ing when the tide is at the flood: there are false flowings of the tide as well as true ones; and he is a fortunate, as much as he is a wise man, who takes that which will bear him favourably forward.

Unless with a just knowledge of one's own capabilities, and a power of endurance, painful endurance for years, it is always dangerous for any one not advantageously circumstanced to try to rise out of the sphere in which he has chanced to be placed. Rising by anything like a violent exertion is not to be thought of. It is by a course of perseverance, little by little, and by seizing every convenient and proper means of elevation, that the end is ultimately to be attained. How have the greater proportion of distinguished men raised themselves in the world's estimation? By possessing, in the first place, the necessary qualifications; and in the second, by taking advantage of circumstances favourable to their views. After all, however, for one who has attained distinction, perhaps a thousand have failed. It is like the prizes and blanks in a lottery: we hear only of the prizes and their lucky holders, the blanks are judiciously kept out of sight. Another matter is worthy of attending to. Because certain individuals have attained distinction by following a particular course, it will not do for others to attempt precisely the same mode of advancing. Circumstances are daily differing, tastes are changing, society is ever altering its disposition. For want of attention to these points, we have a host of unfortunates -unfortunate soldiers, unfortunate authors, unfortunate lawyers, unfortunate merchants, and so forth, without end. These unfortunates have stumbled as imitators: they had not the wit to be original in their designs, or to be original to a good purpose. Without originality, no great rise is to be expected. Any dull fellow can follow on a path already beaten and commodious; but he who follows must ever be behind.

From what falls under the eye of a common observer, it appears that not a little of the want of success in many of the ordinary departments of occupation is caused by what has already been adverted to an incompetency of judgment, or what may be significantly called force of character. We see men who attain the utmost respect within the limits of their circle as long as they remain in the character of subordinates, having then persons to think for and direct them; but no sooner are they emancipated, no sooner are they thrown upon their own resources, and have to think and act for themselves, than they sink into insignificance. They have made a false move. Their ambition prompted them to be their own masters, but it was without calculating the consequences of the step. Formerly, they were invisibly supported all round by the system of which they formed a part, now they stand aloof from all such aids, and, like the wrecked mariner on the desert island, they are astonished at the solitude which prevails, and the energy which

is required to gather the means of their subsistence. It is evident that such persons have not the force of character to think and act boldly on their own responsibility; and if they consult their own comfort, they will be contented with playing an inferior part in the great drama of existence, leaving the chief characters in the piece to be filled up with those who have the ability and fortitude to act a conspicuous part.

PERSONAL APPEARANCE.

but

Young persons usually form false estimates of the value of personal strength and outward appearance. As they grow up, notions on these points undergo a material change. They discover that a man may be tall, short, bulky, or puny; but it matters not, unless he has to depend on his strength for his daily bread. The standard by which people are measured is not by anything that is seen in outward appearance, but by their skill, their conduct, their behaviour, their private character. Soldiers, footmen, and such-like, who are hired to stand in rows, may perhaps find it advantageous to be a certain height in inches. The soldier who is an inch taller than his companions has the privilege of being put in the front row, and consequently the honour of being shot first; but this is, on the whole, not an object of temptation worthy of your regard. Mere height, then, is of little consequence to people generally; and at anyrate it is not made a standard whereby to judge whether any one is worthy of personal respect. Nearly the same thing may be said of bodily strength. It is useful and convenient, it is agreeable, to be able to execute any labour we may be called on to perform; beyond this, strength is of no rational value. Remember, we say rational value; for by some there is an irrational value placed upon tallness, muscular strength, and even on the ability of jumping, running, and hopping on one leg. You will remark, as you grow up, that skill is always far better remunerated than mere bodily strength-that the artisan who executes an inge nious piece of work receives much higher payment than the man who has muscles of the strongest texture, and whose employment consists in the lifting of large stones, carrying heavy burdens, or any similar labour; and the reason is, that while plenty of men can be got to perform such drudgeries, few are to be obtained who have the skill of the ingenious artisan. While recommending you to study neatness, we would wish to point out the folly of aiming at foppish elegance. Fops are usually weak-minded coxcombs. We have known many instances in which elegance of appearance in men operated seriously against their advancement. There is a general want of confidence in elegant or handsome men, which is to be traced to the number of swindlers and knaves who habitually impose upon people by a specious dashing appearance. Such a feeling, no doubt, also arises from the well-known instability of young men, who seem

to bestow much pains on the cultivation of their animal qualifi cations, while they are to a corresponding degree heedless of their mental endowments. When such individuals are, for instance, observed to study the nourishing of whiskers, the training of curls, the neatness of cut of trousers and boot-straps, the peculiar fashion of a coat, or the handsomeness of their legs, it is reasonably concluded by rational thinkers that they are unfitted for the serious affairs of life, and are therefore set aside in favour of others who show less of the animal, and more of the reflecting being. In losing the countenance of one class of persons, they most likely gain that of another; that other, however, is of a very inferior stamp: it is not a front-rank class: it is an order composed of the servile, the idle, the silly, and the vicious -a class whose flatteries and whose favour are alike insubstantial and injurious. It is only by young men emancipating themselves from this yoke of animalism and frivolity, that they can expect to win the favour of that portion of society, including individuals of both sexes, whose approbation is alone worthy of being prized. Look around you, and observe who are the persons who are most esteemed in public and private life; who are those that are the managers-the front-rank men—of the world; who are those that are in the enjoyment of wealth, rank, and honours. Are they all "fine-looking men?" By no means. Worth is not testified by the turn of a leg or the fashion of a frill. Many of them are plain in features, few of them are tall, some are deformed, some are puny in figure, some are what might be called ugly. And where, then, you may ask, are the handsome men to be found-those splendid lordly animals, each of whom might serve as a model for a statue? We will tell you where they often are, for we have seen them. Too many of them are to be found lounging in the courtyards of jails. Go to the prison of the Court of Queen's Bench, and there, surrounded by dark brick walls fifty feet in height, you will find them "killing time"-playing at ball-playing for a penny or a pot of porter the game. What a pity it is that men of such elegance of limb and feature cannot carry their handsomeness to a better market! But so it is their occupation has been one of great gentilitynamely, smoking cigars, wearing spurs upon their boots, cultivating a mustache, and attending horse-races, while their means of support have consisted in defrauding tradesmen, and in drawing upon the resources of fathers, brothers, uncles-in short, every one they could induce to minister to their vile wants.

