"And in truth, Trevylyan, it would please me if I could but teach you the folly of preferring the exercise of that energy of which you speak to the golden luxuries of REST.

What ambition can ever bring an adequate reward?
Not, surely, the ambition of letters, the desire of intellectual renown!" "True," said Trevylyan, quietly; "that dream I have long renounced; there is nothing palpable in literary fame,--it scarcely perhaps soothes the vain, it assuredly chafes the proud.

In my earlier years I attempted some works which gained what the world, perhaps rightly, deemed a sufficient need of reputation; yet it was not sufficient to recompense myself for the fresh hours I had consumed, for the sacrifices of pleasure I had made.

The subtle aims that had inspired me were not perceived; the thoughts that had seemed new and beautiful to me fell flat and lustreless on the soul of others.

If I was approved, it was often for what I condemned myself; and I found that the trite commonplace and the false wit charmed, while the truth fatigued, and the enthusiasm revolted.