rs. Of all people that I know,
they have the keenest appetite for life. Look at old Denechaud; he was a
misanthrope until he took to gathering scarabs. Fenton, over there, has
the finest collection of circus posters in the world. Bellerding's house
is a museum of obsolete musical instruments. De Gay collects venomous
insects from all over the world; no harmless ones need apply. Terriberry
has a mania for old railroad tickets. Some are really very curious. I've
often wished I had the time to be a crank. It's a happy life."

"What line would you choose?" asked Bertram languidly.

"Nobody has gone in for queer advertisements yet, I believe," replied
the older man. "If one could take the time to follow them up---but it
would mean all one's leisure."

"Would it be so demanding a career?" said Average Jones, smiling.

"Decidedly. I once knew a man who gave away twenty dollars daily on
clues from the day's news. He wasn't bored for lack of occupation."

"But the ordinary run of advertising is nothing more than an effort to
sell something by yelling in print," objected Average Jones.

"Is it? Well perhaps you don't look in the right place."

Waldemar reached for the morning's copy of the Universal and ran his eye
down the columns of "classified" matter. "Hark to this," he said, and
read:

"Is there any work on God's green
earth for a man who has just got
to have it?"

"Or this:

"WANTED--A venerable looking man with
white beard and medical degree. Good
pay to right applicant."

"What's that?" asked Average Jones with awakened interest.

"Only a quack medical concern looking for a stall to impress their
come-ons," explained Waldemar.

Average Jones leaned over to scan the paper in his turn.

"Here's one," said he, and read:

WANTED--Performer on B-flat trombone.
Can use at once. Apply with instrument,
after 1 p. m. 300 East 100th Street.

"That seems ordinary enough," said Waldemar.

"What's it doing in a daily paper? There must be--er--technical
publications--er--journals, you know, for this sort of demand."

"When Average's words come slow, you've got him interested," commented
Bertram. "Sure sign."

"Nevertheless, he's right," said Waldemar. "It is rather misplaced."

"How is this for one that says what it means?" said Bertram.

WANTED--At once, a brass howitzer and
a man who isn't afraid to handle it.
Mrs. Anne Cullen, Pier 49 1/2 Ea