“Ladies and gentlemen!” said Uncle Ben, bowing politely to each group; “You may not know that I have always had one hobby—something like my nephew here—and that is still, printing. My present position as editor of a magazine does not satisfy my craving for the printer’s workshop, but it is as near as I can come to it, so I have bided my time until an opportunity like the present one offers.

“Before I confide to you what the present offer is, I wish to explain somewhat the working of a magazine plant. I believe it is necessary to tell you how much hard work is attached to the business, and some of the enjoyments when the magazine is ready to go out.

“The first thing is to have the right kind of a story, or article. To find this it is necessary to read many, many manuscripts. We employ ‘readers’ for this work of selecting what we can use. The manuscripts we cannot use are returned to the writers. After the first reader passes on a story, another reader goes over it, and if it seems suitable, it is handed to the editor. The editor decides whether or not to accept it. If accepted, he has to go over it very carefully. Sometimes words are changed, lines inserted, or whole paragraphs cut out.

“If the story needs illustrating an artist is sent for. If a soft-toned illustration is desired, the artist makes a ‘wash drawing’—meaning a black and white painting done with brushes, as in a water color. The ‘wash drawing’ is then sent to the engravers and a ‘half-tone’ plate made for use in the magazine. ‘Half-tones’ are made of copper sheets with the picture photographed upon them.

“Sometimes we want an outline to illustrate the story. A pen and ink sketch is required for this, and is made about twice as large as it will appear in the magazine. This is reproduced on a zinc plate, and is called a ‘line cut.’

“Then the story is given to the linotypers. A linotype machine is very interesting. It has a key-board almost like a typewriter. When a letter is struck on the board, a piece of brass containing the impression of that letter moves into place just like a soldier starting to form a line. When the next letter is struck, the corresponding brass soldier hurries into place beside the first one. This continues until a whole line has been ‘set.’ Then the operator touches a lever, the line of brass pieces moves to a new position, and molten type-metal is poured into the mold which the brass pieces help to form. The lead at once hardens, and the whole line is ready for printing, in one solid piece. All of this is done very fast—much faster than I can tell you about it. It is hard to believe that a machine can do all these things so quickly and so accurately.

“When the linotype work is completed the printer places the lines of type on a ‘galley.’ Then the type is covered with ink, a piece of paper is laid on, and a heavy roller passed over it. This impression is called the ‘galley proof.’ If the linotyper has made any mistakes in spelling or printing, they have to be corrected.

“After the ‘galley proofs’ are corrected, the dummy—a blank-page book just the size the magazine will be—is made.“Before us, are all the pictures and reading matter to be used. These are arranged and pasted into the dummy in the order in which they are to be printed. Sometimes a page has a little space left at the bottom, and this must be filled with a neat ornament or a verse. Sometimes an article is too long, and then it must be cut down and made to fit the allotted space.

“Thus, the whole magazine is ‘dummied’ with pages of cut-up galley proofs and picture proofs, until it looks more like a child’s scrap book than a magazine model.

“This dummy goes back to the printer, who picks out the galley-type and measures it off to compare with the pages of the dummy. This done, he places the type in a form the size of the page, places the numeral of the page at the top or bottom, with the name of the magazine at the top—this is known as the ‘running head,’ as it runs along the top of each page throughout the book.

“The printer next makes a page proof. That is, he makes a proof of each page. These pages are sent into the editorial room again, and are gone over carefully and compared with the galley proofs; if everything is correct each page is ‘O.K’d.’ If, however, there are errors, note is made of it in the margin on the page proof.

“When all the pages are ‘O.K’d.’ the page forms are ‘locked up’ together, sixteen, thirty-two or sixty-four, in one big form, and arranged so that when the sheet of paper is printed and folded, the pages will come in the right order.”

So Uncle Ben continued his talk about magazine making. He explained the workings of different kinds of printing presses, how some print directly from the type “made ready” on a flat bed, the paper being fed into the press in flat sheets, and how some of the big presses print from curved plates that fit around a big roller, the paper running into the press continuously from an immense big roll as wide as the press. He told about the wonderful folding and stitching machines, and many other interesting things.

During Uncle Ben’s talk, everyone had been so interested that not a sound was heard. When he concluded, however, the tension relaxed and his audience began asking questions.

“This is most instructive, but I can’t see where it helps the Bobolink Boys in their organization,” said Mr. Talmage, quizzically.

