in advice, experience; the Present in hope, faith, courage. Youth, the
citizen of to-morrow, had a thousand theories for righting the nation's
faults; and some of these theories were not wholly visionary.

Did his paper, Mr. Carter wondered, call out in the hearts and minds of
those who read it a similar response of patriotism and high ideals? Did
it reach the great human _best_ that lies deep in every individual?
Alas, he feared it did not. It was too autocratic. It aimed not to
stimulate but to silence discussion and it probably did so, descending
upon its audience with a confident finality that admitted of no
argument.

The _March Hare_, on the other hand, was apologetically modest. Nobody
quailed before it. Even the least of the intellectuals feared not to
lift up his voice in its presence and demand a hearing.

Such a novel and rare product was worth perpetuating. From a money
standpoint alone the paper might become in time a paying investment. It
was, of course, a bit crude at present; but the kernel was there; so,
too, was the long list of subscribers,--an asset to which he was not
blind.

Suppose he was to buy out this schoolboy enterprise at the end of the
year and take it into his own hands? Might it not be nursed into a
publication that would have a lasting place in the community and become
a property of value?

He would improve it--that would go without saying--touch it up and
polish it; doubtless he would think best to revise some of its
departments; and--well, he would probably change its name and its cover
design. He could not continue to perpetuate such an absurdity as that
title. Perhaps he would christen it the _Burmingham Monthly_.

The notion of purchasing the amateur product appealed to his sense of
humor. The more he thought of it, the stronger became his desire to own
the paper. Strange he had never before considered publishing a monthly
magazine. Yes, he would get out the few remaining issues of the _March
Hare_ under its present name and then he would buy out the whole thing
for a small sum and take it over. The boys would undoubtedly be glad
enough to sell it, flattered to have the chance, no doubt. A check that
would provide the editorial staff with some hockey sticks or tennis
shoes would without question satisfy them. What use would they have for
a paper after they graduated?

Thus reasoned Mr. Arthur Presby Carter to himself in the solitude and
silence of his editorial sanctum. And