"Do so," said Harry, smiling.
"I would if I had the slightest particle of imagination; but the fact is, I'm too practical and matter-of-fact. Besides, I never had any talent for writing of any kind. Some time I may become publisher of a village paper like this; but farther than that I don't aspire."
"We are to be partners in that, you know, Ferguson."
"That may be, for a time; but you will rise higher than that, Harry."
"I am afraid you overrate me."
"No; I have observed you closely in the time we have been together, and I have long felt that you are destined to rise from the ranks in which I am content to remain. Haven't you ever felt so, yourself, Harry?"
Harry's cheek flushed, and his eye lighted up.
"I won't deny that I have such thoughts sometimes," he said; "but it may end in that."
"It often does end in that; but it is only where ambition is not accompanied by faithful work. Now you are always at work. You are doing what you can to help fortune, and the end will be that fortune will help you."
"I hope so, at any rate," said Harry, thoughtfully. "I should like to fill an honorable position, and do some work by which I might be known in after years."