"Bertram--that is our chief reporter--will want you to help him, I suppose. But I'm sure I could do with assistance. You can't learn too much, however, so just try your hand here," and he marked several items in a daily paper referring to happenings in the Midland counties. "Try to rewrite those pars, keeping in all the facts, but only using about one-third of the space in each case. Sit down in that chair there, and perhaps you'll find a pen that suits you among those, though I never can." Henry acquitted himself very well according to Mr. Yardley, and found the latter so considerate in his advice that he immediately conceived a liking for him. After all, Trevor Smith and Edgar Winton were raw youths, but here was a man of thirty-five at least, and there was no "side" about him. He seemed capable and intelligent. Why, then, did he stick in Wheelton? Would Henry only reach a similar post when he was his age? These thoughts came to him as he watched the earnest face of Yardley poring over reporters' copy, "licking it into shape," sucking the while at his briar pipe. Such thoughts are not pleasant, but they must come to every youth who aspires to make a success of life, and they will for a moment damp his enthusiasm, unless he has the perception which tells him that no two men's careers are alike, and that every man carries within himself the qualities that make for success or failure. But Yardley may not have thought himself a failure, and there's the rub. When the editor arrived he showed no overweening interest in Henry, but warmly commended him for the work he had done under the subeditor's eye, and urged him to make the most of his opportunities, without telling him how. Undoubtedly Winton had described the situation accurately to Henry--Mr. Springthorpe's interest ended when he pocketed the premium. Bertram, the chief reporter, proved to be a person with distinct family resemblance to Trevor Smith, and was probably about twenty-eight years of age. He shared the editor's weakness for looking upon the wine when it is red, but always managed to get through the work required of him. Without possessing qualities of the slightest distinction, he had achieved a reputation in various newspaper offices as "a clever fellow if he'd only keep straight." This is, perhaps, not peculiar to journalism, and if we inquire into the characters of many who are reputed to be exceptionally endowed, but imperil their success by unsteady habits, we shall find that in most cases their abilities are below the average of the steady plodder, who is seldom described as clever, simply because the shadow of unsteadiness never falls on his life as a background for the better display of such qualities as he possesses. The fact is, that your "clever fellow if he'd only keep sober" is a very ordinary fellow, whose ever-changing employers are apt to over-estimate his abilities during a decent spell of sobriety. * * * * *