bar, finds, after achieving that ambition, that he has neither the
ability nor the inclination to brave the struggle for a livelihood by
himself. Perchance as a youth he has had visions of himself arguing test
cases before the Court of Appeals while the leaders of the bar hung upon
his every word, of an office crowded with millionaire clients and
servile employees, even as he is servile to the man for whom he labors
for a miserly ten dollars a week.

His ambition takes him by the hand and leads him to high places, from
which he gazes down into the land of his future prosperity and
greatness. The law seems a mysterious, alluring, fascinating profession,
combining the romance of the drama with the gratifications of the
intellect. He springs to answer his master's bell; he sits up until all
hours running down citations and making extracts from opinions; he
rushes to court and answers the calendar and sometimes carries the
lawyer's brief case and attends him throughout a trial. Three years go
by--five--and he finds that he is still doing the same thing. He is now
a member of the bar, he has become the managing clerk, he attends to
fairly important matters, engages the office force, superintends
transfer of title, occasionally argues a motion. Five years more go by
and perhaps his salary is raised a trifle more. Then one day he awakes
to the realization that his future is to be only that of a trusted
servitor.

Perchance he is married and has a baby. The time has come for him to
choose whether he will go forth and put his fortune to the test "to win
or lose it all" or settle down into the position of faithful legal hired
man. He is getting a bit bald, he has had one or two tussles with his
bank about accidental overdrafts. The world looks pretty bleak outside
and the big machine of the law goes grinding on heartless, inevitable.