If it is true that "ever since creation shot its first shuttle through
chaos design has marked the course of every golden thread," then every
human being is designed to fill a certain place in life. There are
young women teaching school, getting to be old maids, who should be
the wives of good husbands, and there are some wives who ought to be
old maid "schoolmarms."

We have born architects, born orators, born bookkeepers, born
musicians, born poets, born preachers, born teachers, born surgeons,
born bankers, born blacksmiths, born merchants, born farmers.

Two farmers live side by side; one doesn't seem to work hard, yet
everything is neatness from one end of the farm to the other; his
neighbor works hard, yet the cattle are in his corn, the fences are
broken, gates off the hinges and everything seems out of order. That
man was not made to be a farmer. He should rent out, or sell out, and
go to the legislature, or find some other place he can fill.

Matthew Arnold said: "Better be a Napoleon of book-blacks, or an
Alexander of chimney-sweeps, than an attorney, who, like necessity,
knows no law." There are born shoemakers cobbling in Congress, while
statesmen are pegging away on a shoe-last because their brains have
not been capitalized by education and opportunity. There are born
preachers at work in machine shops, and born mechanics rattling around
in pulpits like a mustard seed in an empty gourd; born surgeons are
carving beef in butcher stalls, while here and there butchers are
operating for appendicitis.

God planted the hardy pine on the hills of New England, and the
magnolia down in the sunny South-land. Let some horticulturist compel
the magnolia to climb the cold hills of New England, and the northern
tree to come down and take its place in the "land of cotton, cinnamon
seed and sandy bottom," and everything in both will protest against
the mistake.

Lowell said: "Every baby boy is born with a calling." With some this
calling is very definite. It was definite with George Stevenson when
in childhood he made engines of mud with sticks for smoke-stacks. It
was definite with Thomas A. Edison, who, instead of selling
newspapers, went to experimenting with acids, and charged a steel
stirrup that lifted him into the electric saddle of the world. With
others it is very indefinite. Patrick Henry failed at everything he
undertook until he began talking, when he soon became the golden
mouthed orator of his age. Pet