A boy who is always making something with tools is railroaded through the university and started on the road to inferiority in one of the "three honorable professions." Real surgeons are handling the meat-saw and cleaver, while butchers are amputating human limbs.

How fortunate that-- "There's a divinity that shapes our ends, _Rough-hew them how we will._" "He that hath a trade," says Franklin, "hath an estate; and he that hath a calling hath a place of profit and honor.

A plowman on his legs is higher than a gentleman on his knees." A man's business does more to make him than anything else.

It hardens his muscles, strengthens his body, quickens his blood, sharpens his mind, corrects his judgment, wakes up his inventive genius, puts his wits to work, starts him on the race of life, arouses his ambition, makes him feel that he is a man and must fill a man's shoes, do a man's work, bear a man's part in life, and show himself a man in that part.
No man feels himself a man who is not doing a man's business.

A man without employment is not a man.