his living in
some way. As for me, if I had a sum of money, say five thousand
dollars, I would still remain a printer, but in that case I would
probably buy out a paper, or start one, and be a publisher, as well
as a printer."

"That's just what I should like," said Harry.

"Who knows but we may be able to go into partnership some day, and
carry out our plan."

"I would like it," said Harry; "but I am afraid it will be a good
while before we can raise the five thousand dollars."

"We don't need as much. Mr. Anderson started on a capital of a
thousand dollars, and now he is in comfortable circumstances."

"Then there's hopes for us."

"At any rate I cherish hopes of doing better some day. I shouldn't
like always to be a journeyman. I manage to save up a hundred
dollars a year. How much have we in the savings bank, Hannah?"

"Between four and five hundred dollars, with interest."

"It has taken me four years to save it up. In five more, if nothing
happens, I should be worth a thousand dollars. Journeymen printers
don't get rich very fast."

"I hope to have saved up something myself, in five years," said Harry.

"Then our plan may come to pass, after all. You shall be editor, and
I publisher."

"I should think you would prefer to be an editor," said his wife.

"I am diffident of my powers in the line of composition," said
Ferguson. "I shouldn't be afraid to undertake local items, but when
it comes to an elaborate editorial, I should rather leave it in other
hands."

"I always liked writing," said Harry. "Of course I have only had a
school-boy's practice, but I mean to practise more in my leisure
hours."

"Suppose you write a poem for the 'Gazette,' Walton."

Harry smiled.

"I am not ambitious enough for that," he replied. "I will try plain
prose."

"Do so," said Ferguson, earnestly. "Our plan may come to something
after all, if we wait patiently. It will do no harm to prepare
yourself as well as you can. After a while you might write something
for the 'Gazette.' I think Mr. Anderson would put it in."

"Shall I sign it P. D.?" asked Harry.

"P. D. stands for Doctor of Philosophy."

"I don't aspire to such a learned title. P. D. also stands for
Printer's Devil."

"I see. Well, joking aside, I advise you to improve yourself in
writing."

"I will. That is the way Franklin did."

"I remember. He wrote an article, and slipped it under the door of
the printing office, not carin