he latter part of the last century,
entirely rejected; but of late there appears a tendency to return to the
notion which is consecrated by antiquity. Experience will often correct
modern hypothesis. The term "predisposition" may be objectionable, as
are all terms which pretend to describe the occult operations of
Nature--and at present we have no other.

Our children pass through the same public education, while they are
receiving little or none for their individual dispositions, should they
have sufficient strength of character to indicate any. The great secret
of education is to develope the faculties of the individual; for it may
happen that his real talent may lie hidden and buried under his
education. A profession is usually adventitious, made by chance views,
or by family arrangements. Should a choice be submitted to the youth
himself, he will often mistake slight and transient tastes for permanent
dispositions. A decided character, however, we may often observe, is
repugnant to a particular pursuit, delighting in another; talents,
languid and vacillating in one profession, we might find vigorous and
settled in another; an indifferent lawyer might become an admirable
architect! At present all our human bullion is sent to be melted down
in an university, to come out, as if thrown into a burning mould, a
bright physician, a bright lawyer, a bright divine--in other words, to
adapt themselves for a profession preconcerted by their parents. By this
means we may secure a titular profession for our son, but the true
genius of the avocation in the _bent of the mind_, as a man of great
original powers called it, is too often absent! Instead of finding fit
offices for fit men, we are perpetually discovering, on the stage of
society, actors out of character! Our most popular writer has happily
described this error.

"A laughing philosopher, the Democritus of our day, once compared human
life to a table pierced with a number of holes, each of which has a pin
made exactly to fit it, but which pins being stuck in hastily, and
without selection, chance leads inevitably to the most awkward mistakes.
For how often do we see," the orator pathetically concluded,--"how
often, I say, do we see the round man stuck into the three-cornered
hole!"

In looking over a manuscript life of Tobie Matthews, Archbishop of York
in James the First's reign, I found a curious anecdote of his grace's
disappointment in the dispositions of his sons.