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 NYPL RESEARCH LIBRARIES

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HOW TO BE A MAN:

BOOK FOR BOYS,

S
CONTAINING USEFUL HINTS ON THB
FORMATION OP CHARACTER

HARVE1 NEWCOMB,
AUTHOR OF THE "YOUI»b LADY'S SUIDE," ETO

FIFTEENTH EDITJ[Oj>» , ". ; ,'

— ' > • "* * •

BOSTON: / \/S-
GOULD AND LINdOfJ^K.
NEW YORK'S SHELDON, BLAKBMAN i-CO. .
CINCINNATI : GEO. S. BLANCHARD.

1856.
F.T.t,
 rv
914950
ASTOn, LBNOT AND
TiLDEM FOUNDATIONS
K 1920 L

Entered ai cording to Act of Congress, in the year 1846, bj

Gould, Kendall, and Lincoln,
la the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the District ol
Massachusetts.

STEREOTYPED AT THE
■PITj>y 'STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY.
 PREFACE.

" WHO reads a preface ? " Many do not ,

•but jump at once into the middle of a
bock But it is well to know something
about a book, before reading it; and who
so likely to give you information respecting
the contents of a book as the Author him
self? I wish to see the youth of my
country come forward upon the stage of
life, models of excellence, with characters
formed for the times in which they are to
act. How much influence my book may
have, in securing such a result, I cannot
tell ; but my design in writing it has been,
to contribute something toward forming
the character of some of those who are to
>
our in lute electors, legislators, governors,
•a
.aw
.1
4 PREFACE.

judges, ministers, lawyers, and physicians,

— after the best model ; and, from the kind
reception of my former attempts to benefit
American youth, 1 trust they will give a
candid hearing to the few hints contained
in the following pages. It is intended for
boys, — or, if you please, for young gentle
men, — in early youth, from eight or ten to
fifteen or sixteen years of age. It covers
substantially the same ground occupied by
a work for girls issued simultaneously with
it j and some of the chapters are identical
in the two books, while others are entirely
different, and some partially so. It is the
hope of the Author, that every one who
reads it, will strive to be a man, in the
highest sense of the term.

Januart, 1847
 CONTENTS.

I. On Childhood and Youth". 7

II Nature akd Objects of Education 13
III. Piety, as the Spring of Action and
Regulator of the Soul 17
IV. FilialPiett 24
V. Treatment of Brothers and Sisters
AND OTHERS IN THE FAMILY 37
VI. Behavior at School 45
VII. Behavior at Table 51
VIII. Behavior at Family Worship 56
IX. Private Prayer 59
X. Keeping the Sabbath 64
XI. Habits 83
XII. Education of the Body 100
XIII. On useful Labor 109
XIV. Education of the Heart 121
XV. Education of the Mind 145
XVI. Reading 155
XVII. Writing 161
1* »
O CONTENTS.

XVIII. IBDOLINCE 165

XIX ON DO NO ONE THING AT A TIME 163
XX. ON FINISHING WHAT IS BEGUN 170

XXI. CHOICE OF*SOCIETY AND FORMATION OF

FRIENDSHIPS 172
XXII. BAD COMPANY AND MISCHIEVOUSNESS.. 176
XXIII. Oir AMUSEMENTS 181
XXIV. GOVERNMENT OF THE TONGUE 192
XXV. ON THE ART OF AGREEABLE AND PROF
ITABLE CONVERSATION 198
XXVI. [Link] 206
XXVII. ON THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING ABLE TO
s AY No « 20&
XXVIII. On BEING USEFUL 212
XXIX ON REING CONTENTED , 216
XXX UNION OF SERIOUS PIETY WITH HARIT
UAL CHEERFULNESS 220
 HOW TO BE A MAN.

CHAPTER I.
ON CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH.

IN one sense, very young persons are apt to

think too much of themselves — in another, not
enough. When they think they know more than
their parents and teachers, or other elderly peo
ple, and so set up to be bold and smart, then they
think too much of themselves. It used to be
said, when I was a boy, that "Young folks think
old folks are fools ; but old folks know young
folks are fools." Although I would be very far
indeed from calling you fools, because you have
already acquired much knowledge, and hare the
capacity for acquiring much more, yet, with ref
erence to such knowledge as is acquired by ex
perience, and in comparison with what there is
to be known, there is " more truth than poetry,"
8 TIIK (iREAT ELM.

in the old adage. Bu , when young people sup-

pose it is of no consequence what they do, or
how they -behave, because they arc young, then
they do not think enough of themselves. Should
you sec a man riding with a little stick for a
whip, you would not think his stick worth your
notice at all ; but the biggest tree that ever I
.saw grew from a little willow stick that a man
rode home with, and then planted in his garden.
You have sat under the beautiful shade of a
great elm-tree; and when you have looked upon >
its tall, majestic trunk, and its great and strong
branches, with their ten thousand little limbs
waving gracefully before the wind, you have
been filled with admiration and delight. "What
a mighty tree ! " you say; " I wonder how long it
has been growing." But the seed of that tree,
when it was planted, ;nany years ago, was nc
bigger than a mustard-seed; and if you had seen
the little tiny sprout that your grandfather was
tying up with so much care, when it was a few
years old, you would have wondered that a man
should think so much of such an insignificant
twig. But, if he had let it grow up as it began,
without any care, it never would have been the
stately tree it is now. That was the most im
portant period in its life, when it was a little, twig
 LITTLE [Link]. 9

It began to lean over, and grow crooked and

ugly. If it had not been trained up then, it
would have continued to grow worse and worse ;
and, after it had grown to be a tree, it 'could not
have been straightened at all. Now, you are, in
some respects, like this little twig. You, too,
have just begun to be ; and now your character
is pliable, like the young tree. But, unlike it
your being is to have no end. Instead of grow
ing a few hundred years, like a great tree, you
are to live forever. And every thing that you
do now must have an influence in forming your
character for your whole being. In this latter
sense, you cannot think too much of yourself;
for you are the germ of an immortal being.
Did you ever stand by the shore of a placid
lake or pond, in a calm, sunny day, and throw a
little stone into its smooth, silvery waters? Did
you observe how, first, a little ripple was formed
around the place where it struck, and this was
followed by a wave, and then, beyond, another,
and another, till the whole surface of the water
was disturbed? It was a very little thing that
you did; and yet it agitated a great body of
water. So it is with childhood and youth ; ;he
most insignificant action you perform, in its in
fluence upon your character, will reach through
the whole period of your existence.
10 MANLINESS.

It will not do for you to say, " It is no matter

how I behave now ; I shall do differently when I
am a man." " But would you have a little boy
act like a man?" Not exactly. I would not
have him affect the man, and appear as though
he thought himself a full-grown gentleman. I
would not have him imitate the toad, which
undertook to swell to the size of an ox, and in
the operation burst open. But, I would have
him manly in his childishness. I would have
him courageous, to meet difficulties, noble and
generous in his feelings and actions, and cour
teous in his manners, always, in all companies,
and in all places, behaving in a manner be
coming a person of his age. A well-bred boy,
who knows what is becoming and proper, and
carries it out in his behavior, is already a gentle
man. But the mischievous, rude, unmannerly
lad, who pays no regard to propriety of conduct,
will never be a gentleman. And a boy who has
the courage to face difficulties, and the energy
and perseverance to accomplish what he under
takes, is already a man; while the indolent,
cowardly, " I can't " boy, will never be a man. It
is my desire, in this book, to lead .you to the for
mation of a solid, energetic, manly character,
combined with true gentility of manners; and
then you will be both a man and a gentleman.
 THE FAIRY WORLD. 11

Very young persons sometimes live in an ideal

world What they imagine in their plays seems
real. They have a little fairy world in their
minds, in which they live more, and take greater
delight, than they do in what is real and true-
To this I do not object, within certain bounds;
but often it becomes a passion, so that they lose
all relish for sober, every-day life. For such
creatures of fancy real life is too dull, and what
concerns realities, too grave. Perhaps they will
not like my book, because it treats of things true
and real. But I beg them to consider that,
through the whole of their being, they are to be
concerned chiefly with realities ; and therefore,
to do them substantial good, we must speak to
them of things real, an,d not of those airy things
that belong to the fairy land. But real things
are, truly, more interesting than the creations of
fancy. The things of fancy interest you more
only because they appear new and less common,
A person who has always lived in the country,
and is used to sitting under the wide-spreading,
shady tree, would be more pleased with the pic
ture of a tree than with a tree itself. But one
brought up in the city would cast away the pic
ture, and hasten to enjoy the cool shade of the
beautiful tree. A castle in the air may please
the fancy ; but you want a real house to live in
 12

CHAPTER II.

NATURE AND OBJECTS OF EDUCATION.

PERHAPS some of my readers, when they see

the title of this chapter, will think only of con
finement in school, of books, and of hard study,
and so be inclined to pass over it, as a dry sub
ject, which they have so much to do with, every
day, that they have no wish to think of it in a
moment of relaxation. But I beg them to stop a
minute, and not throw me away, among the old
school-books, till they have heard me through.
I assure them that I use the term education in a
far different sense. I think it means much more
than going to school and studying books. This
is only a small part of education. Mr. Walker
defines education, "The formation of manners
in youth." But this is a very imperfect defini
tion ; and I am afraid there may be found some
who would even doubt whether education has
any thing to do with manners. Mr.. Webster
;»ives a better definition : — "Education compre-
nends all that series of instruction and discipline
is intended to enlighten the understand"
 FORMA r'lCN OF CHARACTER. 13

ing, correct the temper, and form the manners

and habits of youth, and fit them for usefulness
m their future stations ; " — all, in fact, that is
necessary to make a man or a woman — a gentle
man or a lady.
The original root, from which the word edu.-
cation is derived, means to lead out, to conduct,
to form, to fashion, to beat out, to forge. It
was used with reference to the forging of an in
strument out of a piece of metal, or the chisel
ling of a statue out of a block of marble. This
furnishes a good illustration of my ideas of edu
cation. It is a process by which a character is
formed out of rude or unwrought materials. It
is not confined to mere school learning. A per
son may be very learned, and yet not half edu
cated. There are many steps in the process.
The ore must first be dug up by the miner;
then smelted at the furnace, and the metal sepa
rated from the dross ; then wrought into bars at
the foundry; afterwards forged by the smith;
and then, finally, polished by the finisher. The
marble must first be quarried, or blasted out of
the ledge; then cut into blocks; then trans
ported ; then wrought with the hammer and chis
el ; and finally, polished. This gives a good
idea of education. It is not merely what is done
to form the character in school; but it comprises
14 FORMATION OF CHARACTER-

al. the Influences which are exerted upon the

young, in training tuem up and forming their
characters. Education begins in the family. It
is carried forward in the school. It is affected,
for good or for evil, by the influence of public
worship, lectures, books, amusements, scenery,
companions, &e. In all places and circum
stances, something is doing towards the form
ation of character.
Yet there is one important respect in which
education, or fhc formation of charaeter, differs
essentially from the process described in this
illustration. The block of marble, or the piece
of metal, is passive ; the whole process is per
formed upon it by another. But no person can
be educated in this way ; every one that is
educated must be active. You may be drilled
through all the schools, and have every advan
tage at home and in society ; and yet, without
your own active cooperation, you can never be
educated. But, if you are determined to be edu
cated, you will turn every thing to some account.
Every thing will be a school to you ; for you will
wake contributions to your stock of knowledge
from every object you see ; and by seeking to
act discreetly, wisely, and correctly, in every
place, you will be constantly forming good
habits. Like the little busy bee, you will suck
 SELF-EDUCATION. 15

honey from e*ery flower. You will commune

with your own heart upon your bed, and exercise
your powers of thought in useful meditation.
You will converse with God in your secret place,
and seek wisdom of Him who has promised to
give liberally to those that ask. In company,
you will be more ready to hear than to speak ;
and you will never meet with any so ignorant
but you may learn from them some useful les
sons. You will exercise your mind upon every
person and object you meet. You will study
philosophy in the fields, by the brooks, on the
hills, in the valleys, and upon the broad canopy
of heaven. It has been well observed, that the
difference between a wise man and a fool is, that
one goes through the world with his eyes wide
open, while the other keeps them shut.
You will perceive, then, that your education
is continually going on, whetier you think of it
or not. Your character is constantly forming.
It is your business to keep out of the way of bad
influences, and submit yourself to the moulding
of the good. Keep in mind the great truth that
you are forming a character for eternity. Some
years ago, there were found on the banks of the
Mississippi River the tracks of a human being,
deeply imprinted in the solid rock. These
tracks were made in the soft clay, which in time
 V
16 FOOT PRINTS.

became hardened, and formed into stone; — now

the impression is immovable. You now re
semble this soft clay. Every thing with which
vou come in contact makes an impression. But,
as you grow older, your character acquires solid
ity, and is less and less affected by these influ
ences, till at length it will be like the hard stone,
and the impressions made upon you at this sea
son will become confirmed habits.
All the impressions made upon your character
ought to be such as will not need to be removed.
Washington Allston, the great painter, had been
a long time at work on a most magnificent paint
ing. He had nearly completed it, when his keen
eye discovered some defects in a portion of the
piece. He hastily drew his rough brush over
that portion of the picture, intending to paint it
anew. But in the midst of his plans, death seized
him, and his painting remains, just as he left it
No other person can carry out the conception
that was in his mind. If you allow wrong im
pressions to be made upon your forming charac
ter, death may meet you with his stern mandate,
and fix them forever, as immovable as it left the
rough print of the coarse brush upon Allston's
canvass.
 CHAPTER III.

PIETY, AS THE SPRING OP ACTION, AND REGU

LATOR OF THE SOUL.

A WATCH, to one who had never seen such a

piece of mechanism before, would be a great
wonder. It is an object of much curiosity to the
natives of savage and barbarous tribes, visited
by the missionaries. It seems to speak and
move, as though instinct with life. I have read,
somewhere, of a poor savage, who, seeing a
white man's watch lying on the ground, and
hearing it tick, supposed it to be some venomous
reptile, and, with a stone, dashed it in pieces. A
watch is an object of no less wonder to a child.
Children are full of curiosity, as my readers well
know. They wish to examine every thing they
eee — to take it in pieces, and see how it is
made I dare say my readers remember the
time when they sat on their father's knee, and
modestly requested him to show them the little
wheels of his watch.
If I could sit down with my young friends,
and take my watch in pieces, I would teach them
2*
18 THE WATCH.

a useful lessen, I would show them how a

watch resembles a human being. There is the
case, which may be taken off, and put by itself
and still the watch will go as well as ever. In
this respect, it is like the human body. Death
separates it from the soul, and yet the soul re
mains, with all its active powers. It still lives.
The inside of the watch, too, resembles the soul.
It has a great many different parts, all working
together in harmony — a great many wheels, all
moving in concert. So the soul has a great
many different powers or faculties, all designed
to operate in concert with each other, as the
understanding, the judgment, the conscience, the
will, the affections, the memory, the- passions,
desires, &e. ; and each one of these has a
part to act, as important for the man as the
several wheels and springs of the watch. If
every part of the watch is in order, and in its
proper place, it will keep exact time; but, if one
wheel gets disordered, it will derange the whole.
The secret power that moves the watch is un-
perceived. If you examine, you will see a large
wheel, with a smooth surface, round which is
wound a long chain, attached to another wheel,
with ridges for the chain to run upon. Inside
of the first-named wheel is the main-spring,
which, by means of the chain, moves the whole
 THE BALANCE-WHEEL. 19
machinery. The WILL is the main-spring of
the soul. By a mysterious, invisible chain, it
[Link] all the powers of the soul and body at its
command. No only the operations of the mind,
but the motions of the body are controlled by
the wil..
But, if there were no check upon the main
spring of the watch, it would not give the time
of day. It would set all the wheels in rapid mo
tion, and in a few moments the watch would
run down. To prevent this, there is a balance-
wheel, which turns backwards and forwards, by
means of a fine spring, called the hair-spring,
and so keeps the whole machinery in a regular
motion. To this is attached a little lever, called
the regulator, which, by a gentle touch, works
on this delicate spring, so as to move the balance-
wheel faster or slower, as the case may be, to
make the movement exact and regular.
Now, if there were no checks on the will, it
would run on impetuously in its course, without
regard to consequences. And this we often see
in persons called wilful, self-willed, headstrong.
Children are often so ; if let alone, their stub-
oorn will would lead them to rush on headlong to
their own destruction. Without meaning to be
very accurate in these illustrations, I shall
cal' judgment the balance-wheel. Tfcis is the
'.JO 1KB REGULATOR.

faculty which perceives, compares, and decides,

keeps the mind balanced, and prevents its run
ning to extremes either way.
The hair-spring and regulator of the watch
I shall compare with conscience. A very slight
touch of the regulator moves the hair-spring, arid
gives a quicker or a slower motion to the balance-
wheel. But, if the watch is out of order, often
times the movement of the regulator has no effect
upon it. So, when the soul is in order, a very
slight touch of conscience will affect the judg
ment and regulate the will. But often, the soul
is so much out oforder, that conscience will have
no effect upon it.
But who touches the regulator of the watch 1
There is nothing in the watch itself to do this.
The power that moves the regulator is applied to
it. So, the conscience is moved. The Word of
God enlightens the conscience, and the Spirit of
God applies the word. And this brings me to
the point which I had in my mind when I began
this chapter. What a poor thing a watch is,
when it is out of order. It is of no use. A
watch is made to keep the time of day ; but,
when it is out of order, it will keep no time.
Or, if it is in order, and yet not regulated, it
will not keep the right time.
Now until the heart is changed by tie grace
 THE SPRING OF ACTION. 21

of God, -"the soul is out of order. It does not

answer the purpose for which it was made. The
will is wrong ; the judgment is wrong ; the con
science is wrong. And, whatever cultivation
may be bestowed upon the mind, it will not act
aright. In the very beginning, then, you want
piety, as the main-spring of action, and the reg
ulator of the soul. Without this, you are not
prepared to begin any thing aright. * Indeed,
without it, you have no sufficient motive to
action. You seem to be toiling and laboring
and wearying yourself for nothing. But piety
'awards God gives a new impulse to the mind.
When you set out to improve your mind, if you
have no piety, the object to be gained by it is
very small. It can secure to you no more than,
perhaps, a little additional enjoyment, for the
brief space you are to continue in this world.
But piety opens to you a wide field of useful
ness in this life, and the prospect of going for
ward in the improvement of your mind as long
as eternity endures. It must, therefore, give a
new spring and vigor to all the faculties of the
eoul. It does more. It regulates the powers
of the mind, and the affections of the heart, and
gives a right direction to them all.
I would persuade you, then as the first and
great thing, to seek God. Remember what
22 THE FOUNDATION OF CHARACTER.

Christ has said, — " Seek ye first the kingdom o

God and his righteousness, and all these things
shall be added unto you." Here is the prom se
that you shall have all else that is needful, if
you seek God first. Yield your heart to him,
and have his kingdom set up there. Let him
rule in your heart, and devote yourself to his
service, and he will supply all your need. This,
also, will give a right direction to all your facul
ties, and lay a good foundation of character.
But, without it, you will be like a watch without
a balance-wheel or a regulator ; you will be fit
neither for this life nor that which is to come.
And, it is of the utmost importance that you
should become pious now, while you are young.
If you would form a good character, you must
have a good foundation laid at the beginning.
Nothing but this can make a good foundation.
All your habits ought to be formed and settled
upon religious principles Religious motives
should enter into all your efforts to improve
your mind and cultivate your affections. And,
should you neglect religion now, and afterwards,
by the grace of God, be led to devote yourself
to him, you will find it hard and difficult to
overcome the wrong habits of mind and conduct
which you will have formed.
Piety, then, is the firsr ';hing to. be considered,
 PIETY THE FIRST THING. 23

in the formation of character. And remember,

also, that you are forming character for eternity ;
and that your whole being, through a never end
ing existence, is to be affected by the character
which you form now in your childhood and youth.
If you lay the foundation of your character now
in the love and fear of God, it will rise higher
and . higher, in excellence, beauty, and loveN
ness, for ever and ever. But if you lay the
foundation in selfishness and sin, and build ac
cordingly, it will forever be sinking lower in
degradation and deeper in wretchedness.
 •24

CHAPTER IV.

FILIAL PIETY.

NEXT to your duty to God comes your duty

to your parents ; and you can never form an
excellent, amiable, and lovely character, unless
the foundation of it is laid in filial piety, as
well as in piety towards God. Solomon says to
the young, " Hear the instruction of thy father
and forsake not the law of thy mother ; for
they shall be an ornament of grace unto thy
head, and chains about thy neck." Nothing will
make you appear so lovely in the eyes of others
as a dutiful behaviour towards your parents ;
and nothing will make you appear so unamiable
and unlovely as a disrespectful, disobedient car
riage towards them. No ornament sits so grace
fully upon youth as filial piety; no outward
adorning can compare with it...
Filial piety calls into exercise feelings to
wards your parents, similar to those which piety
towards God calls into exercise towards him;
such as esteem and veneration of his character,
love to his person, confidence in his word, sub-

\
 GRATITUDE. 25

mission to his authority, and penitence for of

fences against him. When the heart is hab'tu-
ated to the exercise of these feelings towards
parents, it is prepared the more readily to exer
cise them towards God. The promises which
God has made to those who honor their parents,
and his threatenings against those who dishonor
them, are similar to those which he has made
respecting honor and obedience to himself. You
owe it, therefore, to God, to exercise filial piety,
because he has required it, and because it is
one of the means he employs to cultivate piety
towards himself. Gratitude, also, should lead
to filial piety, as well as to piety towards God ;
for what God is to man, only in a lower sense,
the parent is to his child. Your, parents are,
under God, the authors of your being. The
greater part of parents' lives is spent in rearing
supporting, and educating their children. For
this they wear out their strength in anxious care
and toil ; they watch beside the bed of their
children when they are sick, with tender solici
tude and sleepless vigilance ; they labor to pro
vide for them. But good parents are, most of all,
anxious that their children should grow up intel
ligent and virtuous, pious and happy. There is
no being but God to whom children are so much
indebted as to a faithful parent ; and almost al
26 HABIT OF SUBMISSION.

the blessings that God bestows upon them com«

through their parents.
' Filial piety has great influence on future char
acter. One who has never been in the habit of
submitting to others, will always be headstrong
and self-willed; and such a character nobody
loves. You cannot always do as you please ; and,
if such is your disposition, you will always be
unhappy when your will is crossed. You will
be unwilling to submit to necessary restraints,
and this will irritate, and keep you in misery •
for you will never see the time in you* life when
you will be so entirely independent of others
that you can have your own way in every thing.
Even the king on his throne cannot do this.
But, if you have always been in the habit of
submitting to your parents, these necessary re
straints will be no burden. If, then, you would
be respected, beloved, and happy, when you
grow up and take your place in society, yon
must honor your parents. Cultivate the habit
of submission to their authority ; of respectful
attention to their instructions ; and of affection
and reverence to their persons. These are the
habits that will make you respected, beloved,
and happy. But as God has joined a curse to
parental impiety, so he makes it punish itself.
And thus you will find that it is generally fol-
 FEELINGS TOWARD PAHENT8. 27

owed with the most dreadful consequences Of

this I might give many painful examples; >ut
the narrat;ves would swell my book to an im
moderate size.
The whole duty of children to parents, is ex
pressed by God himself in one word — HONOR.
This word is chosen, with great felicity, to ex
press all the various duties of children toward
their parents. There is a great deal of meaning
in this little word, honor.
Do you ask, "How shall I honor my pa
rents 1 " In the first place, you must honor
them in your heart, by loving and reverencing
them, and by cultivating a submissive, obedient
disposition. It is not honoring your parents, tc
indulge an unsubmissive, turbulent spirit. To
be angry with your parents, and to feel that their
lawful commands are hard or unreasonable, is
dishonoring them. The authority which God
has given your parents over you is for your
good, that they may restrain you from evil and
hurtful practices, and require you to do what
will be, in the end, for your benefit. When they
restrain you, or require you to do what is not
pleasing to you, they have a regard to your best
interests. To be impatient of restraint, and to
indulge hard feelings toward them, is doing them
great dishonor. If you could read the hearts of
588 HONORING PARENTS IN W 3RD.

your parents, and see what a struggle it costs

them to interfere with your inclinations, you
would feel differently.. But these rebellious feel
ings of yours are not only against your parents,
but against God, who gave them this authority
over you.
Children also honor or dishonor their parents
by their words. You honor them, by addressing
them in respectful language, and in a tone of
voice indicating reverence and submission, giv
ing them those titles that belong to their su
perior station. An example of this we have in
the answer of Samuel to what he supposed the
call of Eli, — " Here am I," — a form of speech
used by servants to their masters, and implying''
attention to what was said, and a readiness to
execute what was commanded. But parents ar4
dishonored, when their children answer them
gruffly, or speak in a sharp, positive, angry, or
self-important tone ; or when they neglect to
accompany their address with the usual titles of
respect, but speak out bluntly, " Fes," or " No.''
This shows the state of the heart. And I think
the reason why it is so difficult, in these days, to
teach children to say, " Yes, sir," " No, ma' am,"
&,e., is, that they do not feel in their hearts the
respect which these terms imply. You will per
ceive, by this remark, that I have no respect for
 ATTENTION TO INSTRUCTION '29

tht notion which prevails, in some quarters, thnt

these expressions are not genteel.
Children likewise dishonor their parents, when
they answer back, and argue against their com
mands, or excuse themselves for not obeying.
It is as much as to say, they are wiser than their
parents — which is doing them a great dishonor.
To speak to them in disrespectful, reproachful,
or passionate language, or to speak of them or
their authority in such language to others, is
also a great offence against their honor. Under
the law of Moses, God punished this offence in
the same manner that he did blasphemy against
himself: — "He that curseth his father or his
mother shall surely be put to death." This
shows what a great offence it is in his sight.
Another way in which you honor your pa
rents is, by giving respectful attention to their
instruction and counsels. God has committed
your instruction and training to them ; and when
they teach or advise you according to the Scrip
ture, their instructions are the voice of God to
you. If you despise their instruction, you cast
contempt upon God, who speaks through them,
and who says, " My son, hear the instruction of
thy father, and forsake not the law of thy moth
er." It is very natural for children to wish to
follow their own inclinations. The impetuosity
3*
30 CONFIDENCE IN PARENTS

of youth would hurry them on, heedlessly, in the

high-road to ruin. And, often, they despise the
wholesome instruction and advice of their pa
rents, as only designed to interfere with their
pleasures, and abridge their enjoyments; while,
in truth, their parents look beyond mere pleasure,
to that which is of greater importance. They
look upon these things in the light which age
and experience has given them. If you were
going to a strange place, in a way with which
you were not acquainted, and should meet one'
'.hat had been that way before, you would put
confidence in what he should tell you of the way,
and follow his directions. Your parents have
passed through the period of life on which you
are now entering, and they know the way. You
will do well to confide in them, and abide by
their instructions. If you neglect to do so, you
will be sure to get into difficulty. The path of
life is beset, on every side, with by-paths, leading
astray ; and these by-paths are full of snares
and pit-falls, to catch the unwary, and plunge
them into ruin. Your parents have become ac
quainted with these ways, and know their dan
gers. If they are good people, and understand
their duty to you, they will warn you against
them ; and it will be the height of folly for you
 OBEDIENCE. 31

to distegard their warnings. Multitudes, by

doing so, have rushed heedlessly on to ruin.
JJpu must honor your parents, also, by a
prompt and cheerful obedience to their lawful
commands. I say lawful, because no one ought
to obey a command to do what is positively
wrong. If a wicked parent should command
his chile to break the Sabbath, to lie, or to steal,
or to birjak any of God's commands, it would
be the child's duty to refuse, and meekly submit
to the punishment which the parent might in
flict. It is not often that such things happen
among us; but our missionaries in Constantinople
have related two instances that are in point.
Two little Armenian girls had learned to read,
and obtained from the missionaries some ideas of
Christian morality. A person knocked ai the
door of their house, and their father, not wishing
to see him, told one of them to go and tell the
person that he was not at home. " That would
be telling a lie," said the daughter. " What
then?" said the father; "it is a very little
thing. You have only to say that I am not at
home." " But, father," she replied, " the Bible
says it is wicked to tell lies, and I cannot tell a
lie." He was angry, and called his other daugh
ter, and told her to go. She replied, " Father,
I canno., for it is wicked to lie." These children
 PROMPTNESS.

did right in refusing to obey su^h a command

But in no other case, except when told to do
what is wrong, will a child be justified in refus
ing to obey.
Obedience must be prompt and cheerful.
Your parents are not honored, when obedience is
delayed to suit your convenience ; nor when you
mtwer back, or try to reason against your pa-
ents' commands, or plead for delay, that you may
irst fin;sh your own work. A parent who is
,'ionored will never have to repeat the same com-
.nand. Some children are bent on having their
>wn way, and attempt to carry their point by
howing their parents that their way is best ;
»hich is the same as saying to them that they
, re more ignorant than their children. Neither
i i sullen obedience honoring your parents. Some
children, who dare not disobey their parents,
v;ill go about doing what is required of them
with great reluctance, with perhaps a sullen
expression of the countenance, a flirt, an angry
step, or a s'uni of the door, or some other show
of passion. Such conduct is a grief to parents,
and an oflfo «e against God, who will not count
that as o!v -ence, which is not done cheerfully.
But if you vruly honor your parent* from the
heart, yoi vill not wait for their cimmnnds.
You wii! I always ready to obey the slightest
 ABSENCE OP PARENTS. '>'>

intimation of their wishes. It is a great grief to a

parent, when, out of respect to his child's feel
ings, he has expressed his wish, to be obliged to
add his command, before the thing will be done.
But filial piety never appears so amiable and
lovely as when it anticipates the wishes of pa
rents, and supersedes the necessity of expressing
those wishes in advice or commands.
If you honor your parents in your heart,
you will pay an equal regard to their counsels
and commands, whether they are present or ab
sent. If you cast off their authority as soon as
you are out of their sight, you greatly dishonor
them. Such conduct shows that you do not
honor them at all in your heart, but obey
them only when you cannot disobey without
suffering for it. But if you keep their authority
always present with you, then you will do them
great honor ; for you show that they have suc
ceeded in fixing in your heart a deep-seated
principle of reverence and affection for them.
If you truly honor your parents in your heart
you will obey them as well when they are absent
as present. The parents' authority and honot
are always present with the good child.
Children, likewise, honor or dishonor their
parents in their general behavior. If they are
rude and uncivil, they reflect dishonor upon their
34 A RIGHT HEART.

parents; for people say, they have not been

trained and instructed at home. But when their
behavior is respectful, correct, pure, and amia
ble, it reflects honor upon the parents. People
will judge of the character of your parents by
your behavior. Are you willing to hear your
parents reproachfully spoken of 1 No, your
cheek would glow with indignation at the person
who should speak ill of your father or your
mother. But you speak evil of them, in your
conduct, every time you do any thing that re
flects dishonor upon them in the eyes of others.
The blame of your conduct will be thrown back
upon your parents.
But the true way to honor your parents, at all
times and in all circumstances, is, to have your
heart right with God. If you have true piety of
heart toward God, you will show piety toward
your parents ; for you will regard the authority
of his commandment, and delight in doing what
will please him. The fear of God, dwelling in
your heart, will lead you to reverence all his
commands, and none more continually and con
scientiously than the one which requires you to
honor your parents. Every thing that you do
for them will be done, " not with eye-seivice,
as men-pleasers, but with good will, doing ser-
rice as to God, and not to man."
 FEELING BIG. 35

Boys of a certain age are frequently disposed

to show their importance, by assuming to be wiser
than their parents. They call in question the wis
dom of their parents' directions, and seek, in every
possible way, to set up their own will. This is par
ticularly the case with respect to the authority
of the mother ; they feel too big to be governed
by a woman ; and if obliged to obey, they will
be sullen about it. Instead of requiting her
care, by studying to be helpful, — anticipating her
wishes, — they seem to lose all sense of obliga
tion, and regard what she requires of them as
an unreasonable interference with their pleas
ures ; and so, they will meet her requests in a
snarling, snappish manner, like an impertinent
young mastiff, slighting, in every possible way, the
thing to be done. And if, in the Providence of
God, such boys are left without a father, they
take advantage of the widowhood of their moth
er, to resist her authority. I can scarcely think
of any thing more unmanly than this. It is
mean and despicable. The mother, by all the ties
of gratitude, in these_desok»te circumstances, is en
titled to the kindness, assistance, and protection,
of her sons ; and to rebel against her authority,
because she may not have strength to enforce it,
manifests a very black heart. A young man, who,
in any circumstances, will treat his mother ill, is
36 TO MAKE A GOOD CITIZEN.

to be despised; but one who will take advantage

of the helplessness of her widowhood, to cast ofl
her just authority, is to be detested and ab
horred.
Nothing has, perhaps, a greater influence upon
the future character of the man than the trait of
which we are speaking. The boy that is obedi
ent and submissive to parental authority will
make a good citizen. He has learned to obey,
from his childhood ; and he will be obedient to
the laws of his country ; he will be respected in
society, and may rise to posts of honor. But the
disobedient boy, who is turbulent and ungovern
able at home, will make a bad member of so
ciety. Never having learned how to obey, he
will be disobedient to the laws, and incur theit
penalty ; he will be found in evil company ; en
gaged in mobs and riots ; making disturbance
at fires, &e., till, perhaps, he will land at last in
prison, or be launched into eternity from the
gallows. I might easily fill the rest of this vol
ume with the detail of cases, in which a career
of crime, ending in prison or on the gallows, has
been commenced in disobedience to parents,
and in very many cases, disobedience to widowed
mothers.
 CHAPTER V.

