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his leg up over the corner of Marchs table and gave himself a sharp cut on the thigh, and leaned forward to get the full effect of his words upon his listener. March had his hands clasped together behind his head, and he took one of them down long enough to put his inkstand and mucilage-bottle out of Fulkersons way. After many years experiment of a mustache and whiskers, he now wore his grizzled beard full, but cropped close; it gave him a certain grimness, corrected by the gentleness of his eyes. "Some people dont think much of the creation of man nowadays. Why stop at that? Why not say since the morning stars sang together?" "No, sir; no, sir! I dont want to claim too much, and I draw the line at the creation of man. Im satisfied with that. But if you want to ring the morning stars into the prospectus all right; I wont go back on you." "But I dont understand why youve set your mind on me," March said. "I havent had, any magazine experience, you know that; and I havent seriously attempted to do anything in literature since I was married. I gave up smoking and the Muse together. I suppose I could still manage a cigar, but I dont believe I could--" "Muse worth a cent." Fulkerson took the thought out of his mouth and put it into his own words. "I know. Well, I dont want you to. I dont care if you never write a line for the thing, though you neednt reject anything of yours, if it happens to be good, on that account. And I dont want much experience in my editor; rather not have it. You told me, didnt you, that you used to do some newspaper work before you settled down?" "Yes; I thought my lines were permanently cast in those places once. It was more an accident than anything else that I got into the insurance business. I suppose I secretly hoped that if I made my living by something utterly different, I could come more freshly to literature proper in my leisure." "I see; and you found the insurance business too many, for you. Well, anyway, youve always had a hankering for the inkpots; and the fact that you first gave me the idea of this thing shows that youve done more or less thinking about magazines." "Yes--less." "Well, all right. Now dont you be troubled. I know what I want, generally, speaking, and in this particular instance I want you. I might get a man of more experience, but I should probably get a man of more prejudice and self-conceit along with him, and a man with a following of the literary hangers-on that are sure to get round an editor sooner or later. I want to start fair, and Ive found out in the syndicate business all the men that are worth having. But they know me, and they dont know you, and thats where we shall have the pull on them. They wont be able to work the thing. Dont you be anxious about the experience. Ive got experience enough of my own to run a dozen editors. What I want is an editor who has taste, and youve got it; and conscience, and youve got it; and horse sense, and youve got that. And I like you because youre a Western man, and Im another. I do cotton to a Western man when I find him off East here, holding his own with the best of em, and showing em that hes just as much civilized as they are. We both know what it is to have our bright home in the setting sun; heigh?" "I think we Western men whove come East are apt to take ourselves a little too objectively and to feel ourselves rather more representative than we need," March remarked. Fulkerson was delighted. "Youve hit it! We do! We are!" "And as for holding my own, Im not very proud of what Ive done in that way; its been very little to hold. But I know what you mean, Fulkerson, and Ive felt the same thing myself; it warmed me toward you when we first met. I cant help suffusing a little to any man when I hear that he was born on the other side of the Alleghanies. Its perfectly stupid. I despise the same thing when I see it in Boston people." Fulkerson pulled first one of his blond whiskers and then the other, and twisted the

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