s of people, that if reputable physicians would
take lessons of them, they might conduct a health crusade that would
exterminate tuberculosis, diminish the use of alcohol and tobacco, and
save thousands of babies that die unnecessarily. The theory of
patent-medicine advertising is sound. It emphasizes the joys of health,
the beauty of health, the earning power of health. It adapts its
message to season, event, and need. It offers testimonials of real
persons cured. It is all-appealing, promising, convincing,--a fearful
menace to health when the remedies offered are dishonest, a universal
opportunity for promoting health if the cure is genuine.

A classic example of health advertising that promotes health is
Sapolio. The various hygiene lessons that have promoted Sapolio have
done much to raise the standard of living in the United States. Few
eminent physicians have done so much for public health as the "Poor
M.D. of Spotless Town who scoured the country for miles around, but the
only case he could find was a case of Sapolio."

Recent press discussions about furnishing free eyeglasses to the
children in the public schools have so enlightened people as to the
need for expert examination of their eyes that opticians will be forced
to employ competent oculists to make the preliminary examination and to
see that the glasses are properly adjusted. In spite of the long
mis-education by makers of corsets, the persistent advertising of "good
health" and "common-sense" waists has gained an increasing number of
recruits from the ranks of the self-persecuting. It is only a matter of
time when the term "stylish" will be transferred to the advocates of
health, because advertisers who tell the truth will, if persistent,
gain a larger patronage than advertisers of falsehoods; there is
profit in retaining old customers. The advertisement of a window device
for "Fresh air while you sleep" will make prevention of tuberculosis
more profitable than "sure cures" that lie and kill.

A man deserves profit who sends this message to millions of readers:

There are three kinds of cleanliness:

First, the ordinary soap-and-water cleanliness.

Second, the so-called "beauty" cleanliness.

Third, prophylactic cleanliness, or the cleanliness that "guards
against disease."

But the man who sells soap ought to be the one to use this
advertisement, not a man who sells toothwash that, when pure, is little
better than water, that is seld