Next I issued my prospectus for the "Literary Gazette and Weekly Reflex of Art, Literature, and Science, a Newspaper devoted to, &c. &c.," and scattered copies among my friends, expecting each to do his duty for me like a man. They were also posted in every book-store, hotel, and public place in the city. Said city, be it known, rejoiced in a population of a hundred thousand souls, of which number I saw no reason for doubting my ability to reach, with my interesting paper, at least three or four thousand, in the end. That was felt to be a very moderate calculation indeed. Then, when I turned my eyes over our vast country, with its millions and millions of intelligent, enlightened, reading and prosperous people, I felt that even to admit a doubt of success was a weakness for which I ought to be ashamed. And I wondered why, with such a harvest to reap, twenty such enterprises to one were not started.
While in this sanguine state, an individual who had been for thirty years a publisher and editor, prompted, as he said, by a sincere interest in my welfare, called to see me in order to give me the benefit of his experience. He asked me to state my views of the enterprise upon which I was about entering, which I did in glowing terms.
"Very well, Mr. Jones," said he, after I was done, "you base your calculations on three thousand subscribers?"
"I do," was my answer.
"From which number you expect to receive six thousand dollars."
"Certainly; the price of the paper is to be two dollars."
"I doubt, my young friend, very much, whether you will receive four thousand dollars from three thousand subscribers, if you should have that number. Nay, if you get three thousand during the year, you may be very thankful."
"Preposterous!" said I.
"No; not by any means. I have been over this ground before you, and know pretty much what kind of harvest it yields."
"But," said I, "it is not my intention to throw the paper into every man's house, whether he wants it or not. I will only take good subscribers."