eing
born to be journeymen, and others to be master-workmen," replied the
friend of Johnson, "for I am very well aware that the gifts of all
are different; and that some men are so peculiarly constituted, that
they would not succeed if they were to set up business for
themselves. But the want of a business capacity, or inclination, is
no reason at all why a journeyman mechanic should not save every
cent he can."

"What good will it do him? He is bound to be a poor worker all his
life, and why should he deny himself the few comforts he has as he
goes along, in order to lay by a hundred or two dollars?"

"I am surprised to hear you ask such a question, Johnson. But I will
answer it by saying, that he should do it for the very reason that I
save my money; that is, to enable him to educate his children well,
to lighten his own and his wife's toil, when they grow older, and to
be able to obtain for his family more of the comforts of life than
they now enjoy."

"Don't exactly see how all this is to be achieved. Suppose he get
together as much as five hundred dollars; and instead of risking it
in business, he send his children to some expensive schools, hire
help for his wife, and take some comfort as he goes along; how long
do you suppose his five hundred dollars will last? But two years,
and then he must come down again and be ten times as unhappy, for it
is a much easier matter to get up than to go down."

"Pardon me, Johnson," replied his friend, "but I must say you are a
very short-sighted mortal. If you can't imagine any better mode of
using your five hundred dollars after you have saved it, I don't
blame you for not caring about making the attempt to do so. But I
can tell you a better way."

"Well, let us hear it."

"With your five hundred dollars, after you had saved it, you could
buy yourself a snug little cottage, with an acre of ground around
it. How much rent do you pay now?"

"Seventy-five dollars a year."

"Of course this would be saved after that, which, added to what you
were already saving, would make a hundred and fifty dollars a year.
Take fifty of that to buy yourself a cow, some pigs, and chickens,
and to get lumber for your pig-sty, hen-house and shed for your cow
in winter, and you would still have a hundred dollars left, the
first year, to go into the Savings' Bank. Your garden, which you
could work yourself by rising an hour or two earlier in the morning;
your cow, your chickens and your pi