and bhe has a better chance. The Daring of American Methods. d what his firm has done > not ind r reason the American is more successful than his English that he is more daring—I almost wrote he is more of a gambler. The Englishman won’t move unless he is sure of his footing. The Ameri- can is inclined to make a spring, neck or nothing, positive in his heart, though many men come croppers, that he will land safely on his feet. The Englishman is disposed to take the attitude, “What was good enough for my father is good enough for me.” save somecthing far better than he has at present. & wholesome discontent. and for t Nothing is good enongh for the American, He is alert and filled with The Englishman is slow moving, sure and safe, ossesses the belief that he is not on the earth to tear himself in pieces Ke sake of money. nce is the outcome of climate, environment and conditions of s are settled in England, and rapid changes do not commend st ag in the Eastern parts of the United States the same settle- g place, and there is now a hesitancy toward adopting the rip- go aheadness so prevalent in the Western States. America has all the impetuosity of youth. England is middle-aged, pros- s 1 a big banking account and disposed to take life easily. The American business man has a faculty, which the Englishman® has not, of keeping his best goods in his shop window. What I mean is that all that is good in his firm, all the achievements, are advertised to the es a contract for some great work in ment is ta and-tear arn young, anc world. A great English firm secu 1 i some corner of the earth, and involving millions of money. Little is said abo England. A three or four line paragraph may appear in ‘the newspapers. That is a The Englishman reads the paragraph and forgets the next minute. In America there will be columns of interviews, ilius- tions, and much talk about the irresistible advance of American trade. e blare of trumpets is altogether out of proportion to the triumph. it is useful for the American firm. It produces enthusiasm. e Value of Advertising Recognized. The The Americans know how to advertise. Large firms, such as the dry ctores in New York and Chicago, give premiums for ideas. Any- good will be liberally paid for. At the head of most of the ad- artments are experienced journalists drawing large salaries; present brightly and interestingly the attractions of the wares Pick up an American magazige and read its pages of advertise- There you.will see art, inventiveness, candor, open dealing, the very ch ke right to the mind of the reader. Pick up an English 2 d look at the advertisements. Generally they will be heavy, tractive, the same month after month. I don't say the same ertising is suitable for both countries. The Englishman is a dvertisements are things he regards with a quizzical eye. The more receptive. He is easier moved, and the two things—good g and the conmvincibility of the American—argue good returns for t of advertisi ng. ptabil of the American is a thing which all British busicess s do well to study. I have traveled in many parts of the world, and, British goods are to be seen in the most out of the way corners, nevertheless a fact that a considerable volume of trade has been lost because the British manufacturer will not adapt himself to local cir- He is prone to say, “I make a good article, and I am not go- bad one to suit anyboc British-made goods are the best. and endurability American articles are as yet a considerable way these days, however, of hot rivalry, quality and endurability are nly things to be considered. I believe that if they tried the Ameri- produce equal—I will even go so far as to readily admit better— Britain turns out. The tendency, however, of the present day rather quantity than quality If q_\m!n_\- can be got, well and antity at a cheap price is the main consideration. The Amer- recognizes that the purchaser is the person who decides, and if people e Foay want gaudy, good-looking material, though shoddy, he will make »r them. He knows it is not good. He does not—outside his advertis- ing page—pretend it is. It is. however, what is wanted, and he is the man to produce what is wanted. » is- Author of ,"A,‘-nflun-gt Work,” Etc., Ete. 3 R B ; Recently I traveled by the Trans-Siberian line across Asiz. Most of the rails were Americani They were not of good quality. Indeed they were poor stuff. ' English firms -had been given an opportunity to provide rails for this line, but they could not produce the article they usually manufactured at the Neither could American But they could produce an article of a sort, money's worth, and if it was a poor article that was not their I can conceive the British manufacturer hugging himseli on reéading this and feeling complacent in was willing to pay. So England lost millions of pounds. the price. look-out. knowledge he does not send out rubbish. That, however, rice the Russian Government rms .produce a good article for the is not the point. Business i3 business, and if a man wants a certain thing for a shilling the American will provide it, and not stand on one side like the Englishman and say, “I have always charged eighteen pence, and I am complacency on the part of the Englishman that is losing him much of the trade the American gets, < = t is this though not going to make anything for a less price.” and | THE DEACON’S “FLYER” | PEAKING of sure things naturally calls to mind the case of my old friend Deacon Wiggleford, whom I used to know back in Missouri years ago. The Deacon was a powerful pious man, and he was good according to his lights, ?