Pondering on this scheme, Eddy could watch chaos with more tolerant eyes, since nothing is so intolerable if one is thinking of doing something, even a very little, to try and alleviate it. He carried on a correspondence with Arnold about it. Arnold said he didn’t for a moment suppose his Uncle Wilfred would be so misguided as to have anything to do with such a scheme, but he might, of course. The great dodge with a new paper, was, Arnold said, the co-operative system; you collect a staff of eager contributors who will undertake to write for so many months without pay, and not want to get their own back again till after the thing is coining money, and then they share what profits there are, if any. If they could collect a few useful people for this purpose, such as Billy Raymond, and Datcherd, and Cecil Le Moine (only probably Cecil was too selfish), and John Henderson, and Margaret Clinton (a novelist friend of Arnold’s), and various other intelligent men and women, the thing might be worked. And Bob Traherne and Dean Oliver, to represent two different Church standpoints, Eddy added to the list, and a field labourer he knew who would talk about small holdings, and a Conservative or two (Conservatives were conspicuously lacking in Arnold’s list). Encouraged by Arnold’s reception of the idea, Eddy replied by sketching his scheme for _Unity_ more elaborately. Arnold answered, “If we get all or any of the people we’ve thought of to write for it, _Unity_ will go its own way, regardless of schemes beforehand.... Have your Tories and parsons in if you must, only don’t be surprised if they sink it.... The chief thing to mind about with a writer is, has he anything new to say? I hate all that sentimental taking up and patting on the back of ploughmen and navvies and tramps merely as such; it’s silly, inverted snobbery. It doesn’t follow that a man has anything to say that’s worth hearing merely because he says it ungrammatically. Get day labourers to write about land-tenure if they have anything to say about it that’s more enlightening than what you or I would say; but not unless; because they won’t put it so well, by a long way. If ever I have anything to do with a paper, I shall see that it avoids sentimentality so far as is consistent with just enough popularity to live by.” It was still all in the air, of course, but Eddy felt cheered by the definite treatment Arnold was giving to his idea. About the middle of June Arnold wrote that Datcherd had hopelessly broken down at last, and there seemed no chance for him, and he had given up everything and gone down to a cottage in Devonshire, probably to die there.