At mention of the name “Bobolink Boys” the Blue Birds looked at each other, and then at their elders for information.

Uncle Ben saw their wonderment, and laughingly explained the plot. The girls were delighted, and had so much to say to one another that it seemed as if no further business could be attended to that day.

Uncle Ben, however, rapped loudly upon the box.

“We have many important things to attend to,” he said, “and all are requested to sit still and listen. I am going back to New York in a few days, and in the meantime I should like to help start the boys on the right road to success. Now, what you all want to know is, ‘How does my talk about magazines help the Bobolink Boys?’

“Well, this is the way: For the past half-score of years or more, I have longed to issue a magazine for young folks that could reach out into every plane of life; for the poor children in institutions; for the slum children; for rich children, for children in the city and children in the country—for every one of them!

“I would like to give so much instructive reading matter on its pages that the schools will circulate it among the pupils; I would like to have the pictures of the very best; I would like it to inspire boys and girls to read better books, and make them ambitious to make the most of their chances; I would like it to teach them to make things and do things for themselves; in fact, I would like to make it the best and finest magazine ever published! But I haven’t had time to experiment with my hobby and being an old bachelor I am afraid I do not understand children well enough to know how to write for them. The plan that I have been figuring out seems to fit most beautifully with the Blue Birds’ and Bobolinks’ work.”

Uncle Ben hesitated a second, but not a sound was heard. Then he continued:

“Mother Talmage asked me last night about how much it would cost to send circulars to people who might be interested in the farms next summer. I propose that we start a children’s magazine and use its pages whenever there is an announcement of importance. If you want donations of money or help of other kinds, ask for them through the pages of the magazine.

“With the Blue Birds to write articles each month telling other children what they are doing, or how to make the things they are being taught to make, and the Bobolink Boys to write the experiences of their daily work and play, and some of the grown-ups to contribute poems and stories, of course it would be necessary to have contributions also from some of our best writers, and I know I can get them for you.”

The idea of such a stupendous undertaking made the children gasp, but Mr. Talmage said, “All you have said is fine, Uncle Ben, but who will set type, buy paper, print, bind and circulate such a magazine?”

“That’s just the thing! Don’t you see? My very great interest in this plan will compel me to help in every way and all the time, and the boys will be kept busy at profitable and interesting work. When all the manuscript is in, and turned over to me I will see that it is set, and the proofs sent back to the children. The Blue Birds will enjoy making the dummies, pasting in the pictures, and arranging the pages; and the Bobolinks can proceed to print the magazines. If you don’t expect to use this carriage house for anything it may as well be turned into a print-shop. With all these boys to work, the printing ought to be great sport and not much trouble to get out a magazine.”

The Blue Birds were clapping their hands in excitement while the Bobolinks jumped up, and in their eagerness, crowded about Uncle Ben, overwhelming him with so many questions that he was quite overcome.

Then Miss Selina stood up in the road-wagon, and after silencing the noisy crowd, made an announcement.

“I’ll pay for the paper that will be needed for the experiment the first month!”

“Hurrah, hurrah! for Aunt Selina!” shouted Uncle Ben, and the rest joined in with such good will that Aunt Selina sat down and held her hands over her ears.

“I’ll pay postage on a sample issue!” called Mrs. Catlin.

Again the joyous young publishers-to-be burst forth into cheers.“What can I pay for?” laughed Mrs. Talmage.

“You’ll soon find that you are paying the heaviest tax of all in overseeing the publishers,” replied Uncle Ben.

“How soon can we start?” demanded the Bobolinks.

“What shall we write?” asked the Blue Birds.

Uncle Ben raised both hands for silence, and as soon as order was restored again, he spoke.

“We have just installed new machines in our printing plant in New York and intend selling the old ones to some small job printer who can use second-hand machines. Now, I can pick out a small press, stitcher, and other things that you will need, and ship them out here. You have electricity here, and a small motor will furnish the power. When you are ready to go to press, I will send out an experienced man from our shop to direct the work and see that everything is done properly. The addressing and wrapping can be done by all of you. Of course, as far as we have gone, it all sounds like great sport, but there is another side to this plan that must be thoroughly agreed upon before we go any further. If you start this undertaking, you will have to keep on with it. At a certain date each month your periodical must be ready for mailing. You will have to write and edit, and print, whether the skating is fine, or the gymnasium is at your disposal, or whether Thanksgiving dinner makes you feel lazy, or a toothache keeps you awake all night. Publishing work is very interesting, most instructive, and profitable, but it is work, work, work, and not all play!”