‘W but he didn’t use a very superior article “AXs= of kerosene to keep them burning. Used to take up half the time in prayer meeting talking about how we were all weak vessels and stewards. But he was so blamed busy exhorting others to give out of the fullness with which the Lord had blessed them that he sort of forgot that the Lord had blessed him, about fifty thousand dolars’ worth, and put it all in mighty safe property, too, you bet. The Deacon had a brother in Chicago whom he used to call a sore trial. Brother Bill was a broker on the Board of Trade, and, according to the Deacon, he was not only engaged in a mighty sinful occupation, but he was a mighty poor steward of his sinful gains. Smoked two-bit cigars and wore a plug hat. Drank a little and cussed a Jittle and went to the Episcopal Church, though he had been raised a Methodist. Altogether it looked as if Bill was a pretty hard nvt. Well, one fall the Deacon decided to go to Chicago him- self to buy his winter goods, and naturally he hiked out to Brother Bill's to stay, which was considerably cheaper for him than the Palmer House, though, as he told us when he got back, it made him sick to see the waste. ‘Well, when Brother Bill got home from business that first night, the Deacon explained that every time he lit a two-bit cigar he was depriving a Zulu of twenty-five helpful little tracts which might have made a better man of him: that fast horses were a snare and plug hats a wile of the Enemy; that the Board of Trade was the Temple of Belial and the brokers on it his sons and servants. Brother Bill listened mighty pitiently to him, and when the Deacon had pumped out all the Scripture that was in him and was beginning to suck air, he sort of slunk into the conversation like a setter pup that's been caught with the feathers on his chops. > “Brother Zeke,” says he, “I shall certainly let your words soak in. I want to be a number two red, hard, sound and clean sort of a man, and grade contract on delivery day. Perhaps, as you say, the rust has got into me and the In- spector ‘won’t pass me, and if I can see it that way I'll settle my trades and get out of the market for good.” The Deacon knew that Brother Bill had seraped together considerable property, and, as he was a bachelor, it*would come to him in case the broker was removed by any sud- den dispensation. What he really feared was that this, money might be fooled away in high living and specula- tion. And so he had banged away into the middle of the flock, hoping to bring down those two birds. Now that it began to look as if he might kill off the whole bunch he started in to hedge. ~ . “Is it safe, William?" ‘says he. “As Sunday-School,” says Bill, “if you do a strictly brok- erage business and don't speculate.” “T trust, William, that you recognize the responsibilities, of your stewardship?” Bill fetched a groan. “Zeke,” says he, “you cornered me there, and I ’spose I might as well walk up to the Cap- tain’s office and settle. I hadn’t bought or sold a bushel on my own account in a year till last week, when I got your| letter saying that you were coming.’ Then I saw what looked like a safe chance to scalp the market for a couple, of cents a bushel, and I bought 10,000 September, intend- ing to turn over the profits to you as a little present, so that you could see the town and have a good time without it's costing you anything.” The Deacon judged from Bill's expression that he had got nipped and was going to try to unload the loss on him, so he changed his face to the one which he used when at- tending the funeral of any one who hadn't been a professor, and came back quick and hard: “I'm surprised, William, that you should think I would accept money made in gambling. Let this be a lesfon to you. How much did you lose?” “That’s the worst,of it—I didn't lose; I made two hun- dred dollars,” and Bill hove another sigh. “Made two hundred dollars!” echoed the Deacon, and he changed his face. again for the one which he used when he found a lead quarter in his till and couldn’t remember who had passed it on him. “Yes,” Bill went on, “and T'm ashamed of it, for you've made me see things in a new light. Of course, after what you've said, [ know it would be an insult to offer you the money. And | feel now that it wouldn’t be right to keep it myself. T must sleep on it and try to find the straight thing to do.” I guess it really didn't interfere with Bill's sleep, but the Deacon sat up with the corpse of that two hundred dollars, vou bet. In the morning at breakfast he.asked Brother Bill to explain all about this speculating husiness. what made the market go up and down, and whether rea] corn or wheat or pork ligured -in- any stage of a deal. Bill looked sort of sad and dreamy-eyed. as if*his conscience hadn’t digested that two hundred yet, but he was mighty obliging about explaining everything to Zeke, He had changed his face for the one which he wore when he sold an easy customer ground peas and chicory for O. G. Java, and cvery now and then he gulped as if he was going to start a hymn. When Bill told him how good and bad weather sent the market up and down he nodded and said that that part of it was all right, because the weather was of the Lord. “Not on the Board of Trade it isn't.” Bill answered back; “at least not to any marked_extent: it's {[rom the weather man or some liar in the,cori:belt. and. as the weathér man usually reckons wrong. I reckon there isn't any special in- spiration about it. The game is to guess what's going to happen, not what has happened. and by the time the real weather comes along everybody has guessed wrong and knocked the market off a cent or two.” That made the Deacon's chin whiskers droop a little, but he began to ask questions again, and by and by he dis- covered that away behind—abont a hundred miles behind, but that was close enough for the Deacon—a deal in futures there were real wheat and pork. Said then: that he'd been misinformed and misled. that speculation was a legitimate business, involving skill and sagacity: that Ins last scruple was removed, and that hie would accept the two hundred. Bill brightened right up at that and thanked him for put- ting it so clear and removing the doubts that had been worrying him. Said that he could svcnlato with a clear conscience after listening to.the Deacon’s able exposition of the subject. Was only sorry he hadn't seen him to_talk it over befere breakfast, as the two hundred had been fying $0 heavy on his mind all night that he'd got up early and mailed 3 check for it to the Deacon’s pastor and told him to spend it on his poor. Zeke took the evening train home in order to pry that check out of the elder, but old Doc. Hoover was a pretty