The Debaters

　　A DISHONEST Gain was driving in its luxurious1 carriage through its

　　private park, when it saw something which frantically2 and

　　repeatedly ran against a stone wall, endeavouring to butt3 out its

　　brains.

　　"Hold! Hold! thou desperate Object," cried the Dishonest Gain;

　　"these beautiful private grounds are no place for such work as

　　thine."

　　"True," said the Object, pausing; "I have other and better grounds

　　for it."

　　"Then thou art a happy man," said the Dishonest Gain, "and thy

　　bleeding head is but mere4 dissembling. Who art thou, great actor?"

　　"I am known," said the Object, dashing itself again at the wall,

　　"as the Consciousness of Duty Well Performed."