gical and delighted in analytical
investigation. In truth, the law suited the idiosyncrasy of his mind,
and it was most fortunate for his future life, that he adopted it as a
lifetime pursuit. Nature, it seems, gives to every mind a peculiar
proclivity, as to every individual a peculiar mind: to pursue this
proclivity is a pleasure; it makes work a delight, and this secures
success. Hence it is fortunate to learn this peculiarity, and to
cultivate it from the beginning. When the mind is strong and vigorous,
this peculiar proclivity is generally well-marked to the inquiring
observer in very early life.

It is related of Benjamin West, the great painter, that at five years
of age he was continually soiling the floor of his good and sensible
mother with charcoal sketches of the faces of the different members of
the family; and of Napoleon, that in early childhood his favorite
amusement was to build forts and array his playmates into column, and
charge these, and assault and enter them. Stevenson, the great
engineer, spent all his idle time, when a boy, in attempts at
constructing machinery and bridges.

In these great minds this natural trait was so strongly marked, and so
controlling in its influence, as to defy and overleap every obstacle,
and develop its wonderful energy and capacity in the most stupendous
manner. In such as these, this manifestation is early and palpable. Yet
the same peculiarity exists wherever there is mind sufficient to
connect cause and effect; but it is proportionate with the strength of
the mind, and in ordinary or feeble minds it is less conspicuous, and
requires close observation to discern it in early life.

The folly and ambition of parents and adverse circumstances too often
disappoint the intentions of nature, and compel their offspring, or the
victims of circumstance, to follow a pursuit for which they have a
natural aversion, and absolutely no capacity: hence we see thousands
struggling painfully through life in a hated avocation, and witness
many a miserable lawyer whom nature designed to be a happy blacksmith.
His toil of life is always up hill, without the possibility of ever
attaining the summit. Sometimes the rebellion of nature is successful,
and the misdirected will shake off the erroneously imposed vocation,
and dash away in the pursuit for which the mind is capacitated; and
immediate success attests the good sense and propriety of the act.

Fortunately, John M. Dooly, selecte