Finding that he had failed in his attempt to provoke Harry by his ridicule, Clapp desisted, but he disliked him none the less.

The fact was, that Clapp was getting into a bad way.  He had no high aim in life, and cared chiefly for the pleasure of the present moment.  He had found Luke Harrison a congenial companion, and they had been associated in more than one excess.  The morning previous, Clapp had entered the printing office so evidently under the influence of liquor, that he had been sharply reprimanded by Mr. Anderson.

“I don’t choose to interfere with your mode of life, unwise and ruinous as I may consider it,” he said, “as long as it does not interfere with your discharge of duty.  But to-day you are clearly incapacitated for labor, and I have a right to complain.  If it happens again, I shall be obliged to look for another journeyman.”

Clapp did not care to leave his place just at present, for he had no money saved up, and was even somewhat in debt, and it might be some time before he got another place.  So he rather sullenly agreed to be more careful in future, and did not go to work till the afternoon.  But though circumstances compelled him to submit, it put him in bad humor, and made him more disposed to sneer than ever.  He had an unreasoning prejudice against Harry, which was stimulated by Luke Harrison, who had this very sufficient reason for hating our hero, that he had succeeded in injuring him.  As an old proverb has it “We are slow to forgive those whom we have injured.”

CHAPTER XV.

A literary debut.

Harry waited eagerly for the next issue of the “Weekly Standard.”  It was received by Mr. Anderson in exchange for the “Centreville Gazette,” and usually came to hand on Saturday morning.  Harry was likely to obtain the first chance of examining the paper, as he was ordinarily sent to the post-office on the arrival of the morning mail.

His hands trembled as he unfolded the paper and hurriedly scanned the contents.  But he looked in vain for his essay on Ambition.  There was not even a reference to it.  He was disappointed, but he soon became hopeful again.

“I couldn’t expect it to appear so soon,” he reflected.  “These city weeklies have to be printed some days in advance.  It may appear yet.”

So he was left in suspense another week, hopeful and doubtful by turns of the success of his first offering for the press.  He was rallied from time to time on his silence in the office, but he continued to keep his secret.  If his contribution was slighted, no one should know it but himself.

At last another Saturday morning came around and again he set out for the post-office.  Again he opened the paper with trembling fingers, and eagerly scanned the well-filled columns.  This time his search was rewarded.  There, on the first column of the last page, in all the glory of print, was his treasured essay!