ilip came home from the office at sunset, through the bustling
streets, and climbed up to his perch, he insensibly brought with him
something of the restless energy and strife of the city, and in this
mood the prospect before him took on a certain significance of
great things accomplished, of the highest form of human energy and
achievement; he was a part of this exuberant, abundant life, to succeed
in the struggle seemed easy, and for the moment he possessed what he
saw.

The little room had space enough for a cot bed, a toilet-stand, a couple
of easy-chairs--an easy-chair is the one article of furniture absolutely
necessary to a reflecting student--some well-filled book-shelves, a
small writing-desk, and a tiny closet quite large enough for a wardrobe
which seemed to have no disposition to grow. Except for the books and
the writing-desk, with its heterogeneous manuscripts, unfinished or
rejected, there was not much in the room to indicate the taste of its
occupant, unless you knew that his taste was exhibited rather by what he
excluded from the room than by what it contained. It must be confessed
that, when Philip was alone with his books and his manuscripts, his
imagination did not expand in the directions that would have seemed
profitable to the head of his firm. That life of the town which was
roaring in his ears, that panorama of prosperity spread before him,
related themselves in his mind not so much as incitements to engage
in the quarrels of his profession as something demanding study and
interpretation, something much more human than processes and briefs
and arguments. And it was a dark omen for his success that the world
interested him much more for itself than for what he could make out
of it. Make something to be sure he must--so long as he was only a law
clerk on a meagre salary--and it was this necessity that had much to do
with the production of the manuscripts. It was a joke on Philip in his
club--by-the-way, the half-yearly dues were not far off--that he was
doing splendidly in the law; he already had an extensive practice in
chambers!

The law is said to be a jealous mistress, but literature is a young lady
who likes to be loved for herself alone, and thinks permission to adore
is sufficient reward for her votary. Common-sense told Philip that the
jealous mistress would flout him and land him in failure if he gave
her a half-hearted service; but the other young lady, the Helen of
the professions, wa