TREATMENT OP BROTHERS AND SISTERS, AMD

OTHERS IN THE FAMILY.

THE FAMILY is a little kingdom in miniature.

The father and mother are king and queen ;
and children, and others residing in the family,
are the subjects. I have treated at large, in the
last chapter, on your duties to your parents; but
I must not pass over your behavior towards the
other members of the family. And here, I wish
you to keep in mind all I have said about the
formation of character. Remember, that the
character you form in the family will, in all
probability, follow you through life. As you are
regarded by your own brothers and sisters at
home, so, in a great measure, will you be re
garded by others, when you leave your father's
house. If you are manly, amiable, kind, and
courteous, at home, so you will continue to be ;
and these traits of character will always make
you beloved. But if you are peevish, ill-natured,
harsh, uncourteous, or overbearing, at home,
among your own brothers and sisters, so will you
4 »
38 THE GOLDEN RULE.

be abroad ; and, instead of being beloved, you

will be disliked and shunned.
The best general direction that I can give is,
that you carry out the golden rule in your be
havior toward your brothers and sisters, and all
other persons who reside in the family. If you
do to them as you would wish them to do to you,
all will be well. But I must be a little more par
ticular. Boys are often disposed to assume a
dictatorial, domineering air toward their sisters,
as though they thought themselves born to rule,
and were determined to exercise their dominion
over their sisters, because they have not strength
to resist their tyranny. But I can hardly think
of any thing more unmanly. It shows a very
mean spirit, destitute of noble and generous feel
ings, to take advantage of the weakness of others
to tyrannize over them. But to do this to those
who, by the relation they bear to you, are entitled
to your love and protection, is base beyond de
scription. The same is true, though perhaps in
a less degree, in regard to the conduct of an
elder toward a younger brother.
A brother should be kind, tender, courteous, and
delicate, in his behavior toward his sisters, never
treating them with rudeness or neglect, and stand
ing ready always to protect them from the rude
ness of other boys. He should never speak gruff-
 I
BEHAVIOR TO SISTERS. 39

ly to them, not in a lordly, domineering, or con

temptuous manner. Such conduct toward other
misses or young ladies would be esteemed very
unhandsome and ui>gentlemanly ; and why should
it not be so esteemed at home ? Are your own
sisters entitled to less respect than strangers?
Accustom yourself to make confidants of your
sisters. Let them understand your feelings, and
know your designs; and pay a suitable regard
to their advice. By this means you may be saved
from many a snare, and you will secure their
affection and sympathy. Never form any design,
or engage in any enterprise, which you are
ashamed to divulge to them. If you do, you
may be sure it will not end well.
One rule, well observed at home, among broth
ers and sisters, would go far towards making
them accomplished gentlemen and ladies, in
their manners : — BE COURTEOUS TO EACH OTHER.
Never allow yourself to treat your brothers or
sisters in a manner that would be considered
rude or ungentlemanly, if done to other young
persons visiting in the family. Especially, never
allow yourself to play tricks upon them, to
teaze them, or, in a coarse, rough manner, to
criticize or ridicule their conduct, especially in
the presence of others. But if you see any thing
that you think needs reforming, kindly remind
4U COMPLAINING OF EACH OTHER.

them of it in private. This will have a much

better effect than if yon mortify them, by expos
ing their faults before company. Be .caieful of
their feelings, and never needlessly injure them.
Boys sometimes take delight in crossing the,
feelings of their brothers and sisters, interfering
with their plans, and vexing them, out of sheer
mischief. Such conduct is especially unamia-
ble, and it will tend to promote ill-will and con
tention in the family. Be not fond of informing
against them. If they do any thing very much
amiss, it will be your duty to acquaint your pa
rents with it. But in little things, of small
moment, it is better for you kindly to remon
strate with them, but not to appeal to your pa
rents. In some families, when the children are
at home, your ears are continually ringing with
the unwelcome sounds, " Mother, John" —
" Father, Susan" — " Mother, George," &,e. — a
perpetual string of complaints, which makes the
place more like a bedlam than a quiet, sweet
home. There is no sight more unlovely than a
quarrelsome family, — no place on earth more
undesirable than a family of brothers and sisters
who are perpetually contending with each other.
But I know of no place, this side heaven, so
sweet and attractive as the home of a family of
brothers and sisters, always smiling and happy,
 TREATMENT OF DOMESTICS. 41

full of kindness and love, delighting in each

other's happiness, and striving how much each
can oblige the other. If you would have your
home such a place, you must not be selfish ; you
must not be too particular about maintaining your
own rights ; but be ready always to yield rather
than to contend. This will generally have the
effect to produce the same disposition in your
brothers and sisters ; and then the strife will be,
which can be most generous.
Be noble and generous in your treatment of
domestics. Never be so mean as to domineer
over the hired men or women employed about
the house, or in the field. Keep out of the
kitchen as much as possible. But if you are
obliged to go there, remember that you are on
the cook's premises. Keep out of her way, and
be careful not to put things out of their place, or
make litter. Nothing is more annoying to her
than such conduct, because it interferes with
her efforts to keep things in order, and increases
her labor. Never ask servants to help you, when
you are able to help yourself. It is very pro
voking to them to be called to wait on the little
gentlemen about house. Cultivate independence
of character, and help yourself. You will never
be fit for any business, if you always depend on
others to help you in little every-day affairs.
4* *
42 LOVE OF HOME.

Young men and boys should cultivate a love

of home as a defence against the temptations to
frequent bad company and places of resort dan
gerous to their morals. A boy or a young man,
who is deeply and warmly attached to his mother
and sisters, will prefer their society to that of
the depraved and worthless; and he will not be
tempted to go abroad in search of pleasure, when
he finds so much at home. It is a delusive idea,
that any greater pleasure can be found abroad
than .is to be enjoyed at home ; and that boy or
young man is in a dangerous way, to whom the
society of his mother and sisters has become in
sipid and uninteresting. When you feel any in
clination to go abroad in search of forbidden
pleasure, I advise you to sit down with your sis
ters, and sing, " Home, sweet home." And here 1
may say that the cultivation of music will add
much to the attractions of home. It is a de
lightful recreation. It soothes the feelings,
sweetens the temper, and refines the taste. In
addition to the cultivation of the voice, and the
practice of vocal music, you will find great sat
isfaction in learning to play on some instrument
of music, to be able to carry your part on the
flute or viol. This will greatly diminish the
temptation to go abroad for amusement ; and in
proportion as you find your pleasure at home,
 THE ONLY SON. 43

wi.l you be safe from those evil influences which

have proved the destruction of so many boys.
But perhaps you are an only child. Then you
will enjoy the exclusive affections and attention
of your parents, without a rival. But you will
lose the advantage of the society of brothers and
sisters. The former will be no benefit; for
parents do not abate their love to their first
born, when others are added to their number.
But. the exclusive love to an only child often de
generates into excessive indulgence. The so
ciety of brothers and sisters, though it often
tries the temper, yet contributes greatly to the
happiness of a child. It provides a wholesome
discipline, and affords the means of learning how
to behave among equals ; which an only child
cannot learn at home. You will be likely to
think too much of yourself, because you will
receive the exclusive attentions of your parents,
and will not have before you the daily example
of your equals. These things you must guard
against; and endeavor to make up the defi
ciency, by carrying out the" hints I have given,
in the society of other children, wherever you
meet them.
In conclusion, I will give you one little family
rule. You may think it a very little one ; but
it is able to do wonders. If you will try it one
44 NEVER BE CROSS.

week, and never deviate from it, I will promise

you the happiest week you ever enjoyed. And,
more than this, you will diffuse such a sunshine
about you as to make others happy also. Mjf
little rule is this: NEVER BE CROSS.
 CHAPTER VI.
.
BEHAVIOR AT SCHOOL.

MOST of what I have said in the last two

chapters will apply to your behavior at school.
When you go to school, your teachers take the
place of your parents. To them, for the time
being, your parents have delegated their author
ity. You are bound, therefore, to give to them
the same reverence and obedience which are due
to your parents. To disobey, or to dishonor
them in any other way, is a breach of the fifth
commandment, which, in its spirit, requires sub
ordination to lawful authority ; or, as the Cate
chism says, " The fifth commandment requireth
the preserving the honor of, and performing the
duties belonging to, every one, in their several
places and relations, as superiors, inferiors, 01
equals." You ought, therefore, in the first place,
to pay strict regard to every rule of the school,
as a religious duty ; and obey your teacher, in al.
things, with the same promptness and cheerful
ness that you would obey your parents. You
should be too careful of your own reputatior. to
40 HONORING TEACHERS.

permit yourself to be reprimanded by your teacl»-

er. If you take up the resolution that you will
be so diligent, faithful, and well-behaved, as never
to be reproved, you will find it a very whole
some restraint, to keep you within the bounds
of propriety. Be careful of the honor of your
teachers, remembering that, if you dishonor
them, you break God's holy commandment.
Never call in question their arrangements; and
never indulge feelings of dissatisfaction. Espe
cially, never speak slightingly or disrespectfully
of them, nor of their ways. It does not become
you to call in question their arrangements, or
their mode of teaching. If you are wiser than
they, you had better not seek instruction from
them ; but if not, then you should be satisfied
with the dictates of their superior wisdom. Never
attempt to question their proceedings, nor to
argue with them, when they require you to do
any thing. Be very careful, also, not to carry
home tales from school ; because such a prac
tice tends to cultivate a disposition to tattle,
and often leads to great mischief. Yet, when
your parents make inquiries, it is your duty to
answer them.
.Be diligent in your studies, from principle, not
from a spirit of emulation Remember that you
are placed at school for your own benefit. It
 DILIGENCE IN STUDS'. 4«

is not for your parents' advantage, nor for the

benefit of your teachers, that you are required to
study ; but for your own good. Remember how
much pains your parents take, to give you this
opportunity. They give up your time, which
they have a right to employ for their own ben
efit, and they expend money for the support of
schools, that you may have the opportunity of ob
taining useful learning. You are bound, there
fore, to improve this opportunity with great dili
gence. You will not think it a task, that you
are compelled to study ; but you will regard it
as a price* put into your hands to get wisdom.
It is all for your own benefit. In school hours,
therefore, you should put away all thoughts of
play, and all communication with other scholars,
and give yourself strictly and closely to your
studies.
But, I suppose you will find the most difficulty
in Tegulating your conduct during the intervals
of school hours, and on your way to and from
school. When a great many young persons of
your own age are together, there is a disposition
to throw off restraint. I would not have you un
der such restraint as to avoid all relaxation and
innocent hilarity ; for these are necessary to keep
your mind and body in a healthful condition.
* Prov. xvii. 16.
48 LINGERINO BY THE WAT

But, here, you will be more exposed to temp-

.ation. As punctuality is of great importance in
school, and a necessary habit to be cultivated, you
need to make it a matter of principle to be always
in your seat a few minutes before the opening
of school. A failure to do this, will rob you of
many advantages, and greatly embarrass your
teacher. It will, also, give you the habit of tardi
ness, which will be a great injury to you, as long
as you live, whatever may be your occupation.
But, in order to be punctual, you must not linger
to engage in sport by the way. So, likewise, in
returning from school, you ought to be equally
punctual in reporting yourself at home ; for you
know not what your parents may have for you to
do. This, also, forbids your lingering for amuse
ment on the way home. But, besides these,
there are other reasons why you should not idle
away your time on the way. Idle boys are
always in the way of temptation; for ,
" Satan finds some mischief still
For idle hands to do."

If you linger along on the way, you will be

very likely to meet with some bad boys, who will
lead you astray, and involve you in some mis
chief that will get you into serious difficulty.
A boy was walking along in the streets of Boston
 A STORY. 45»

and another boy, who knew him oy name, called

to him from the other side of the street, saying,
" Come, John, come over here, and we'll have
some fun." "No, I can't," John replied; "I
must go home." " But just come over here a
minute." " No, I can't," said John ; " my nun»-
er expects me home." But the boy still urged
him, and at length prevailed on him to cross the
street. They then went into a hardware store ;
and the boy who called John over stole some
knives and disappeared ; and John was taken for
the theft, because he was with the other boy at
the time, and put in jail. Thus, by just stopping
on the way, and going across the street, he got
into jail. If he had made it his invariable rule
to go directly on his way, and not linger, and
idle his time away, he would have been saved
from this suffering, shame, and disgrace. But,
if you indulge in the same habit of lingering by
the way, you will be exposed to similar tempta
tion and trouble.
In all your intercourse with your school-fellows,
be kind and obliging. Treat them courteously,
and avoid every thing that is rough, coarse, and
rude. Endeavor to behave like a young gen-
tkman. Avoid the company of boys who are
rough and coarse in their manners, or profane or
obscene in their conversation. You will insen-
5 •
50 BE GENTLEMANLY.

sibly imbibe their vulgarity, if you associate with

them. In your sports or plays, be conscientiously
fair and honorable. The boy, who is unfair or
dishonest in his play, when he becomes a man,
will drive a hard bargain or be dishonest in
his business.
If you go where boys and girls are associated
in the same school, have a strict regard to pro
priety, in your intercourse with the other sex.
Be gentlemanly in your behavior towards them.
Avoid all rudeness or roughness of manners and
conversation in their presence. Especially, re
frain from rude jests and low buffoonery. You
may engage with them in sensible conversation ;
but a well-bred girl will be offended if you at
tempt to please her by trying how nonsensically
and silly you can talk. Venture no improper
liberties ; but maintain your own self-respect by
respecting them.
Finally, see that you do nothing in school or
out of it, which you would be unwilling your pa
rents should see ; and remember that there is
One Eye that is always upon you.
 51

CHAPTER VII

BEHAVIOR AT TABLE.

DID it ever occur to you to inquire why all

civilized people have their food prepared at par
ticular hours, and all the family sit at table to
gether? Why not have the food prepared, and
placed where every one can go and eat, whenever
he pleases, by himself ? One great advantage of
having a whole family sit together, and partake of
their meals at the same time, is, that it brings
them together in a social way, every day. But
for this, and the assembling of the family at
prayers, they might not all meet at once for a
long time. But eating together is a mark of
friendship ; and it tends to promote social feel
ing. In a well-regulated family, also, it is a
means of great improvement, both of mind and
manners. It is, in fact, a sehool of good man
ners. You will perceive, then, how very im
portant it is, that your behavior at table should
always be regulated by the rules of propriety.
If you acquire vulgar habits here, or practise
rudeness, you will find it difficult to overcome
Oa BEHAVIOR AT TABLE.

them ; and they will make you appear to great

disadvantage.
i shall mention a few things to be observed,
at the table, by one who would maintain a char
acter for good breeding. And, first of all, be
not tardy in taking your place at the table In
a well-regulated family, the master of he
family waits till all are seated before he asks a
blessing. Suppose there are five persons at
the table, and you hinder them all by your tar
diness three minutes, you waste fifteen min
utes of precious time. To those who set a
proper value upon time, this is a great evil.
There is no need of it ; you may as easily be
at your seat in time as too late. When called
to a meal, never wait to finish what you are
doing, but promptly leave it, and proceed to
your place. Above all, do not delay till after
the blessing, and so sit down to your food like
a heathen.
The table is a place for easy, cheerful, social
intercourse ; but some children make it a place
of noisy clamor. The younger members of the
family should leave it for the parents (and guests,
if there are any,) to take the lead in conversa
tion. It does not appear well for a very young
person to be forward and talkative at table.
You should generally wait till you are spoken
 TABLE TALK. 53

tJ, or, if you wish to make an inquiry or a

remark, do it in a modett, unassuming way, not
raising your voice, nor spinning out a story.
And be especially careful not to interrupt any
other person. Sensible people will get a very
unfavorable impression concerning you, if they
see you bold and talkative at table. Yet you
should never appear inattentive to what others
are saying. Be not so intent on discussing the
contents of your plate, as not to observe the
movements of others, or to hear their conversa
tion. Show your interest in what is said by
occasional glances at the speaker, and by the
expression of your countenance; but be not too
anxious to put a word in yourself. Some chil
dren make themselves ridiculous, by always join
ing in, and making their remarks, when older
persons are speaking, often giving a grave opinion
of some matter about which they know nothing.
Be helpfil to others, without staring at them,
or neglecting your own plate. You may keep
your eye on the movements around you, to pass
a cup and saucer, to notice if any one near you
needs helping, and to help any dish that is
within your reach. By so doing, you may greatly
relieve your father and mother, who must be very
busy, if they help all the family. By cultivating
a close observation, and studying to know and
5*
54 STUKV PROPRIETY.

anticipate the wants of others, you will be able

to do these things in a genteel and graceful man
ner, without appearing obtrusive or forward.
Study propriety. If asked what you will be
helped to, do not answer in an indefinite man
ner, saying, you " have no choice ; " for this will
put the master of the house to the inconvenience
of choosing for you. Do not wait, after you are
asked, to determine what you will have, but an
swer promptly ; and do not be particular in your
choice. To be very particular in the choice of
food is not agreeable to good breeding. Never
ask for what is not on the table. Do not make
remarks respecting the food ; and avoid express
ing your likes and dislikes of particular arti
cles. One of your age should not appear to be
an epicure. Show your praise of the food set be
fore you, by the good nature and relish with
which you partake of it; but do not eat so fast
as to appear voracious. Never put on sour looks,
nor turn up your nose at your food. This is un
mannerly, and a serious affront to the mistress of
the table. Be careful to use your knife and
fork as other people do, and to know when to
lay them down, and when to hold them in your
hands. Be careful not to drop your food, nor to
spill liquids on the cloth. Do not leave the
table before the family withdraw from it, unless
 LITTLE THINGS. 55

it is necessary; and then, ask to be excused.

Neither linger to finish your meal, after you per
ceive the rest have done.
Besides what I have mentioned, there are a
great many nameless little things, that go to
make up good manners at table, which you must
learn by studying the rules of propriety, and
observing the behavior of others.
 66

CHAPTER VIII.

BEHAVIOR AT FAMILY WORSHIP

An, well-regulated Christian families are as

sembled, morning and evening, to worship God.
Seeing we are dependent on him for all things,
it is suitable and proper that we should daily
acknowledge our dependence, by asking him for
what we need, and thanking him for what we
receive. That we should do this as a family is
highly proper. But if it is our duty to worship
God as a family, it is the duty of every one in
particular. It is as much your duty as it is your
father's. You must, therefore, not only make it
a principle to be in your place punctually at the
time, but to enter heartily into all the exercises.
Some children and youth appear as if they had
no interest in what is going on, at this most in
teresting household service. But this is not only
showing great disrespect to your parents, but
great irreverence toward God. It will help you
to right feelings, on these occasions, if you im
agine Christ Jesus present in person. God is
present spiritually, and in a peculiar manner, at
 FAMILY WORSHIP. 57

»uch times, to bless the families that call on his

name. When, therefore, the family are assem
bled for prayers, you should put away all vain
or wandering thoughts. When the time arrives,
and the family are assembled for devotion, seat
yourself, in a serious, reverent manner; and if
there should be a few moments' delay, do not
engage in conversation, nor in reading news
papers, or any thing calculated to divert your
mind ; but direct your thoughts upward to God,
and seek a preparation for his worship. Suffer
not your mind to be occupied with any thing but
the service before you. Let not your eyes wan
der about, to catch vagrant thoughts. Let not
your hands be occupied with any thing, to divert
your attention or to disturb others. Have your
Bible, and take your turn in reading. Be atten
tive and devout, during the reading of God's holy
word, endeavoring to apply it to your heart. If
the family sing, enter into this sweet service, not
only with your lips, but with your heart. When
prayer is offered, place yourself in the attitude
which is taken by your father and mother. If
they kneel, do you kneel also, — not sit, nor re
cline, but stand upon your knees, in a reverent
posture. Shut your eyes, and keep your heart.
Let your heart embrace the words of the prayer,
and make them your own. Remember that the
58 FAMILY WORSHIP.

devotional habits you form at the family altar,

are the habits that will follow you to God's house,
and probably adhere to you through life. And
what can be more shocking than to see persons
pretending to gentility, who do not know how
to behave with propriety before the great God
that made them ! If you were in company, and
should treat the person that invited you with as
much indifference as you treat God by such con
duct, you would be considered a very ill-bred
person. He has invited you to come to his
mercy-seat to converse with him, and to receive
favors at his hand ; and yet, by such conduct as
I have named, you show no interest at all in the
matter.
Family devot on, when rightly improved, is a
very important means of grace. If you attend
upon it seriously and reverently, you may hope
that God will bless it to your soul. It tends,
also, to tranquillize the feelings, and prepare
you to engage in the duties of the day with
serenity and cheerfulness.
 CHAPTER IX.

PRIVATE PRAYER.

I SUPPOSE, if my readers are the children of

pious parents, they have been taught from their
earliest recollection, to retire, morning and even
ing, to some secret place, to read their Bible
alone, and engage in private prayer. This, in
very early childhood, is often an interesting and
affecting service. But when young people come
to a certain age, if their hearts are not renewed,
they are disposed to regard this as an irksome
duty, and gradually to leave it off. They find
the old adage, in the primer, true, — "Praying
will make thee leave sinning, and sinning wil!
make thee leave praying."
It is a sad period, in the history of a young
person when the early habit of prayer is given
up. Then the heart becomes like the garden
of the slothful, described by Solomon : —
" I went by the field of the slothful, and by
the vineyard of the man void of understanding ;
and lo, it was all grown ove« with thorns, and
nettles. had covered the face thereof, and the
stone wall thereof was broken down."
60 THE PRAYERLESS SOUL.

There are no good plants thriving in the

prayerless soul ; but weeds, and briars, and
thorns, grow thick and rank, occupying every
vacant spot. The stone wall is broken down :
there is no defence against the beasts of the field.
Every vagrant thought, every vicious passion,
find free admittance. The heart grows hard,
and the spirit careless. Sin is not dreaded as
it once was The fear of God and the desire
of his favor are gone. " God is not in all his
thoughts." That youth stands on the very edge
of a frightful precipice.
I would not have you think, however, that
there is any merit in prayer ; or that the prayers
of one whose " heart is not right with God" are
acceptable to him. But, what I say is, that every
one ought to pray to God with a right heart. If
your heart is not right with God, then it is wrong ;
and you are to blame for having it wrong. I
will suppose a case, to illustrate what I mean.
You see a child rise up in the morning, and go
about the house ; and though its mother is with
it all the time, yet the child neither speaks to her
nor seems to notice her at all. After a while,
the mother asks what is the matter, and why her
dear child does not speak to her? The child
says, " I have no heart to speak to you, moth
er. I do not love you ; and so I think it would
 EXCUSES. !'l

be wrong for me to speak to you." What would

you think of such conduct? You would say,
" The child ought to love its mother ; and it
is only an aggravation of its offence, to carry
out the feelings of its heart in its conduct?"
" Would you then have it act the hypocrite, and
speak with its lips what it does not feel in its
heart?" No; but I would have it love its
mother, as every dutiful child ought to do, and
then act out, in its speech and behavior, what it
feels in its heart. But I would never have- it
excuse itself from right actions because its heart
is wrong. Now, apply this to the subject of
prayer, and you will see the character of all im
penitent excuses for neglecting this duty. And
those who go on and continue to neglect it, cer
tainly have no reason to expect that their hearts
will grow any better by it, but only worse; But
in attempting to perform a sacred duty, the Lord
may give you grace to perform it aright, and
then you will have a new heart.
If possible, have a particular place of prayer,
where you can be secure from all interruption,
and particular times for it. At the appointed
hours, retire alone, and put away all thoughts
about your studies, your work, your amusements,
or any thing of a worldly nature, and try to real
ize that God is as truly present as if you saw
0
(K HOW TO PRAT

him with your bodily eyes. Then read' hi»

word, as though you heard him speaking to you
tn the sacred page ; and when your mind has
become serious and collected, kneel down ind
acknowledge God as your Creator and Preserver,
your God and Redeemer ; thank him for the
mercies you have received, mentioning particu
larly every good thing you can think of, that you
have received from him ; confess your sins ; plead
for pardon, through the blood of Jesus Christ;
and ask him to give you such blessings as you
see and feel that you need. Pray also for your
friends, (and for your enemies, if you have any;)
and conclude with a prayer for the coining of
Christ's kingdom every where throughout the
world.
Some young people neglect to pray, because
they think they are not able to form their words
into prayer. But you need not 'be afraid to
speak to God. If you can find language to ask
your parents for what you desire, you can find
words to express your desires to God ; and he
will not upbraid you for the imperfection of your
language. He looks at the heart. If that is
right, your prayer will be accepted.
Let me earnestly entreat you to have your set
times for prayer, at least as often as morning
nd evening; and never suffer yourself to neglect
 BENEFITS OF PRAYER. 63

them. And. especially, do not adopt the un

seemly practice of saying your prayers in bed,
but give to God the brightest and best hours of
the day, and not offer to him the blind and the
lame for sacrifice. You will find the regular
and stated habi: of prayer, thus formed in early
life, of great value to you, as long as you live.
But let me once more caution you not to trust
in your prayers, for they cannot save you ; and
do not think, because you are regular and ha
bitual in attending to the outward forms of duty,
that you must be a Christian.
Prayer, if sincere and true, will prepare you
for engaging in the duties of the day, or
for enjoying calm repose at night. If, for any
cause, you neglect prayer in the morning,
you may expect things will go ill with you
all the day. You can do nothing well with
out God's blessing; and you cannot expect his
blessing without asking for it. You need, also,
that calm, tranquil, humble spirit which prayer
promotes, to prepare you to encounter those
things which are constantly occurring to try the
feelings, and to enable you to do any thing
well. Therefore, never engage in any thing of
importance without first seeking direction of
God ; and never do any thing on which you
would be unwilling to ask His blessing.
 64

CHAPTER X.

KEEPING THE SABBATH.

- '
SOME people esteem it a hardship to be com
pelled to keep the Sabbath. They think it an
interference with their liberties, that the state
should make laws to punish them for break
ing it. This disposition very early shows itself
in children. Often they think it is hard that
they are restrained from play, or from seeking
their pleasure, on the holy Sabbath. But God
did not give us the Sabbath for his own sake,
or because he is benefited by our keeping it.
The Bible says, " The Sabbath was made for
man." God gave us the Sabbath for our benefit,
and for two purposes. He has made us so that
we need rest one day in seven. It has been
proved, upon fair trial, that men cannot do as
much, nor preserve their health as well, by la
boring seven days in a week, as they can by la
boring six days, and resting one day in a week.
If there were no Sabbath, you would have no day
ot rest. You would grow weary of school, if
n were obliged to attend and study seven days
 BENEFITS OF THE SABBATH. 65

in a week. If you are kept at home to work,

you would soon tire out, if you had to labor
every day in the week. But, by resting every
seventh day, you get recruited, so that you are
able to go on with study or work with new vigor.
The Sabbath, in this respect, is then a great
blessing to you ; and you ought to be so thank
ful to God for it, as to keep it strictly according
to his command.
Another object of the Sabbath is, to give all
people an opportunity to lay aside their worldly
cares and business, to worship God and learn
his will. The other design of the Sabbath was,
to benefit tJic body ; this is, to bless the soul
If there were no Sabbath, people that are de
pendent upon others would be obliged to work
every day in the week ; and they would have no
time to meet together for the worship of God.
And, if every one were allowed to choose his
own time for worshipping God, there would be
no agreement. One would be at meeting, anoth
er would be at work, and others would be seek
ing their pleasure. But, in order to have every
one at liberty to worship God without disturb
ance, he has set apart one day in seven for this
purpose. On this day, he requires us to rest
from all labor and recreation, and spend its sa
cred hours in learning his will, and in acts ol
6*
6fi THE SABBATH BENEFITS THE SOUL.

devotion. The Sabbath thus becomes a means

of improving the mind and the heart. It fur
nishes the best opportunity for social improve
ment that could be devised. It brings the people
together, in their best attire, to exercise their
minds in understanding divine truth, and their
hearts in obeying it. And the same object, and
the same spirit, it carries out in the family. If,
.herefore, you ever consider the duties of the
holy Sabbath irksome and unpleasant, or feel
uneasy under its restraints, you perceive that you
must be very unreasonable, since they are de
signed for your good. You will not, then, find
feult with me, if I am rigid in requiring the strict
observance of the Sabbath. One thing I would
nave you remember, — If you would receive
the full benefit of the holy Sabbath, you must
form right habits of keeping it, early in life,
To give it full power over the mind, it must be
associated, in our earliest recollections, with order,
quiet, stillness, and solemnity. If you are in the
habit of disregarding it in early life, you lose all
the benefit and enjoyment to be derived from
these sacred associations.
The best directions for keeping the Sabbath,
any where to be found, are contained in the
thirteenth verse of the fifty-eighth chapter of
Uaiah : — " If thou turn away thy foot from the
 HOW TO KEEP THE SABBATH. 67

Sabbath, from doing thy pleasure en my holy

day, and call the Sabbath a delight, the holy of
the Lord, honorable ; and shall honor him, not
doing thine own ways, nor finding thine own
pleasure, nor speaking thine own words — " You
must turn away your foot from the Sabbath, not
trampling on it by doing your own pleasure, in
stead of the pleasure of the Lord. Your foot
must not move to perform any act that is con
trary to the design of this sacred day ; and es
pecially, must not go after your own pleasure.
You must not do your own ways, nor find your
own pleasure. These things may be lawful on
othei days ; but on this day, every thing must
have reference to God. You must not even
tpeak your own words. Worldly, vain, light, or
trifling conversation is thus forbidden. And,
if you may not speak your own words, you may
not think your own thoughts. Worldly, vain,
trifling thoughts, or thoughts of your pleasure, are
not lawful on God's holy day. But you must not
only refrain from these things ; the Sabbath '.s
not properly kept, unless its sacred services are
a delight, to the soul. If you are tired of hear
,ng, reading, and thinking of the things of another
world, you dj not keep the Sabbath according
to these directions. To one who enters truly
into the spirit of God's holy day, it is the most
68 PREPARATION.

delightful of the seven. You remember, in the

memoir of Phebe Bartlett, it is stated that she
so loved the Sabbath that she would long to have
it come, and count the days intervening before it.
Such are the feelings of all who love God and
sacred things.
Having made these general remarks, I will
give you a few simple directions for making the
Sabbath both profitable and delightful. The
evening before the Sabbath, do every thing that
can be done, to save doing on the Sabbath
Leave nothing to be done in God's time that
you can do in your own time. Lay out your
Sabbath day's clothing, and see that it is all in
order, that you may have no brushing or mend
ing to be done Sabbath morning. Rise early
in the morning, and, while washing and dressing
which you will do in as little time as possible
think of your need of the " washing of regener
ation and renewing of the Holy Ghost," and o.
being clothed in the clean, white robe of Christ's
righteousness. Then offer up your thanksgiving
to God for his mercy in preserving your life, and
giving you another holy Sabbath, and pray for
his presence and blessing through the day. If
you are called by your father or mother, for any
service of the family, go to it cheerfully ; and
as soon as you can retire agaii, read a portion
 GOINQ T( MEETING. 69

of Scripture, and pray to God for such particular

blessings upon yourself as you feel your need of,
and for his blessing upon others on his holy day.
If you attend the Sabbath school, you will need
to look over your lesson for the day, and en
deavor to apply it to your own heart; for I sup
pose you do not put off the study of your lesson
till Sabbath morning.
Never stay at home on the Sabbath, unless you
are necessarily detained. Make it a matter of
principle and calculation always to be there.
On your way to the house of God, do not en
gage in any unnecessary conversation, especially
that which is vain, light, or trifling, to divert
your mind, and unfit you for the worship of God.
Do not stand about the doors of the meeting
house, to salute your friends, or to converse with
yout young companions. This practice, I am
sorry to say, prevails in the country, among
young people of both sexes, to the great annoy
ance of well-bred people. It is a great temptation
to conversation improper for the Sabbath. It is
very unpleasant for people who are passing, to
have the way blocked up, so as to have to press
through a crowd. Neither do people like to
be stared at, by a company of rude young people,
as they pass into the house of God. I am sorry
to admit, a'.so, that this unmannerly practice is
TO BEHAVIOR IN THE HOUSE OF GOD

not confined to youth; but that many elderly

people set the example. Instead of doing so,
go directly to your seat, in a quiet, reverent man
ner ; and if any time intervenes before the com
mencement of public worship, do not spend it
.n gazing about the house, to observe the dress
of different persons ; but take the opportunity
to compose your mind, to call in all vagrant
thoughts, to get your heart impressed with a
sense of God's presence, and to lift up your
soul in silent prayer for his blessing. Or, if
the time be long, you can employ a part of it in
reading the Bible, or devotional hymns. But
do not carry any other book to the house of
worship to be read there. If you have a Sab
bath school library book, it will be better not to
read it at such a time, because you will be likely
to get your mind filled with it, so as to interfere
with the services of the sanctuary. But the
Bible and hymn book, being of a devotional
character, will tend to prepare your mind for
worship. Above all, do not read a newspaper,
of any kind, at such a time. Even a religious
newspaper would tend to divert your mind from
that serious, tender, devout frame, which you
ought to possess when you engage in the solemn
public worship of the Great Jehovah. But I have
v itnessed more serious improprieties, in
 PUBLIC WORSHIP 71

the house of God, than any of these. I have seen

young people whispering and laughing during
the sermon ; and it is a very common thing to
see them gazing about during the singing, as
though they had nothing to do with the service.
I have also seen them engaged in reading, in the
time of sermon, or of singing. Some, also, are
seen, in time of prayer, with their eyes wide open,
gazing about. Such conduct would be very un
mannerly, if nobody were concerned but the
minister ; for it is treating him as though he were
not worthy of your attention. But when it is
considered that he speaks to you in the name of
God, and that, in prayer, while you stand up
with the congregation, you profess to join in the
prayer ; and while the hymn is sung, you pro
fess to exercise the devout feeling which it
expresses, — when all these things are considered,
such conduct as that I have described appears
impious in a high degree.
Instead of being guilty of such improprieties,
you will endeavor, from the heart, to join in the
sentiments expressed in prayer and praise ; and
listen to the sermon with all attention, as a mes
sage sent from God to you. You must not thinK
that the sermon is designed for older people,
and therefore you have nothing to do with it ;
nor take up the notion that sermons are too
72 HOW TO HEAR.

dry and uninteresting to engage your attention.

