AN Old Politician and a Young Politician were travelling through a

　　beautiful country, by the dusty highway which leads to the City of

　　Prosperous Obscurity. Lured1 by the flowers and the shade and

　　charmed by the songs of birds which invited to woodland paths and

　　green fields, his imagination fired by glimpses of golden domes2 and

　　glittering palaces in the distance on either hand, the Young

　　Politician said:

　　"Let us, I beseech3 thee, turn aside from this comfortless road

　　leading, thou knowest whither, but not I. Let us turn our backs

　　upon duty and abandon ourselves to the delights and advantages

　　which beckon4 from every grove5 and call to us from every shining

　　hill. Let us, if so thou wilt6, follow this beautiful path, which,

　　as thou seest, hath a guide-board saying, 'Turn in here all ye who

　　seek the Palace of Political Distinction.'"

　　"It is a beautiful path, my son," said the Old Politician, without

　　either slackening his pace or turning his head, "and it leadeth

　　among pleasant scenes. But the search for the Palace of Political

　　Distinction is beset7 with one mighty8 peril9."

　　"What is that?" said the Young Politician.

　　"The peril of finding it," the Old Politician replied, pushing on.