D.W.] His pen therefore, and whereas, and not as aforesaid, strayed off into other scribbling.

In an unfortunate hour, he had two or three papers accepted by first-class magazines, at three dollars the printed page, and, behold, his vocation was open to him.

He would make his mark in literature.
Life has no moment so sweet as that in which a young man believes himself called into the immortal ranks of the masters of literature.

It is such a noble ambition, that it is a pity it has usually such a shallow foundation.
At the time of this history, Philip had gone to New York for a career.
With his talent he thought he should have little difficulty in getting an editorial position upon a metropolitan newspaper; not that he knew anything about news paper work, or had the least idea of journalism; he knew he was not fitted for the technicalities of the subordinate departments, but he could write leaders with perfect ease, he was sure.
The drudgery of the newspaper office was too distaste ful, and besides it would be beneath the dignity of a graduate and a successful magazine writer.

He wanted to begin at the top of the ladder.
To his surprise he found that every situation in the editorial department of the journals was full, always had been full, was always likely to be full.