If the youths who read this happen to be handsome in person, do not let them presume on such an unimportant, though it be pleasing, qualification. It is a qualification which in all probability will not do them the smallest good when they come to depend upon themselves for support. Rather try to counteract the general bad impression regarding handsome young men by gentle courteous behaviour, along with the manifestation of a

spirit of regular industry. At the same time study to be neat and cleanly, taking such exercise as will conduce to health, and avoiding all approach to slovenliness, for that would be to exceed in a way almost as reprehensible as we have described the reverse to be. On the other hand, if this meet the eye of any boys who are either deformed or plain in appearance, we beg them to understand, that though perhaps scoffed at by their playmates in youth, they need be under no apprehension whatever of receiving insult when they become men, or of being in anyway looked down upon on account of their personal inferiority. If deformed to such an extent as to prevent them earning a livelihood, that is truly a misfortune, and will call forth a lively sympathy in their favour: if simply plain in appearance, they will find that not only not an obstacle to their advancement, but something in their favour, provided their behaviour will stand the test of examination, and their manners be agreeable. Affability is the true passport to favour both in man and woman. If you be affable, you will be liked wherever you go; if a lady be affable, though ever so plain in features, she will gain all hearts, while the merely beautiful or the handsome may fail to make a favourable impression. Affability, therefore, whether in man or woman, along with moral and intellectual worth, ought to be the great object of cultivation. Alexander Pope, an English poet of last century, has pithily said, that 'tis

"Worth makes the man, and want of it the fellow;
The rest is all but leather or prunello."

By which he means, that a man without moral and intellectual worth is a mere animal-a fellow; and that external appearance is as valueless as a piece of leather or worsted stuff, or, as you may hear people say, a toy of gilt gingerbread.

RELIGION.

The last, but not the least subject to which we would draw your attention, is that of religion. Without ostentation, but in all sincerity of heart, be regular in the performance of those religious duties to which parents or clerical advisers may direct your attention; and seeking in all things the blessing of God, without which neither success nor happiness can be expected to be realised.

JAMES WALLACE.-A STORY.*

"How far is it from here to the sun, Jim?" asked Harman Lee of his father's apprentice, James Wallace, in a tone of light rail* We extract the above tale from an American newspaper, in which it purports to be written by T. S. Arthur.

lery, intending by the question to elicit some reply that would exhibit the boy's ignorance.

James Wallace, a boy of fourteen, turned his bright intelligent eyes upon the son of his master, and after regarding him for a moment, he replied, "I don't know, Harman. How far is it?"

There was something so honest and earnest in the tone of the boy, that much as Harman had felt disposed at first to sport with his ignorance, he could not refrain from giving him a true answer. Still, his contempt for the ignorant apprentice was not to be concealed, and he replied, “ Ninety-five millions of miles, you ignoramus!" James did not retort, but repeating over in his mind the distance named, fixed it indelibly upon his

memory.

On the same evening, after he had finished his day's work, he obtained a small text-book on astronomy, which belonged to Harman Lee, and went up into his garret with a candle, and there, alone, attempted to dive into the mysteries of that sublime science. As he read, the earnestness of his attention fixed nearly every fact upon his mind. So intent was he, that he perceived not the flight of time, and was only called back to a consciousness of where he was by the sudden sinking of the wick of his candle into the melted mass of tallow that had filled the cup of his candlestick. In another moment he was in total darkness. The cry of the watchman had told him that the hours had flown, until it was past ten o'clock.

Slowly undressing himself in his dark chamber, his mind recurring with a strong interest to what he had been reading, he lay down upon his hard bed, and gave full play to his thoughts. Hour after hour passed away, but he could not sleep, so absorbed was he in reviewing the new and wonderful things he had read. At last wearied nature gave way, and he fell into a slumber filled with dreams of planets, moons, comets, and fixed stars.

The next morning the apprentice boy resumed his place at the work-bench with a new feeling; and with this feeling was mingled one of regret, that he could not go to school as did his

master's son.

"But I can study at night while he is asleep," he said to himself.

Just then Harman Lee came into the shop, and approaching James, said, for the purpose of teasing him, "How big round is the earth, Jim?"

"Twenty-five thousand miles," was the unhesitating answer. Harman looked surprised for a moment, and then responded, with a sneer-for he was not a kind-hearted boy, but, on the contrary, very selfish, and disposed to injure rather than do good to others "Oh dear! How wonderfully wise you are! And no doubt you can tell how many moons Jupiter has? Come, let's hear."