lls it "Our Shop," and feels that he is an integral
and necessary part of the Whole. Possibly there are a few who consider
themselves more than necessary. Ali Baba, for instance, it is said, has
referred to himself, at times, as the Whole Thing. And this is all right,
too--I would never chide an excess of zeal: the pride of a worker in his
worth and work is a thing to foster.

It's the man who "doesn't give a damn" who is really troublesome. The
artistic big-head is not half so bad as apathy.

* * * * *

In the month of December, Eighteen Hundred Ninety-four, I
printed the first "Little Journeys" in booklet form, at the local
printing-office, having become discouraged in trying to find a publisher.
But before offering the publication to the public, I decided to lay the
matter again before G.P. Putnam's Sons, although they had declined the
matter in manuscript form. Mr. George H. Putnam rather liked the matter,
and was induced to issue the periodical as a venture for one year. The
scheme seemed to meet with success, the novel form of the publication
being in its favor. The subscription reached nearly a thousand in six
months; the newspapers were kind, and the success of the plan suggested
printing a pamphlet modeled on similar lines, telling what we thought
about things in general, and publishers and magazine-editors in
particular.

There was no intention at first of issuing more than one number of this
pamphlet, but to get it through the mails at magazine rates we made up a
little subscription list and asked that it be entered at the post office
at East Aurora as second-class matter. The postmaster adjusted his
brass-rimmed spectacles, read the pamphlet, and decided that it surely
was second class matter.

We called it "The Philistine" because we were going after the "Chosen
People" in literature. It was Leslie Stephen who said, "The term
Philistine is a word used by prigs to designate people they do not
like." When you call a man a bad name, you are that thing--not he. The
Smug and Snugly Ensconced Denizens of Union Square called me a
Philistine, and I said, "Yes, I am one, if a Philistine is something
different from you."

My helpers, the printers, were about to go away to pastures new; they
were in debt, the town was small, they could not make a living. So they
offered me their outfit for a thousand dollars. I accepted the
proposition.

I decided to run "The Philistine" Magazin