Edison finally reached the stage where he blessed work and was blessed by it; and to-day, when crowding close to four-score-and-ten, "Work is worship" with him, and none need expect his approbation who trains the clock eye, while measuring commensurate labor with sand that has run. Bogy, struck with an instinctive distaste for buckling to and blocking out results agreeably with his bulking gifts, and periodically by an engulfing wave of wanderlust, wouldn't plant himself and take root. He could both "send" and "receive" faster than any man on earth. He was the best of fellows when "lush"; but he couldn't control either the soles of his feet, or the feet of his brain. Therefore 'twas Bogy in America in April, Canada in July, England in October, and Australia in December. Bogy, the personification of the aimless, senseless globe-trotter. Bogy, distributing his precious belongings in bits about the globe. Bogy, sensing not the least of responsibility unto himself, to man or his Maker, to properly express princely attributes. Bogy, lighting like the butterfly here for a sip, there for a sip, then making tangentially for other fields and cheap sweets. Writing the author about Bogy, Edison related: "I heard a funny one about Bogy: One day he walked into the New York Produce exchange, and going to the W. U. booth asked the loan of a dollar from the operator. Bogy said, 'I am Bogy; have you never heard of me?' The operator said 'No.' 'Well,' says Bogy, 'you must be a helluvanoperator.'" The last time the writer saw Bogy, he was down-and-out, unblushingly "hitting" his home friends for petty largesse, the bulk of which went for lager beer--his arch enemy. Just why did beer poison Bogy's life? Because it nailed him to environment that insidiously sapped his manhood, along with his mental and manual skill. He shuffled from the subscriber for the last time a nerve-shattered derelict. He had chosen one of scores of pikes over which young men travel at a pace that kills pride in worthy work. It wasn't in Bogy to take the final leap into a life of crime, He was bigger than that at his littlest. Besides, he lacked nerve to accept the gambler's chance at the game of predation. Further, his old friends couldn't say one nay whose purse was open to all when, as he put it, he was "in luck." But Bogies there are, thousands of them, who, given but an added dash of degenerate deviltry, are drawn as naturally to criminal shoals as needle to magnet; shoals, many of which break from a treacherous undertow, many more of which cannot be charted so as to arrest the serious attention of up-coming lads, and some of which none can hope to avoid entirely, save by the help of Him Who alone can fend all of the thrusts of temptation.