After
following the material furnished by these agencies for two or three
weeks, Edward decided that there was plenty of room for his new ideas.
He discussed the matter with his former magazine partner, Colver, and
suggested that if they could induce Mr. Beecher to write a weekly
comment on current events for the newspapers it would make an auspicious
beginning. They decided to talk it over with the famous preacher. For to
be a "Plymouth boy"--that is, to go to the Plymouth Church Sunday-school
and to attend church there--was to know personally and become devoted to
Henry Ward Beecher. And the two were synonymous. There was no distance
between Mr. Beecher and his "Plymouth boys." Each understood the other.
The tie was that of absolute comradeship.
"I don't believe in it, boys," said Mr. Beecher when Edward and his
friend broached the syndicate letter to him. "No one yet ever made a
cent out of my supposed literary work."
All the more reason, was the argument, why some one should.
Mr. Beecher smiled! How well he knew the youthful enthusiasm that rushes
in, etc.
"Well, all right, boys! I like your pluck," he finally said. "I'll help
you if I can."
The boys agreed to pay Mr. Beecher a weekly sum of two hundred and fifty
dollars--which he knew was considerable for them.
When the first article had been written they took him their first check.
He looked at it quizzically, and then at the boys. Then he said simply:
"Thank you.
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