The minister speaks to you, in the name of God,
those great truths which concern the salvation
of the soul. Can they be of no interest to you 1
Have you not a soul to be Saved or lost ? Nor
need you think that you cannot understand the
sermon. If you give your attention, you can
understand a sermon as well as you can under
stand the lessons you are required every day to
study at school. If you do not understand preach
ing, it is because you do not give your mind to
it, and hear with attention. Your mind is here
and there, " walking to and fro in the earth, and
going up and down in it ; " and you only catch,
here and there, a sentence of the sermon. This
is the reason you do not understand it. En
deavor to examine your heart and life by what you
hear, and to apply it to yourself in such a way
as to be benefitted by it. And, when you leave
the house of God, do not immediately engage
in conversation, and by this means dissipate all
impression ; but, as far as possible, go home in
silence, and retire to your closet, to seek the
blessing of God upon the services of his house,
on which you have attended.
I suppose, of course, that you attend the Sab
bath school. I think it a great advantage to
those who rightly improve it. But, like every
 SABBATH SCHOOL. 73

other privilege, it may be so neglected or abused

as to be of no benefit. If you pay no attention
to the Sabbath school lesson at home, your mere
attendance upon the recitation at school will do
you little good. You will feel little interest, and
receive little profit. But, if you make it the
occasion for the faithful study of the Holy Scrip
tures at home, to ascertain their meaning, and
to become acquainted with the great truths of
Christianity, it will be of great service to you
in forming your Christian character.
Having well and thoroughly studied your Sab
bath school lesson, you will then be prepared to
engage in the recitation with interest. In th«
Sabbath school, you will observe the same gen
eral directions for propriety of behavior as in
public worship. You are to remember that it is
the holy Sabbath, and that the Sabbath school
is a religious meeting. All lightness of manner
is out of place. A serious deportment « neces
sary, if you would profit by it. Courtesy to
your teacher, and to the school, also requires that
you should give your attention, and not be con
versing or reading during the recitation, or
while your teacher is speaking to you. In an
swering the questions, you should be full and
explicit ; not merely making the briefest possible
reply, but entering into the subject with interest
7
74 SABBATH NOON.

But be careful that you do not give indulgence

to a self-confident, conceited spirit, nor appear as
if you thought yourself wiser than your teacher.
Such a spirit indulged will have an injurious in
fluence in the formation of your character, and
will make you an object of disgust to sensible
people.
Some young people, when a little past the
period of childhood, begin to feel as if they were
too old to attend the Sabbath school, and so
gradually absent themselves, and finally leave it
altogether. This arises from a mistaken notion
as to the design of the Sabbath school. It is
not a school for ehildren merely ; 'but a school
for all classes of people, to engage in the study
of the most wonderful book in the world. I
hope you will never think of leaving the Sabbath
school, as long as you are able to attend it. If
you do, you will suffer a loss which you will
regret as long as you live.
If you remain at the house of worship between
the Sabbath school and the afternoon service,
as many do in the country, you will be ex
posed to temptations to profane the Sabbath.
To prevent this, avoid meeting with your com
panions, in groups, for conversation. How
ever well-disposed you may be, you can hardly
avoid being drawn into conversation unsuitable
 STUDYING THE LESSON. 75

for the holy Sabbath. If you take a book

from the Sabbath school library, this will be
a suitable time to read it, if you are careful not
to extend the reading into the afternoon ser
vice, or suffer your thoughts to be diverted by
what you have read. But the practice of read
ing the Sabbath school books during divine
service, which ^prevails among children, and
even with some young men and women, is not
only very irreverent, but a gross violation of
good breeding. It is slighting the service of
God, and treating the minister as though they
thought what he has to say to them not worth
their attention.
You ought to have a particular time set apart
for the study of your Sabbath school lesson. I
should prefer that this be taken during the week,
so as not to task your mind too severely on the
Sabbath with study, inasmuch as it is a day of
rest. Bat, if you cannot do this, I should advise
that you study it Sabbath afternoon, and review
it the next Sabbath morning.
Some portion of the Sabbath afternoon, cr
evening, 'you will employ, under the direction of
your parents, in repeating the Catechism, which,
I hope n;j.,e of my readers will consider beneath
their attention. " The Shorter Catechism," next
to the Bible, I regard as the best book in exist-
70 LEARNING THE CATECHISM.

ence to lay the foundation of a strong and solid

religious character. If you get it thoroughly
committed to memory, so as to be able to repeat
it verbatim from beginning to end, you will never
regret it ; but, as long as you live, you will have
occasion to rejoice in it. I cannot now give
you any adequate idea of the benefit you will
derive from it. These catechetical exercises iti
your father's house will be associated, in your
mind, with the most precious recollections of
ypur early years. As I said with regard to your
Sabbath school lessons, and for the same reason,
I should advise you, if possible, to study the por
tion of the Catechism to be recited, during the
week. But if you cannot do so, it should be
studied on the afternoon or evening of the Sab
bath. If, however, you study these lessons in
the week time, you will be able to spend the
afternoon and evening of the Sabbath, except
what is devoted to family worship and repeating
the Catechism, in reading serious and devotional
books, which will not tax your mind so much.
[f you are engaged in study all the week, your
mind will need rest. Therefore, I would have
you prosecute your religious study during the
week, and let your mind be taxed less on the
Sabbath, reading such books and engaging in
such services as are calculated more to affect
 REVIEW OF THE DAY. 77

the heart., than to tax the mind. You ought

to spend more time than usual, on God's holy
day, in your closet, in reading the Scriptures
and prayer. But, besides the Bible, I would
particularly recommend Religious Biographies,
and such works as Bunyan's " Pilgrim's Pro
gress" and "Holy War," D'Aubigne's "His
tory of the Reformation," &e. But secular
history, or any books or papers of a secular
character, should not be read on the holy Sab
bath. In general, you may safely; read, or
Sabbath afternoon, the books that you find .D
the Sabbath school library ; though it will some
times happen that a book creeps into the library
that is not suitable for this sacred day. A por
tion of the evening of the Sabbath, before retir
ing to rest, should be spent in reviewing the day,
recollecting the sermons, examining how you
have kept the [Link], and seeking in prayer the
pardon of what has been amiss, and God's bless
ing on all the services in which you have been
engaged.
A Sabbath thus spent will be a blessing to
you, not only for the six days following, but as
long as you live. It will contribute to the for
mation of religious habits that you will be thank
ful for to the day of your death. And when you
become accustomed to spending your Sabbaths
7*
78 SABBATH DELIGHTFUL.

thus, so far from finding them long and tedious

days, you will find them the most delightful of
the seven, and will only regret that they are TOO
SHORT — they come to an end before you have
finished all the good designs you have formed.
The fact that God has set apart a day to him
self, and commanded us to keep it holy, would
naturally lead us to conclude that he would order
his Providence so as to favor its observance. We
have only need to examine the subject to be con
vinced thatjie does so. When his ancient peo
ple, the children of Israel, refused to keep his
Sabbaths, and trampled his holy day under foot,
he emptied them out of the land, and caused
them to be carried off into a strange country, and
to remain there seventy years. This was threat
ened in Leviticus xxvi. 34, 35 : — " Then shall
the land enjoy her Sabbaths, as long as it lieth
desolate, and ye be in your enemies' land ; even
then shall the land rest, and enjoy her Sabbaths.
As long as it lieth desolate, it shall rest ; because
it did not rest in your Sabbaths, when ye dwelt
upon it." In 2 Ch. xxxvi. 20, 21, this is referred
to as one of the principal reasons why they were
carried away to Babylon :—" And them that
escaped the sword carried he away to [Link] ;
where they were servants to him and his sons,
until the reign of the kingdom of Persia, lo fulfil
 fHOSl'. jbfcEST 'WHO KEEP THE SABBATH 79

the word of the Lord by the mouth of Jeremiah

the prophet, until the land had enjoyed her Sab
baths ; for as long as she lay desolate, she kept
Sabbath, to fulfil threescore and ten years."
I can think of no reason why God, in his holy
Providence, should not punish Sabbath-breakers
now as well as then. I have no doubt that he
does. If we could see the design of his Provi
dence, as it is explained in the Bible, no one
would doubt it. Sir Matthew Hale, after a long
and laborious public life, declared, as the result
of his experience, that he found his affairs pros
per, during the week, just in proportion to the
strictness with which he had observed the Sab
bath ; and that he had never met with success in
any business which was planned on the Sabbath.
I might fill this book with narratives of ac
cidents that have happened to young people,
while seeking their pleasure on the Lord's day.
Scarcely a week occurs, in the summer season,
but the papers contain accounts of parties of
young people drowned while taking Sabbath ex
cursions on the water, or of young men and
boys drowned while bathing on the Lord's day.
Many very striking accounts of this kind have
been collected and published in tracts. And a
great many facts of a more general nature have
also been published, in various forms, showing
80 SABBATH-BREAKERS PUNISHED.

thai it is profitable to keep the Sabbath, and un

profitable and dangerous to break it. My ob
ject, in this place, is simply to impress on the
minds of my readers the very important influ
ence which the proper observance of the Sab
bath has in the formation of character. And I
wish them to follow the youth through life who
has been accustomed to keep the Sabbath, and
who continues to keep it ; and then follow the
course of one who has, in early life, been accus
tomed to disregard God's holy day. And one
thought, in particular, I desire you to ponder
well, — The Sabbath-breaker cannot expect God's
protection. And, if God forsakes you, what will
oecome of you 1
A party of young people set out for a sail, on
the Sabbath day. One of the young ladies told
her brother that she felt very bad to think she
was breaking the Sabbath, and she must return
home. But he entreated her not to spoil his
pleasure, for he should not enjoy it, unless she
went with him ; and to please him she consented
to go The boat was upset, and she was drown
ed. The distracted brother now gave vent to his
grief in the most bitter lamentation. He had
been the means of her death. There he stood,
wringing his hands in agony, and exclaiming,
" O ! what shall I do ! How can I see my fa
ther's face ! "
 THE YOUNG SABBATH-BREAKER. 81

There was a boy in Boston, the son of respec

table parents, who gave promise of becoming a
respectable and useful man. He stood well in
school, and had the reputation of being a good
scholar. He attended the Sabbath school, and
appeared to be a good boy. His mother was en
deavoring to bring him up in the way he should
go. But, on one Sabbath, he was persuaded by
some bad boys not to go to Sabbath school, but
to go with them to Chelsea. This was his first
step in the down-hill road. The next thing was,
to conceal his conduct from his mother. She
asked him if he had been to Sabbath school,
and he said he had. Then she asked him for the
texi He repeated a text ; and as she was not
able to go that afternoon, she could not detect
his deception. 'He also pretended to repeat parts
of the sermon, in order to blind her eyes. She
was satisfied, supposing he had been at Sabbath
school and meeting, secure from temptation.
Finding he had succeeded so well in deceiving
his mother, he continued to seek his pleasure
on God's holy day, and to repeat his deceptions
to his mother, making her believe that he had
been at Sabbath school and meeting. He went
on so for some time, hardening himself in sin,
and associating with bad boys, till he became ripe
for mischief and crime. He was employed by
82 BOY IN PRISON.

the publisher of a paper, as an errand boy. One

part of his duty was to bring letters and papers
from the post-office. While thus engaged, he
learned that money frequently came to his em
ployer in letters. After a while, he left this em
ployment. The money in the letters now tempt
ed him. Having hardened his heart by breaking
the Sabbath, associating with bad boys, and de
ceiving his mother, he had not strength of prin
ciple to resist. He continued to receive the let
ters, robbing them of their contents. At length
he was detected, and sent to prison for two years.
The gentleman who related this to me said he
went one day to the prison, and there he saw the
boy's mother and sister, talking with him through
an iron-grated window, and weeping as though
they would break their hearts. All this came upon
him by his seeking his pleasure on God's holy
day. And if you knew the history of those who
have been imprisoned for crime, you would find
a great many such cases. If he had turned
away his foot from the Sabbath, from seeking his
pleasure on this holy day, he might have been
sitting with his mother and sister in their own
quiet home, instead of being locked up in a filthy
prison, with a company of hardened criminals.
 83

CHAPTER XI.
HABITS.
f
BESIDES what I have noticed in several of the
foregoing chapters, there are many things of a
general nature, which I shall group together
under the title of habits. A habit is what has
-'"- •
become easy and natural by frequent repetition.
People not unfrequently become much attached
to practices, which at first were very unpleasant.
You will sometimes see men chewing, smoking,
or snuffing tobacco, a most filthy and poisonous
plant, a little bit of which you could not be per
suaded to take into your mouth, it is so nau
seous ; yet, by long use, people learn to love it.
That is a habit. So, likewise, you see persons
very fond of drinking intoxicating liquors, which
to you would be a nauseous medicine; and
which are poisonous and destructive to all. It
is practice which has made these drinks so pleas
ant. This is a habit.
Habits are both bad and good; and a habit
is a very good or a very bad thing, as it is good
or bad. Habits are mostly formed in early life ;
and a habit, once formed, is difficult to be
broken ; — once fixed, it may follow you as long
as you live.
84 DILATORINESS

I shall specify a few of the bad habits which

boys of your age are liable to contract, with their
opposite good habits. It is very likely I shall
fail to notice many others, equally important ;
but these may put yo^u upon thinking, and lead
you to discover and correct other bad practices
I, DILATORINESS or TARDINESS. — The tardy
boy is dilatory about rising in the morning. Al
though old Chanticleer is pouring his shrill note
of warning into his ear, and the birds are filling
the air with their merry song, and the morning
rays o- '-he sun are peeping stealthily through
the half-closed shutter, still he thinks, " There's
time enough yet;" and instead of starting up
with the lark, he lingers and delays, saying with
the sluggard, " A little more sleep, a little more
slumber, a little more folding of the hands to
sleep." At length he rises, in a yawning mood,
and proceeds slowly to pull on his clothes, ling
ering with every article, looking here and there,
and stopping every now and then to play, or to
amuse himself in gazing about his chamber.
And sometimes he stops, half-dressed, to read a
story from a piece of an old newspaper. In this
and other ways, he amuses himself until the
breakfast bell rings, and he is not ready. Per
haps he has been called half a dozen times to
" do his chores," and as often answered, " Well,
 TARDINESS. TSO

/'»; coming;" till, wearied with his delay, his

mother or sister has done the work that belonged
to him, or his father has been called from his
room, or the hired man from his work, to do it
for him. At length, he makes his appearance at
the table after the blessing, when the rest of the
family have begun their meal. But, having just
emerged
O
from the foul air of his bedroom,* he
has no appetite for his breakfast, and feels pee
vish and fretful. A scowl appears upon his brow,
and he turns up his nose at the food spread be
fore him,' forgetful
O
alike of his obligations
O
to his
Heavenly Father for providing, and to his moth
er for preparing it. Or, if he sometimes gets
dressed before breakfast, he is not in season to
do his chores, or to complete the lesson which he
left unfinished the night before. He hears the
breakfast bell, but he is just now engaged, and
thinks, " There's time enough yet, — I'lljust Jin-
ish what I've begun ; " and so he is not in season
for the table. He has either detained the table
till all are impatient of waiting, or else he takes
his seat after the rest have commenced eating.
In consequence of this loss of time, he is left at
the table to finish his breakfast, and his seat is
for some time vacant at prayers, when he come*
in and disturbs the whole family. Or, if at any
time, he gets his seat with the rest, he is dilatory
8 «
8(? ALWAYS TOO LATE.

in finding his place, and is never ready to read

when his turn comes. This dilatoririess goes
on, till the school hour arrives, and he is not
ready ; or he delays on the way to school, and
arrives, perhaps, just after his class have recited.
Sabbath morning, when the bell tolls, and the
family are starting for meeting, he is roused from
a reverie, and has yet to get ready. And so in
every thing else this dilatory habit follows him.
When his father or mother calls him, instead of
promptly making his appearance, to serve them,
as a dutiful son should do, he answers, " Yes,
in a minute," or, " Yes, I'm going to." He must
dispose of something else first ; and before he
comes, the service for which he was called has
been despatched by'some one else. He does not
seem to know how to start quick. He is always
in a hurry when the time comes to do any thing,
because he was dilatory in making prepara
tion when he had time. He is always late, —
always out of time, — vexing those that are about
him, and injuring himself. He seems to have
started too late. You would think that he began
too late' in the beginning, — that he was born too
late, and has never been able to gain the lost
time. Every thing comes too soon, before he is
prepared for it. If he ever becomes a man, and
this habit continues, it will always be a source oi
 PUNCTUALITY. 87

vexaticn and disaster to him. If he is a me-

chanicv he will fail to meet his engagements,
and disappoint, vex, and lose his customers. It
he is a man of business, he will fail to meet his
appointments, and thus lose many a bargain.
He will suffer his notes to be protested at the
bank, and thus injure his friends and destroy his
credit. His dilatory habits will be the ruin o<
his business. And if he carries the same habit
into religion, he will ruin his soul, for death wilt
overtake him before he is ready.
Although this seems natural to him, it is onl)
tardiness indulged till it has grown into a habit.
But by timely resolution, diligence, and perse
verance, the habit may be broken.
The opposites of this are the good habits o'
promptness and punctuality. When the gray
dawn steals in at his window, the prompt lad
springs from his bed ; and in a few minutes he
is washed and dressed, and on his knees at his
morning devotions. Soon he appears at his
work; and before breakfast, all his chores are
done. Thus he has redeemed the time between
breakfast and school, which he has at his own
disposal, for his lessons or his sports. He is
always in time. He never keeps the table wait
ing for him, and never comes after the blessing
He is never late at prayers — never late at school —
 SLOVENLINESS.

never late at meeting; and yet he is never in

a hurry. He redeems so much time by his
promptness, that he has as much as he needs to
Jo every thing well and in season. He savef
all the time that the dilatory spends in sauntering
in considering what to do next, in reading frivo
lous matters, and in gazing idly at vacancy. Do
you desire to possess these good habits ? Only
carry out for one day the idea I have given o'
promptness, and then repeat it every day, and,
in a little time, you have the habit established.
II. SLOVENLINESS. — A slovenly boy makes
himself a deal of needless trouble, and greatly
tries the patience of his mother. If you go into
his room, you find it always in confusion. His
things are scattered about, here and there, some
on the bed, some on the chairs, and some on the
floor, — but none in their places. He either has
no particular place for any thing, or else he takes
no pains to put things in their places. He leaves
a thing where he uses it. Hence, if he wants
any thing, he never knows where to look for it,
unless he happens to remember where he used
it last. He must waste his time in hunting for
it. Hence you will often hear him impatiently
inquiring if any one has seen his things ; when
he ought himself to know where they are. If
he goes into another person's room, whatever
 SLOVENLINESS. 89

article he lays his hand upon is misplaced. And

so it is, if he uses any of his father's tools. He
never thinks of putting any thing where he found
it. He throws it down carelessly wherever he
happens to be, or else puts it in the wrong place ;
so that, when wanted, it cannot be found. Thus,
he not only wastes his own time, but hinders and
vexes others. If he goes into the library, and
takes down a book, he either puts it in a differ
ent place, and so disarranges the shelves, or laya
it down on the shelf in front of other books,
for his father or mother to arrange. His school
books are torn and dirty — disfigured with pencil
marks, blots of ink, grease spots, finger prints,
and dog's-ears ; and if he borrows a book from
the Sabbath school library, or of a friend, it is
returned with some of these his marks upon it.
Whatever he undertakes to do is done in the
same slovenly style. If he brings in water, he
spills it on the floor. His wood he throws down
in a sprawling manner, instead of laying it in a
neat and handsome pile. Nothing that he does
looks neat and finished.
Nor does he appear to any better advantage in
his person. His clothes are put on in a slouch
ing, uncouth manner; and he always contrives
to have them dirty. He cannot have on clean
clothes half an hour without soiling them. Ha
8* *
90 CARELESSNESS.

rubs against whatever dirty thing he passes. If

he carries milk, he spills it on his clothes. He
drops grease on them at the table. He wallows
in the dirt. He contrives to hitch against a nail,
or the latch of a door, and makes a rent for his
mother to mend. If left to himself, his face
would never come in contact with water, nor his
teeth with a brush. You would almost think,
sometimes, that you could see the grass grow
ing on his upper lip.
He comes into the house with his shoes cov
ered with mud, and never thinks of wiping his
feet, but leaves the prints of them on his moth
er's clean floor or nice carpet. He seems to for
get what scrapers and mats are made for, for he
passes by without using them. He lays his hat
on a chair, or throws it upon the floor, instead
of hanging it in its place. Thus he tries the
patience of his mother and sisters, and makes
himself unwelcome at his own home.
And with this habit is generally associated
carelessness. He never seems to be thinking
what he is about. He does not see thino-s o
that
are in his way, but stumbles over them, break
ing, bruising, or otherwise injuring them, and
often hurting himself. You dread to see him ap
proach, lest some mischief should happen. He
does not look to see what he steps on, nor wheth-
 NEAT. AND ORDERLY. 91

er his hands have firm hold of the article he takos

up. If he passes through a door, he does not
mind whether it was open or shut ; and most
likely, if he finis it open, in a warm summer's
day, he will close it; but, if he finds it carefully
shut, on a freezing day in mid-winter, he will
leave it wide open.
A careless person will be constantly meeting
with accidents and misfortunes, and continually
subject to the most vexatious mortifications,
which a little thoughtfulness and care would
prevent. This habit is a very great fault, and,
when confirmed, very difficult to correct. It is
therefore the more important, that it should be
taken in season, and nipped in the bud.
I need not tell you what are the opposites ot
slovenly and careless habits. The neat, orderly,
and careful boy has an invariable rule, — "A
PLACE FOR EVERV THING, AND EVERY THING IN
ITS PLACE." Go into his room at any hour, and
you will find every thing in order. He can go
in the dark, and lay his hand on any thing he
wants, so that he never runs the risk of setting
the house on fire, by carrying a light into his
bedroom. He' is so much in the habit of putting
thiTigs in their proper places, that he never thinks
of doing otherwise. He never leaves a thing
at random, where he happens to be using it;
92 CAREFULNESS.

but always puts it where it belongs. When he

undresses, every article of his clothing is folded,
and laid together in the order that it will be
wanted in the morning ; so that he loses no time
in hunting for it. His clothes are put on and
adjusted so as to show a neat fit, and every
button does its office. His shoes are regularly
bt ashed every morning, and the strings neatly
tied, so that your eye is never offended with the
appearance, nor your ear distressed with the
sound, of dirty, slip-shod, flapping shoes.
'Io whatever part of the house he goes, he
leaves it in the order in which he found it ; for
it is his invariable rule, when he uses any thing
belonging to another, to replace it exactly as he
found it. When he takes hold of a cup, or a
lamp, or any such article, he is careful to get
fairly hold, and then to move moderately, and
not with a jerk ; and by this means, he seldom
meets with any of those accidents which are so
annoying to tidy housekeepers. If he goes to
the library, he is careful to replace every book
or paper he takes in his hand, exactly as he
found it. If he takes a book to read, he carries
it with care, firmly grasped in his hand, and
avoids letting it fall, or hitting it against any
thing to bruise the cover. He holds 't in such
a manner as not to strain the back or crumple
 CAREFULNESS. 93

the leaves ; and if called away from his readirg

he puts in a mark, shuts the book, and lays it
in a safe place. He never thinks of using a
book for any other purpose than that for which
it was made. When he has finished reading it,
he carefully replaces it in the library, just, where
he found it. He does not place it wrong end up
wards, nor the title towards the back of the shelf;
but puts it in the place where it belongs, makes
it stand straight, and shoves it back even with
its fellows. All his school books are kept neat
and clean. No blots of ink, nor pencil marks,
nor thumb-prints, nor dog's-ears, any where ap
pear. If he passes through a door into or out
of a room where others are sitting, he leaves it
open or shut as he found it ; judging that the
persons occupying the room, have adjusted its
temperature to their own liking.
He is equally careful of his person. He
never considers himself dressed, till he has
washed his hands and face, cleaned his teeth,
and combed his hair ; and he never thinks of
sitting down at the table with dirty hands. He
learns to keep his clothes neat and clean. At
table, he avoids dropping his food upon them.
At school, he is careful of his ink, not to be
spatter his clothes with it. And at play, he
keeps himself out of the dirt. He will wear his
94 RUDENESS.

clothes a week, and have them appear cleaner,

at the end of it, than the sloven's when he has
worn them a single day.
He has a care, also, of the appearance of the
house. He never forgets to use the scraper at
the door, to remove the mud from his feet ; and
then he makes it an invariable rule never to pass
a mat without wiping his shoes. He never says,
like the sloven, " I didn't think," to excuse him
self. He would consider it unpardonable in him
not to think ; for what is the ability of thinking
worth, if it never comes when it is wanted.
The neat, orderly boy, makes himself agree
able to his mother and sisters, who are always
glad to see him coming ; and home is a delight
ful place to him, because he meets with smiles
and pleasant words. But the sloven exposes
himself to sour looks and chiding, by his dirty
habits ; and he finds home a disagreeable place,
because he makes it so.
III. RUDENESS. — This term does not describe
any one habit in particular, but a great many
little ones. Webster gives the following defini
tion : "RUDE: rough; of coarse manners; un
polished ; clownish ; rustie." It is not, there
fore, a single habit, but a series of habits. These
are so numerous, it can hardly be expected that
I should think of them all. The rude boy is
 COARSE JESTS. 95

rough, clownish, and boisterous, in his manners.

He is rude in speech and rude in behavior. He
will stalk into the house with his hat on ; and if
there is company, he does not notice them. He
talks in a loud and boisterous manner, often
breaking in abruptly upom the conversation of oth
ers. If he hears part of a conversation, and de
sires to know what it is about, he abruptly breaks
in, " Who is it? Who is it? What is it? " And,
often, he keeps his tongue running continually,
like the incessant clatter of a mill.
It is rude and vulgar to interlard conversation
with by-words, or unmeaning phrases, thrown in
at random between the sentences. It is much
more so, to throw in little oaths, or low, vulgar
expressions. All this shows a disposition to be
profane. It is saying, in effect, " I would
swear, if I durst." If indulged, this habit will
be very likely to lead on to profaneness.
Another rude habit, which boys often indulge,
is, what is familiarly called " CRACKING JOKES "
upon one another. The object seems to be, to
see who can say the wittiest thing, at another's
expense. But, in such attempts, generally, wit
fails ; and the strife is, which can say the silliest
thing, in the silliest manner. All such low wit
ticisms may be set down as decidedly rude and
vulgar.
96 KUDE HABITS.

Rudeness of behavior manifests itself in so

many forms, that it is scarcely definable. I can
only glance at a few things which indicate a
want of good breeding. It is rude to be so for
ward as to treat your superiors as equals, or to
take the lead in all companies. On the other
hand, it is rude to be bashful — to hang down the
head, with a leer of the eye, in the presence of
company, and refuse to speak when spoken to,
or to speak in a confused and mumbling tone,
as though you had never seen anybody before.
It is rude for a boy to take the best seat in the
room, or to take the only seat, while others are
standing. Tilting one's chair ; sitting awk
wardly on one side of the chair, or with the
feet stretched out at full length ; putting the feet
on another's chair; sitting on two chairs; rock
ing ; drumming with the fingers or feet; scratch
ing books, furniture, window-frames, or walls, —
these, and a hundred other things that might be
named, are rude habits, which indicate not only
the want of good breeding, but the absence of
good taste and a sense of propriety.
There are other rude habits, which boys often
contract, while abroad, that ar.e wholly out of
character for one that would be a gentleman;
such as hallooing in the streets , jumping on the
backside of carriages; calling out to strangers
 EVIL HABITS. 97

that are passing; collecting in groups about

public places, and staring at people. All such
behavior is intolerable ; and those who are
guilty of it will be set down by all sensible peo
ple as low, ill-bred, rude boys.
IV. EVIL HABITS. — I am sorry to say that
some boys indulge habits, that are worse than
any I have mentioned. Boys may be seen strut
ting through the streets, puffing segars; and
even sometimes filling their mouths with that
loathsome Indian weed, tobacco, as. though
they thought such vile habits necessary to make
them men. And often you will hear the profane
oath issuing from their mouth, along with the
foul breath created by this nauseous potion. A
disposition to smoke or to chew this filthy, poi
sonous substance, indicates the existence of an
intemperate appetite, and the love of low com
pany. You will, perhaps, see the same boys at the
shops, drinking beer. But this is only the prelude
to something stronger. Tobacco is one of the
most active vegetable poisons. It disorders the
system and creates an appetite for stimulants. It
is dangerous to use it in any form. But when a
boy goes so far as to contract a relish for intoxi
cating drinks, his ruin is well nigh accomplished
After once giving indulgence to any of these
practices, the downhill road is easy and rapid
9 *
98 . DRINKING.

