" "Who soars too
near the sun, with golden wings, melts them," says Shakspeare. We all
have upon us golden wings of happiness. Let us not soar near the sun.
"Fling away ambition," mourns old Cardinal Wolsely in Henry VIII; "by
that sin fell the angels; how can man, then, the image of his Maker,
hope to win by it?" "It often puts men upon doing the meanest offices,"
says Swift, "as climbing is performed in the same posture with
creeping." It has been aptly called by Sir William Davenant,
"THE MIND'S IMMODESTY."
Watch this petty man. He is consumed by a desire to be a little higher
than he now is. He is driver on a street car, in a city. Unconsciously,
he is an excellent driver. He has not become so by the silent care which
befits a real climber. No! he was born a horseman. But he was also born
ambitious. If he were private secretary to the President, he would want
to be President, simply because his attention would be more closely
directed to the Chief Magistracy than elsewhere.
BEHOLD HIM INSTALLED AS CONDUCTOR.
He rings the bell incessantly for a milk-wagon to get out of the road.
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