It's invariably the case.Look at the first numbers of all the things you've seen started.They're experimental,almost *******ish,and necessarily so,not only because the men that are ****** them up are comparatively inexperienced like ourselves,but because the material sent them to deal with is more or less consciously tentative.People send their adventurous things to a new periodical because the whole thing is an adventure.I've noticed that quality in all the volunteer contributions;it's in the articles that have been done to order even.
No;I've about made up my mind that if we can get one good striking paper into the first number that will take people's minds off the others,we shall be doing all we can possible hope for.I should like,"March added,less seriously,"to make up three numbers ahead,and publish the third one first."Fulkerson dropped forward and struck his fist on the desk."It's a first-rate idea.Why not do it?"March laughed."Fulkerson,I don't believe there's any quackish thing you wouldn't do in this cause.From time to time I'm thoroughly ashamed of being connected with such a charlatan."Fulkerson struck his hat sharply backward."Ah,dad burn it!To give that thing the right kind of start I'd walk up and down Broadway between two boards,with the title-page of Every Other Week facsimiled on one and my name and address on the--"He jumped to his feet and shouted,"March,I'll do it!""What?"
"I'll hire a lot of fellows to make mud-turtles of themselves,and I'll have a lot of big facsimiles of the title-page,and I'll paint the town red!"March looked aghast at him."Oh,come,now,Fulkerson!""I mean it.I was in London when a new man had taken hold of the old Cornhill,and they were trying to boom it,and they had a procession of these mudturtles that reached from Charing Cross to Temple Bar.Cornhill Magazine.Sixpence.Not a dull page in it.'I said to myself then that it was the livest thing I ever saw.I respected the man that did that thing from the bottom of my heart.I wonder I ever forgot it.But it shows what a shaky thing the human mind is at its best.""You infamous mountebank!",said March,with great amusement at Fulkerson's access;"you call that congeries of advertising instinct of yours the human mind at its best?Come,don't be so diffident,Fulkerson.Well,I'm off to find Lindau,and when I come back I hope Mr.
Dryfoos will have you under control.I don't suppose you'll be quite sane again till after the first number is out.Perhaps public opinion will sober you then.""Confound it,March!How do you think they will take it?I swear I'm getting so nervous I don't know half the time which end of me is up.
I believe if we don't get that thing out by the first of February it 'll be the death of me.""Couldn't wait till Washington's Birthday?I was thinking it would give the day a kind of distinction,and strike the public imagination,if--""No,I'll be dogged if I could!"Fulkerson lapsed more and more into the parlance of his early life in this season of strong excitement.
"I believe if Beaton lags any on the art leg I'll kill him.""Well,I shouldn't mind your killing Beaton,"said March,tranquilly,as he went out.