About the time when temperance societies be

gan to be formed, I was conversing with a me
chanic, who informed me that almost every one
of his fellow-apprentices, who were in the habit
of occasionally drinking intoxicating liquors, had
become drunkards. Many years ago, there were,
in one of our large cities, fifty young men, clerks
n stores, who used to frequent a particular place,
to spend their evenings in a social way, with
the wine bottle as a companion of their social
cheer. One evening, one of them, after retir
ing, began to reflect upon the consequences of
the course he was pursuing. He came to the
conclusion, that, if he went on, it would be his
ruin. He resolved that he would never go
again. The next evening, he found himself on
the way to the same place. But as he came to
the corner of the street which turned towards
the place, he thought of his resolution. He
hesitated a moment, and then said to himself,
'Right about face!" He returned, and was
never seen there again. That man is now one
of the most wealthy, respected, and useful men
in the country ; while forty of those who con
tinued their resort to the public house, became
intemperate, and I believe have all gone down
to the drunkard's grave.
'Gaming is another evil habit, which leads to
 EVIL HABITS. 95>

all manner of evil company and evil practices.

It has proved the destruction of thousands of
promising youth.
NEVER SUFFER YOURSELF TO BECOME THE
SLAVE OF any HABIT. Abstain entirely from
intoxicating drinks, tobacco, gaming, and pro
fane language. For when you once begin, with
any of these, it is like " the letting out of wa
ters." At first they run very slowly ; but soon
they wear away a channel, and rush on with an
impetuosity, which defies all attempts to stop
them. On the coast of Norway, there is a
great whirlpool, called the Maelstrom, which
sometimes swallows up great ships. When a
vessel comes near this terrible abyss, it is first
drawn very gently, with a circular motion. But
after it has made one or two rounds, it goes
more and more rapidly, and draws nearer and
nearer the centre, till finally it reaches the vor
tex, 'a swallowed up, and is seen no more. So
it is with these bad habits. When one gets
fairli within the circle of their influence, his
fate s well nigh sealed. The only safety, with
you; g nun and boys, is to keep far away from
the very outer edges of the whirlpool.

914956
 100

CHAPTER XII.

EDUCATION OF THE BODY.

THE reader will perhaps laugh at the idea c

educating the body. But a moment's reflection
will show that no part of man more needs edu
cation than the body. The design of education,
as I have already said is, to form the character,
and prepare us, in early life, for what we are to
do in future. For this purpose, the body needs
discipline as well as the mind. An ill body
makes an ill ' mind and a sad heart. The health
of the body is necessary to the healthy operation
of the mind ; and a healthy body is secured by
activity. But the body not only needs health, but
discipline. The fingers must be taught all man
ner of handiwork, and exercised upon it, in
order to accustom them to the use that is to be
•nade of them ; the feet must be taught to per
form their appropriate duties, in a graceful and
proper manner ; and all the muscles of the body
must be exercised, in due proportion, to give
them strength and solidity. The proper dis
cipline of the several members of the body is
 CONTROL THE MOTIONS jF THE BODY. 101

necessary, not only to prepare them for useful

occupation, but to give them a graceful, natural,
and easy motion, and BO promote good manners
and a genteel carriage.
I shall not be very particular in what I have
to say on this subject, but only give a few gentle
hintsA,
1. DISCIPLINE THE BODY TO OBEY THE WILL.
— You would not think, to see some young folks,
that the will had any thing to do with the move
ments of the body; for it moves in all imaginable
ways, with all sorts of contortions. First flies
out a foot, then a hand, then there's a twirl or a
swing, then a drumming of the fingers, a trotting
of the foot, or some such odd figure. This
arises from leaving the body to control itself, by
its own natural activity, the mind taking no
supervision of its motions. Now, if you early
accustom yourself to exercise a strict mental
supervision over the body, so as never to make
any movement whatever, except what you mean
to make, you will find this habit of great conse
quence to you ; for, besides saving you the morti
fication of a thousand ungraceful movements
which habit has rendered natural, it will enable
you to eontrol your nerves, the necessity fot
which you will understand better hereafter than
you do now. Make the will the ruling power
9*
102 EARLY RISING.

of your body, so as never to do any thing bu'

what you mean to do, and you will never get
the reputation of being nervous.
2. AVOID LATE HOURS. — It would seem hardly
necessary to give such a direction to young per
sons still under the control of their parents.
But facts too plainly showrthat parents do not
always sufficiently consider the injurious effects
of late hours upon the fair and healthy develop
ment of the human frame. And the disposi
tion of young people to seek amusement over
comes, with them, the dictates of prudence. But
the practice of sitting up late, and especially o'
being abroad late at night, is a war upon nature.
It interrupts the regular course of things. It
turns night into day and day into night. If you
would be pale-faced, sickly, nervous, and good
for nothing, sit up late at night.
3. RISE EARLY. — It is said that, to have a fair
skin, rosy cheeks, and a fine complexion, one
must wash every morning in summer in the dew.
Whether there is any virtue in the dew »r not,
I cannot say ; but I have no doubt that such
would be the effect of the practice proposed.
To rise early, before the atmosphere has become
heated with the summer's sun, and walk abroad
snuffing the cool breeze, listening to the music
of the feathered t::b>3, and joining in the sweet
 BATHING. 1 UJ

harmony of nature, hymning forth praise to the

Creator, certainly tends to promote health of
body and cheerfulness and serenity of mind ;
and these will make a blooming countenance,
and clothe very plain features with an aspect of
beauty. The adding of the dew-wash will do 110
harm. If you make a rule of washing in the
dew, it will stimulate you to sally forth before
the sun has driven it away ; and you can find no
softer water than the dew.
4. USE PLENTY OF WATER. — The body can
not be kept in a healthy state, without frequent
bathing. It should be washed all over, with cold
water, at least once every day, to promote health
and cleanliness. One who has never tried it
can have no idea of its invigorating effects ; and
it seems hardly possible that the human system
can keep long in order, while this is neglected.
The machinery of a watch, after a while, gets
dirty, so that it will not run till it is taken to
pieces and cleaned. But the machinery of the
human body is vastly more intricate than that of
a watch. It is made up of an endless mumber
of parts, of various patterns, some of them of the
most delicate texture and exquisite workman
ship, but all parts of a great machine that is
constantly in motion. And there is provision
made for carrying off all the dirt that accumu-
104 CARE OF THE TEETH.

lates on its wheels and bands, in little tubes,

which discharge it upon the surface of the skin
But unless frequently washed off, it accumulates,
and stops up the ends of these little tubes, and
prevents their discharging, so that the offensive
and poisonous matter which they would carry
off is kept in the system Let this go on a little
while, and it cannot fail to produce disease.
Therefore, I say, use plenty of water.
5. TAKE CARE OF YOUR TEETH. — The teeth
have a very important office to perform in the
animal economy — that of preparing the food for
the stomach. What is not done by the teeth
must be done by the digestive organs. There
fore, your health is deeply concerned in the
preservation of a good set of teeth. The voice
and the countenance, also, plead with you to
take care of your teeth. In almost all cases,
teeth may be saved from decay, if attended to in
time. The best directions I can give for pre
serving the teeth are, to clean them every day
with a brush, and pick them after every mea)
with a pointed quill, so as to remove all the par
ticles of food from between them, and the tartat
that adheres to the surface ; — cleanliness, as well
as the safety of the teeth, requires this. You
ought to have your teeth examined and attended
to, by a dentist, once or twice a year. Keeping
 BE ACTIVE. 105

them c ean preserves them from decay ; and

if decay commences, a dentist can stop it, if
he can take them in season.
6. BE ACTIVE — The body was made for use.
Every part of it is formed for activity. But
any thing made for use will suffer injury to lie
still. The human body, especially, if suffered
to remain inactive, becomes useless. Activity
strengthens the parts. If you would have more
strength, you must use what you have, and it
<viH increase. The right use of your members,
also,' must be learned by practice. Much prac
tice is necessary, for instance, to train the fingers
to the various uses in which they are to be em
ployed, so as, (to use a homely phrase,) to make
them handy. The body, likewise, needs exer
cise, to keep it in a healthy state. The various
parts of its machinery have a great work to do,
every day, in turning your food into blood, and
sending it a great many thousand times, in a
vast number of little streams, to every part of the
body. But this machinery will not work, if the
body is all the time inactive. It requires motion,
to give it power. There is nothing, therefore,
so bad for it as laziness. It is like a dead calm
to a windmill, which stops all its machinery.
7. LEARN, AT PROPER TIMES, TO BE STILL
— All nature needs repose. If the human sys-
106 DEFORMITY

tern .were always kept in the [Link] activity, it

would soon wear out. For this reason, God has
given us periodical seasons of rest — a part of
every day, and one whole day in seven. There
are times, also, when it is not proper to be
active ; as, when you are at your devotions, or
at family worship, or in the house of God. So,
likewise, at school, or in company, or when you
sit down with the family at home, as well as in
many other cases, activity is out of place. Your
body, therefore, will never be educated, till you
have obtained such control over it, as to be able,
at proper times, to be still. And I may say, it
is a great accomplishment in a young person, to
know just when to be still, and to have self-
control enough to be still just at the proper time
8. BE CAREFUL TO KEEP THE BODY IN ITS
NATURAL POSITION. — This is necessary, not only
to preserve its beauty, but to prevent deformity.
Sitting at school, or at any sedentary employ
ment, is liable to produce some unnatural twist
or bend of the body. The human form, in its
natural position, is a model of beauty. But,
when bad habits turn it out of shape, it offends
the eye. Avoid a stooping posture, or an incli
nation to either side But sit and stai.d erect,
with the small of the back curved in, the chest
thrown forward, the shoulders back, and tho
 TIGHT-DRESSING. 107

head upright. A little attention to these things

every day, while the body is growing, and the
bones and muscles are in a flexible state, will
give your form a beauty and symmetry, which
you can never acquire afterwards, if you neglect
it at this time of life. And it will do more, a
thousand times, to keep you in health, than all
the doctor's pill-boxes.
9. AVOID TIGHT-DRESSING, AS YOU WOULD A
BLACK SNAKE. — You will, perhaps, smile at this.
But if you know any thing of the black snake,
you will recollect that it assaults not with
deadly venom, but winds itself around its vic
tim, stops the circulation of the blood, and, if
it reaches high enough, makes a rope of itself,
to strangle him. I need not tell you that the
effects of tight-dressing are similar. Whatever
part of the body, — whether neck, chest, arms,
limbs or feet, — is pinched with tight covering, is
subject to the same strangling process produced
by the black snake. It obstructs the free circu
lation of the blood, and produces a tendency to
disease in the part so compressed. If you feel
an unpleasant tightness in any p<trt of your dress,
remember the black snake.
10. DISCIPLINE THE MUSCLES OF THE FACE.
— You may think this a queer direction; but I
assure you it is given with all gravity. If you
108 BE TEMPERATE.

allow every temper of the heart to find a corre

sponding expression in the muscles of the face,
you will be sure to spoil the fairest countenance.
How would you feel, if you were to see an ac
complished young person, with fine features, and
a beautiful countenance ; but on coming near,
should discover little holes in the face, from
which, every now and then, vipers and veno
mous serpents were thrusting out their heads
and hissing at you ? Well, the evil tempers of
the heart, such as pride, vanity, envy, jealousy,
&.C., are a nest of vipers ; and, when indulged,
they will spit out their venom through the coun
tenance. How often do we see a proud, scorn
ful, sour, morose, or jealous expression, that has
fairly been worn into the features of the counte
nance ! And what is this but the hissing of
vipers that dwell within ? Strive to acquire such
self-control, as to keep a calm, serene expression
upon your countenance; and you cannot tell
how much it will add to your appearance.
11. BE TEMPERATE. — To be strictly temper
ate is, to avoid all excess. Not only abstain from
eating and drinking what is hurtful, but use
moderation in all things — in eating and drink
ing, in running and walking, in play, in amuse
ment.
 10t»

CHAPTER XIII.

ON USEFUL LABOR.

1 HAVE seen boys who would make incredible

exertion to accomplish any thing which they un
dertook for their own amusement ; but who, when
called upon to do any thing useful, would demut
and complain, put on sour looks, and conjure up
a multitude of objections, making the thing to be
done like lifting a mountain. Whenever any
work is to be done, " there is a lion in the way ; "
and the objections they make, and the difficul
ties they interpose, make you feel as if you would
rather do it a dozen times yourself, than to ask
them to lift a little finger. The real difficulty
is in the boy's own mind. He has no idea of
being useful ; no thought of doing any thing but
to seek his own pleasure ; and he is mean enough
to look on and see his father and mother toil
and wear themselves out to bring him up in idle
ness. Play, play, play, from morning till night
is all his ambition. Now, I do not object to his
playing; but what I would find fault with is
10
*
110 DISLIKE OF WORK .

that he should wish to play all the time. I would

not have him work all the time, for
" All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy ; "

neither would I have him play all the time, for

" All play and no work makes Jack a mere toy.'

There is not a spark of manliness in such a boy ;

and he never will be a man, till he alters his
notions.
There is another boy, who has more heart —
a better disposition. When called to do any
thing, he is always ready and willing. His
heart dilates at the thought of helping his father
or his mother — of being useful. He takes hold
with alacrity. You would think the work he is
set about would be despatched in a trice. But
he is chicken-hearted. Instead of conquering
his work, he suffers his work to conquer him.
He works briskly for a few minutes, and then
he begins to flag. Instead of working away,
with steady perseverance, he stops every minute
or two, and looks at his work, and wishes it were
done. But wishing is not working; and his work
does not get done in this way. The more he
gazes at it, the more like a mountain it appears.
At length, he sits down to rest ; and finally, after
having suffered more from the dread of exertion
 THE COWARD. Ill

than it would have cost him to do his work a

dozen times, he gives it up, and goes to his fa
ther or mother, and in a desponding tone and
with a sheepish look, he says, " / can't do it ! '•
He is a coward. He has suffered himself to be
conquered by a wood-pile which he was told to
saw, or by a few weeds in the garden that he
was required to dig up. He will never make a
man, till he gets courage enough to face his work
with resolution, and to finish it with a manly
perseverance. " I can't,'" never made a man.
Here is another boy, who has got the notion
into his head that he is going to live without
work. His father is rich ; or he intends to be
a professional man, or a merchant; and he thinks
it of no use for 'him to learn to work. He feels
above labor. He means to be a gentleman. But
he is very much mistaken as to what constitutes
a gentleman. He has altogether erroneous and
false views of things. Whatever may be his
situation in life, labor is necessary to exercise
and develope the muscular powers of his body.
If he grows up in indolence, he will be weak and
effeminate, never possessing the vigor of a man
And whatever sphere of life he may occupy hero
after, he will never possess independence anu
energy of character enough to accomplish any
thing. A man who does not know how to work.
112 DO-NOTHING HABITS.

is not more than half a man. He is so t epend

ent upon others, that he can accomplish nothing
without help. Nor can wealth, or education, or
professional knowledge, supply the deficiency.
Wealth is very uncertain. " Riches take to
themselves wings ; " and they are especially lia
ble to fly away from men who have been bred up
in idle, do-nothing habits. And what will they
do when their wealth is gone? They have never
made any exertion, or depended on themselves.
They have no energy of character. They have
no knowledge of any useful employment. They
cannot dig, and to beg they are ashamed. They
either sink down, in utter discouragement, to
the lowest depths of poverty, or else they re
sort to dishonest means of obtaining money.
I have before me a letter, written to a gen
tleman in Boston, from a boy in the House of
Correction, who got there by trying to live with
out work. After tellin;r how bad he felt to
O

be shut up in prison, and how bitter his reflec

tions upon his past life were, he says, " I thought
that os long as I could live without work, and get
my living dishonestly, I would go ahead; but my
high life was soon stopped." Here you perceive
that his temptation to be dishonest arose fiom
his dislike of work. But now, he says, he is con-
/inced that the best way to get a living ia by
 URONES. 113

honest labor. And so you will find it. There is

no one more exposed to temptation than the idle
boy.
" Satan finds some mischief still
For idle hands to do."
One who undertakes to get a living without
work will be very likely to fall into dishonest
practices, and get shut up in prison.
Equally necessary is it for a man of learning,
or a professional man, to know how to do with
his own hands the most common things. If de
pendent on his own earnings for a support, he
will not be able to hire every thing done to his
hand ; or, if able, he will not always find any
one to do it. And as to the merchant, his life,
from the very first, is a life of incessant toil and
labor. The lazy boy, who goes into a store as a
clerk, with such notions in his head about work,
will be served as the working bees serve their
drones — he will be dragged out of the hive.
The boy that despises work, sets himself
against nature ; and if he succeeds in making
any thing of himself, he will contradict the voice
of all history. When man fell from his inno-
cency, it was determined that he should eat his
bread in the sweat of his brow. It is in vain
for his posterity to attempt to evade this curse.
If they refuse to toil, they will suffer a worse
10* *
114 RESULTS OP SLOTH.

disaster, as the penalty of their disobedience

Disease, or poverty, or both, will follow the lazy
track of the sluggard. This result, Solomon
has described, in the most glowing terms : " 1
went by the field of the slothful, and by the
vineyard of the man void of understanding ,
and lo, it was all grown over with thorns ; nettles
had covered the face thereof, and the stone wall
thereof was broken down. Yet a little sleep, a
little slumber, a little folding of the hands to
sleep ; so shall thy poverty come as one that
travaileth, and thy want as an armed man."
Many of the ancient nations used to have a
law requiring every young man to have a knowl
edge of some branch of labor. There appears
to have been such a custom among the Jews.
Paul, though belonging to a wealthy family, and
bred a lawyer, in the highest school in the na
tion, was yet brought up to a trade. And when
he came to devote himself to his Master's service,
he found his tent-maker's trade of great use to
him. And whatever occupation you design to
follow, you will find use for all the practical
knowledge of work, of handicraft, or of me
chanical skill, you can acquire in early life.
In the empire of China, labor is held in such
esteem, that the emperor, on the day of his coro
nation, is required to plough a furrow with his
 LABOR HONORABLE. 115

own hand. And if you look over the page of

history, both ancient and modern, you will find
that many of the greatest men that ever lived,
were accustomed to follow some laborious occu
pation. David, the poet king, the sweet singer
of Israel, whose name has been embalmed in
the hearts of the pious in all ages, when a boy,
was occupied in keeping his father's sheep. Dr-
Franklin was the son of a mechanic in Boston,
and was bred a printer. Washington, the father
of his country, was a farmer. And the blessed
"Savior himself has set an example of industry
and love of labor, which should put to shame
every pseudo-gentleman who despises the labor
of the hands. His apostles, also, were called
from laborious occupations to preach the gos
pel ; and many of the most eminent of his min
isters and missionaries of the present day have
been called from the plough or the workshop ; and
some of them have worked their way through a
long course of study, bearing the expenses of
their education with the labor of their hands.
We may safely conclude, then, that, whoever
despises labor is a fool ; for he despises the
only thing that can make him A MAN.
But industry is not only necessary to make
you a man ; it is necessary to make you happy.
Some boys have such an aversion to labor, that
116 NOTHING TO DO.

they would think themselves perfectly happy if

they had nothing to do. But they are greatly
mistaken. They might like such a life a day or
two, but they would soon get tired of it. The
children at the Sandwich Islands have nothing
to do. Their parents have no employment for
them. They grow up in idleness. A mission
ary, writing to the children of this country,
says, " Now, does any one say, ' Happy, happy
children, inhabiting these sunny isles! Abso
lutely nothing to do, but to seek their own
gratification, without fear or restraint ! ' Happy?
No. The goats which graze the sides of their
mountains may be happy ; or the kitten which
gambols on your kitchen hearth may be happy;
but these children are not happy." They often
go hungry. Their parents were brought up in
idleness, also ; and now they will not work if
they can help it. They receive no assistance
from their children, and often have no food to
give them The children frequently live upon
roots, which they dig in the mountains, or upon
sugar-cane, which they find in the fields. After
spending the day in idleness, they often have to
go supperless to bed.
In many parts of the islands, also, the chil
dren, who have no disposition to labor and ob
tain clothing, suffer much from cold. They go
 EFFECTS OF IDLENESS. 117

almost naked ; and when night comes, tley lie

down on a bare mat, with the dogs and fleas.
Would the children of America exchange their
warm beds and sweet sleep, for the leisure and
hard fare of these young Sandwich Islanders ?
But in sickness, their sufferings are much
greater. They are destitute of nearly every
comfort ; they have no physician; and they
receive very little attention from their parents
and friends. No kind mother watches over their
couch at night. If they suffer, they suffer alone ;
if they die, they die unattended.
Idleness, also, makes these children vicious.
Having nothing useful to do, they are always
ready for every evil work. They tempt each
other to sin. They rush together the downward
road ; and if spared to become men, they are
poor and degraded, diseased and miserable.
But perhaps you will say, " These Sandwich
Islanders are uncivilized heathen; and this is
what makes them so wretched." But you need
not go to heathen lands, to see the bad effects of
the want of useful employment, upon boys and
young men. In the Southern States, all the la
bor is done by slaves. It is esteemed disgrace
ful for a white man to work. The consequence
is, that the boys grow up in idleness and vice
118 EFFECTS OF INDUSTRY.

They learn every thing that is bad. They grow

up with strong and fiery passions, and vicious
inclinations unsubdued. Among the young men,
gambling, horse-racing, and other social vices,
generally prevail. But many of them become
poor ; and then they are as wretched as the
poor Sandwich Islanders. There is, perhaps,
no class of persons, in this country, more de
graded than the poor whites in the slave states.
And their poverty and wretchedness may be
traced to the fact, that it is disgraceful, among
them, for white men to labor.
There is no country on earth where there is
less of squalid poverty, and where the people
generally enjoy more comfort and happiness,
than in New England. And what is the reason t
There is, probably, no other country in the
world where the people are so industrious —
where all the people are engaged in some useful
employment. In New England, boys are set to
work as soon as they are old enough to handle
a hoe, an axe, or a spade. Every child has
something to do, which adds something to the
family's comfort. And where, in the wide
world, will you find so many smiling, happy
faces as among the children of New England ?
This is the true reason why they are so much
 NEW ENGLAND BOYS. 119

happiei than the children of the Sandwich

Islands. The Yankee boy may sometimes get
tired of his work ; but if he had nothing to do
he would be absolutely miserable. It is not in
the nature of a son of New England to be
happy without employment. And, where you
find one of them educated, and rising to emi
nence in professional life, if you trace back his
history, in most cases, you will learn that, when
a boy, he worked on his father's farm, or in his
father's shop. And if you could see him seek
ing relaxation and amusement, you would often
find him engaged in the same kind of labor that
he used to perform when a boy.
When one of the convicts in the state prison
has committed an offence, they punish him by
shutting him up in his cell alone, and giving him
nothing to do. For a little while he is glad to be
relieved from his work ; but very soon, he begs
for it again. Nothing is so hard for him to
bear as doing nothing.
If, then, you would be virtuous and happy, —
if you would be qualified to brave the storms
of life's troubled ocean, — cultivate the love of
useful labor. This will give you independence
of character. It will give you the ability to
take care of yourself. It will make you despise
120 INDEPENDENCE.

the fawning sycophant, who would sell his birth

right for a piece of bread. It will save you
from the temptation to surrender your inde
pendence, or commit any act of meanness or
dishonesty for the sake of a living.
 131

CHAPTER XIV.

EDUCATION OP THE HEART.

Bv the heart, I mean the moral faculties, in

distinction from the intellectuml. Any action
is moral, which can be praised or blamed. The
moral faculties are those which determine moral
action. These faculties are, the Conscience, Will,
and Affections. In this division, I do not attempt
metaphysical exactness, but only what I can
make my readers understand. When I speak
of educating these faculties, I do not mean to
separate the process from that of religious edu
cation in general ; for nothing can be well done,
in the formation of character, without religious
principle and motives at the foundation. Bu
my object is, to speak of the specific means
by which these faculties may be cultivated.
It may be necessary for me to explain what I
mean by the Conscience, Will, and Affections. Yet
it does not fall in with my design, neither would
it suit the age and capacities of those for whom
I write, to enter into a philosophical description,
11
122 CONSCIENCE.

or analysis, of the faculties of the mind, or affec

tions of the heart. I shall only give such simple
explanations as are sufficient for my purpose, and
as I suppose will be understood by my readers.
I. THE CONSCIENCE. — This is the faculty
which determines whether any action proposed
to the mind, or any feeling of the heart, is right
or wrong. If you will watch the motions of your
own mind, you will perceive, whenever any thing
is proposed to be done or not to be done, some
thing within tells you that it is either right or
wrong; if wrong, you find the same something
within, urging you not to do it ; or, if right, the
same impulse moves you to do it. If you do as
you are thus urged, you find the same voice
within approving what you have done, or, if you
do not obey, condemning you. This something
within is CONSCIENCE.
You have, doubtless, lived long enough to
experience many a conflict, or dispute, between
your conscience and your inclinations. You are
inclined to do something which your conscience
tells you is wrong ; but conscience not only tells
vou it is wrong, but urges you not to do it.
Your inclinations, or desires, urge you in the
contrary direction ; and this creates a conflict.
If conscience prevails, then it approves your de
cision, and you feel happy. But, if inclination
 THE SOUL'S EYE.

prevails, conscience upbraids, and you fuel mis

erable.
As I have denned education, you will see the
great importance of educating the conscienee. It
is the leading moral faculty, and must have a
great influence upon the moral character. For
the conscience itself may be wrong. It is not
itself the rule by which you are to determine
what is right and wrong. The Word of God is
the rule. The office of conscience is, to deter
mine whether any thing you propose to do is
agreeable to the rule, and to urge you, accord
ingly, to do it or not to do it. Suppose you wish
to determine whether any thing is straight ; you
lay a rule upon it that you suppose to be straight,
and if they agree, that settles the matter. Your
eye, comparing the object with the rule, deter
mines whether it is straight or not. But, if the
rule applied is crooked, your eye is deceived,
and you misjudge. Conscience is the eye of the
soul, that compares an action with the rule. The
conscience, then, must be well instructed. You
must learn the rule of right from the Word of
God, and then conscience will always decide
right. But, if you adopt false notions of right
and wrong, your very conscience will lead you
astray. The first thing, then, in the education
of the heart is, to have it filled with right prin-
J24 CONSCIENCE STIFLED.

ciples ; and these you are to obtain from the

study of the Bible, and from listening to the
instructions of your parents, teachers, and min
isters.
The next thing is, always to obey the voice of
conscience If you go contrary to it, and do
what conscience teMs you is wrong, or neglect
what it urges upon you as duty, you weaken that
faculty, and harden the heart. When you refuse
to hearken to the voice of conscience, the next
time it will not speak so loud ; and every time
this is repeated, the weaker it grows, till at
length it is scarcely heard at all, and you may
go on and sin almost without restraint. If you
will look back a little while in your own experi
ence, you will see the force of what I say. If
you have ever fallen into the habit of secretly
disobeying your parents, you will find an illus
tration of it. The first time you were tempted
to disobey, your conscience was very loud against
it; but the temptation, falling in with your in
clinations, prevailed. Then conscience upbraided
you with a voice of terror. But you were not
discovered, and no immediate evil followed. The
next time the temptation presented itself, the re
monstrance of conscience was feeble, and its
condemnation light. The next time it was
feebler still ; till at length you could do with
 THE WILL. 12O

careless indifference what at first made you shud

der. But when the power of conscience is
gone, there is but one step more to ruin. If,
then, you would keep your conscience tender,
you must always obey its voice
Another means of educating the conscience
is, the habit of thinking with approbation of
what is right, and putting out of the mind with
horror all thoughts of what is wrong. The
most hateful things, by becoming familiar to
the sight, lose much of the horror which they
excite at first. A person who had never seen
an animal killed would be deeply affected at
the sight ; but a butcher thinks nothing of it.
So, by thinking much of what is wrong, the con
science becomes defiled, and ceases to act with
promptness and decision; while, if kept famil
iar only with the good, it would revolt instantly
from the bad.
II. THE WILL. — This is the faculty that
chooses or refuses. It is the decisive faculty. It
is the power that determines action, whether
good or bad. It is the ruling faculty of the soul.
I said conscience was the leading faculty, be
cause it goes before the action of the will,
and moves it to choose what is right. The
will is the riding faculty, because it determines
all action The way to educate the will is, to
11*
126 SUBMISSION.

accustom it to submit to the dictates of con

science. The will, in our fallen and depraved
state, is turbulent and unsubmissive. It is not
disposed to submit to the law of God, nor to
those whom God has set over us. Yet there is
nothing of more importance to our happiness and
usefulness than the early subjection of the will.
If you determine that you will always have your
own will, you will certainly be unhappy ; for it is
impossible that you should always have your own
way. But if you early accustom yourself to
give up your own will ; to submit to the will
of God, as made known to you in his word and
Providence, — to submit to your parents, as those
whom God has set over you, and to your own
conscience, as the faithful monitor which God
has placed in your own bosom, — then you will be
as happy as you can be in this imperfect state.
This you will not accomplish all at once. It
must be the result of experience, trial, and dis
cipline, with the grace of God in your heart
But if you begin to cultivate the Jiabit of sub
mission, in early life, it will save you many a
severe struggle and much unhappiness. You
have doubtless learned, before this time, that you
always get into difficulty at home, when you set
out to have your own will. And perhaps you
have sometimes, in your impatience at contra-
 SELF-WILL. 12?

diction secretly wished that you were of age,

jeyond the control of your parents, that you
might do as you pleased. But I assure you, both
from my own experience and from what I have
seen of the world, that you will not find it any
easier to have your own will, after you come to
act for yourself. You will not succeed in any
thing you undertake to do for others, unless you
give up your own will ; neither will you succeed
in making society agreeable to yourself. Sup
pose you go to a shoemaker, to get a pair of
shoes made, and as soon as you begin to tell him
how you wish them done, he answers, " I under
stand my business ; if you want a pair of shoes,
I'll make them for you, but nobody can teach
me how to do my work ? " You would say,
" He is a surly creature; I'll have nothing to
do with him." Or, suppose you go into com
pany, and you find a young lady who will con
sent to nothing except what she herself proposes :
you say, " She is a selfish creature; let her enjoy-
herself alone." But all this comes from mert
wilfulness. You never will be comfortable,
much loss happy, till you are willing to yield
to others, when no principle is concerned, but
only the mere gratification of your own will.
And when one is employed by another, it is per
fectly reasonable that he should be directed by
 128 ANECDOTE.

his employer, even if what he is directed to do

may appear to him unwise. The only way that
vou can succeed, and be happy, in any thing you
may undertake to do for others, is, to submit
your will to theirs, and do cheerfully, and with
out objection, what they require — provided, only,
that they do not require you to do wrong. If
you will look back, you will find that this toilful-
ness has been the cause of all the trouble you
have got into with your parents, and of nearly all
the altercations you have had with your broth
ers, sisters, and companions. And, if you retain
this disposition, it will make you miserable,
vhatever station in society you may occupy.
A little boy, named Truman, lost his own moth- '
er ; and when he was four or five years of age, his
father married again. His new mother was an
excellent lady, very affectionate and kind-hearted
toward the children. But one day, when she
was teaching Truman how to read, she could
.not make him say his lesson correctly. She
therefore used the rod till he submitted, and
read as he ought. He was afterwards over
heard talking with himself, about his conduct :—
" Tru, what made you treat your dear mother
sot Hasn't she always been kind to you?"
" Yes, I know she has. She loves me, and
tries to GO me all the good she can. ' " Then
 THE AFFECTIONS. 129

now could you- be so naughty, to treat her so ? *'

