'SELF-DENIAL.-Perhaps among all the qualifications which, in a combined form, lead to fortune, none is more absolutely indispensable than this. A man may have talent, may have application, both in abundance; but if he cannot resist vulgar temptations, all is in vain. The Scotch, as a nation, are characterised immensely by self-denial, and it is the main ground of their prosperity both at home and abroad. It is one of the noblest of the virtues, if not, indeed, the sole virtue which creates all the rest. If we are obliged at every moment to abandon some sacred principle in order to gratify a paltry appetite; if the extensive future is perpetually to be sacrificed for the sake of the momentary present; if we are to lead a life of Esau-like bargains from the first to the last-then we are totally unfit for any purpose above the meanest. Self-indulgence makes brutes out of gods: selfdenial is the tangent line by which human nature trenches upon the divine. Now, self-indulgence is not inherent except in very few natures; it is almost invariably the result of "evil communications" in youth, and generally becomes a mere use or habit. The most of error arises from the contagion of example. A youth at first debauches himself because he sees others do it; he feels, all the time, as if he were sacrificing merely to the glory of bravado; and there is far more of martyrdom in it than is generally supposed. But though a person at first smokes in order to shew how much disgust he can endure, he soon comes to have a real liking for tobacco. And thus, for the paltriest indulgences, which only are so from vicious habit, and perhaps, after all, involve as much dissatisfaction as pleasure, we daily see the most glorious and ennobling objects cast, as it were, into hell-fire.

'We are by no means hostile to all amusement. The mass of men require a certain quantity of amusement almost as regularly as their daily food. But amusement may be noxious or innocent, moderate or immoderate. The amusements which can be enjoyed in the domestic circle, or without company at

all, are the safest; there is great danger in all which require an association of individuals to carry them into effect. Upon the whole, a multitude of bosom-friends is the most pernicious evil that ever besets a man in the world. Each becomes a slave to the depraved appetites of the rest, and is at last ulcerated all over with their various evil practices. At the very best, he is retarded to the general pace, and never finds it possible to get a single vantage hour, in order to steal a march upon his kind.

'HONOURABLE INTENTIONS are also indispensably necessary. The reverse is simply want of sense and understanding; for it is obvious to every one who has seen the least of human life, that infinitely more is lost in reputation and means and opportunities of well-doing, by an attempt to gain an undue advantage, than what can in general cases be gained. If we had to live only for a short time certain, trickery might be the most expedient course, so far as this world is concerned; but if a man contemplates a life above a single twelvemonth, he will endeavour, by the guarded correctness of his actions, to acquire the good character which tends so much to eventual prosperity. The dishonest man, in one sense, may be termed the most monstrous of all self-flatterers: he thinks he can cheat the whole of the remaining part of mankind-which certainly is no trifling compliment. He soon finds, however, that he was seen through all the time by those whom he thought mere children, and his blindness and silly arrogance receive their deserved punishment. Even where the depravity may be of a very slight kind, it is alike in vain. In ordinary transactions, the one party deals with the other exactly according to his character; if the one be in general disposed to overreach, the other is just proportionably on his guard; so that there is no result but trouble, and a bad name. One thing should be strongly impressed upon such persons: they are far more generally understood and watched than they are aware of; for the world,

so long as it can simply take care of itself without much difficulty, is not disposed to adopt the dangerous task of a monitor. The police-officer knows of many rogues whom he passes every day on the street; he never lays hold of any, unless for some particular offence.

'Such are the principal qualities necessary for advancement in life, though any one of them, without much or any of the other, will, if not counteracted by negative properties, be sure to command a certain degree of success. He who is about to start in the race would do well to ponder upon the difficulties he has to encounter, and make up a manful resolution to meet them with a full exertion of all his powers. To revert to the general question-what is it that enables one man to get in advance of his fellows? The answer is obvious-it can only be his doing more than the generality of them, or his enduring more privation than they are generally inclined to do [that is, selfdenial], in order that he may acquire increased power of doing. The fault of most unsuccessful persons is their want of an adequate idea of what is to be done, and what is to be endured. They enter business as into a game or a sport, and they are surprised, after a time, to find that there is a principle in the affair they never before took into account-namely, the tremendous competition of other men. Without being able to do and suffer as much as the best men of business, the first place is not to be gained; without being able to do and suffer as much as the second order of men of business, the second place is not to be gained; and so on. New candidates should therefore endeavour to make an estimate of the duties necessary for attaining a certain point, and not permit themselves to be thrown out in the race for want of a proper performance of those duties. They should either be pretty certain of possessing the requisite powers of exertion and endurance, or aim at a lower point, to which their powers may seem certainly adequate.'

CHOICE OF A PROFESSION.

YOUTH is governed in the choice of a profession by various circumstances: his mental and bodily capacity and education; the aid he may reckon on from relatives or friends; his inclinations and desires; his social position-all less or more controlling his destiny. In many cases, the choice is made from very fanciful considerations, as well as particular necessities, and we consequently find men placed in situations not altogether warranted by the nature of their mind or feelings-surgeons who would much prefer to be merchants; sailors who deeply regret ever having gone to sea; lawyers who would have made good soldiers; officers in the army, whom nature designed to be horse-dealers; and clergymen who, not possessing any ardour or genius, are mere drones in a profession which demands an enlarged intellect along with high moral qualities.

Laying aside personal qualifications, the choice of a profession chiefly depends on the expectation of employment, and that again is influenced by the general condition and wants of society. In a country naturally rich and productive, with a small population, eager for improvement, the opportunities of advantageous employment in certain lines of industry are without limit; nor in such a country is a high degree of cleverness so indispensable for insuring success, as where the competition is excessive. Young men, therefore, who would probably be successful in North America, fail in Great Britain, where moderate abilities are placed at a great disadvantage unless fortified by persevering industry, economy, and a disposition to endure hardships over a

course of years; or, indeed, unless the absence of these virtues is compensated by overwhelming patronage or some other kind of good-fortune.

Were the choice of a profession to depend entirely on the means of earning a livelihood, we could have little difficulty in coming to a decisive conclusion. The selection in a large number of cases, however, is thought to hang on considerations of honour and social distinction; and so far the subject is involved in complications with which no general counsellor can properly deal. All that here can be done, is to offer a few familiar explanations, which may not be without some practical utility.

Labour is the foundation of every social structure. All labour-some by the intellect, some by the hands, some by a union of both. Intellectual labour, as demanding the highest qualifications, is considered to be the most honourable; while the humblest kind of labour of all consists in mere muscular exertion, conducted under the orders of a superior. The degrees of honour, as well as of remuneration for intellectual labour, are given on no intelligible principle. The whole thing is arbitrary, according to certain traditional usages and prejudices, and also casual circumstances, on which no one can properly reckon, The three learned professions, as they are called, are the church, law, and medicine. These require a liberal university education, besides years of patient study, not to speak of natural talent. The followers of these professions respectively assume a high social status-are professionally gentlemen. Yet some other professions, with less social distinction, require fully as good an education, and quite as much, if not more, intellectual capacity. We here allude to civil and military engineers, teachers of the higher branches of learning, and authors of works of research and erudition. The tendency of the present age is to elevate persons following these and some other professions, and relatively to lower those belonging to the old privileged orders. The reason for this is obvious. Money is