quick stepper himself and he'd blown the whole two hun- dred as soon as he got it, buying winter coal for poor people. (From ‘*‘Letters From a_Seif-Mode Merchant to Fis Son,” by eorge Horace Lorimer. By permission of Small, Maynard & Co., Publishers, Boston, Magss.) tion with American material, the drift is undoubtedly toward a large recog- nition of American goods, It is my last wish to draw odious, comparisons. While, therefore, I have given this instance, not favorable to_the American, I candidly admit, as one who has traveled in thirty-four different countries, studying trade conditions in them all, that the American will always adapt himself to . the requirements of each particular country. What is good enough for London does not mean that it is suitable for Calcutta. The American appreciates that what is all fjght for Chicago won't do for Bombay. Whether it be elec- tric cars or whether it be cotton goods he adapts them to the particular country and people for whom they are intended. He does not people to come to him and ask what he has to sell. He goes to them. He convinces them that his wares are the best they can procure. British trade in. the East—in India, in_ China, preponderates, mountains high, over the meager amount of business the Americans are doing in these two particular countries. The Americans, however, are there, and, judging from proportionate imerease in the respective volume of business, it is a fact that the Americans are booming ahead. In Siberia I have met a dozen Ameri- cans engaged in pushing American goods, and only three Englishmen—one representing an American firm, another representing a French firm, and the third in the employ of a Russian firm. Out on the wild steppes I have come across the catalogues of American goods in the Russian language. Occa- sionally I have come across catalogues of English goods, but they have beea in English, which is about as serviceable as Chaldaic. The Watchfulness of Americans. The Arrerican business man makes it his duty to keep his finger on the pulse of popularity. He does not bring out an article to see if the public will like it. He watches the trend of public fancy, and meets it more than half way. Take the great department stores, such as one sees in Chicago, New York and St. Louis. Everything is done to cater to popular fancy. Everything is done to make a visit to one of these stores pleasant and in- teresting. ~There is no badgering of customers to buy; no attempt is made to foist an article on a customer when something glse has been asked for. There is no waiting, as in English drapery establlshments, while packages are wrapped up and stowed away before other packages are brought out. The person \:ho sells is often a different person altogether from the person who wraps the packages up. “Ah,” says the Englishman, “but I could not keep a big staff to do this kind of work.”” Neither does the American keep a big staff. Onée of the most interesting things in American dry goods is the corps of what are called “contingent girls.” A contingent girl is one who can sell anything. She is bright, attractive, has been in the ribbom depart- ment, the mantle department, the shoe department, the underwear depart- ment. Her knowledge is all-round. At different times in the year, at dif- ferent times in the week, and even day, there are particular rushes in par- ticular departments. What the American does is to have a minimum staff, and thén use the batch of contingent girls for whatever department the rush may be in for the hour.. So you do not find, as in England, one depart- ment extremely busy, and the assistants of another department twiddling their thumbs. ~If the weather be sultry and summer garmentsidemanded, the contingent girls, or sufficient of them, are moved to that particular depart- ment. If the rush be for umbrellas and mackintoshes, because a spell of wet weather has set in, they will be equally serviceable selling those articles. American Appreciation of Youth. The greatest of all reasons why, in the long run, the American business man gets ahead of John Bull is his appreciation of youth. "The American voung man is far more highly valued than is the young Englishman. The English youth, however, need not complain he does not receive the same chance. He does not deserve it. The American youth has his faults—he frequently jars on one’s nerves—but he takes as keen an interest in his busi- ness as the English youth takes in cricket. He is just as eager for his firm, his city. his country, to be on top as the English lad is for his county to be successful at the wickets. He talks business. He has a watchful eve for im- provements. He loves the hurry -and scurry of trade. Trade is not a bore to him. It is his life’s blood. He does not grumble at his hours. He works longer hours than the Englishman, but always with zest and deter- mination. He may be poor. but he will scrape money enough together to give him a course at one of the universities. The universities are not purely academic, like Oxford and Cambridge, for they strive after g a lad to take his place as a business man. English Appreciation of Soundness. In England responsible positions are given to elderly men. It is com- sidered that they are safe, they are sound, they will be inclined to do noth- ing rash. That is true enough. The American, however, does not want that kind of man. He wants a man with youthful vigor, with ideas, 2 man who has his way to make, not one who is content to glide iddle age to an elderly age by just keeping things going in a respe orous way. So young men in America are placed at the heads of nts. They make mistakes. The emplover, however, is wise enough to see the young man can do something else besides make mistakes. Ile forgets the occa- sional slip in recognizing merits in other directions. A young man, there- fore, feels confidence placed in him, and he never relaxes energy in his ardor to produce something better, more attractive, something that will lift him up and make him worth a huge salary. Next week: “PREFERENTIAL TARIFFS,” by SIR H. SETON-KARR, (*Copyright in the United States of America by D. T. PIERCE.)