They decided to talk it over with the famous preacher.

For to be a "Plymouth boy"-- that is, to go to the Plymouth Church Sunday-school and to attend church there--was to know personally and become devoted to Henry Ward Beecher.

And the two were synonymous.
There was no distance between Mr.Beecher and his "Plymouth boys." Each understood the other.

The tie was that of absolute comradeship.
"I don't believe in it, boys," said Mr.Beecher when Edward and his friend broached the syndicate letter to him.

"No one yet ever made a cent out of my supposed literary work." All the more reason, was the argument, why some one should.
Mr.Beecher smiled! How well he knew the youthful enthusiasm that rushes in, etc.
"Well, all right! I like your pluck," he finally said.