" I know I have been a very naughty boy, and
treated her very bad indeed when she has been
very kind to me ; and she was trying then to
teach rne for my own good." " What can you
say for yourself, then? How did you come to
behave so?" " I can't say anything for my
self; I know it was very mean. I feel ashamed
to think I could treat her so; and I'll never do
it again as long as I live. But I thought I would
just try for once, and see who was master."
The object of this little boy was to have his
own will. He was not willing to submit to his
mother, till he had tried his strength, to see
whose will should prevail. He got a severe
chastisement, and had to submit after all. And
so it will always be with you, if you set out with
the determination, if possible, always to have
your own will. You will be always getting into
difficulty, and gain nothing by it in the end.
III. THE AFFECTIONS. — I shall not undertake
in this place, to give a full and complete defini
tion of the affections. It will answer my pres
ent purpose, to say that the affections are tht
feelings or emotions of the heart. This may
not be philosophically accurate ; but when my
readers come, at a more advanced age, to study
mental and moral philosophy, they can enlarge
130 RESTRAIN ILL-TEMPER.

their views. For all practical purposes, this will

answer. And what I mean by educating the
affections is, to acquire the habit of controlling
the feelings, so as to suppress the bad and culti
vate the good. You hear people talk of good
and bad dispositions. But a good disposition is
only the preponderance of good feelings ; or in
other words, where good feelings and good tem
pers prevail, we say that person has a good dis
position; but if bad feelings and evil tempers
predominate, we say he has a bad disposition.
There is no doubt a difference in natural dis
positions. But with suitable efforts, and espe
cially with the aid of God's grace, much may
be done to cultivate and improve them.
With these preliminary remarks, I proceed to
give some rules for the cultivation of the affec
tions.
1. CHECK THE FIRST RISINGS OF ILL-TEMPER.
— The smith, who makes an edged tool, — an axe,
a knife, or any such instrument, — first works
the iron and steel into the form which he wishes,
and then tempers it. While he is working it,
he wants to keep it soft, so that he can work it
easy ; and this he does by keeping it hot. But
after he gets it finished, he heats it in the fire,
and dips it in water, so as to cool it suddenly,
and that makes it hard. But, if he left it so, it
 HIGH AND LOW TEMPEK. 131

would be so hard that it would break all to

pieces as soon as it was used So he holds it
again over the fire and heats it a little, to take
out a part of the temper, and make it just of the
hardness that he wishes. An instrument that is
very hard is called high-tempercd ; one that is
very soft is low-tempered. This is a good illus
tration of temper as it appears in us. A high
temper is one that is easily excited, and that runs
BO high as to be in danger of doing great mis
chief. A low temper is a disposition easy and
indifferent, like a knife tempered so little that
the edge will turn the first time it is used. Now
you want temper enough not to be indifferent,
but not so much as to fly all in pieces. And
I know nothing on which your usefulness and
happiness more depend, than in the proper reg
ulation of your temper ; and not your own hap
piness alone, but the happiness of all around
you. One of the first and greatest moral lessons
is, to learn to control your temper. " He that
is slow to anger," says Solomon, " is better thar
the mighty; and he that ruleth his spirit, than
he that taketh a city." But, " He that hath no
rule over his own spirit is like a city that is
broken down and without walls." By indulg
ing an ungoverned temper, you expose yourself
to many evils. You show the weak points of
132 EFFECTS OF BAD TEMPER.

your character, and lose the good opinion of

others, and your own self-respect. You cannot
help thinking meanly of yourself after having
broken out in a sudden gust of anger, or given
indulgence to a peevish, fretful spirit. To be
ill-humored, peevish, or cross, is to be unhappy,
and to make others unhappy. But a sweet tem
per will not only make you happy, but, like the
balmy breezes of a summer evening, it will shed
a sweet fragrance all around you. Nothing will
render your character more unlovely than ill-
temper. Nor, if habitually indulged at home,
can it be concealed even from the most careless
observer. You will carry the mark of it wher
ever you go. There will be the ill-natured
scowl, the knit brow, the distorted features,
which no sweet-scented soap can wash out, and
no cosmetic hide. It will spoil the most elegant
features, and mar the most beautiful counte
nance. But a sweet temper will hide a thousand
defects, and render the most ordinary features
beautiful and lovely. I do not know any thing
that adds a greater charm to the youthful coun
tenance. But, if you would have a sweet tem
per, you must suppress every ill-natured feeling;
never suffer yourself to be angry ai trifles, nor
get into a storm of passion on any account :
neither indulge a peevish, fretful disposition;
 THE BROOK AND THE RIVER. 133

but, on the contrary, cultivate and cherish good

nature, in every possible way. Strive to be
pleased with every thing around you, unless it
is positively bad ; and never suffer the ill-humors
of others to disturb your own tranquillity. The
noisy cataract comes splashing its muddy waters
over the side of the mountain, leaping from rock
to rock, now shouting, now murmuring, now
scolding, now rushing on in the wildest fury,
till it plunges into the great river; but the liver
rolls quietly on its majestic way, undisturbed by
the babbling waterfall, which only makes a mo
mentary ripple upon the surface of its placid
waters. But, suppose the river should stop its
course, to quarrel with the noisy waterfall, what
would be the consequence? The whole country
would be inundated with the fury of its pent-
up waters. You cannot afford to get angry with
every one that is disposed to treat you ill. It
costs too much. Did you ever see a dog bark
ing at the moon ? And what did the moon do ?
It went right straight on, and minded nothing
about it. The moon can't afford to stop and
quarrel with the dog that barks at it.
" I know it is very foolish to be angry," per
haps you will say; "but how can I help it? I
am suddenly provoked, and fall into a passion
before I have time to think of it." The best
12
134 CONSIDERATION.

remedy I can recommend is, that you make it a

rule never to je angry till you have had time to
consider whether you have any thing to be angry
about. And, in making inquiry, do not ask
whether the conduct that provoked you was bad ;
but, in the first place, try if you cannot find
some apology for it, or some palliation ; and,
second, whether, admitting it to be as bad as it
seems, it is really worth so great a sacrifice of
feeling, on your part, as you will have to make,
if you indulge your passions. And, among other
considerations, ask yourself how this thing will
appear a hundred years hence, when both your
self and the person who has provoked you, will
be in eternity: — "If I indulge my passions in
this thing, shall I then be able to look back
upon it with pleasure 1 " Some such reflections
as these will tend greatly to cool your anger ;
and most likely, before you have thought upon
the matter many minutes, you will conclude that
it is not worth while to be angry.
So likewise, if you are given to fretfulness
and ill-humor, consider whether there is any suf
ficient cause why you should thus make your
self miserable ? And you will probably find
that all your trouble is imaginary. Remember
that every thing that concerns you is ordered by
the providence of God ; and think how much
 ENVY AND JEALOCSlf. 136.

cause of thankfulness you have, every day, for his

goodness. And what has he done that you should
fret against him ? He has perhaps suffered your
will to be crossed ; but he has done it for your
good. Think, also, how this will appear a hun
dred years hence 1 " How will my fretfulness
appear, when I look back upon it, from another
world ? " And if there were no sin in it, is there
not much folly ? — for " why should I make
myself miserable ? "
2. NEVER GIVE THE LEAST INDULGENCE TO
A JEALOUS OR ENVIOUS SPIRIT. — To bejealous,
is to suspect others of being unfriendly to us,
or of a design to injure us. To be envious, is
to be displeased with the prosperity of others,
especially if they are likely to excel us. The
effect of these two passions upon the disposition
is very similar. If you are jealous of any per
son, you will be always looking for some evil
design in his conduct ; and your imagination
will conjure up a thousand things that never had
any existence, except in your own mind. This
passion, habitually indulged, very often settles
down into a kind of monomania, or partial in
sanity. I have known persons, whose imagin
ings, through the influence of jealousy, became
realities to their minds, and they would roundly
assert as facts, the things that they had imag
136 t M-p. A WTIJJAMS.

ined respecting others. Such persons are per

petually in troub'e because they fancy some one
is plotting agains* them. Your own comfort,
therefore, depend? on your suppressing the first
motions of this evil affection. While you should
be on your guard against imposition, and never
confide implicitly in strangers, nor put your
self in the po"fer of any one whose character
has not been proved, yet you should presume
others to be friendly till they show themselves
otherwise, ai>d always give their conduct the
best construction it will bear.
Let me g?*e you an example. There is Laur-i
Williams, — she is always in trouble, for fear some
one does not like her. If any of her companions
seem to t-Jce more notice of some other one
than of herself, she begins to be jealous that
their professions of friendship are not real ; and
if any OPS happens not to notice her for once,
she considers it a slight ; and so her feelings are
perpetually disturbed. She is never happy.
Sometimes she will weep, as if her heart would
break, for some fancied slight ; when, in reality,
she ba-s no occasion for trouble, and might just
a? well laugh as cry. She will be unhappy as
long as she lives, and perhaps crazy before she
d»«s, if she does not overcome this passion.
Envy is a more depraved passion than jeal-
 MEANNESS OP ENVY. 137

ousy ; but the effect upon the character is nearly

similar. You will find a melancholy illustration
of the nature and effects of envy, in the story of
Haman, in the Book of Esther. Though exalted
to the second place in the kingdom, he could not
enjoy his elevation, so long as Mordecai the Jew
sat in the king's gate. He could endure no
rival.
But you will find examples enough of this pas
sion among your own companions. There are
those that cannot bear a rival ; and if any of
their companions excel themselves, they hate
them. But consider how mean and ignoble
such a feeling is. A truly generous spirit will
rejoice in whatever is excellent — will love ex
cellence wherever it appears ; but a mean and
selfish spirit would monopolize every thing to
itself, and be offended, if excelled by others.
Every noble sentiment revolts at the spirit of
envy ; so that this base passion always defeats
itself. The envious person would be exalted
above all ; but envy debases him below all, and
renders him despicable and miserable.
3. ACQUIRE THE HABIT OP REGARDING EVER*
ONE WITH FEELINGS OF GOOD-WILL. There
are some persons, who accustom themselves tc
look upon others with a critical eye and seem
to take pleasure in detecting and exposing their
12*
138 GOOD-WILL.

failings. This leads to misanthropy ; it makes

people ill-natured. It leads them to look upon
almost every one as an object of aversion. If
this disposition begins in early life, and continues
to be cultivated, it will grow and increase, till it
settles at last into a sour, morose, malignant
temper that can never look with pleasure or
satisfaction upon any human being.
Instead of indulging such a temper, you
should look with feelings of good-will upon
every one. Do not regard others with a critical
eye. If they are not incorrigibly bad, so as to
render them dangerous associates, overlook their
faults, and study to find out some redeeming
qualities. Consider that they belong to the same
great family — that they are as good by nature
as yourself— that they have immortal souls, to
be saved or lost. Try what excuses or apologies
you can find for their faults in the circumstances
in which they have been bred. And though you
may not see fit to make choice of them as your
friends, yet feel kindly towards them. But es
pecially, do not forget that you are not faultless
yourself. This will exert a softening influence
upon your own character; and you will find
yourself much more happy in studying the good
qualities of others, and exercising feelings of
charity ind good-will toward them, than you will
 •139
GENEROSITY,

in criticising and finding fault. The one course

will make you anrable and happj , — the other,
unlovely and miserable.
4. GlVE FREE INDULGENCE TO, EVERY NOBLE
AND GENEROUS SENTIMENT. — Rejoice when you
see others prosperous. Why should you be un
happy, that another is more prosperous than your
self, if you are not injured by it ? If you love
your neighbor as yourself, his prosperity will be
as grateful to you as your own. Rejoice, also,
in the excellence of others. A truly noble heart
loves excellence for excellence's sake. A gen
erous heart is forgetful of self; and when it sees
excellence, it is drawn toward it in love. It
would scorn to put little self between it and a
worthy object.
This disposition should also be carried out in
action. A generous and noble spirit will not al
ways be contending for its own rights. It will
yield rather than contend. Contention, among
companions and associates, for each other's rights,
is a source of great unhappiness ; and when it
becomss habitual, as it sometimes does among
brothers and sisters at home, it spoils the dispo
sition. " That is mine," says one. " No," says
the other, " it is not yours, it is mine." And
without waiting quietly to look into the matter,
unl invest ;gate the question of right, they fall
140» GENTLENESS.

into a sharp contention. The matter in ques

tion was a mere trifle. It was n at worth the sac
rifice of good-nature which it cost. How much
better both would i'eel, to keep good-natured,
and give each other the reasons for their claims,
and if they cannot agree, for one or the other to
yield ! Or, rather, how much more noble, if the
contention be, which shall be allowed the privi
lege of yielding ! There is more pleasure in one
act of generosity than in all that can be enjoyed
by selfish possession; and nothing will render
you more lovely in the- eyes of others than a
noble and generous disposition.
5. BE GENTLE. — Gentleness is opposed to all
severity and roughness of manners. It diffuses
a mild, bland, amiable spirit through all the be
havior. It has much to do with the cultivation
of the affections. Where this is wanting, none
of the amiable affections will flourish. A gentle
spirit will show itself in a gentle behavior, and a
gentle behavior will react upon the spirit, and
promote the growth of all the mild and amiable
affections. You can distinguish the gentle by
the motion of the head, or the sound of their
footsteps. Their movements are quiet and noise-
iess. There is a charm in their behavior which
operates to secure for them the pood opinion
of all.
 KINDNESS. 141

. 6. BE KIND. — Every kind act that is per-

formol increases the kind feelings of the heart.
If you treat your brothers and sisters kindly,
you will feel more kindly toward them ; while,
if you treat them with harshness and severity, or
ill-treat them in any manner, it will seal up
your affections toward them, and you will be
more inclined to treat them with coolness and
indifference. If you are habitually kind to ever)
one, embracing every opportunity in your power
to perform some office of kindness to others, you
will find your good-will toward all increasing.
You will be universally beloved, and every one
will be kind to you. See that little girl ! She
has run back to assist her little brother, who has
lost his shoe in the mud. How kindly she
speaks to him, to soothe his feelings and wipe
his tears ! Some sisters that I have seen would
have been impatient of the delay, and scolded
him in a cross and angry manner for the tiouble
he made. But with a heart full of sympathy, she
forgets herself, and is intent only on helping him
out of trouble, and quieting his grief. But she
has hardly got under way again, before she meets
a little girl, who has just fallen down and spilled
her berries, crying over her loss. Without once
thinking of the trouble it would give her, she
speaks kindly to the little girl, helps her pick up
 142 DISINTERESTEDNESS.

the lost fruit, and then assists her to pick enough

more to make up her loss. Every where she is
just so, always glad of an opportunity to show
kindness to every one she meets. And she gets
her pay as she goes along. The happiness she
feels, in thus being able to contribute to the
comfort of others, is far beyond any thing she
could receive from mere selfish enjoyment. And,
in addition to this, she gets the good-will of
others, which makes them kind to her in re
turn.
7. Keep self out op view, and show an
INTEREST IN THE AFFAIRS OF OTHERS. This
will not only interest others in you, but it will
tend to stifle selfishness in your own heart, and
to cultivate disinterested feeling. Sympathize
with others ; enter into their feelings ; and en
deavor, in heart and feeling, to make their inter
est your own ; so that there may be a soil for
disinterested feeling to grow in. If you see
others enjoying themselves, rejoice with them.
Make the case your own, and be glad that they
have occasion to rejoice. " Rejoice with them
that do rejoice." If you have truly benevo
lent feelings, it will certainly be an occasion of
joy to you to see them prosperous and happy,
whoever they are. On the other hand, sympa
thize with misery and distress. " Weep with
 DISINTERESTEDNESS. 143

them that weep." Wherever you see misery,

let it affect your heart. And never fail, if it is
in your power, to offer relief. And, often, you
can afford the best relief to those of your own
age, — your companions, but especially your in
feriors, — by showing that you are affected with
their troubles, that you sympathize with them
Cultivate the habit of feeling for others. When
you see or read of the sufferings of the poor,
when you read of the condition of the heathen,
who know not the way of salvation, let your
sympathies flow forth toward them. Learn to
feel for others' woe, and it will improve your
own heart. But,, besides this, you will find
yourself rewarded with the affections of others.
Thus I have given you a few brief hints, to
show how the affections may be cultivated. I
must leave you to apply them in practice to
every-day life, and to carry out the principle,
in its application to all the circumstances in
which you may be placed ; which principle is,
as much as possible, to repress and refrain from
exerclsing every bad feeling or affection, and to
cherish and cultivate the good, bringing them
into exercise on every fit occasion, that they
may grow into habits.
You will see, by what I have said under the
various heads if this chapter, that the idea o'
144 EDUCATING THE HEART.

educating the heart is no mere figure of speech,

but a reality, of great importance to your char
acter and well-being through life. Your pa
rents and teachers will, of course, pay attention
to this matter ; but they cannot succeed in it
without your cooperation. And with you it
must be an every-day work. You must carry it
out in all your conduct and feelings, and spek
the grace of God to aid you in so difficult a
work. Without an educated heart, you will
never make a GENTLEMAN. The fine feelings
and good tempers which I have described are
indispensable to good breeding. You cannot
have polished manners with a rough heart.
You may put on the gentleman ; but it will ap
pear out of place. You cannot change the
nature of &pig. You may wash him over and
over again, and make him ever so clean ; you
may even dress him up in white linen gar
ments — but he will immediately return to his
wallowing in the mire.
 145

CHAPTER XV.

EDUCATION OF THE MIND.

THE term Mind is often employed to signify

all the faculties of the soul. But I shall use it
in application to the intellectual faculties, in dis
tinction from the moral; as I have employed
heart to denote the moral, in distinction from the
intellectual. I shall not undertake to give a
strictly philosophical distinction of the mental
faculties, but shall comprehend them in the
following division, which is sufficient for my
purpose, to wit: Perception, Reason or Under
standing-, Judgment, Memory, and Imagination.
PERCEPTION is the faculty that receives ideas
into the mind ; as, when you look at a tree, im
mediately the idea of a tree is impressed on the
mind through the sense of sight; or, when you
touch an object, the idea of that object is im
pressed on your mind through the sense of
touch ; or, you may receive the idea of a spirit,
from the explanations which you hear or read.
The REASON or UNDERSTANDING, is the fac
ulty that considers, analyzes, and compares ideas
13
146 MENTAL FACULTIES.

received into the mind, and forms [Link]

concerning them. For example, suppose you
had never seen a watch : one is presented to
you, and, as soon as your eye rests upon it, you
form an idea respecting it. Perhaps this idea is
no more than that it is a very curious object.
But, immediately, your understanding is employed
in considering what it is, the perceptive faculty
still being occupied in further discoveries. From
the fact that there is motion, you conclude there
must be some power within it ; for motion is
not produced without power. Here is consider
ation and conclusion, which is a regular opera
tion of reason. But, to make further discoveries,
you open the watch, to examine its parts. This
is analyzing. You examine all the parts that
you can see, on removing the case. You still see
motion — all the wheels moving in regular order;
but the cause of the motion, the power that
moves, is yet unseen. You perceive a chain
wound around a wheel, and attached to another
wheel, around which it is slowly winding itself;
and this chain appears to regulate the whole
movement. You conclude that the power must
be in this last-named wheel. Here is a con
clusion from analyzing, or examining the parts
separately.
The JUDGMENT is the same as what is popu-
 COMMON SENSE. 147

larly styled common sense. It is that faculty which

pronounces a decision, in view of all the infor
mation before the mind, in any given cabe. For
example if you wish to determine what school
you will attend, y-»u first obtain all the informa
tion you can respecting the different schools that
claim your attention. You consider and com
pare the advantages of each ; and you decide
according to your impression of their compara
tive merits. The faculty which forms this de
cision is called the judgment. You will readily
perceive how very important this faculty is ; for
a person may be very learned, and yet a very
great dunce in every thing of a practical nature,
if he fails in judgment or common sense. His
learning will be of very little use to him, be
cause he has not sense to use it to advantage.
The MEMORY is the faculty which retains the
knowledge that is received into the mind. It is
a wonderful faculty. It may be compared to an
immense closet, with a countless number and
variety of shelves, drawers, and cells, in which
articles are stored away for future use, only one
of which can be examined by the proprietor at
the same time, and yet so arranged that he knows
just where to look for the article he wants. It is
supposed that no impression, once made upon the
memory, can be obliterated; and yet the im-
148 IMAGINATION.

pression may not be called up for years. It lies

there, till some association of ideas brings it up
again ; the faculty not being able to present more
than one object distinctly before the mind at the
same instant.
The IMAGINATION is that faculty which forms
pictures in the mind of real or unreal scenes. It
is the faculty that you exercise in your fanciful
plays, and when your mind runs forward to the
time that you expect to be engaged in the busy
scenes of life, and you picture to yourself pleas
ures and enjoyments in prospect. It is the fac
ulty chiefly exercised by the poet and the writer
of fiction.
You will, perhaps, be tired of this explanation ;
but it was necessary, in order to prepare the way
for what I have to say on the education of the
mind. From the definition of education already
given, you will perceive that my ideas differ
very much from those entertained by most young
people. Ask a young person what he is going
to school for, and he will answer, " To learn."
And his idea of learning is, simply, to acquire
knowledge. This, however, is but a small part
of the object of education. And this idea often
leads youth to judge that much of what they are
'equired to study is of no value to them ; be-
-se they think they shall have no use for the
 OBJECTS OF EDUCATION. 149

particular science they are studying, in practical

life. The chief objects of mental education are,
to cultivate and discipline the mind, and to
store it with those great facts and principles
which compose the elements of all knowledge.
The studies to be pursued, then, are to be chosen
with reference to these objects, and not merely
for the purpose of making the mind a vast store
house of knowledge. This may be done, and
yet leave it a mere lumber-room. For without
the capacity to analyze, and turn it to account,
all the knowledge in the world is but useless
lumber. It is of great importance that young
people should understand and appreciate this
principle, because it is intimately connected with
their success in acquiring a good education. To
this end, it is necessary that they should coop
erate with their parents and teachers. This they
will never be ready to do, if they suppose the
only object of study is, to acquire a knowledge
of the particular branches they are set to learn ;
for they cannot see the use of them. But, under
standing the design of education to be, to dis
cipline the mind, and furnish it with the elements
of knowledge, there is no science, no branch
of learning, but what is useful for these objects ;
and the only question, where education cannot
be liberal, is, What branches will best secure
these ends ?
13 *
150 MENTAL DISCIPLINE.

This understanding of the objects of educa

tion is also necessary, to stimulate the young
to prosecute their studies in the most profitable
manner. If their object were merely to acquire
knowledge, the more aid they could get from
their teachers the better, because they would
thus obtain information the more rapidly. But
the object being to discipline the mind, call
forth its energies, and obtain a thorough knowl
edge of elementary principles, what is stud
ied out, by the unaided efforts of the pupil, is
worth a hundred times more than that which
is communicated by an instructor. The very
effort of the mind which is requisite to study
out a sum in arithmetic, or a difficult sentence
in language, is worth more than it costs, for the
increased power which it imparts to the faculties
so exercised. The principles involved in the
case will, also by this effort, be more deeply
impressed upon the mind. Such efforts are also
exceedingly valuable, for the confidence which
they inspire in one's power of accomplishment.
I do not mean to commend self-confidence in a
bad sense. For any one to be so confident of
his own power as to think he can do things
which he cannot, or to fancy himself qualified
for stations which he is not able to fill, is foolish
and vain But, to know one's own ability to
 INDEPENDENT EFFORT. 151

do, and have confidence in it, is indispensable to

success in any undertaking. And this confi
dence is inspired by unaided efforts to overcome
difficulties in the process of education. As an
instance of this, I recollect, when a boy, of en
countering a very difficult sum in arithmetie.
After spending a considerable time on it, with
out success, I sought the aid of the school
teacher, who failed to render me any assistance.
I then applied to several other persons, none of
whom could give me the desired information.
Thus I was thrown back upon my own resources.
I studied upon it several days without success.
After worrying my head with it one evening, I
retired to rest, and dreamed out the whole pro
cess. I do not suppose there was any thing
supernatural in my dream ; but the sum was the
absorbing subject of my thoughts, and when
sleep had closed the senses, they still ran on the
same subject. Rising in the morning with a
clear head, and examining the question anew,
it all opened up to my mind with perfect clear
ness ; all difficulty vanished, and in a few mo
ments the problem was solved. I can scarcely
point to any single event, which has had more
influence upon the whole course of my life than
this. It gave me confidence in my ability to
succeed in any reasonable undertaking But
152 OVEBCOMING DIFFICULTIES.

for this confidence, I should never have thought

of entering upon the most useful undertakings
of my life. But for this, you would never have
seen this book, nor any other of the numerous
works which I have been enabled to furnish for
the benefit of the young. I mention this cir
cumstance here, for the purpose of encouraging
you to independent mental effort. In prosecut
ing your studies, endeavor always, if possible,
to overcome every difficulty without the aid of
others. This practice, besides giving you the
confidence of which I have spoken, will give
you a much better knowledge of the branches
you are pursuing, and enable you, as you ad
vance, to proceed much more rapidly. Every
difficulty you overcome, by your own unaided
efforts, will make the next difficulty less. And
though at first you will proceed more slowly,
your habit of independent investigation will
soon enable you to outstrip all those who are
still held in the leading-strings of their teachers.
A child will learn to walk much sooner by being
let alone, than to be provided with a go-cart.
Your studies, pursued in this manner, will be
much more interesting; for you are interested
in any study just in proportion to the effort of
mind it costs you.
The perctptive faculty is developed first of
 SYMMETRY OF MIND. 153

all. It begins to be exercised by the child be

fore it can speak, or even understand language.
Reason and judgment are more slow in their
development, though they begin to be exercised
at a very early period. Memory is exercised as
soon as ideas are received into the mind. The
imagination, in the natural course of things, is
developed latest of all ; but it is often forced out
too early, like flowers in a hot-bed, in which
case it works great injury to the mind.
You will perceive the great importance of
bringing out the several faculties of the mind in
their due proportion. If the memory is chiefly
cultivated, you will have a great amount of
knowledge floating loosely in your mind, but it
will be of very little use. But the proper culti
vation of the memory is indispensable, in order
to render your knowledge available. Nor will
it do for you to adopt the notion that nothing is
to be committed to the keeping of the memory
which is not fully understood. The memory is
a servant, which must consent to do some things
without knowing the reason why. The imagi
nation is the beautiful flower that crowns the
top of the plant. But if forced out too early, or
out of due proportion, it will cover the stalk
with false blossoms, which, in a little time, will
wither, and leave it dry and useless. The per
154 INTELLECTUAL CULTURE.

ception, reason, and judgment, require a long

course of vigorous exercise and severe training.
jn order to lay a solid foundation of character.
I shall leave this subject here, without sug
gesting any particular means of cultivating the
mind, leaving you to apply the principles here
laid down to your ordinary studies. But in
several subsequent chapters, I shall have so*ne
reference to wha I have said here.
 155

CHAPTER XVI.

READING.

READING occupies a very important place in

education. It is one of the principal means of
treasuring up knowledge. It is, therefore, highly
necessary that a taste for reading should be early
cultivated. But a mere taste for reading, un
controlled by intelligent principle, is a dangerous
appetite. It may lead to ruinous consequences.
The habit of reading merely for amusement, is a
dangerous habit. Reading for amusement fur
nishes a constant temptation for reading what is
injurious. It promotes, also, an unprofitable
manner of reading. Reading in a hasty and
cursory manner, without exercising your own
thoughts upon what you read, induces a bad
habit of mind. To profit by reading depends,
not so much on the quantity which is reao, as
upon the manner in which it is read. You may
read a great deal, in a gormandizing way, as
the glutton consumes food, and yet be none the
better, but the worse for what you read.
If you would profit by reading you must in
156 DANGER OF BAD BOOKS.

the first place, be careful what yoy read. There

are a multitude of books, pamphlets, periodicals,
and newspapers, in circulation at the present
day, which cannot be read, especially by the
young, without great injury, both to the mind
and heart. If any one should propose to you to
associate with men and women of the lowest and
most abandoned character, you would shrink
from the thought — you would be indignant at
the proposition. But it is not the mere bodily
presence of such characters that makes their so
ciety dangerous. It is the communion which
you have with their minds and hearts, in their
conduct and conversation. But a great portion
of the popular literature of the day is written by
such characters. By reading their writings, you
come into communion with their minds and
hearts, as much as if you were personally in
their company. In their writings, the fancies
which fill their corrupt minds, and the false and
dangerous principles which dwell in their de
praved hearts, are transferred to paper, to cor
rupt the unwary reader. Here are, likewise,
glowing descriptions of evil conduct, more fasci
nating to the youthful heart than the example
itself would be, because the mischief is artfully
concealed behind the drapery of fine literary
Vste, and bewtifi'1 language. There are, like-
 OBJECTS OP REAfJlNG. 157

wise, many such writings, the productions of

persons of moral lives, but of corrupt principles.
which -are equally dangerous. You would nol
associate with a person whom you knew to be
an unprincipled character, even though he might
be outwardly moral. He would be the more
dangerous, because you would be less on your
guard. If it is dangerous to keep company with
persons of bad character or bad principles, it is
much more so to keep company with bad books.
I have treated at large on the subject of novel-
reading, and other objectionable writings, in my
"Young Lady's Guide;" and to that I must
refer you, for my reasons, more at length, for
condemning such reading. I shall here only
suggest, for the regulation of your reading, a
few simple rules.
1. ALWAYS HAVE SOME DEFINITE OBJECT IN
VIEW, IN YOUR READING. — While pursuing your
education, you will be so severely taxed with
hard study, that reading merely for diversion or
amusement does not furnish the relaxation which
you need. It keeps the body idle and the mind
still in exercise ; whereas, the diversion which
you need, is something that will exercise the
body and relax the mind. If your object is diver
sion, then it is better to seek it in useful labor,
sprightly amusements, or healthful walks. I can
14
158 READING FOR AMUSEMENT.

think of nothing more injurious to the young

than spending the hours in which they are re
leased from study, bending over novels, or the
light literature of our trashy periodicals. Not
only is the health seriously injured by such means,
but the mind loses its vigor. The high stimulus
applied to the imagination creates a kind of
mental intoxication, which renders study insipid
and irksome. But reading is an important part
of education, and some time should be devoted
to it. Instead of mere amusement, however,
there are higher objects to be aimed at. These
are, 1st, to store the mind with useful knowl
edge; 2d, to cultivate a correct taste; 3d, to
make salutary impressions upon the heart. For
the first, you may read approved works on all
the various branches of knowledge ; as his
tory, biography, travels, science, and religious
truth. For the second, you may read such
works of imagination and literary taste as are
perfectly free from objection, on the score of
religion and morality, — and these but sparingly
at your age ; for the third, such practical works
of piety as you will find in the Sabbath school
library. But, for all these purposes, the Bible
is the great Book of books. It contains his
tory, biography, poetry, travels, and doctrinal
and practical essays. Any plan of reading will
 MORAL INTOXICATION. 159

be essentially defective, which does not contem

plate the daily reading of the Bible. You ought
to calculate on reading it through, in course,
every year of your life.
2. BE EXCEEDINGLY CAREFUL WHAT YOU REAL.
— Do not take up a book, paper, or periodical,
that happens to fall in your way, because you
have nothing else to read By so doing, you
will expose yourself to great evils. But, though
a book be not decidedly objectionable, it may
not be worth reading. There are so many good
books, at the present day, that it is not worth
while to spend time over what is of little value ;
and it is better to read the Bible alone, than to
spend time over a poor book. Avoid, especially,
the fictitious stories that you will find in news
papers and popular magazines. They are gen
erally the worst species of fiction, and tend
strongly to induce a vitiated taste, and an appe
tite for novel-reading. If you once become ac
customed to such reading, you will find it pro
duce a kind of moral intoxication, so that you
will feel as uneasy without it, as the drunkard
without his cups, or the smoker without his pipe.
It is much the safer way for young people to be
wholly directed by their parents, (or their teach
ers, if away from home,) in the choice of,
reading. Make it a rule never to read aify book,
160 THINK AS YOU READ.

pamphlet, or periodical, till you have first ascer

tained from your parents, teachers, or minister
that it is safe, and worth reading.
3. THINK AS YOU READ. — Do not drink in
the thoughts of others as you drink water; but
examine them, and see whether they carry convic
tion to your own mind ; and if they do, think them
over, till they become incorporated with your
own thoughts, part and parcel of your own mind.
Lay up facts and principles in your memory
Let the beautiful thoughts and striking ideas
that you discover be treasured up as so many
gems and precious stones, to enrich and beautify
your own mind. And let your heart be im
pressed and benefited by the practical thoughts
you find addressed to it.
4. REDEEM TIME FOR READING. — Although
it would be improper for you to take the time
appropriated for study, or to rob yourself of
needful diversion, yet you may, by careful econ
omy, save some time every day for reading. A
great deal of time is thrown away by the indul
gence of dilatory habits, or consumed in a care
less, sauntering vacancy. If you follow system,
and have a time for every thing, and endeavor to
do every thing with despatch, in its proper sea
son, you will have time enough for every thing
that is necessary to be done.

