In our experience, covering years of careful investigation and the examination of many thousands of individuals, we have seen so much of the tragedy of the misfit that it seems at times almost universal.  The records of one thousand persons taken at random from our files show that 763, or 76.3 per cent, felt that they were in the wrong vocations.  Of these 414 were thirty-five years old or older.  Most of these, when questioned as to why they had entered upon vocations for which they had so little natural aptitude, stated that they had either drifted along lines of least resistance or had been badly advised by parents, teachers, or employers.

We knew a wealthy father, deaf to all pleas from his children, who spent thousands of dollars upon what he thought was a musical education for his daughter, including several years in Europe.  The young lady could not become a musician.  The aptitude for music was not in her.  But she was unusually talented in mathematics and appreciation of financial values, and could have made a marked success had she been permitted to gratify her constantly reiterated desire for a commercial career.  This same father, with the same obstinacy, insisted that his son go into business.  The young man was so passionately determined to make a career of music that he was a complete failure in business and finally embezzled several thousand dollars from his employer in the hope of making his escape to Europe and securing a musical education.  Here were two human lives of marked talent as completely ruined and wasted as a well-intentioned but ignorant and obstinate parent could accomplish that end.

A few years ago a young man was brought to us by his friends for advice.  He had been educated for the law and then inherited from his father a considerable sum of money.  Having no taste for the law and a repugnance for anything like office work, he had never even attempted to begin practice.  Having nothing to do, he was becoming more and more dissipated, and when we saw him first had lost confidence in himself and was utterly discouraged.  “I am useless in the world,” he told us.  “There is nothing I can do.”  At our suggestion, he was finally encouraged to purchase land and begin the scientific study and practice of horticulture.  The last time we saw him he was erect, ruddy, hard-muscled, and capable looking.  Best of all, his old, petulant, dissatisfied expression was gone.  In its place was the light of worthy achievement, success, and happiness.  He told us there were no finer fruit trees anywhere than his.  Such incidents as this are not rare—­indeed, they are commonplace.  We could recount them from our records in great number.  But every observant reader can supply many from his own experience.