“Oh, we know that, Uncle Ben,” said Ned. “And we’ll promise to take all of the consequences that go with the game.”

The other boys seconded Ned’s statement, and the Blue Birds eagerly agreed to the plan, so Uncle Ben really had no further objections to make.

“Oh, I can hardly wait to begin my page,” cried Ruth.

“I’d rather see the magazine—maybe it will be a home-made looking thing!” exclaimed Dot Starr.

“It will not! Not with us boys to boss the plant!” bragged Don, her twin.“If it is home-made, you’ll have to do it all again,” commented Uncle Ben.

“That is where Mrs. Talmage’s work comes in,” laughed Mr. Talmage.

“It will be a regular magazine, all right!” exclaimed Mrs. Talmage emphatically.

“We boys will see to it that no magazine is mailed that will make folks laugh at us,” guaranteed Ned.

“I’m sure I placed my hobby in the right hands, for you children seem to take a pride in doing things well,” commended Uncle Ben.

“And with a nephew stepping right in his uncle’s footprints, why shouldn’t things be done right?” laughed Mr. Talmage.

“Say, Uncle Ben, how long must we wait before we can begin?” asked Don Starr.

“Get as busy as you like to-morrow after school,” replied Uncle Ben. “I’ll run into town and attend to having the things shipped here as long as you have agreed to my plans; you boys may start making benches, tables, or whatever will be needed in the plant.”

“They’ll need a desk, some chairs, a table and a few other things,” suggested Mr. Talmage, looking around. “It might be advisable for them to partition off a corner of this room for an office.”

“I have a good roll-top desk in the store-room at home; it has never had any use since Mr. Catlin passed away. The boys shall have that,” offered Mrs. Catlin.

“And I can spare that long table we used to have in the dairy before we installed the patent butter machines,” added Mrs. Talmage.

“In case I find any other pieces of Mr. Catlin’s office furniture I will send them over with the desk,” said Mrs. Catlin.

“About those machines, Ben! How much will they cost the boys?” asked Mr. Talmage.

“I thought of assuming the cost, and any time the publishers give up the work I can easily sell them in the city. The children can pay the freight charges, which will not be very heavy,” replied Uncle Ben.

“Then, there will really be no heavy expense to start with, will there?” asked Mrs. Talmage.

“No, but a tax of application and interest will be necessary,” smiled Uncle Ben.“We will agree to pay all of that you want,” promised several of the boys.

The Blue Birds did not have much to say about the machines and workshop, but each felt that it was to be their very own magazine, so that their interest and pleasure in every new development were keyed to the top pitch.

“Betty, what page do you want to take charge of?” asked Norma, eagerly, as they left the carriage house.

“I think we had better defer discussing that part of the work until we can all sit down quietly and talk it over,” said Mrs. Talmage.

The men and boys remained with Ike to decide what boards and lumber would be needed for the morrow, so work could begin on their workrooms.

“Let’s have a sign for the front over the door,” suggested Jinks. “I’ll paint it at home.”

“Call it ‘Bobolink Boys Publishing Company,’” ventured Meredith.

“Oh, that wouldn’t be fair to the Blue Birds if they are going to help in the work,” said Ned.

“Name it ‘Blue Bird & Bobolink Company,’” said Uncle Ben.This last suggestion struck everyone as being just right, but Mr. Talmage made a good amendment.

“Why not have a mysterious combination? Every mortal is interested in finding out a puzzle, or secret. The more elusive a thing is the more they chase it. Now, get folks guessing over your name and they will not forget you so soon. I just thought of the name of ‘B.B. & B.B. Company.’”

“That’s great, father, but we haven’t thought of a name for the magazine,” cried Ned.

“Add a few more ‘B’s’ to the others,” laughed Uncle Ben. “We’ll name it the ‘B.B.B.B.,’ published by the ‘B.B. & B.B. Co.’”

“What does ‘B.B.B.B.’ stand for?” asked Mr. Talmage.

“‘Blue Bird Bobolink Bulletin,’” replied Uncle Ben.

“That’s mystery enough, I’m sure,” laughed Mr. Talmage.

After a few more remarks, the first meeting of the organization whose influence was to be far greater than had been hoped for by Uncle Ben, or the boys who had started it, was dismissed.