\
\
 161

CHAPTER XVII.

Writing, or composing, is one of the best

exercises of the mind. It is, however, I am
sorry to say, an exercise to which young people
generally show a great aversion. One reason,
perhaps, is, that, to write well, requires hard
thinking. But I am inclined to think the chief
reason is, that the difficulties of writing are
magnified. There is, also, a want of wisdom
in the choice of subjects. Themes are fre
quently selected for first efforts, which require
deep, abstract thinking ; and the mind not beinj
able to grasp them, there is a want of thought
which discourages new beginners. The firs*
attempts should be made upon subjects that are
easy and well understood ; such as a well-studied
portion of history, a well-known story, or a
description of some familiar scene ; the object
being to clothe it in suitable language, and to
make such reflections upon it as occur to the
mind. Writing is but thinking on paper ; and
14*
162 DIRECTIONS.

if you have any thoughts at all, you may commit

them to writing.
Another fault in young beginners is, viewing
composition as a task imposed on them by their
teachers, and making it their chief object to
cover a certain quantity of paper with writing ;
and so the sooner this task is discharged the
better. But you must have a higher aim than
this, or you will never be a good writer. Such
efforts are positively injurious. They promote
a careless, negligent habit of writing. One.
well-written composition, which costs days of
hard study, is worth more, as a discipline of
mind, than a hundred off-hand, careless pro
ductions. Indeed, one good, successful effort
will greatly diminish every succeeding effort,
and make writing easy. You will do well, then,
first to select your subject some time before
you write, and think it over and study it, and
have your ideas arranged in your mind before
you begin. Then write with care, selecting
the best expressions, and clothing your thoughts
in the best dress. Then carefully and repeat
edly read it over, and correct it, studying every
sentence, weighing every expression, and making
every possible improvement. Then lay it aside
awhile, and afterwards copy it, with such in>
 LETTER-WRITING. 103

provements as occur at the time. Then lay it

aside, and after some days revise it again, and
see what further improvements and corrections
you can make, and copy it a second time. If you
repeat this process half a dozen times, it will be
all the better. Nor will the time you spend upon
it be lost. One such composition will conquer
all the difficulties in the way of writing; and
every time you repeat such an effort, you will
find your mind expanding, and your thoughts
multiplying, so that, very soon, writing will be
come an easy and delightful exercise ; and you
will, at length, be able to make the first draught so
nearly perfect that it will not need copying. But
you never will make a good writer by off-hand,
careless efforts.
Letter-writing, however, is a very different af
fair. Its beauty consists in its simplicity, ease, and
freedom from formality. The best rule that can
be given for letter-writing is, to imagine the per
son present whom you are addressing, and write
just what you would say in conversation. All at
tempts at effort, in letter-writing, are out of place.
The detail of particulars, such as your corre
spondent would be interested to know, and the
expression of your own feelings, are the great
excellences of this kind of writing. Nothing
164 LETTER-WRITING.

disappoints a person more than to receive a let

ter full of fine sentiments, or didactic matter,
such as he might find in books, while the verj
information which he desired is left out, and
perhaps an apology at the close for not giving
the news, because the sheet is full. In a let
ter, we want information of the welfare of our
friends, together with the warm gush of feeling
which fills their hearts. These are the true ex
cellences of epistolary writing.
 165

CHAPTER XVIII

INDOLENCE.

THERE is no greater enemy to improvement

than an indolent spirit. An aversion to effort
paralyzes every noble desire, and defeats every
attempt at advancement. If you are naturally
indolent, you must put on resolution to over
come it, and strive against it with untiring vigi
lance. There is not a single point, in the pro-
;ess of education, at which this hydra-headed
.tionster will not meet you. " The slothful man
saith there is a lion without, I shall be slain in
the street." There is always a lion in the way,
when slothful spirits are called upon to make
any exertion. " / can't," is the sovereign arbi
ter of their destiny. It prevents their attempt
ing any thing difficult or laborious. If required
to write a composition, they ean't think of any
thing to write about. The Latin lesson is dif
ficult ; this word they ean't find ; that sentence
they can't read. The sums in arithmetic are so
hard, they ean't do them. And so this lion in
the way defeats every thing. But those who ex-
166 INDOLENCE AND ACTIVITY CONTRASTED.

pec* ever to be any thing, must not suffer such

a word as can't in their vocabulary.
It is the same with labor. The indolent dread
all exertion. When requested to do any thing,
they have something else to do first, which their
indolence has left unfinished ; or they have some,
other reason to give why they should not attempt
it. But if nothing else will do, the sluggard's
excuse, " I can't," is always at hand. Were it
not for the injury to them, it would be far more
agreeable to do, one's self, what is desired of
them, than to encounter the painful scowls that
clothe the brow, when they think of making an
effort. Solomon has described this disposition
to the life: — "The slothful man putteth his
hand in his bosom : it gricvetJi him to take it
out again."
But indolence is a source of great misery.
There are none so happy as those who are al
ways active. I do not mean that they should
give themselves no relaxation from severe effort.
But relaxation does not suppose idleness. To sit
and fold one's hands, and do nothing, serves no
purpose. Change of employment is the best re
creation. And from the idea of employment, I
vvould not exclude active and healthful sports,
provided they are kept within due bounds. But
to sit idly staring at vacancy is intolerable
 IDLENESS A WASTE OP LIFE. 167

There is no enjoyment in it. It is a stagnation

of body and mind. An indolent person is, to
the active and industrious, what a stagnant pool
is to the clear and beautiful lake. Employment
contributes greatly to enjoyment. It invigorates
the body, sharpens the intellect, and promotes
cheerfulness of spirits; while indolence makes
a torpid body, a vacant mind, and a peevish, dis
contented spirit.
Indolence is a great waste of existence. Sup
pose you live to the age of seventy years, and
squander in idleness one hour a day, you will
absolutely throw away about three years of your
existence. And if we consider that this is taken
from the waking hours of the day, it should be
reckoned six years. Are you willing, by idle
ness, to shorten your life six years ? Then take
care of the moments. Never fritter away time
in doing nothing. Whatever you do, whether
study, work, or play, enter into it with spirit
and energy ; and never waste your time in saun
tering and doing nothing. " Whatsoever thy
hand findeth to do, do it with thy might ; for
there is no work, nor device, nor knowledge,
nor wisdom, in the grave, whither thou goest."
 168

CHAPTER XIX.

ON DOING ONE THING AT A TIME.

WHAT is worth doing at all, is worth the

undivided attention ; but John can never be
satisfied to do but one thing at a time. By
attempting to read or play while dressing, he
consumes double the time that is necessary. He
reads at the table, and, in consequence, keeps
the table waiting for him to finish his meal. He
turns his work into play, and thus his work is
slighted, and frequently left half done. When
he goes to his lesson, his attention is arrested by
something else before he has fairly commenced,
and he stops to look or listen. Or perhaps he
insensibly falls into a reverie, and is engaged
in building " castles in tbo air," till something
happens to call back his spirit from the fairy
land. The consequence is, the lesson is ac
quired but imperfectly, while twice the need
ful time has been spent upon it. At the same
time, nothing else is accomplished. This is
what I call busy idleness.
 SYSTEM. 169

The true way to accomplish the most, and to

do it in the best manner, is to confine the atten
tion strictly to the thing in hand, and to bend all
the energies of the mind to that one object, aim
ing to do it in the best possible manner, in the
least possible time. By adopting this principle^
and acting upon it, you will be surprised to find
how much more expeditiously you will accom
plish what you undertake, and how much better
it will be done. It is indispensable to success
in any undertaking.
Closely connected with this subject, is the
systematic division of time. Where there is no
system, one duty will jostle another, and much
time will be wasted in considering what to do
next ; all of which would be avoided, by having
a regular routine of duties, one coming after the
other in regular order, and so having a set time
for each. This cannot be carried out perfectly,
because there will every day be something to do
that was not anticipated. But it may be so far
pursued as to avoid confusion and waste of
time.
15
 170

CHAPTER XX

ON FINISHING WHAT IS BEGUN.

Beginning things and leaving them unfinished,

exerts a bad influence in the formation of char
acter. If it becomes a habit, it will make you
so fickle that no one will put confidence in
you. There is James Scott. If you go into his
room, you will find his table strewed, and his
drawer filled, with compositions begun and not
completed ; scraps of verses, but no poem fin
ished ; letters commenced, but not completed.
Or, if you go to his play-house, you will find a
ball half wound ; a kite half made ; a boat begun ;
one runner of a sled ; one wheel of a wagon "
and other things to match. He wants energy
and perseverance to finish what he begins ; and
thus he wastes his time in' frivolous pursuits.
He is very ready to begin; but before he has
completed what is begun, he thinks of something
else that he wishes to do ; or he grows weary of
what he is upon. He lives to no purpose, for he
completes nothing; and he might as well do noth
ing, as to complete nothing.
 FINISH WHAT YOU BEGIN. 171

If you indulge this practice, it will grow upon

you, till you will become weak, irresolute, fickle,
and good for nothing. To avoid this, begin
nothing that is not worth finishing, or that you
have not good reason to think you will be able
to finish. But when you have begun, resolutely
persevere till you have finished. There is a
strong temptation, with the young, to abandon
an undertaking, because of the difficulties in the
way ; but, if you persevere, and conquer the
difficulties you meet with, you will gain confi
dence in yourself, and the next time, persever
ance in your undertakings will be more easy.
You may, however, make a mistake, and begin
what you cannot or ought not to perform; in
which case, perseverance would only increase
the evil.
 172

CHAPTER XXI.

CHOICE OP SOCIETY, AND FORMATION OF

FRIENDSHIPS.

CHARACTER is formed under a great variety

of influences. Sometimes a very trifling circum
stance gives direction to the whole course of
one's life. And every incident that occurs, from
day to day, is exerting a silent, gradual influ
ence, in the formation of your character. Among
these influences, none are more direct and pow
erful than that exerted upon us by the com
panions with whom we associate ; for we insen
sibly fall into their habits. This is especially
true in childhood and youth, when the character
is plastic, like soft wax, — easily impressed.
But we cannot avoid associating, to some ex
tent, with those whose influence is injurious. It
is necessary, then, for us to distinguish society
into general and particular. General society is
that with which we are compelled to associate.
Particular society is that which we choose for
ourselves. In school, and in all public places,
you are under the necessity of associating some-
 INTIMATE FRIENDSHIPS. l73

what with all. But those whom you meet, in

such circumstances, you are not compelled ..o
make intimate friends. You may be courteous
and polite to all, wherever and whenever you
meet them, and yet maintain such a prudent
reserve, and cautious deportment, as not to be
much exposed to contamination, if they should
not prove suitable companions.
But every one needs intimate friends ; and it
is necessary that these should be well chosen.
A bad friend may prove your ruin. You should
therefore be slow and cautious in the formation
of intimacies and friendships. Do not be sud
denly taken with any one, and so enter into a
hasty friendship; for you may be mistaken,
and soon repent of it. There is much force in
the old adage, " All is not gold that shines."
A pleasing exterior often conceals a corrupt
heart. Before you enter into close intimacies
or friendships, study the characters of the per
sons whom you propose to choose for compan
ions. Watch their behavior and conversation ;
and if you discover any bad habits indulged, or
any thing that indicates a want of principle, let
them not become your companions. If you
discover that they disregard any of tloe com
mandments of God, set them down as unsafe
associates. They will not only be sure to lead
15*
174 FORMATION OP FRIENDSHIPS.

you astray, but you can place no dependence

upon their fidelity If they will break one of
God's commands, they will another ; and you
can put no confidence in them. But even
where you discover no such thing, ask the c pin
ion of your parents respecting them before you
choose them as your friends. Yet, while you
are in suspense about the matter, treat them
courteously and kindly. But when you have
determined to seek their friendship, do not im
pose your friendship on them against their will.
Remember that they have the same right as
yourself to the choice of their friends; and
they may see some objection to the formation
of a friendship with yourself. Be delicate,
therefore, in your advances, and give them an
opportunity to come half way. A friendship
cautiously and slowly formed will be much more
likely to last than one that is formed in haste.
But let the number of your intimate and con
fidential friends be small. It is better to have
a few select, choice, and warm friends, than to
have a great number, less carefully chosen,
whose attachment is less warm and ardent. But
you must not refuse to associate at all with the
mass of the society where you belong; espe
cially, if you live in the country. You must
meet them kindly and courteously, on all occa-
 BE COVKTbOUS TO ALL. 175

sions where the society in general in which you

move is called together. You must not affect
exclusiveness, nor confine yourself to the com
pany of your particular friends, at such times.
But be careful that you do not expose yourself
to evil influences.
You ought not, at present, *.o form any in
timate friendships with the [Link] sex. Such
friendships, at your age, are langerous; and
if not productive of any serious present evils,
they will probably be subjects of regret when
you come to years of maturity ; for attachments
may be formed that your judgment will then
disapprove.
 176

CHAPTER XXII.

BAD COMPANY. MISCH1EVOUSNESS.

THERE are some boys, who carelessly go any

where that they can find amusement, without
regard to the character of their company. They
not only associate indiscriminately in genera)
society, where they are obliged to go, as at
school ; but they seek the company of bad boys,
or permit themselves to be enticed into it, be
cause it affords them some momentary enjoyment
A bad boy is one who has a bad disposition,
which has never been subdued; or one of cor
rupt principles and bad habits. A boy with a
bad disposition will be rough, quarrelsome, ma
licious in his temper, fond of mischief, and rude
and unmannerly in his general behavior. A
boy of corrupt principles is one who will not
scruple to break the commands of God, when
they stand in the way of his own gratification
He acts from the mere selfish desire of present
enjoyment. A boy of bad habits is one who is
in the habit of disobeying his parents, breaking
the Sabbath, using bad language, lying, stealing,
 MORAL CONTAGION. 177

gaming, drinking, or doing wanton mischief.

Any of these habits shows a character thoroughly
corrupt.
If you go into the company of persons that
are sick with the measles, hooping-cough, small
pox, or any contagious disorder, in a short
time you will be taken with the same disease.
The very atmosphere of the room where they
stay is full of contagion, and you will draw it in
with your breath. So, likewise, moral diseases
are contagious. There is an atmosphere of
moral contagion and death surrounding persons
of vicious habits. " Evil communications cor
rupt good manners." The sight of evil deeds,
or the hearing of bad language, hardens the
heart, and diminishes the abhorrence of sin,
which is felt by those to whom vice is not fa
miliar. If you consent to go into bad company,
you will soon find yourself falling into their
habits. And if you keep company with bad
boys, you will soon have the reputation of being
a bad boy yourself.
Bad company will lead you into practices that
will end in your ruin and disgrace. If you could
read the history of those who have been sent to
prison or otherwise punished for their crimes,
you would be surprised to find how many of
them were led, insensibly, into the evil courses
178 AN EXAMPLE.

which ended in their ruin, by frequenting bad

company. I will give you a single example, which
is only one among thousands that might be set
before you, to show the dangerous influence of
evil companions. There was a boy in Stockport,
(England,) who went to the Sabbath school, and
was esteemed a very good boy; so that he was
appointed a teacher of one of the classes. But
about this time his father died ; and his mother,
being poor, was obliged to send him to work in
the factory. There he met with bad boys, who
were addicted to evil practices. They gradually
led him into their own evil courses, till, at
length, he lost all the good impressions he had
received in the Sabbath school. He began to
drink, and drinking led him to committing petty
thefts. He became so dissolute that his mother
could do nothing with him. He was turned out
of his employment, and obliged to enlist as a
soldier. He was sent into Spain. There he
ladulged his evil courses, and supplied himself
with the means of gratifying his evil desires, by
plundering the inhabitants. At the close of the
war, he returned home. Soon after landing, he
and his evil companions began to break into
people's houses and commit robberies. He was
detected, tried, and condemned to death, at the
age of twenty-one. *
 MISCHIEVOUS BOYS. 179

Let me especially caution you against indulg

ing a mischievous disposition, or joining with
others in any schemes of mischief. I know of
nothing more likely to gef you into serious dif
ficulty, or to lead you into vicious habits and
dissolute practices. A few years ago, a young
man was hung, in one of our seaport towns, for
piracy. He was one of the bad boys of whom I
have been speaking. He had a bad disposition,
which had never been subdued. At home, he
was turbulent and unsubmissive ; abroad, he
was a ringleader in mischief; at school, he waa
disobedient to his teacher, and set himself to
work to organize the boys to resist the authority
of their teachers. At length, he went to sea:
and there he carried out the same disposition.
He headed the sailors against the authority of
the captain. After he had been some time at
sea, he persuaded the rest of the crew to set the
captain and mate of the vessel upon the ocean
in an open boat. They then took possession of
the vessel, and turned pirates, robbing every ves
sel they could find. They were captured ; and
this young man was brought home, tried and
condemned, and hung for his crime. This was
the result of a turbulent and ungovernable boy
giving up himself to be a ringleader in mischief
Boys who go from the country to the city are
180 BOYS GOING TO THE CITY.

very apt to be drawn into bad company. Cities

abound with boys who are old in mischief and
crime. They take great delight in leading astray
the simple-hearted ; and if boys from the coun
try come within the reach of their influence,
they are almost sure to be ruined. The great
number of boys found in the houses of correc
tion and reformation, and in the city prisons,
are so many beacons to warn the unwary of the
danger of shipwreck on the rocks and shoals of
evil company.
In conclusion, let me commend to you the
wholesome warning and advice of Solomon
" My son, if sinners entice thee, consent thou
not." " Enter not into the path of the wicked,
and go not in the way of evil men. Avoid it,
pass not by it, turn from it, and pass away. For
they sleep not, except they have done mischief;
and their sleep is taken away, unless they cause
some to fall."
 181

CHAPTER XXIII.

ON AMUSEMENTS.

THE human system is formed for alternate

labor and rest, and not for incessant activity ;
and to provide for this, the night follows the day
and the Sabbath the six days of labor. But not
only is rest necessary after labor, but activity
in a different direction. When you are carry
ing a burden of any kind, you find relief in a
change of position. A poor boy was employed
in turning a. wheel, by which he was enabled to
do something for his mother. A lady, observ
ing him steadily employed at what appeared to
be a very laborious occupation, inquired whether
he did not get tired. lie replied that he was
often very tired. "And what do you do when
you are tired ? " she further inquired. " O,"
said he, " I take the other hand." He had
learned that a change of position gave him rest.
Neither the mind nor the body is capable of
being incessantly exerted, in one direction, with
out injury. Like the bent bow, they will lose
their elasticity. The body, after labor, and the
16
 132 RELAXATION NECESSARY

mind, after study, need unbending, especially in

youth, while the muscles of the body have not
acquired maturity or solidity, and the powers of
the mind are yet developing. At this period of
life relaxation and amusement are especially ne
cessary ; and those young persons who eschew
all play, and confine themselves to books and la
bor, must, in the natural course of things, suffer
both in health and spirits. Healthful play is
natural to the young, throughout the whole ani-
,mal creation. The lamb, that emblem of inno
cence, is seen sporting in the fields, blithely
bounding over the hills, as if desirous of ex
pressing a grateful sense of its Creator's good
ness. There is no more harm in the play of
children than in the skipping of the lambs. It
is necessary to restore the bent bow to its natu
ral .elasticity. It is the voice of nature, which
cannot be hushed.
But having said so much, it is -necessary to
guard against improprieties and excesses in
amusements. And yet, to determine what
amusements are to be allowed, and what con
demned, is no easy matter ; for, while some
kinds of amusement are evil in their own nature,
and necessarily injurious, others are evil and
injurious only on account of their excess, or of
the manner in which they are pursued, or of the
 TESTS OF AMUSEMENTS. 183

evils that are associated with them. My object

is, not so much to point out what amusements
are wrong, as to give you some rules by [Link]
you can judge for yourself.
I. Never engage in recreation at an unsuit
able time. — To neglect duty for the sake of
amusement is not only wrong, but it will exert
a bad influence upon your character. It tends
to produce an immoderate love of amusement,
and to break up all orderly and regular hab
its. Let your invariable rule be, " BUSINESS
FIRST, AND THEN PLEASURE." Never suffer any
kind of amusement to break in upon the time
appropriated to labor or study.
II. Never do any thing that is disapproved
by your parents or guardians. — They desire
your happiness, and will not deprive you of any
enjoyment, unless they see good reason for it.
They may see evil where you would not per
ceive it. They regard your highest welfare.
They look beyond the present, to see what influ
ence these things will have on your character
and happiness hereafter. They are also set over
you of the Lord ; and it is your duty not only to
submit to their authority, but to reverence their
counsel.
III. Engage m no amusement which is di&
approved by the most devoted and consisted'.
184 TESTS OP AMUSEMENTS.

Christians of your acquaintance. I do not mean

the few cross and austere persons, who always
wear an aspect of gloom, and cannot »bear to
see the countenances of youth lighted up with
the smile of innocent hilarity. But I mean
those Christians who wear an aspect of devout
cheerfulness, and maintain a holy and consist
ent life. Their judgment is formed under the
influence of devotional feeling, and will not be
likely to be far from what is just and right.
IV. Do nothing which you would be afraid
God should see. — There is no darkness nor
secret place, where you can -hide yourself from
his all-searching eye. Contemplate the Lord
Jesus Christ as walking by your side, as he truly
is in spirit ; and do nothing which you would
be unwilling that he should witness, if he were
with you in his bodily presence.
V. Do nothing the preparation for which un
fits you for religious duty. — If an amusement in
which you are preparing to engage so takes up
your mind as to interfere with your devotional
exercises ; if your thoughts run away from the
Bible that you are reading to anticipated pleas
ures ; or if those pleasures occupy your thoughts
'n prayer; you may be sure you are going
too far.
VI. Engage in nothing on which you cannot
 TESTS OP AMUSEMENTS. 185

first ask God's blessing. Do you desire to engage

in any tiling in which you would not wish to be
blessed and prospered ? But God only can bless
and prosper us in any undertaking. If, there
fore, your feelings would be shocked to think of
asking God's blessing on any thing in which you
would engage, it must be because your con
science tells you it is wrong.
VII. Engage in no amusement which unfits
you for devotional exercises. — If, on returning
from a scene of amusement, you feel no dispo
sition to pray, you may be sure something is
wrong. You had better not repeat the same
again.
VIII. Engage in nothing which tends to dis
sipate serious impressions. — Seriousness, and a
sense of eternal things, are perfectly consistent
with serenity and cheerfulness. But thoughtless
mirth, or habitual levity, will drive away such
impressions. Whatever you find has this ejFect
is dangerous to your soul.
IX. Reject such amusements as are generally
associated with evil. — If the influences which
surround any practice are bad, you may justly
conclude that it is unsafe, without stopping to
inquire into the nature of the practice itself.
Games of chance are associated with gambling
and dissipation ; therefore, I conclude that they
16*
186 TESTS OP AMUSEMENTS.

cannot be safely pursued, even for amusement.

Dancing, also, is associated with balls, with late
hours, high and unnatural excitement, and dis
sipation ; it is therefore unsafe. You may know
the character of any amusement by the com
pany in which it is found.
X. Engage in nothing which necessarily leads
you into temptation. — You pray every day, (or
ought to,) " lead us not into temptation." But
you cannot offer up this prayer sincerely, and
then run needlessly in the way of temptation.
And if you throw yourself in the way of it, you
have no reason to expect that God will deliver
you from it.
XI. If you engage in any recreation, and re
turn from it with a wounded conscience, set it
down as evil. — A clear conscience is too valua
ble to be bartered for a few moments of pleas
ure ; and if you find your conscience accusing
you for having engaged in any amusement, never
repeat the experiment.
XII. Practise no amusement which offend*
your sense of propriety. — A delicate sense of
propriety, in regard to outward deportment, is
in manners what conscience is in morals, and
taste in language. It is not any thing that we
arrive at by a process of reasoning, but what the
mind as it were instinctively perceives It re-
 A SENSE OF PROPRIETY . 187

sembles the sense of taste ; and by it one will

notice any deviation from what is proper, before
he has time to consider wherein the impropriety
consists. There is a beauty and harmony in
what is iroper and right, which instantly strikes
the mind with pleasure. There is a fitness of
things, and an adaptation of one thing to another,
in one's deportment, that strikes the beholder
with sensations of pleasure, like those experi
enced on beholding the harmonious and beauti
ful blending of the seven colors of the rainbow,
But when propriety is disregarded, the impres
sion is similar to what we might suppose would
be produced, if the colors of the rainbow
crossed each other at irregular angles, now blend
ing together in one, and now separating en
tirely, producing irregularity and confusion.
The sensation produced upon the eye would
be unpleasant, if not insufferable. Among the
amusements which come under this rule are
the vulgar plays that abound in low company,
especially such as require the payment of for
feits, to be imposed by the victor. In such
cases, you know not to what mortification you
may be subjected. Frolics, in general, come
under this head, where rude and boisterous
plays are practised, and 'often to a late hour of
the night, when all sense of propriety *nd even
(•( courtly Is o"en forgot'en.
'88 THINGS OF DOUBTFUL PROPRlETf.

XIII. Engage in nothing of doubtful pi opriety.

— The apostle Paul teaches that it is wrong to
do any thing the propriety of which we doubt ;
oecause, by doing that which we are not fully
persuaded is right, we violate our conscience
It is always best to keep on the safe side. Il
you were walking near the crater of a volcano,
you would not venture on ground where there
ivas any danger of breaking through, and falling
into the burning lake. You would keep on the
ground where it was safe and sure. And so we
should do, in regard to all questions of right and
wrong. Never venture where the ground trem
bles under your feet
XIV. Do nothing which you will remember
with regret on your dying bed. — It is well al
ways to keep death in view ; it has a good
effect upon our minds. The death-bed always
brings with it pains and sorrows enough. It is
a sad thing to make work for repentance at such
an hour. That is an honest hour. Then we
shall view things in their true light. Ask your
self, then, before entering into any scene of
amusement, how it will appear to you when
you come to look back upon it from your dy-
iiig bed.
XV. Do nothing in the midst of which you
would be afraid ti meet death. — When prepar-
 f

RIDING WITH A CORPSE. 189

ing for a scene of pleasure, how do you know

out you may be cut down in the midst of it t
Sudden death is so common that it is folly to
be in any place or condition in which we are
not prepared to meet it. Many persons have
been cut down in the midst of scenes of gayety,
and the same may occur again. A man in Ger
many was sitting at the gaming table. His card
won a thousand ducats. The dealer handed
over the money, and inquired how he would con
tinue the game. The man made no reply. He
was examined, and found to be a corpse ! Simi
lar scenes have occurred in the ball-room. In
the midst of the merry dance, persons have been
called suddenly out of time into eternity. A
gentleman and lady started in a sleigh, to ride
some distance to a ball, in a cold winter's night.
Some time before reaching the place, the lady
was observed to be silent. On driving up, the
gentleman called to her, but no answer was re
turned. A light was procured, and he discov
ered, to his amazement, that he had been riding
with a corpse ! At no moment of life are we
exempt from sudden death. He who holds us
in his hand has a thousand ways of extinguish
ing our life in a moment. He can withhold the
breath which he gave ; he can stop the vital
pulsation instantly ; or he can break one of the
190 THE JUDGMENT.

thousand parts of the intricate machinery o'

which our mortal bodies are composed. No
skill can provide against it. We ought not,
therefore, to trust ourselves, for a single moment,
in any place or condition where we are unwil.
ling to meet death.
XVI. Do nothing for which you will be afraid
to answer at the bar of God. — There every se
cret thing will be revealed. What was done in
the darkness will be judged in open day. " Re
joice, O young man, in thy youth ; and let thy
heart cheer thee in the days of thy youth; and
walk in the ways of thine heart, and in the sight
of thine eyes : but know thou that for all these
things God will bring thee into judgment." A
young man, on leaving home to enter the army,
was supplied with a small Bible, which, though
a thoughtless youth, he always carried in his
pocket. On one occasion, after a battle, he
took out his Bible and observed that there was
a bullet hole in the cover. His first impulse
was, to turn over the leaves, and read the verse
on which the ball rested. It was the passage
just quoted. It brought before his mind all
the scenes of mirth and sinful pleasure in which
he had been engaged, and pressed upon him the
fearful truth, that for all of them he was to be
brought into judgment. It was the means o.f
 TESTS OF AMUSEMENTS. 191

awakening him to a sense of his condition, and

led to a change of heart and life. And why
should not the same solemn impression rest
.upon your mind, with respect to all scenes of
pleasure, and lead you carefully to avoid what
ever you would not willingly meet at that awful
tribunal ?
If you apply these tests to the various amuse
ments that are in vogue among young people,
you may readily discern what you can safely
pursue, and what you must sternly reject. It
will lead you, especially, to detect the evils of
all theatrical performances, balls, cards, and dan
cing parties, country frolics, and all things of
a like nature. But it will not deprive you of
one innocent enjoyment. A girl, ten or twelve
years old, made a visit to a companion about
her own age. Both of them were hopefully pious.
On returning home, she told her mother she
was sure Jane was a Christian. " Why do you
think so, my daughter?" inquired the mother
" O," said the daughter, " she plays like a
Christian." In her diversions she carried out
Christian principles, and manifested a Christian
temper. This is the true secret of innocent
recreation ; and it cuts off all kinds of amuse
ment, that cannot be pursued in a Christian-like
manner.
 192

CHAPTER XXIV.

GOVERNMENT OF THE TONGUE.

