hat diligence is the
mother of good luck; in other words, that a man's success in life will
be proportionate to his efforts, to his industry, to his attention to
small things. Your negligent, shiftless, loose fellows never meet with
luck; because the results of industry are denied to those who will not
use the proper efforts to secure them.

It is not luck, but labour, that makes men. Luck, says an American
writer, is ever waiting for something to turn up; Labour, with keen eye
and strong will, always turns up something. Luck lies in bed and wishes
the postman would bring him news of a legacy; Labour turns out at six,
and with busy pen or ringing hammer lays the foundation of a competence.
Luck whines; Labour whistles. Luck relies on chance; Labour on
character. Luck slips downwards to self-indulgence; Labour strides
upward, and aspires to independence.

There are many little things in the household, attention to which is
indispensable to health and happiness. Cleanliness consists in attention
to a number of apparent trifles--the scrubbing of a floor, the dusting
of a chair, the cleansing of a teacup,--but the general result of the
whole is an atmosphere of moral and physical well-being,--a condition
favourable to the highest growth of human character. The kind of air
which circulates in a house may seem a small matter,--for we cannot see
the air, and few people know anything about it. Yet if we do not provide
a regular supply of pure air within our houses, we shall inevitably
suffer for our neglect. A few specks of dirt may seem neither here nor
there, and a closed door or window would appear to make little
difference; but it may make the difference of a life destroyed by fever;
and therefore the little dirt and the little bad air are really very
serious matters. The whole of the household regulations are, taken by
themselves, trifles--but trifles tending to an important result.

A pin is a very little thing in an article of dress, but the way in
which it is put into the dress often reveals to you the character of the
wearer. A shrewd fellow was once looking out for a wife, and was on a
visit to a family of daughters with this object. The fair one, of whom
he was partially enamoured, one day entered the room in which he was
seated with her dress partially unpinned, and her hair untidy: he never
went back. You may say, such a fellow was "not worth a pin;" but he was
really a shrewd fellow, and afterwards made a good h