For this he was sorry, for he always voted a straight abolition ticket.

I repeated to him what I had said to Mr.McMasters, when he said: "Nonsense!" then reflected a little, and added, "Well, I do not know after all but it would be a good idea.

Riddle makes lots of money out of your letters." When we had talked about five minutes, he turned to attend to business and I went to the _Journal_ office.

I found Mr.Riddle in his sanctum, and told him the _Albatross_ was dead; the Liberty Party without an organ, and that I was going to start the _Pittsburg Saturday Visitor;_ the first copy must be issued Saturday week, so that abolitionists would not have time to be discouraged, and that I wanted him to print my paper.
He had pushed his chair back from his desk, and sat regarding me in utter amazement while I stated the case, then said: "What do you mean?
Are you insane?
What does your husband say ?" I said my husband approved, the matter was all arranged, I would use my own estate, and if I lost it, it was nobody's affair.
He begged me to take time to think, to send my husband to him, to consult my friends.

Told me my project was ruinous, that I would lose every dollar I put into it, and begged, entreated me to take time; but all to no purpose, when a bright idea came to him.
"You would have to furnish a desk for yourself, you see there is but one in this room, and there is no other place for you.