THE apostle James says, the tongue is an

unruly member, and that it is easier to control
a horse or a ship, or even to tame wild beasts
and serpents, than to govern the tSngue. And,
though a very little member, it is capable of
doing immense mischief. He even likens it
to a fire. A very small spark, thrown into a
heap of dry shavings, in a wooden house, in a
great city, will make a terrible fire. It may
burn up the whole city. So a very few words,
carelessly spoken by an ungoverned tongue, may
set a whole neighborhood on fire. You cannot,
therefore, be too careful how you employ your
tongue. It is of the highest importance to
your character and usefulness, that you early
acquire the habit of controlling this unruly
member. For the purpose of aiding you in this,
I shall give a few simple rules.
RULES FOR GOVERNING THE TONGUE.
I. TJiink before you speak. — Many perso&v,
open their mouths, and set their tongues a-going
 [Link]) NONSENSE. IDfl

like the clapper of a wind-mill, as though the

object was, to see how many words could be
uttered in a given time, without any regard to
their quality, — whether sense or nonsense,
whether good, bad, or indifferent. A tongue,
trained up in this way, will never be governed,
and must become a source of great mischief.
But accustom yourself, before you speak, to
consider whether what you are going to say
is worth 'peaking, or whether it can do any
mischief. If you cultivate this habit, your
mind will speedily acquire an activity, that will
enable you to make this consideration without
waiting so long before answering your compan
ions as to be observed ; and it will impose a salu
tary restraint upon your loquacity ; for you will
find others often taking the lead of conversa
tion instead of yourself, by seizing upon the
pause that is made by your consideration. This
will be an advantage to you, in two ways. It
will give you something better to say, and will
diminish the quantity. You will soon perceive
that, though you say less than some of your
companions, your words have more weight.
II. Never allow yourself to talk nonsense. —
The habit of careless, nonsensical talking, is
greatly averse to the government of the tongue-
It accustoms it to speak at random, without
17
104 JOKING

regai d to consequences. It often leads to the

utterance of what is not strictly true, and thus
insensibly diminishes the regard for truth. It
hardens the heart, and cherishes a trifling, care
less spirit. Moreover, if you indulge this habit,
your conversation will soon become silly and
insipid.
III. Do not allow yourself in the habit of
JOKING with your companions. — This tends to
cultivate severe sarcasm, which is a bad habit of
the tongue. And, if you indulge it, your strokes
will be too keen for your companions to bear;
and you will lose their friendship.
IV. Always speak the truth. — There is no
evil habit, which tl^e tongue can acquire, more
wicked and mischievous than that of speaking
falsehood. It is in itself very wicked; but it
is not more wicked than mischievous. If all
were liars, there could be no happiness ; because
all confidence would be destroyed, and no one
would trust another. It is very offensive to God,
who is a God of truth, and who has declared
that all liars shall have their part in the lake
that burns with fire and brimstone. It is a great
affront and injury to the person that is deceived
by it. Many young persons think nothing of
deceiving their companions, in sport; but they
will find that the habit of speaking what is not
 orEAKING THE TRUTH. 195

true, even in sport, besides being intimsically

wrong, will so accustom them to the utterance
of falsehood, that they will soon lose that dread
of a lie which used to fortify them against it.
The habit of exaggeration, too, is a great enemy
to truth. Where this is indulged, the practice
of uttering falsehood, without thought or con
sideration, will steal on insensibly. It is neces
sary, therefore, in detailing circumstances, to
state them accurately, precisely as they occurred,
in order to cultivate the habit of truth-telling.
Be very particular on this head. Do not allow
yourself so little an inaccuracy, even, as to say
you laid a book on the table, when you put il
on the mantel, or on the window-seat. In re
lating a story, it is not necessary that you should
state every minute particular, but that what you
do state should be exactly and circumstantially
true. If you acquire this habit of accuracy, it
will not only guard you against the indulgence
of falsehood, but it will raise your character for
truth. When people come to learn that they
can depend upon the critical accuracy of what
ever you say, it will greatly .increase their confi
dence in you. But if you grow up with the
habit of speaking falsehood, there will be very
little hope of your reformation, as long as you
live. The character that has acquired an habit-
196 TALE-BEARING.

ual disregard of truth is most thoroughly viti

ated. This one habit, if indulged and cherished,
and carried with you from childhood to youth,
and from youth upwards, will prove your ruin.
V Remember that all truth is not to be
spoken at all times. — The habit of uttering all
that you know, at random, without regard to
times and circumstances, is productive of great
mischief. If you accustom your tongue to this
habit, it will lead you into great difficulties.
There are many of our own thoughts, and many
facts that come to our knowledge, that prudence
would require us to keep in our own bosom, be
cause the utterance of them would do mischief.
VI. Never, if you can possibly avoid it, speak
any, thing to the disadvantage of another. — The
claims of justice or friendship may sometimes
require you to speak what you know against
others. You may be called to testify against
their evil conduct in school, or before a court of
justice ; or you may be called to warn a friend
against an evil or designing person. But, where
no such motive exists, it is far better lo leave
them to the judgment of others and of God, and
say nothing against them yourself.
VII. Keep your tongue from talc-bearing. —
There is much said in the Scriptures against
tattling. " Thou shall not go up and down as a
 TALE-BKARING 197

tale- bearer, among the children of thy people."

" A tale-bearer revealeth secrets." " Where no
wood is, the fire goeth out ; and where there is
no tale-bearer, the strife ceaseth." Young peo
ple are apt to imbibe a taste for neighborhood
gossip, and to delight in possessing family se
crets, and in repeating personal matters, neigh
borhood scandal, &e. But the habit is a bad
one. It depraves the taste and vitiates the char
acter, and often is the means of forming for life
the vicious habit of tale-bearing. And tale-bear
ers, besides the great mischief they do, are al
ways despised, as mean, mischievous, and con
temptible characters.
If you will attentively observe and follow the
foregoing rules, you will acquire such a habit of
governing the tongue, that it will be an easy
matter ; and it will give dignity and value to
your character, and make you beloved and es
teemed, as worthy the confidence of all.
17*
 198

CHAPTER XXV.

ON THE ART OP AGREEABLE AND I'ROFITABLB

CONVERSATION

THERE is, perhaps, no accomplishment which

will add so much to your character and influ
ence, as the art of conversing agreeably and
well. To do this, however, requires a cultivated
rnind, richly stored with a variety of useful in
formation : a good taste ; a delicate sense of pro
priety ; a good use of language ; and an easy
and fluent expression.
The most of these requisites can be acquired;
and the rest, if naturally deficient, can be greatly
improved. An easy, fluent expression is some
times a natural talent ; but, when not joined with
a good understanding and a cultivated mind, it
degenerates into mere loquacity. But, in qrder
to be prepared to converse well, you must not
only have your mind well stored, but its con
tents, if I may so speak, well arranged; so that
you can at any time call forth its resources,
upon any subject, when they are needed.
One of the principal difficulties, in the way of
 HESITANCY. 199

conversing well, is a hesitancy of speech — a

difficulty of expressing one's ideas with ease and
grace. This may arise from various causes. It
may proceed from affectation — a desire to speak
in fine, showy style. This will invariably defeat
its object. You can never appear, in the eyes of
intelligent and well-bred people, to be what you
are not. The more simple and unaffected your
style is, provided it be pure and chaste, the bet
ter you will appear. Affectation will only make
you ridiculous. But the same difficulty may
arise from diffidence, which leads to embarrass
ment ; and embarrassment clouds the memory,
and produces confusion of mind and hesitancy
of speech. This must be overcome by degrees,
by cultivating self-possession, and frequenting
good society. The same difficulty may, like
wise, arise from the want of a sufficient com
mand of language to express one's ideas with
ease and fluency. This is to be obtained by
writing; by reading the most pure and classic
authors, such as Addison's Spectator ; and by
observing the conversation of well-educated peo
ple. In order to have a good supply of well-
chosen words at ready command, Mr. Whelpley
recommends selecting from a dictionary several
hundred words, such as are in most common
use, and required especially in ordinary conver-
200 ART tfF CONVERSATION.

sation, writing them down, and commil,ing them

to memory, so as to have them as familiar as the
letters of the alphabet. A professional gentle
man informs me, that he has overcome this dif
ficulty by reading a well-written story till it
becomes trite and uninteresting, and then fre
quently reading it aloud, without any regard to
the story, but only to the language, in order to
accustom the organs of speech to an easy flow
of words. I have no doubt that such experi
ments as these would be successful in giving a
freedom and ease of expression, which is often
greatly impeded for want of just the word that is
needed at a given time.
There is no species of information but may be
available to improve and enrich the conversation,
and make it interesting to the various classes
of people. As ari example of this, a clergyman
recently informed me that a rich man, who is
engaged extensively in the iron business, but
who is very irreligious, put up with him for the
night The minister, knowing the character of
his guest, directed his conversation to those sub
jects in which he supposed him to be chiefly
interested. He exhibited specimens of iron ore,
of which he possessed a variety ; explained their
different qualities ; spoke of the various modes
of manufacturing it; explained the process of
 ART OF CONVERSATION. 201

manufacturing steel, &e. ; interspersing his con

versation with occasional serious reflections on
the wisdom and goodness of God, in providing
so abundantly the metals most necessary for the
common purposes of life, and thus leading the
man's mind " from Nature up to Nature's God."
The man entered readily into the conversation,
appeared deeply interested, and afterwards ex
pressed his great admiration of the minister.
The man was prejudiced against ministers. This
conversation may so far remove his prejudices
as to open his ear to the truth. But all this the
minister was enabled to do, by acquainting him
self with a branch of knowledge which many
would suppose to be of no use to a minister.
By conversing freely with all sorts of people
upon that which chiefly interests them, you may
not only secure their good-will, but greatly in
crease you own stock of knowledge. There is
no one so ignorant but he may, in this way, add
something to your general information ; and you
may improve the opportunity it gives to impart
useful information, without seeming to do it.
RULES FOR CONVERSATION.
I. Avoid affectation. — Instead of making you
appear to better advantago, it will only expose
jou to ridicule.
202 RULES FOR CONVERSATION.

II. Avoid low expressions. — There is a dialect

peculiar to low people, which you cannot imi
tate without appearing as if you were yourself
low-bred.
III. Avoid provincialisms. — There are certain
expressions peculiar to particular sections of the
country. For example, in New England, many
people are in the habit of interlarding their con
versation with the phrase, " You see." In Penn
sylvania and New York, the same use is made
of " You know. " And in the West and South,
phrases peculiar to those sections of the country
are still more common and ludicrous. Avoid all
these expressions, and strive after a pure, chaste
«nd simple style.
IV. Avoid all ungrammatical expressions
V. Avoid unmeaning exclamations, as, "O
my ! " " O mercy ! " &e.
VI. Never speak unless you have something
to say. — "A word fitly spoken is like apples of
gold in pictures of silver."
VII. Avoid prolixity. — Make your language
concise and perspicuous, and strive not 1o pro-
'ong your speech beyond what is necessary, re
membering that others wish to speak as well as
yourself. Be sparing of anecdote ; and only re
sort to it when you have a good illustration of
some subject before the company, or when you
 STORY-TELLING. 203

have a piece of information of general interest.

To tell a story well, is a great art. To be te
dious and prolix in story-telling, is insufferable.
To avoid this, do not attempt to relate every
minute particular ; but seize upon the grand
points. Take the following specimen of the
relation of the same incident by two different
persons: — "You see, I got up this morning,
and dressed myself, and came down stairs, and
opened the front door ; and O, if it didn't look
beautiful ! For, you see, the sun shone on the
dew, — the dew, you know, that hangs in great
drops on the grass in the morning. Well, as the
sun shone on the dewdrops, it was all sparkling,
like so many diamonds ; and it looked so in
viting, you see, I thought I must have a walk.
So, you see, I went out into the street, and
got over the fence, — the fence, you know, the
back side of the barn. Well, I got over it, and
walked into the grove, and there I heard the
blue jay, and cock-robin, and ever so many pretty
birds, singing so sweetly. I went along the
foot-path to a place where there is a stump, —
the great stump, you know, James, by the side
of the path. Well, there, — O, my ! — what should
I see, but a gray squirrel running up a tree ! ''
How much better the following : — " Early
this morning, just as the sun was peeping over
204 RULES FOR CONVERSATION.

the hill, and the green grass was all over spar
kling with diamonds, as the sun shone upon the
devvdrops, I had a delightful walk in the grove,
listening to the sweet music of the birds, and
watching the motions of a beautiful gray squir
rel, running up a tree, and hopping nimbly from
branch to branch." Here is the story, better
tolc3, in less than half the words.
Never specify any particulars which would
readily be understood without. In the relation
of this incident, all the circumstances detailed
in the first specimen, previous to entering the
grove, are superfluous ; for if you were in the
grove early in the morning, you could not
get there without getting out of your bed, dress
ing yourself, opening the door, going into the
street, and getting over the fence. The mo
ment you speak of being in the grove early in
the morning, the mind of the hearer supplies all
these preliminaries ; and your specifying them
only excites his impatience to get at the point
of your story. Be careful, also, that you never
relate the same anecdote the second time to the
same company ; neither set up a laugh at your
own story.
VIII. Never interrupt others while they are
speaking. Quietly wait till they have finished
what they have to say, before you reply. To
 RULES FOR CONVERSATION 206

interrupt others in conversation is very unman

nerly.
IX. You will sometimes meet with very talk
ative persons, who are not disposed to give you
a fair chance. Let them talk on. They will
be better pleased, and you will save your words
and your feelings.
X. Avoid, as much as possible, speaking of
yourself. — When we meet a person who is
always saying /, telling what he has done, and'
how he does things, the impression it gives us
of him is unpleasant. We say, " He thinks he
[Link] every thing, and can teach every body.
He is great in his own eyes. He thinks more
of himself than of every body else." True po
liteness leads us to keep ourselves out of view,
and show an interest in other people's affairs.
XI. Endeavor to make your conversation
useful. — Introduce some subject which will be
profitable to the company you are in. You
feel dissatisfied when you retire from company
where nothing useful has been said. But there
is no amusement more interesting, to 'a sensi
ble person, than intelligent conversation uj>on
elevated subjects. It leaves a happy impression
upon the mind. You can retire from it, and
lay your head upon your pillow with a quiet
conscience
18
 206

CHAPTER XXVI

INQUISITIVENESS.

THE inhabitants of New England have the

reputation of being inquisitive to a fault; and
perhaps with some justice. This disposition
grows out of a good trait of character, carried
to an extreme. It comes from a desire after
knowledge. But this desire becomes excessive,
when exercised with reference to matters which
it does not concern us to know. When it leads
us to pry into the concerns of others, from a
mere vain curiosity, it becomes a vice. There
are some people who can never be satisfied, till
they see the inside of every thing. They must
know the why and the wherefore of every thing
they meet with. I have heard an amusing anecdote
of this sort. There was a man who had lost his
nose. A Yankee, seeing him, desired to know
how so strange a thing had happened. After
enduring his importunity for some time, the
man declared he would tell him, if he would
promise to ask him no more questions ; to which
the other agreed. " Well " said the man, " if
 INQUISITIVENESS. 207

• was bit off." "Ah," replied the Yankee, "1

wish I knew who bit it of! " This is a fair
specimen of the morbid appetite created by ex
cessive inquisttiveness.
When inquisitiveness goes no farther than a
strong desire to obtain useful information, and
to inquire into the reason of things, or when
it desires information concerning the affairs of
others from benevolent sympathy, then it is a
vahiable trait of character. But when the ob
ject is to gratify an idle curiosity, it is annoying
to others, and often leads the person who in
dulges it into serious difficulty. And the more
it is indulged, the more it craves. If you gratify
this disposition till it grows into a habit, you
will find it very difficult to control. You will
never be able to let any thing alone. You will
want to look into every drawer in the house;
to open every bundle that you see , and never
be satisfied till you have seen the inside cf every
thing. This will lead you into temptation. It
can hardly be supposed that one who is so anx
ious to see every thing should have no desire to
possess the things that are seen. Thus, what
began in curiosity may end in coveting and
thieving. But if it does not lead you so far
astray as this, it will bring you into serious diffi
culty with your parents, or your friends whose
208 INQUISITIVENESS.

guest you are ; for they will not be satisfied tc

have their drawers tumbled, packages opened,
and every nice article fingered. This disposi
tion, too, will lead you to inquire into the secrets
of your friends ; and this will furnish a temp
tation to tattling. What you have been at such
pains to obtain, you will find it difficult to keep
to yourself. You will want to share the rare
enjoyment with others. And when the story
comes round to your friend or companion, whose
confidence you have betrayed, you will, to your
great chagrin and mortification, be discarded.
A delicate sense of propriety will lead you to
avoid prying too closely into the affairs of others.
You will never do it from mere curiosity. But
if any of your friends so far make you a con
fidant as to lead you to suppose that they need
your sympathy or aid, you may, in a delicate
manner, inquire farther, in order to ascertain
what aid you can render. You may, also, make
some general inquiries of strangers, in order to
show an interest in their affairs. But beyond
this, you cannot safely indulge this disposition
 209

CHAPTER XXVII.

ON THE IMPORTANCE OP BEING ABLE TO

SAY NO.

IT often requires great courage to say NO.

But by being able promptly, on occasion, to
utter this little monosyllable, you may save your
self a deal of trouble. If mother Eve had
known how to say no, she might have saved
herself and her posterity from ruin. And many
of her children, who have lost their character and
their all, might have been saved, if they had
only had courage promptly to say NO. Your
safety and happiness depend upon it.
You are importuned by some of your com
panions to engage in some amusement, or to
go on some excursion, which you know to be
wrong. You resolutely and promptly say NO
at the outset, and there is the end of it. But
if you hesitate, you will be urged and impor
tuned, until you will probably yield ; and hav
ing thus given up your own judgment, and vio
lated your conscience, you will lose your power
of resistance, and yield to every enticement.
18*
210 SAYING NO.

Joseph has cultivated decision of character

He never hesitates a moment when any thing
wrong is proposed. He rejects it instantly. The
consequence is, his companions never think of
going to him, when they have any mischievous
scheme on foot. His prompt and decisive NO
they do not wish to encounter. His parents
can trust him any where, because they have no
fears of his being led astray. And this re
lieves them of a load of anxiety.
Reuben is the opposite of this. He wishes
to please every body, and therefore has not
courage to say no to any. He seems wholly
unable to resist temptation. He is, therefore,
always getting into difficulty, — always doing
something that he ought not, or going to some
improper place, or engaging in some improper
diversions, through the enticement of his com
panions. His parents scarcely dare trust him
out of their sight, they are so fearful that he will
be led astray. He is thus a source of great
anxiety to them, and all because he cannot
say NO.
Now, let me beg of you to learn to say NO.
If you find any difficulty in uttering it, — if your
tongue won't do its office, or if you find a "frog in
your throat," which obstructs your utterance, —
go by yourself, and practise saying no, NO, NO !
 SAYING NO. 211

till you can articulate clearly, distinctly, and

without hesitation ; and have it always ready
on your tongue's end, to utter with emphasis to
every girl or boy, man or woman, or evil spirit,
that presumes to propose to you to do any thing
that is wrong. Only be careful to say it respect
fully and courteously, with the usual prefixes and
suffixes, which properly belong to the persons to
whan you are speaking.
 212

CHAPTER XXVIII.

ON BEINO USEFUL.

CAN you find any thing, in all .he works of

Nature, which is not made for some use? T^he
cow gives milk, the ox labors in the field, the
sheep furnishes wool for clothing, and all of
them provide us with meat. The horse and the
dog are the servants of man. Every animal, —
every little insect, — has its place, and its work
to perform, carrying out the great design of its
Creator. And so it is with the inanimate crea
tion. The earth yields its products for the use
of man and beast.; and the sun, and the air,
and the clouds, (each in turn,) help forward the
work. And to how many thousand uses do we
put the noble, stately tree ! It furnishes houses
for us to live in, furniture for our convenience,
fuel to make us warm, ships to sail in, and to
bring us the productions of other lands. It
yields us fruit for food, and to gratify our taste.
And so you may go through all the variety of
animal and vegetable life, and you will find every
thing designed for some use. And, though
 ALL THINGS FOR USE. 213

there may be some things of the use of which

you are ignorant, yet you will find every thing
made with such evidence of design, that you
cannot help thinking it must have been intended
for some use.
Now, if every thing in creation is designed for
some use, surely you ought not^to think of being
useless, or of living for nothing. God made you
to be useful ; and, to answer the end of your
being, you must begin early to learn to be use
ful. " But how can I be useful ? " you may ask.
" I wish to be useful. I am anxious to be qual
ified to fill some useful station in life, — to be a
missionary or a teacher, or in some other way to
do good. But I do not see what good I can do
now." Though you may not say this in so
many words, yet I have no doubt that such
thoughts may often have passed through your
mind. Many people long to be useful, as they
suppose, but think they must be in some other
situation, to afford them the opportunity. This
is a great mistake. God, who made all crea
tures, has put every, one in the right place. In
the place where God has put you, there you may
find some useful thing to do. Do you ask me
what useful thing you can do ? Y ju may find a
hundred opportunities for doing good, and being
useful, every day. if you watch for them. You
214 BEING USEFUL.

can be useful in assisting your mother ; you can

be useful in helping your brothers and sisters ;
you can be useful in school, by supporting the
authority of your teacher, and by being kind and
helpful to your playmates. If you make it the
great aim of your life to be useful, you will never
lack opportunities.
I have seen young persons, who would take
great delight in mere play or amusement; but
the moment they were directed to do any thing
useful, they would be displeased. Now, I do
not object to amusement, in its proper place; for
a suitable degree of amusement is useful to the
health. But pleasure alone is a small object to
live for; and if you attempt to live only to be
amused, you will soon run the whole round of
pleasure, and become tired of it all. But if you
make it your great object to be useful, and seek
your chief pleasure therein, you will engage in
occasional amusement with a double relish. No
one can be happy who is not useful. Pleasure
soon satiates. One amusement soon grows gray,
and another is sought; till, at length, they all
become tasteless and insipid.
Let it be your object, then, every day of your
life, to be useful to yourself and others. In the
morning, ask yourself, " What useful things can
I do to-day? What can I do that will be a last-
 BEING USEFUL. 216

ing benefit to myself? How can I make myself

useful in the family? What can I do for my
father or mother ? What for my brothers or
sisters? And what disinterested act can I per
form for the benefit of those who have no claim
upon me?" Thus you will cultivate useful
habits and benevolent feelings. And you will
find a rich return into your own bosom. By
making yourself useful to every body, you will
find every one making a return of your kind
ness. You will secure their friendship and good
will, as well as their bounty. You will find it,
then, both for your interest and happiness to
BE USEFUL.
 216

CHAPTER XXIX.

ON BEING CONTENTED.

THE true secret of happiness is, to be content

ed. " Godliness," says the apostle Paul, " with
contentment, is great gain." These two are
great gain, because, without them, all the gain
in the world will not make us happy. Young
people are apt to think, if they had this thing or
that, or if they were in such and such circum
stances, different from their own, they would be
happy. Sometimes they think, if their parents
were only rich, they should enjoy themselves.
But rich people are often more anxious to in
crease their riches than poor people are to be
rich; and the more their artificial wants are
gratified, the more they are increased. " The
eye is not satisfied with seeing, nor the ear filled
with hearing." Solomon was a great king, so
rich that he was able to get whatever his heart
desired. He built great palaces for himself; he
filled them with servants ; he treasured up golo"
and silver; he bought gardens, and vineyardst
and fields ; he bought herds of cattle, with horses
 BEING CONTENTED 217

ind carriages ; he kept men and women singers,

and players on all sorts of instruments ; what
ever his eyes desired he kept not from them ; he
withheld not his heart from any joy ; but with it
all he was not satisfied. He called it all " van
ity and vexation of spirit." So you may set
your heart at rest, that riches will riot make you
happy. Nor would you be any more happy, if
you could exchange places with some other per
sons, who seem to you to have many more means
of enjoyment than yourself. With these things
that dazzle your eyes, they have also their trials ;
and if you take their place, you must take the
bitter with the sweet.
But young people sometimes think, if they
were only men and women, and could manage
for themselves, and have none to control them,
then they would certainly be happy, for they
could do as they please. But in this they are
greatly mistaken. There will then be a great
increase of care and labor; and they will find it
more difficult to do as they please than they do
now. If they have none to control them, they
will have none to provide for them. True, they
may then manage for themselves ; but they will
also have to support themselves. Those who
have lived the longest, generally consider youth
the happiest period of life, because it is com-
19
218 BEING CONTENTED.

paratively free from trouble and care, and there

is more time for pleasure and amusement.
But there is one lesson, which, if you will
learn it in youth, will make you happy all your
days. It is the lesson which Paul had learned.
You know that he suffered great hardships in
travelling on foot, in various countries, to preach
the gospel. He was often persecuted, reviled,
defamed, beaten, and imprisoned. Yet he says,
" / have learned in whatsoever state I am, there
with to be content." There are several things
which should teach us this lesson. In the first
place, God, in his holy providence, has placed
us in the condition where we are. He knows
what is best for us, and what will best serve
the end for which he made us ; and of all other
situations, he has chosen for us the one that
we now occupy. Who could choose so well
as he? And then, what can we gain by fret
ting about it, and worrying ourselves for what
we cannot help? We only make ourselves un
happy. Moreover, it is very ungrateful and
wicked to complain of our lot, since God has
given us more and better than we deserve. It is
better to look about us, and see how many things
we have to be thankful for ; to look upon what we
have, rather than what we have not. This does
not, indeed, forbid our seeking to improve our
 BEING CONTENTED 219

condition, provided we do it with submission to

the will of God. We ought to use all fair and
lawful means to this end; but not in such a
gpirit of discontent and repining, as will make
us miserable if we are disappointed. If you
desire to be happy, then, BE CONTENTED.
 220

CHAPTER XXX.

UNION OF SERIOUS PIETY WITH HABITUAL

CHEERFULNESS.

IT is a mistake often made by young people,

to associate religion with a downcast look, a sad
countenance, and an aching heart. Perhaps the
mistakes of some good people, in putting on a
grave and severe aspect, approaching even to
moroseness, may have given some occasion for
this sentiment. I do not know, indeed, how
prevalent the sentiment is among the young. I
can hardly think it is common with those who
are religiously educated. As for myself, I well
remember that, in my childhood, I thought true
Christians must be the happiest people in the
world. There is no doubt, however, that many
pleasure-loving young people do look upon re
ligion with that peculiar kind of dread which
they feel of the presence of a grave, severe maid
en aunt, which would spoil all their pleasure.
And, I do not deny, that there are certain kinds
of pleasure which religion spoils ; but then it
^ift removes the taste and desire for them, after
 CHEERFUL PIETY. 221

which the spoliation is nothing to be lamented.

It is true, also, that there are some things in
religion which are painful. Repentance for sin
is a painful exercise ; self-denial is painful ; the
resistance of temptation is sometimes trying ; and
the subduing of evil dispositions is a difficult
work. But, to endure whatever of suffering
there is in these things, is a saving in the end.
It is less painful than the tortures of a guilty
conscience, the gnawings of remorse, and the
fear of hell. It is easier to be endured than
the consequences of neglecting religion. If
you get a sliver in your finger, it is easier to
bear the pain of having it removed, than it is
to carry it about with you. If you have a de
cayed tooth, it is easier to have it extracted than
to bear the toothache. So it is easier to repent
of sin than to bear remorse and fear. And the
labor of resisting temptation, and of restraining
and subduing evil dispositions, is not so great
an interference with one's happiness as it is to
carry about a guilty conscience.
There is, however, nothing in true piety in
consistent with habitual cheerfulness. There
ia a difference between cheerfulness and levity.
Cheerfulness is serene and peaceful. Levity is
light and trifling. The former promotes even
ness of temper and equanimity of enjoyment
19 •
222 CHEERFUL PIETY

the latter drowns sorrow and pain for a short

time, only to have it return again with redoubled
power.
The Christian hope, and the promises and
consolations of God's word, furnish the only
true ground of cheerfulness. Who should be
cheerful and happy, if not one who is delivered
from the terrors of hell and the fear of death, —
who is raised to the dignity of a child of God, —
who has the hope of eternal life — the prospect
of dwelling forever in the presence of God, in
the society of the blessed, and in the enjoy
ment of perfect felicity ? But no one would as
sociate these things with that peculiar kind of
mirth, which is the delight of the pleasure-lov
ing world. Your sense of propriety recoils from
the idea of associating things of such high im
port with rudeness, frolicking, and mirth. Yet
there is an innocent gayety of spirits, arising
from natural vivacity, especially in the period
of childhood and youth, the indulgence of
which, within proper bounds, religion does not
forbid.
There is a happy medium between a settled,
severe gravity and gloom, and frivolity, levity,
and mirth, which young Christians should strive
to cultivate. If you give unbounded license to
a mirthful spirit, and indulge freely in all man-
 CHEERFUL PIETY. 223

ner of levity, frivolity, and foolish jesting, you

cannot maintain that devout state of heart which
is essential to true piety. On the other hand,
if you studiously repress the natural vivacity of
youthful feeling, and cultivate a romantic kind
of melancholy, or a severe gravity, you will
destroy the elasticity of your spirits, injure your
health, and very likely become peevish and irri
table, and of a sour, morose temper ; and this
will be quite as injurious to true religious feel
ing as the other. The true medium is, to unite
serious piety with habitual cheerfulness. Al
ways bring Christian motives to bear upon your
feelings. The gospel of Jesus Christ has a
remedy for every thing in life that is calculated
to make us gloomy and sad. It offers the par
don of sin to the penitent and believing, the
aid of grace to those that struggle against
an evil disposition, and succor and help against
temptation. It promises to relieve the believer
from fear, and afford consolation in affliction.
There is no reason why a true Christian should
not be cheerful. There are, indeed, many
things, which he sees, within and without, that
must give him pain. But there is that in hia
Christian hope, and in the considerations
brought to his mind from the Word of God,
which is able to bear him high above them all.
224 CHEERFUL PIETY.

Let rne, then, earnestly recommend you to cul

tivate a serious but cheerful piety. Let your
religion be neither of that spurious kind which
expends itself in sighs, and tears, and gloomy
feelings, nor that which makes you insensible
to all feeling. But while you are alive to your
own sins and imperfections, exercising godly
sorrow for them, and while you feel a deep and
earnest sympathy for those who have no interest
in Christ, let your faith in the atoning blood
of Jesus, and your confidence in God, avail to
keep you from sinking into melancholy and
gloom, and make you cTieerful and happy, while
you rest in God.
And now, gentle reader, after this long con
versation, I must take leave of you, commend
ing you to God, with the prayer that my book
may be useful to you, in the formation of a
well-balanced Christian character ; and that,
after you and I shall have done the errand for
which the Lord sent us into the world, we may
meet in heaven. GOD BLESS YOU1
 VALUABLE WORKS
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SACRED RHETORIC: Or, Composition and Delivery of

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THE CHRISTIAN WORLD UNMASKED. By JOHN

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THE CHRISTIAN REVIEW. Edited by Prof. JAMES D.

KNOWLES, BARNAS SEARS, and S. F. SMITH. 8 vols. Commencing
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 DR. WILLIAMS'S WORKS.
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MISCELLANIES. Improved edition. (Price reduced.) 1,25.

90" This work, which has been heretofore published in octavo form at 1,75 per copy.
Is published by the present proprietors in one handsome 12mo volume, at the low
price of 1,25.
Dr. Williams is a profound scholar and a brilliant writer. — N, Y, Evangelist,
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ures of study in almost every department of learning. -- y. Y. Tribune.
A delightful volume. —Methodist Review.
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One of the richest volumes thWY;as been given to the public for years. — Sap. Reg,
Bb
 [Link] PREACHER AND THE KING;
OR, BOUBDALOUE IN THE COURT OF LOUIS XIV.,
Being an Account of that distinguished Era. Translated from
the French of L. BUNGENER. Paris, fourteenth ed;tion. With an In
troduction, by the REV. GEORGE POTTS, D. D., New York. 12mo, 1,05.
It combines substantial historg with the highest charm of romance. We regard the
book as a valuable contribution to the cause not merely of general literature, but es
pecially of pulpit eloquence. Its attractions are so various that it can hardly fail to
find readers of almost every description. — Puritan Recorder.
A very delightful book. It is full of interest, and equally replete with sound
thought and profitable sentiment.— N. T. Commercial.
| It is a volume at once curious, Instructive, and fascinating. Its extensive sale In
' Trance i» evidence enough of its extraordinary merit and its peculiarly attractive
qualities. — Ch, Advocate.
It is full of life and animation, and conveys a graphic idea of the state of morals
and religion in the Augustan age of French literature. — JV. Y. Recorder.
This book will attract by its novelty, and prove particularly engaging to those in
terested In pulpit eloquence. The author has exhibited! ngular skill in weaving into
his narrative sketches of remarkable men, with original and striking remarks on the
subject of preaching. — Presbgterian.
A book of rt;rc interest, not only for the singular ability with which it Is written,
bat for the graphic account which it gives of the state of pulpit eloquence during the
celebrated era of which it treats. We warmly commend it. — Savannah Journal.
Its historical and biographical portions arc valuable; its comments excellent, and
Its effect pure and benignant. — Buffalo Morning ExI;ress.
The author is a minister of the Reformed Church. In the forms of narrative and
conversations, he portrays the features and character of that remarkable age, and il
lustrates the important ends to be secured by pulpit eloquence. — Ph;l. Ch. Obs.
A precious gift to the American church and ministers. It is a book full of histor
ical facts of great value, sparkling with gems of thought, polished scholarship, and
genuine piety.— C;n. Ch. Advocate*
This volume presents a phase of French life with which we have never met in any
other work. The author is a minister of the Reformed Church in Paris, where hi?
work has been reccived with unexampled popularity, having already gone through
fm;';.. a editions. The writer has studied not only the divinity and general litera
ture of the age of Louis XIV., hut also the memories of that period, until he is able to
reproduce a life-like picture of society at the Court of the Grand Monarch.— Trans.
A work which we recommend to all, as possessing rare interest. — Evening Express.
In form it is descriptive and dramatic, presenting animated conversations between
aome of the most famous preachers and philosophers of the Augustan oge of France.
The work -.vill be read with interest by all. The ministry cannot afford to bo igno
rant of the facts and suggestions of this instructive volume. — jV. Y. Ch. Intel.
The work is very fascinating, and the lesson under its spangled robe is of the
gravest moment to every pulpit and every age. — Ch. Intell;gencer.

