"One hundred dollars a month!" I exclaimed. "Why, you ought to be spending that much every hour!" At first they thought me a fanatic on the subject, but within a fortnight I succeeded in inducing them to spend $1,000 in a single day for advertising. It was not, however, until after I had shown them how to follow up their correspondence successfully that they began to believe in me. I wired to nearly all of the important city newspapers throughout the country for rates. After obtaining their replies I decided to spend $500 in the Chicago Sunday _American_, and $500 in the San Francisco _Examiner_ in one issue. I forwarded the copy with the money, and it appeared promptly. The results were good--so good, indeed, that within two months the Mims-Sutro Company was spending at the rate of from $5,000 to $10,000 a week for advertising, and my commissions amounted to thousands. My contracts with the advertisers required them to pay me one-time rates, and my contracts with the publishers permitted me to send in copy at long-time rates, and the profit was about 45 per cent. And inasmuch as I always sent cash with the order, my copy was in great demand. Indeed, my agency was fairly inundated day after day with blank contracts from newspapers all over the country, the managers of which were clamoring for the Goldfield business. In addition to the Mims-Sutro account, I soon had many others; in fact, I had all the others. Within six months after my arrival in Goldfield my agency netted me $65,000. SOME ADVERTISING THAT PAID My second best customer was January Jones, the noted Welsh miner, and later, when the corporation of Patrick, Elliott & Camp swung into business as promoter, I placed its advertising. I held it, too, until the death of C. H. Eliott, when the control of that firm fell into other hands and it ultimately went out of business. In the course of three years my advertising agency inserted in the neighborhood of $1,000,000 worth of advertising in the newspapers of the United States, chiefly those of the big cities, and all of the advertising made money. It simply had to make money, because the brokers who did the advertising had little or nothing to begin operations with except the mines, and the mines were not their property. The most remarkable feature of that advertising campaign to me was that I had never been a stock-broker, had never been a mine-promoter, and had never been in a mining camp before; but still, despite my utter lack of knowledge, to begin with, of the technical end of the business, my advertisements pulled in the dollars.