EVERY man has some little defect of character, some easily-besetting
sin that is always overtaking him, unless he be ever on the alert.
My friend, Paul Burgess, was a man of considerable force of mind;
whatever he undertook was carried through with much energy of
purpose. But his leading defect was a tendency to inertia in small
matters. It required an adequate motive to put the machinery of his
mind in operation. Some men never let a day pass without carefully
seeing after every thing, little or great, that ought to be done.
They cannot rest until the day's work is fully completed. But it was
very different with Paul. If the principal business transactions of
the day were rightly performed, he was satisfied to let things of
less consideration lie over until another time. From this cause it
occurred that every few weeks there was an accumulation of things
necessary to be done, so great that their aggregate calls upon his
attention roused him to action, and then every thing was reduced to
order with an energy, promptness, and internal satisfaction that
made him wonder at himself for ever having neglected these minor
interests so long. On these occasions, a firm resolution was always
made never again to let a day come to its close without every thing
being done that the day called for. It usually happened that the
first hour did not pass after the forming of this resolution without
seeing its violation--so strong was the power of habit growing out
of an original defect in the mind.

Every consequence in life is the natural result of some cause, and
upon the character of the cause always depends the nature of the
consequence. An orderly cause never produces a disorderly
consequence, and the converse of this is equally true. Every defect
of character that we have, no matter how small and seemingly