besides, he was possessed of large investments in the United States. He was a lover of art, an advanced politician and M.P., and, to the last almost, a man of study and thought. In our own day, as much as in earlier times, the same rule applies to City life. The linendrapers, it seems to me, are, as a rule, the most successful. Since fig-leaves went out of fashion, the ladies—God bless them!—have always supported the linendrapers and the silk-mercers. The founder of the great house of Shoolbred & Co., in Tottenham-court Road, was originally educated at the Orphan Working School—then in the City Road, but now at Haverstock Hill. The will of the late Mr. Tarn, whose shop was near the Elephant and Castle, was proved a little while since under a million. He was only about sixty years old when he died, and commenced business some thirty years ago in a little shop, being his own shopman. Mr. Meeking, whose premises in Holborn are a series of palaces, rose, I am told, from very small beginnings. A writer in a newspaper says—“Not long ago I was at a meeting where there were six men, of whom the poorest, who could scarcely write, was worth £100,000; and the richest, who never read a book of information through in his life, was making £50,000 a-year. They had all begun as working-men except one, who is an M.P., and he had commenced life as a shopman, and had made £10,000 a-year. Such are the chances for money-makers in England, where credit is easy. But then money-making is an art—like poetry, a born gift.” So says the writer: I differ from him. A tradesman who lives within his income, and who sells that for which there is a yearly increasing demand, such as beef or shoes, or butter and cheese, however stupid he may be, however dense his ignorance, cannot but prosper. He has only to shut his eyes and open his mouth, and take what Heaven will send him. With trade ability, good health, and frugality, a man cannot help making a fortune. People fail because they want to have their cake and eat it at the same time; because they like to discount their good fortune; because they prefer to enjoy from day to day rather than to accumulate capital; and, lastly, because when they have money, in their eagerness to make more, they go into some rotten company and lose all. Once upon a time I was at a grand party at the house of a West-end swell and M.P. As I left I said to a friend, “How did Mr. — make his money?” “Why,” was the reply, “by borrowing ten shillings.” On the strength of that _recipe_ the writer of this article borrowed twenty; but, alas! the experiment in his case did not answer.