The “rising generation” are those upon whom the hopes of the world will ere long rest, who are soon to have the reins of government in their own hands, and must play their part in the great drama of life, at a time when its stage affords more ample room for the development of true nobility, richer opportunities for distinguishing a life by action, and of signalizing it by discoveries almost magical—a time, in short, open to greater achievements than any that have been won since this globe was first spun into space. The greater the talent and the wealth of opportunity, so much more are the dangers increased, and the more wily the machinations of the Spirit of Evil. While the “rising generation” adopt as their motto “Excelsior,” and cultivate an inquiring spirit, let it always be an earnest and definite one, not “blown about by every wind of doctrine,” not falling into every quagmire of vain conceit, until the mental eye is so besmeared that it can no longer discern the true zenith. Yet, withal, it is not necessary to tread exclusively in the old paths, as they are somewhat contemptuously styled; there is need and verge enough for pioneering new ones. “Beat the bushes; there is still plenty of game to be raised.” But do not disdainfully discard the experience of those who have gone before. We do not insinuate by this that age and priority combined make an oracle. Yet there are comparatively few men who can not tell something that is worth hearing—communicate some bit of knowledge which may save you the disbursement of some of those high school fees which, as Thomas Carlyle keenly observes, must be paid for experience. It has been iterated and reiterated, that there is no royal road to knowledge. This is true of knowledge, as it is true of any thing that is worth having. And this brings to our recollection a manifestation of spirit displayed by some portions of the “rising generation” to which we have not yet adverted. This is called the non-mercantile idea—a growing dislike to all manual and merely commercial pursuits, and an over-fondness for what are known as the learned, and more especially the literary professions. This desire, we fear, proceeds often from a wish to avoid labor; and, where this is the case, we can assure all such that literature is not the sphere for indolence.