THE LURE.
"There's a paper on my desk. It's blank white face leers at me, mocks me. I cover it up. It wriggles its way right up through four books. And it glares at me. 'Writo a huncirca words/ it screeches, 'on Edgeworth tobacco.' To-day! And I know whore there is a wise old grey rock oh top of a high, brown old hill where the sun is beating down. And I wish I was a-sitting on'that rock, under that sun, with my pipe full of Edgeworth." So wroto our advertisement writer. Ho left the paper on his desk. He was gone, so was his pipe—-anci his tin, of Edgeworth.—Advt.
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/EP19311007.2.30
Bibliographic details
Evening Post, Volume CXII, Issue 85, 7 October 1931, Page 6
Word Count
110THE LURE. Evening Post, Volume CXII, Issue 85, 7 October 1931, Page 6
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