ngs considered."

"Among other things," returned Phil, "I have found out by reading that
there are two kinds of men in the world, the men who push and strive and
strike out new ideas, and the men who jog along easy, on the
let-be-for-let-be principle, and who grow very much like cabbages."

"You're right there, Phil--an' yet cabbages ain't bad vegetables in
their way," remarked Pax, with a contemplative cast of his eyes to the
ceiling.

"Well," continued Phil gravely, "I shouldn't like to be a cabbage."

"W'ich means," said the other, "that you'd rather be one o' the fellows
who push an' strive an strike out noo ideas."

Phil admitted that such were his thoughts and aspirations.

"Now, Pax," he said, laying down the tool with which he had been
working, and looking earnestly into his little friend's face, "something
has been simmering in my mind for a considerable time past."

"You'd better let it out then, Phil, for fear it should bu'st you,"
suggested Pax.

"Come, now, stop chaffing for a little and listen, because I want your
help," said Phil.

There was something in Phil's look and manner when he was in earnest
which effectually quelled the levity of his little admirer. The appeal
to him for aid, also, had a sedative effect. As Phil went on, Pax
became quite as serious as himself. This power of Pax to suddenly
discard levity, and become interested, was indeed one of the qualities
which rendered him powerfully attractive to his friend.

"The fact is," continued Phil, "I have set my heart on forming a
literary association among the telegraph-boys."

"A what?"

"A literary association. That is, an association of those boys among us
who want to read, and study: and discuss, and become knowing and wise."

The daring aspirations suggested by this proposition were too much for
little Pax. He remained silent--open mouthed and eyed--while Phil went
on quietly to expound his plans.

"There is a capital library, as you know, at the Post-Office, which is
free to all of us, though many of us make little use of it--more's the
pity,--so that we don't require a library of our own, though we may come
to that, too, some day, who knows? Sure it wouldn't be the first time
that great things had come out of small beginnings, if all I have read
be true. But it's not only books we would be after. What we want, Pax,
is to be organised--made a body of. When we've got that done we shall
soon put soul into the body,--w