But we must always remember that ambition is wrong.

THOMAS MORRIS.'"

"Very good, my boy," said Mr. Gay to Tom, whose scarlet face had
betrayed the authorship of this profound essay long before his name
was read; "adhere to that moral, and, mark my words, you will--never
be President of the United States."

Tom's embarrassment checked the smiles of the audience, and Hugh took
up another paper. "Ah!" he said with enthusiasm, "this seems to be a
poem in earnest, breathing the real afflatus, written with the pen of
Melpomene! With your permission, ladies and gentlemen, I will refresh
myself with a glass of water before I begin:--

'A JUNE LYRIC.

After all, not to labor only,--
But to breathe in the essence of vivified sheen,
The fragrance of rarefied thoughts as they surge to and
fro,
Heaving the unknown depths up to mountains of night.
Crystalline, luminous, rare, opalescently rare,--
This,--this is June!

GRAHAM MARR'"

"Ah, blank verse," said Sibyl to her companion, with admiring
interest. He bowed and stroked his moustache with a dreamy air.