It’s P.A. that jams such joy in jimmy pipes. Say--bet you’ve often bent-an-ear to that spill-of-speech about hopping from five to f-i-f-t-y p-e-r by “stepping on her a bit!” Guess that’s going some, all right--BUT--just among ourselves, you better start a rapidwhiz system to keep tabs as to how fast you’ll buzz from low smoke spirits to _tip-top-high_--once you line up behind a jimmy pipe that’s all aglow with that peach-of-a-pal, Prince Albert. Prince Albert is john-on-the-job--always joy’usly more-_ish_ in flavor; always delightfully cool and fragrant! For a fact, you never hooked such double-decked, copper-riveted, two-fisted smoke enjoyment! Go to a pipe--speed-o-quick like you light on a good thing! Why--packed with Prince Albert you can play a joy’us jimmy straight across the boards! _And you know what that means!_” “Now that,” caroled the motor agent, Eddie Swanson, “that’s what I call he-literature! That Prince Albert fellow--though, gosh, there can’t be just one fellow that writes ’em; must be a big board of classy ink-slingers in conference, but anyway: now, him, he doesn’t write for long-haired pikers, he writes for Regular Guys, he writes for _me_, and I tip my benny to him! The only thing is: I wonder if it sells the goods? Course, like all these poets, this Prince Albert fellow lets his idea run away with him. It makes elegant reading, but it don’t say nothing. I’d never go out and buy Prince Albert Tobacco after reading it, because it doesn’t tell me anything about the stuff. It’s just a bunch of fluff.” Frink faced him: “Oh, you’re crazy! Have I got to sell you the idea of Style? Anyway, that’s the kind of stuff I’d like to do for the Zeeco. But I simply can’t. So I decided to stick to the straight poetic, and I took a shot at a highbrow ad for the Zeeco. How do you like this: The long white trail is calling--calling--and it’s over the hills and far away for every man or woman that has red blood in his veins and on his lips the ancient song of the buccaneers. It’s away with dull drudging, and a fig for care. Speed--glorious Speed--it’s more than just a moment’s exhilaration--it’s Life for you and me! This great new truth the makers of the Zeeco Car have considered as much as price and style. It’s fleet as the antelope, smooth as the glide of a swallow, yet powerful as the charge of a bull-elephant. Class breathes in every line. Listen, brother! You’ll never know what the high art of hiking is till you TRY LIFE’S ZIPPINGEST ZEST--THE ZEECO!” “Yes,” Frink mused, “that’s got an elegant color to it, if I do say so, but it ain’t got the originality of ‘spill-of-speech!’” The whole company sighed with sympathy and admiration. CHAPTER IX I