But while I yield readily and sympathetically to the magazine advertisement, my heartiest response is given to the letter that altruistically offers me counsels of perfection. There is a certain lack of privacy about the magazine advertisement; but the letter advertisement is confidential, even sometimes secretive. True, my name is frequently misspelled, my sex is changed, and the ink and type are glaringly different in the heading and in the letter proper. But these are trifling vagaries: it is my own letter, and the writer knows me intimately. He says this plainly. And he proves it by offering me the book, or the beautifier, or the investment which I had not even known I wanted, but which I do want instantly, and with an intensity that falls short only of cutting from the lower corner of the page the slanting coupon that will procure me farther information. It is this intimacy of attitude on the part of the writers of form-letters that gives me keenest pleasure. I like the way in which a kindly, tolerant young person--youth will always out--assures me that my manner of life and my personal predilections are as an open book to him. I like the first-aid flavor of his opening paragraph. I like most of all the jaunty soul-brother way in which he dallies with his point. "The writer of this letter has been pondering a good deal", begins one of these experts in the personal appeal, "on the sort of letter he would like to get from So-and-So." And at the conclusion of his clever page, he inquires ingenuously (or artistically): "Is this the sort of letter _you_ like to get from So-and-So?" Bless the boy! of course it is. And I do enjoy the letter that is designed to make me leap from my seat with the first line: "Tomorrow may be too late!" or, "This idea was worth $100 to one person--it may prove even more valuable to you;" or, "Shakespeare died in 1616!" Again, the subject may be approached obliquely: "You have read of course, the interesting story in the _Sunday Morning Sunshine_, entitled "Sparkles." You'll remember how Dorothy--" And about the middle of page two I find that the reason why the heroine was a heroine was because she had a piece of furniture, the duplicate of which I am granted an opportunity to purchase, if I act quickly, at greatly reduced rates.