ma is
played in all the hotels where head-waiters are employed, in all the
departments of business where head-clerks are needed; in all the great
stores where floor-walkers "strut their brief hour,"--everywhere that
gives an opportunity for little Envy to peep, from

THE RIDICULOUS AMBUSCADE

of some incompetent subordinate, out upon the goings and comings of
unsuspecting Merit. "There is a native baseness," says Simms, "in the
ambition which seeks beyond its desert, that never shows more
conspicuously than when, no matter how, it temporarily gains its
object." So, to me, there has always seemed a real baseness in these
attempts of unfit people, who have only their self-conceit for training
and their cheek for capital. Half our failures in business come from men
attempting something they know nothing about. A printer will open a drug
store, and a country dry goods merchant will start a daily paper in a
city! "Alas!" says Young, "ambition makes my little less."

Once in a while there is born, in every State, a soul which is to be
"like a star and dwell apart." It is to be gifted with qualities of an
exalted character. But it is also to be lashed with the scourge of
ambition. It is to stand, as William Penn said,

"THE TALLEST TREE,

therefore the most in the power of the blasts of fortune." How little
should we desire the dizzy niche in which it seats itself. Our little
heads would swim in the sickness of our unfamiliarity. We would fall.
"Remarkable places," said Madame Necker, "are like the summits of rocks;
eagles and reptiles only can get there." Napoleon, possibly, never had a
true friend in his life. He certainly never deserved one. Each year saw
him surrounded by new associates, whom he meant to sacrifice, if he
could.

UPON THE BLOODY FIELD OF ASPERN AND ESSLING,

he offered up Marshal Lannes. He was forced to stand by that brave dying
man and listen to his awful reproaches. So, again, in the terrible
carnage of Spain at Eylau, at Borodino, Lutzen, Bautzen, Dresden,
Leipsic, Hanau, everywhere, he was compelled to hear the outspoken
protests of the men who had held the ladder for him--to stamp his foot
at the constant declarations of "Dukes," "Princes," and "Kings," that he
was a monster whose thirst demanded only human blood. At last, the whole
world cried out that it had had

"ENOUGH OF BONAPARTE!"

The expression became a war-cry, and the world escaped from the baleful
sceptre under whose sh