“I should make it pay, to begin with; and I should make it pay by making it such a thorough newspaper that every class of people _must_ have it. I should cater to the lowest class first, and as long as I was poor I would have the fullest and best reports of every local accident and crime; that would take all the rabble. Then, as I could afford it, I'd rise a little, and give first-class non-partisan reports of local political affairs; that would fetch the next largest class, the ward politicians of all parties. I'd lay for the local religious world, after that;--religion comes right after politics in the popular mind, and it interests the women like murder: I'd give the minutest religious intelligence, and not only that, but the religious gossip, and the religious scandal. Then I'd go in for fashion and society,--that comes next. I'd have the most reliable and thorough-going financial reports that money could buy. When I'd got my local ground perfectly covered, I'd begin to ramify. Every fellow that could spell, in any part of the country, should understand that, if he sent me an account of a suicide, or an elopement, or a murder, or an accident, he should be well paid for it; and I'd rise on the same scale through all the departments. I'd add art criticisms, dramatic and sporting news, and book reviews, more for the looks of the thing than for anything else; they don't any of 'em appeal to a large class. I'd get my paper into such a shape that people of every kind and degree would have to say, no matter what particular objection was made to it, 'Yes, that's so; but it's the best _news_paper in the world, _and we can't get along without it.'”_ “And then,” said Ricker, “you'd begin to clean up, little by little,--let up on your murders and scandals, and purge and live cleanly like a gentleman? The trick's been tried before.” They had arrived at the oyster-house, and were sitting at their table, waiting for the oysters to be brought to them. Bartley tilted his chair back. “I don't know about the cleaning up. I should want to keep all my audience. If I cleaned up, the dirty fellows would go off to some one else; and the fellows that pretended to be clean would be disappointed.” “Why don't you get Witherby to put your ideas in force?” asked Ricker, dryly. Bartley dropped his chair to all fours, and said with a smile, “He belongs to church.” “Ah! he has his limitations. What a pity! He has the money to establish this great moral engine of yours, and you haven't. It's a loss to civilization.” “One thing, I know,” said Bartley, with a certain effect of virtue, “nobody should buy or sell me; and the advertising element shouldn't spread beyond the advertising page.” “Isn't that rather high ground?” inquired Ricker. Bartley did not think it worth while to answer. “I don't believe that a newspaper is obliged to be superior in tone to the community,” he said. “I quite agree with you.”