e life of the community; when it
was not simply the religious and political force, but greater still, the
social force. I believe the newspaper will become great as it satisfies
every need of the human imagination. There are papers that print a
Sunday sermon. I would have a religious page every day, just as you
print a woman's page and a children's page. I'd run a legal bureau free
or at nominal charges, and conduct aggressive campaigns against petty
abuses. I'd organize the financial department so as to make it personal
to every subscriber, with an investment bureau which would offer only a
carefully selected list for conservative investors and would refuse to
deal in seven per cent. bonds and fifteen per cent. shares. I would have
a great auditorium where concerts and plays would be given at no higher
price than fifty cents."

"Hold up! How could you get plays on such conditions?" said DeLancy, who
had been held breathless by this Utopian scheme.

"Any manager in the city with a sense of publicity would jump at the
chance of giving an afternoon performance, expenses paid, under such
conditions, especially as the list would be guaranteed. Then, above all,
I'd give the public fiction, the best I could get and first hand. What
do you think gives _Le Petit Parisien_ and _Le Petit Journal_ a
circulation of about a million each and all over France? Serial novels.
Do you know the circulation of papers in New York? There are only three
over a hundred thousand and the greatest has hardly a quarter of a
million. However, I won't go on. You see my ideas make an
institution--the modern institution, replacing and absorbing all past
institutions."

"And what else do you want?" said Bojo, laughing.

"I want that by the time I'm thirty-five. I want ten millions and I want
to be at forty either senator or ambassador to Paris or London. I want
to build a yacht that will defend the American cup and to own a horse
that will win the derby.

"And will you marry?"

"The most beautiful woman in America."

The four burst into laughter simultaneously, none more heartily than
Marsh, who added:

"Remember, we're to tell the truth, and that's what I'd like to do." He
concluded: "Win or lose, play the limit. Never mind, Granny; when I'm
broke, you'll give me a job. Up to you. Confess."

Granning began diffidently, for he was always slow at speech and the
fluency of Marsh's recital intimidated him.

"I don't know that there's anything