THE PRIEST AND THE HUGUENOT; or Persecution

in the At,'" of Louis XV. A Sermon at Court,— A Sermon in the City, —
A Sermon in the Desert. Translated from the French of L. RUNGENER,
author uf " The Preacher and the King." 2 vols. $&• A new Work.
W This is truly a mnsterly product;on, full of interest, and may be set down a*
one of the crcatrst Protestant works of the age. Ff
 WREATH AROUND THE CROSS;.
Or Scripture Truths Illustrated. By the Rev. A. Mortox
BROWn, D. D. With a Recommendatory Preface, by JOHN AKGELL
James. With beautiful Frontispiece. 1 6ln0, cloth, 60 cts.
•y This is a very interesting and valuable book, and should be in every house in the
land. Its great excellence is, it ,magnifies the cross of Christ. It presents the follow
ing interesting subjects:** The Cross needed; The Way to the Cross; The Cross
■et up i The Sufferings of the Cross ; Mediation by the Cross ; Life from the Cross ;
Faith in the Cross ; Submission to the Cross ; Glorying in the Cross ; The Crosa and
the Crown." No better book can be put into the hands of " inquirers after truth."
This is a beautiful volume, defending and illustrating the precious truths which
cluster around the atonement. — PhiL Ch. Chronicle.
May it find its way into every family In the land. — Christian Secretary.
It is the excellence of this work, that it keeps constantly in view this grand instru
ment of salvation. — Religious Herald.
* Christ, and Him crucified," is presented in a new and striking light. The style
Is simple, without being puerile. We wish this work a wide circulation, that un
der its influence, many may htfound "looking unto Jesus." — N. Y. Observer.
A highly-npproyed work, presenting the most important doctrines of our holy re
ligion, in a form not only intelligible, but attractive light, adapted to allure the eye of
faith, and hope, to the glorious objects revealed ia the gospel. — PhiL Ch. Observer*

PHILOSOPHY OF THE PLAN OF SALVATION: A

Book for the Times. By an American Citizen An Introductory-
Essay, by Calvin E. Stows, D. D. 12mo, cloth, 63 cts.
•.* This is one of the best books in the English language. The work has been
translated into several different languages in Europe. It has been republished bj
the London Tract Society, and also adopted as one of the volumes of " Ward's Li
brary of Standard Divinity." edited by Drs. John Harris, J. Pye Smith, and others.
A capital book to circulate among young men.
Most original and valuable works of recent publication. — JV. Y. Ch. Intelligeacer,
A useful book, written with great spirit and point. — PhiL Presbyterian.
In many respects, this is a remarkable book. — N. Y. Observer.
More likely to lodge an impression in the human conscience, in favor of the divine
authority of Christianity, than any work of the modern press. —London Meth. Mag.
Few volumes have issued from the American press that bear the stamp of origi
nality and profound thought so deeply imprinted on every page. — Puritan Jiec.
This is really an original book. Every sentence is pregnant with thought, and
every idea conduces to the main demonstration. The book is the work of a re
claimed sceptic. — Edinburgh United SectJtion Magazine.
It is evidently the production of a master mind. There is a force of argument
and a power of conviction almost resistless.— London Evangelical Magazine.
A book of singular merit. As a piece of clear, vigorous, consecutive thinking, we
scarcely know its superior. We would not hesitate to place it beside Butler's Analo*
gy, as a specimen of close and unanswerable reasoning; while it is far superior with
regard to its evangelical views. — Edinburgh Free Church Magazine.
" The president of Knox College, Illinois," says, "It is decidedly the best vindica
tion of the Old Testament Scriptures against the assaults of infidelity, and one of the
most useful class books which I have ever met."
A Welsh minister, in Michigan, says " It has been translated into Welsh, and. is cir
culated broadcast over the hills, through the hamlets, and in the mines of his'native
land." JU
 [June 1st, 1856.

SUPPLEMENTARY CATALOGUE
OF

VALUABLE WORKS,
RECENTLY PUBLISHED.

THE CAMEL : His Organization, Habits and Uses, considered

with reference to his Introduction into the United States. BY
GEORGE P. MARSH, late U. S. Minister at Constantinople. 16mo,
cloth. 75 cents.
This book treats of a subject of great interest, especially at the present time. It
furnishes a more complete and reliable account of the Camel than any other in the
language ; indeed, it is believed that there is no other. It is the result of long study,,
extensive research, and much personal observation on the part of the author ; and it
has been prepared with special reference to the experiment of domesticating the
Camel in this country, now going on under the auspices of the United States gov
ernment. It is written in a style worthy of the distinguished author's reputation for
great learning and fine seholarship.
ANALYTICAL CONCORDANCE TO THE HOLY SCRIP-
TUBES ; OR, THE BIBLE PRESENTED UNDER DISTINCT AND CLAS
SIFIED HEADS OH TOPICS.
BY JOHN EADIE, D.D., LL. D.,
Author of" Biblical Cyclopedia," " Ecelesiastical Cyclopedia," " Early
Oriental History," u Dictionary of the Bible," etc. etc. One volume.
Octavo, p, 836, (IMPRESS.) The subjects are arranged as follows, viz. :
Agriculture, Family, Metals and Minerals, Sabbaths and Holy Days,
Animals, Genealogy, Ministers ofReligion, Sacrifice,
Architecture, God, Miracles, Scriptures,
Army, Arms, Heaven, Occupations, Speech,
Body, Idolatry, Idols, Ordinances, Spirits,
Canaan, Jesus Christ, Parables and Emblems, Tabernacle and Temple,
Covenant, Jews, Persecution, Vineyard and Orehard,
Diet and Dress, Laws, Praise and Prayer, Visions and Dreams,
Disease and Death, Magistrates, Prophecy, War,
Earth, Man, Providence, Water.
Marriage, Redemption,
The object of this Concordance is to present the entire Scriptures under certain
classified and exhaustive heads. It differs from an ordinary Concordance, in that
its arrangement depends not on words, but on subjects, and the verses are printed
in full. Its plan does not bring it at all into competition with such limited works as
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not profess to comprehend, as we do, the entire Bible. The work also contains a
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The value of this work to ministers and Sabbath school teachers can hardly b«
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 WORKS JUST ISSUED.
VISITS TO EUROPEAN CELEBRITIES. By WIUZAX B.
SPRAOTJR, D. D. 12mo, cloth. $1.00.
It consists of a serief of Personal Sketches, DRAWN FBOM LIFE, of many of the
most distinguished men and women of Europe, with whom the author became ac
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it a most flattering reception.

THE STORY OF THE CAMPAIGN. A Complete Narra

tive of the 'War in Southern Russia. Written in a Tent in the Crimea.
By Major E. BUUCE IIAM LEY, author of 't Lady Lee?s Widowhood."
With a new Map. expressly for the work. 12mo. Thick. Printed
paper covers. 371 cents.
CONTENTS. — The Rendezvous; The Movement to the Crimea ; First Operations
in the Crimea ; Battle ofthe Alma ; The Battle-field ; The Katcha and the Balbek ;
The Flank March ; Occupation of Balaklava ; The Position before Sebostnpol ;
Commencement of the Siege ; Attack on Balaklava ; First Action of Inkerrnan ;
Battle of Inkerman ; Winter on the Plains ; Circumspective ; The Hospitals on the
Bosphorus ; Exculpatory; Progress of the Siege ; Burial Truce ; View of the Works,
It is the only connected and continuous narrative of the War in Europe that has
yet appeared. The author is an officer of rank in the British army, and has borne an
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inn profession of arms, by his actual participation In the conflict, and by hia literary
abilities, he is qualified in a rare degree for the task he has undertaken. The expec
tations thus raised will not be disappointed.

TRAGIC SCENES IN THE HISTORY OF MARYLAND

AND THE OLD FRENCH WAR. With an aceount of various
interesting contemporaneous events which oceurred in the early set
tlement of America. By JOSEPH BANVARD, A. M. With numerous
elegant Illustrations. 12mo, cloth. 60 cents.
" The volume 10 one of a series by the same author, and all those who hare pur
chased its predecessors will he sure to buy the present work."— HARTFORD PRESS.
" We commend the work to our readers as a capital one for the instruction as well
as the amusement of youth." — BOSTON ATLAS.

ay O. ft L. would call attention to thcir extensive list of publications, embracing

valuable works in THEOLOGY, SCIENCE, LITERATURE AND ART; TEXT BOOKS
FOR SCHOOLS AND COLLEGES, and MISCELLANEOUS, ete., in large variety, the
productions of some of the ablest writers and most scientific men of the age, among
which will be found those of Chambers, Hugh Miller, Agassiz, Gould, Guyot, Mar-
-.ou. Dr. Harris, Dr. Wayland, Dr. Williams, Dr. Ripley, Dr. Kitto, Dr. Tweedie,
'>r. Choules, Dr. Spragne, Newcomb, Banvard, " Walter Aimwell," Bnngener, Miall,
Lrchdeacon Hare, and others of like standing and popularity, and to this list they an
onstantly ndding. (1)
 IMPORTANT NEW WORKS.
THE CHRISTIAN LIFE : Social and Individual. By PETER
BAYNE, A. M. 12rao, cloth. 91.25.
Contents. Part I. — STATEMENT. The Individual Life ; the Socisl Life. Part
IL — EXPOSITION AND ILLUSTRATION. First Principles ; Howard, and the rise of
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Christian Freeman ; the social problem of the ago, and one or two hints toward» its
solution ; Modern Doubt ; John Foster ; Thomas Arnold ; Thomaa Chalmers. Part
IIL — OUTLOOR. The Positive Philosophy ; Panthcistic Spiritualism.
Particular attention la invited to this work. Its recent publication in Scotland pro
duced a great sensation. Hugh Miller made it the eubject of an elaborate review in
his paper, the Edinburgh " Witness," and gave his readers to understand that it was
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Budgett, Foster, Chalmers, ete. The brilliancy and vigor of the author's style are
remarkable.
PATRIARCHY; on, THE FAMILY: rra CONSTITUTION AND
PROBATION. By JOHN HARRIS, D. D., President of" New College,"
London, and author of "The Great Teacher," "Mammon," etc.
12mo, cloth. 81.26.
The public are here presented with a work on a subject of universal interest, by
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This is the third and last of a series, by the same author, entitled " Contributions
to Theological Science." The plan of this series is highly original, and thus far has
been mest successfully executed. Of the first two in, the series, "Pre-Adamite
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demand still continues. The immense sale of all Dr. Harris's works attest their in
trinsic popularity.
"The present age has not produced his superior as an original, stirring, elegant
writer."— PHILADELPHIA CHRISTIAN CHRONICLE.
GOD REVEALED IN NATURE AND IN CHRIST;
Including a Refutation of the Development Theory contained in the
(; Vestiges of the Natural History of Creation." By the author of
"The Philosophy of the Plan of Salvation." 12mo, cloth. $1.25.
The author of that remarkable book, " The Philosophy of the Plan of Salvation,"
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there is good reason to anticipate that the work will be one of unusual interest and
value. His former book has met with the most signal success in both hemispheres,
having passed through numerous editions in England and Scotland, and been trans
lated into four of the European languages besides. It is also about to be trnn Mated
into the Hindostauee tongue. (m)
 NEW WORKS.
THE BETTER LAND; OR, THE BELIEVER'S JOURNEY ANT>
FUTURE BOMB. By REV. A. C. THOMPSON. 12mo, cloth. 85 cents.
CONTENTS. — The Pilgrimage t Cluster* of Eschol ; Waymarks ; Glimpses of the
Land ; The Passage ; The Recognition of Friends ; The Heavenly Banquet ; Chil
dren in Heaven t Society of Angels ; Society of the Saviour ; Heavenly Honor and
Riches ; No Tears in Heaven ; Holiness of Heaven ; Activity in Heaven ; Resurrec
tion Body ; Perpetuity of Bliss in Heaven.
A most charming and instructive book for oil now journeying to the "Better land."
THE SCHOOL OF CHRIST; OR, CHRISTIANITY VIEWED ix
ITS LEADING ASPECTS. By the REV. A. L. R. FOOTE, author of
"Incidents in the Life of our Saviour," ete. I6rao, cloth. 50 cts.
" It is one of the few books that we fed free to recommend." — METH. PROTESTANT.
" The author presents Christianity, in its various aspects, with skill and power." —
PBESDYXERIAN.
"Christ inns of all names will rend it with deep interest." — CHRIST. CHRONICLE.
" It shows throughout a discriminating and thoroughly disciplined mind." — PCBI-
TAN RECORDER.
MY MOTHER, ; on, RECOLLECTIONS OP MATERNAL INFLTJENCE.
By a NEW ENGLAND CLERGYMAN. 12mo, cloth. 75 cents.
This is a new nnd enlarged edition of a work that was first published in ISffl. It
passed rapidly through three editions, when the sale was arrested by the embarrass
ment of the publisher. The author haa now revised it, and added another chapter,
BO that it comes bcfbrc the public with the essential claims of a new work
It is the picture ofa quiet New England Family, so drawn and colored as to subserve
the ends of DOMESTIC EDUCATION The author has already distin
guished himself in various walks of literature t but from motives of delicacy towards
the Btill surviving characters of the book, he chooses for the present to conceal hia
name A writer of wide celebrity says of the book, in a note to the pub
lisher— " It Is one of those rare pictures, painted from life, with the exquisite skill of
one of the OLD MASTERS, which BO seldom present themselves to the amateur."
MEMORIES OF A GRANDMOTHER. By a LADY OP
MASSACHUSETTS. 16mo, cloth. CO cents.
" My path lies In a volley whieh I have sought to adorn with flowers. Shadows
from the hills cover it, but I make my own sunshine."
" The little volume is gracefully and beautifully written." — JOCRKAL.
"Not unworthy the genius of a Dickens." — TRANSCRIPT.
THE TEACHER'S LAST LESSOX. A MEMOIR OP MAR
THA WHITING, late of the Charlestown Female Seminary, consisting
chiefly of Extracts from her Journal, interspersed with Reminiscences
and Suggestive Reflections. By CATHARINE N. BADGER, an Asso
ciate Teacher. With a Portrait, and an Engraving of the Seminary.
12mo, cloth. §1.00 Second edition.
The subject of this Memoir was, fur n quarter of a century, at the head of one of
the most celebrated Female Seminaries in the country. During that period she edu
cated more than THREE THOUSAND young ladies. She was a kindred spirit to Story
Lyon, the celebrated founder of Mount Holyoke Seminary, with whom, for strength
of character, eminent piety, devotion to her calling, and extraordinary success there
in, sho well deserves to be ranked. (o)
 RECENT PUBLICATIONS.
HISTORY OF CHURCH MUSIC IN AMERICA. Treating of
its peculiarities at different periods ; its legitimate use and its
abuse ; with Criticisms, Cursory Remarks, and Notices relating
to Composers, Teachers, Schools, Choirs, Societies, Conventions,
Books, ete. By NATHANIEL D. GOULD, Author of "Social Har
mony," " Church Harmony," etc. 12mo, cloth. 75 cents.
«S- This work will be found to contain a vast fund of;nforn;atlon, with much
that is novel, amusing and Instructive. In giving a minute history of Church
Music for the past eightg gears, there are interspersed throughout the volume
many Interesting incidents, and numerous aneedotes concerning Ministers,
Composers, Teachers, Performers and Performances, Societies, Choirs, Ae.
COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS OF WILLIAM COWPER ;
with a Life and Critical Notices of his Writings. With elegant
* new Illustrations on steel. ICmo, ol.,$1.00; fine cl., gilt, $1.25.
POETICAL WORKS OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. With Life
and elegant Illustrations on steel. 16mo, cloth, $1.00 ; fine
cloth, gilt, $1.25.
MILTON'S POETICAL WORKS. With Life and elegant Illus
trations. 16mo, cloth, $1.00 ; fine cloth, gilt, $1.25. In press
he above poetical works, by standard authors, are all of uniform size and
style, printed on fine paper, from clear, distinct type, with new and elegant
Illustrations, richly bound in full gilt, and plain ; which, with the exceedingly
low price at which they are offered, render them the most desirable of any of
the numerous editions of these authors' works now In the market.
United States Exploring Expedition.— Volume XH.
MOLLUSCA AND SHELLS. By AUGUSTUS A. GOULD, M. D.
One elegant quarto volume, cloth. $6.00.
THE TWO RECORDS ; the Mosaic and the Geological. By
HUGH MILLER. IGmo, cloth. 25 cents.
4-g* No work by Hugh Miller needs commendation to Insure purchasers.
NOAH AND HIS TIMES ; embracing various inquiries relative
to the Ante-diluvian and earlier Post-diluvian Periods, with Dis
cussions of several of the leading questions of the present time.
By Rev. J. MUNSON OLMSTEAD. 12mo, cloth. $1.2S.
PARISIAN PASTOR'S GLANCE AT AMERICA. By T. H.
0 KANII PIERRE, D.D., Pastor of the Reformed Church, and Direc
tor of the Missionary Institution in Paris. I6mo, cloi. 50 cts.
The author of this volume ls one of the most eminent ministers now living
of the Reformed Church of France. He Is distinguished as a preacher and a
writer 5 as a man of large and liberal views, of earnest piety, of untiring Indus
try, and of commanding Influence. His statements are characterized by great
flOTectuess as well as great candor. — Puritan Recorder. (j)
 THE CRUISE OF THE NORTH "STAR: \
A NARRATIVE OF THE EXCURSION MADE BY * MR.
VANDERBILT'S PARTY, IN THE STEAM YACHT, in her
Voyage to England, Russia, Denmark, Franco, Spain, Italy,
Malta, Turkey, Madeira, etc. By Rev. JOHN OVERTON CHOULES,
D. D. With elegant Illustrations, and fine Likenesses of Com
modore Vanderbilt and Gapt. Eldridgo. 12mo, cloth, gilt backs
and sides. $1.50.
The cruise of the North Star was an event of almost national concern, and
'was watched with universal Interest. This volume Is as different from ordinary
books of travel as the cruise of the North Star was different from an ordinary
trip to Europe. We need not bespeak for it many readers. — Providence Jour.
Toe American people ought to be proud of, and grateful to, Cornelius Van-
devbilt. This man has done more than a dozen presidents to give America a
respected name in Europe. In the person of Cornelius Vanderbilt, Amerie^B
enterprise told the people of Europe what It could do. The desire to get this
curious narrative was so great that the whole of the first edition went off In two
days ! — Star of the West.
Those who remember to have met with a very Interesting work, published
some two years ago, entitled " Young Americans Abroad," will be glad to learn
that here Is another book of travels from the same source. Do you say your
shelves are all full of books of travel ? — we reply, with Leigh Hunt, — then put
In another shelf, and place this one on It. — Methodist Protestant.
The work Is one of the most entertaining, and, In Its way, vivid, portraitures
of seenes In the Old 'World, that we have ever seen. — Boston Transcript.
The book Is in many respects as novel as the occasion which produced It w«8
unique and memorable. Both the accomplished author and the publishers de
serve the best thanks for so tasteful a record of a performance which has reflected
so much credit abroad upon American enterprise. — N. T. Courier & Enquirer.
This work Is interesting, not only as a memorial of the North Star, and her
trip to Europe, but also as a record of European travel, narrated In a lively
manner, by a gentleman whose taste and attainments eminently qualify him
for the task. — New York Times.
Never before did a private Individual make so magnificent an excursion as
Mr. Vanderbilt. Dr. Choules, who was one of his guests, has given to the world
a charming account of this unique voyage, in a beautifully printed and illus
trated volume. 'We commend it to our readers as a very entertaining, well-
written book. — Zion's Herald.
The book will be eagerly perused, an a record of one of the unique oecurrences
of the age ; is written with a kind of drawing-room, etiquette-like style, is mel
low In sentiment, and is wholly destitute of that straining after the sublime,
and stranding In the " high-falu tin," that characterize the effusions of the tour
ist generally. — Chicago Adcertiser.
This beautiful volume deseribes, In a chaste and readable manner, the for
tunes of the widely-known excursion of the princely New York merchant and
his family and guests. From the eclat of the voyage itself, and the pleasant
way of Dr. Choules' account of it, we think the book is destined to have — what
' deserves — a very large sale. — Congregationalism. (f)
 WORKS BY DR. TVEEDIE.
GLAD TIDINGS ; or, The Gospel of Peace. A series of Daily
Meditations for Christian Disciples. By Rev. \f. K. TWEEDIE,
D. D. With an elegant Illustrated Title-page. Ifimo, cloth.
63 cents.
These meditations, though brief, are comprehensive and weighty. It Is re
markable for condensation, for a deep evangelical tone, and for putting itself
Into direct contact with the conseience and the heart. — Albang Argus.
We heartily wish this little book were In every Christian family, and could
be carefully read through by every Christian. — If. T. Evangelist.
This sweet little volume challenges our warmest commendation. Every
page glows with Christian example and goodness. The perusal of one chapter
will awake a keener relish for the commencement of another. The Frontispiece,
representing the shepherds' watch of thelr flocks by night, is sublimely beauti.
ful. — Lawrence Courier.
A LAMP TO THE PATH ; or, the Bible in the Heart, the
Home, and the Market-place. With an elegant Illustrated
Title-page. 16mo, cloth. 03 cents.
The power, the beauty, and the necessity of religion in the heart, the home,
the workshop, the market-place, the professions, and in social Intercourse, are
happily illustrated. It Is a jewel, and should enrich every family library. The
last chapter is worthy of bcing engraven, as with the point of a diamond, on
every human heart. — Southern Literarg Messenger.
This little volume brings Christianity home to the bosoms and business of
men. It is a lucid, impressive, and beautiful exposition of Christian obliga
tions. —Albang Argus.
SEED-TIME AND HARVEST ; or, Sow Well and Reap Well.
A Book for the Young. With an elegant Illustrated Title-page.
16mo, cloth. 63 cents.
An excellent book, more particularly designed for young readers; but persons
of all ages may derive pleasure and profit from its perusal. — N, Y. Commereial.
No person can read it attentively, without feeling that there Is an Importance
attaehed even to what seem to be his most indifferent actions. — Puritan Jiec,
A most precious volume this to the young, taking thelr first step and first look
In life ; teaching them that if they would reap well, they must sow well ; that
If they would enjoy an old age of honor, they must be trained In youth to vir
tue. — Dr. Sprague, Albang Spectator.
THE MORN OF LIFE ; or, Examples of Female Excellence.
A Book for Young Ladies. 16mo, cloth. In press.
he above works, by Dr. Tweedle, are of uniform size and style. They
are most charming, pious, and mstruc^ve works, beautifully gotten up, and
well adapted for " gift-books."
FAMILY WORSHIP ; or, the Morning and Evening Sacrifice.
\0ne volume. Octavo, cloth. In press. (jj) ,-
 THESAURUS OF ENGLISH WORDS AND PHRASES.
So Classified and Arranged as to Facilitate the Expression of Ideas,
and Assist in Literary Composition. By PKTER MARK ROGET,
late Secretary of the Royal Society, and author of the " Bridge-
water Treatise," ete. Revised and Enlarged; with a LIST o?
FOUEIGX WORDS AND EXPRESSIONS most frequently occurring in
works of general Literature, Defined in English, by BARNAS
SEARS, D.D. .Secretary of the Massachusetts Board of Education,
assisted by several Literary Gentlemen. 12mo, cloth. $1.50.
work of great merit, admirably adapted as a text-book for sehools and
colleges, and of high Importance to every American seholar. Among the numer
ous commendations recelved, the publishers would call attention to the fol
lowing:
A most valuable work, giving the results of many years* labor, In an attempt
to classify and arrange the words of the English tongue, so as to facilitate the
practice of composition. The purpose of an ordinary dictionary Is to explain
the meaning of words, while the object of this Thesaurus is to collate all tbe
words by which any given idea may be expressed — Putnam's Monthlg.
This volume offers the student of English composition the results of great la
bor In the form of a rich and copious vocabulary. We would commend the wort
to those who have charge of academies and high schools, ar;d to all students.
— Christian Observer.
This is a novel publication, and Is the first and only one of the kind ever
Issued In which words and phrases of our language are classified, not according
to the sound of thelr orthography, but strictly according to thcir signification*
We recommend it as a work of rare and excellent qualities. — Scien. American.
A work of great utility. It will give a writer the word he wants, when that
word is on the tip of his tongue, but altogether beyond his reach. — If. Y. Times.
It Is more complete than the Engiish work, which has attained a Just celebrity.
It Is intended to supply, with respect to the English language, a desideratum
hitherto unsupplled In any language. The purpose of a dictionary Is simply to
explain the meaning of words. The object aimed at here is exactly the converse
of this : the words and phrases of the language are here classed, not aecording
to thcir sound or thelr orthography but strictly aecording to thelr signification.
— JV. T. Evening Mirror.
An invaluable companion to persons engaged in literary labors. The catalogue
of forelgn words and phrases most current In modern literature, which the
American editor has appended, will be very useful. — Presbgterian.
It casts the whole English language into groups of words and terms, arranged
in such a manner that the student of English composition, when embarrassed
by the poverty of his vocabulary, may supply himself Immediately, on consult
ing it, with the precise term fur which he has occasion. — JV. Y. Evening Post.
This book Is one of the most valuable we ever examined. It supplies a want
long acknowledged by the best writers. — Portland Advertiser.
Every writer a;ul speaker ought to possess himself at once of this manual. It
Is far from belng a mere dull, dead string of synonymes, but It Is enlivened and
vivified by the classifying and crystallizing power of genuine philosophy. 'We
1u;vc put it on our table as a permanent fixture, as near our left hand as th^
ilble Is to our right. — GongregatiomUist.
 AMOS LAWRENCE.
DIARY AND CORRESPONDENCE OF THE LATE
AMOS LAWRENCE ; with a brief account of some Incidents in
his Life. Edited by his son, WILLIAM R. LAWRENCE, M. D. With
fine steel Portraits of AMOS and ABBOTT LAWRENCE, an Engraving
of their Birth-place, a Fac-shnile page of Mr. Lawrence's Hand
writing. Octavo, cloth, 81.50. Royal duodecimo edition, $1.00.
This work was first published in an elegant octavo volume, and sold at the unu
sually low price of $1 .50. At the solicitation of numerous benevolent individuals who
were desirous of circulating the work — so remarkably adapted to do good, especially
to young men — GRATUITOUSLY, and, of giving those of moderate means, of every
class, an opportunity of possessing it, the royal duodecimo, or " CHEAP EDITION,"
was issued, varying from the other edition, only In a reduction in the SIZE (allowing
less margin), and the THICKNESS of the paper.
Within six months after the first publication of thia work, TWENTY-TWO THOUS
AND copies had been sold. It is the memoir of a Boston merchant, who became dis
tinguished for Ms great wealth, but more distinguished for the manner in which he
nsed it. It is the memoir of a man, who commencing business with only $20, gave
away in public and private charities, l!i ;;i M, ;ns LIFETIME, more, probably, than
ony other person in Ameriea. •
" We heard it once said in the pulpit, ' There is no work of art like a noble life/
ftml for that reason he who has achieved one takes rank with the great artists, and
becomes the world's property. WE ARE PROUD OF THIS BOOR. WE ARE v, [Link] N o
TO LET IT GO FORTH TO OTHER LANDS AS A SPECIMEN OF WHAT AMERICA CAN
PRODUCE. In the old world, reviewers have called Barnum THE characteristic Amer
ican man. We are willing enough to admit that he is A characteristic American
man ; he is ONE fruit of our soil, but Amos Lawrence is another. Let our country
have credit for him also. THE GOOD EFFECT WHICH THIS LIFE MAY HAVE IN
DETERMINING THE COURSE OF YOUNO MEN TO 1IONOR AND VIRTUE IS INCAL
CULABLE."— MRS. STOWE, IN N. Y. INDEPENDENT.
** This book, besides bcing of a different class from most Biographies, has another
peculiar charm. It shows the inside life of the man. You have, as it were, a peep
behind the curtain, and see Mr. Lawrence as he went in and out among business
men, as he appeared on 'Change, as he reccived his frienda, as he poured out, 'with
liberal hand and generous heart,' his wealth for the benefit of others, as he reccived
the greetings and salutations of children, and as he appeared in the bosom of hia
family, at his own hearth-stone." — BRUNSWICR TELEGRAPH.
M We are glad to know that our large business houses are purchasing copies of this
work for each of thcir numerous clerks. As a business man, Mr. Lawrence was a
pattern for the young clerk." — BOSTON TRAVELLER.
*' 'We are thankful for the volume before us. It exhibits a charity noble and active,
while the young merehant was still poor. And above all, it reveals to us a beautiful
cluster of sister graces, a keen sense of honor, integrity which never knew the
shadow of suspicion, candor in the estimate of character, filial piety, rigid fidelity in
every domestic relation."— NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW.
" We are glad that American Biography has been enriched by such a contribution
to its treasures. In all that composes the career of ' the good man ' and the practical
Christian, we have read few memoirs more full nf instruction, or richer in lessons
of wisdom and virtue."— NATIONAL INTELLIGENCER.
*' A more beautifully printr. volume, or one caleulated to do more good, has not
been issued from the press of late years."— EVENING GAZETTE.
"This volume has been read with the deepest interest. It will be widrty circulated,
will certainly prove a atandard work, and be read over and over again,"— BOSTOS
DAILY ADVERTISER. (p)
 WORKS JUST PUBLISHED.
THE PLURALITY OF WORLDS. A New Edition. "With
a Supplementary Dialogue, in which the author's reviewers are
reviewed. 12mo. cloth. $1.00.
This masterly production, which haa excited so much Interest in this country and
In Europe, will now have an increased attraction in the addition of the Supplement,
In which the author's reviewers are triumphantly reviewed.
OjT" The Supplement will be furnished separate to those who have the original work.

INFLUENCE OF THE HISTORY OF SCIENCE TJPON

INTELLECTUAL EDUCATION. By William Whewell, D. D.,
of Trinity College, Cambridge, Eng., and the alleged author of
"Plurality of Worlds." 16mo, cloth. 26 cts.

ROGET'S THESAURUS OF ENGLISH "WORDS. A

New and Improved Edition. 12mo, cloth. $1.60.
This edition' is based on the last London edition (just issued). The first Ameri
can edition having been prepared by Dr. Sears, for strlctly educational pcb-
posrs, those words and phrases properly termed "vulgar," Incorporated into the
original work, were omitted. Regret having been expressed by critics and scholars,
whose opinions are entitled to respect, at this omission, in the present new edition
the expurgated portions have been restored, but by such an arrangement of matter
as not to interfere with the educational purposes of the American editor. Besides
this, there are important additions of words and phrases not in the
English edition, making this, therefore, in all respects, more full and perfect
THAN THE AUTHOR'S EDITION.

THE LANDING AT CAPE ANNE ; or, The Charter, op

the First Permanent Colony on the Territory op the
Massachusetts Company. Now discovered and first published
from the original manuscript, with on inquiry into its authority,
and a History op the Colony, 1624-1628. Roger Conant, Gover
nor. By John Wingate Thornton. 8vo, cloth. $1.50.
This is a curious and exceedingly valuable historical document.
M A volume of great interest and importance." — Evenino Thayeller.

THE AB1WELL STORIES.

A series of volumes illustrative of youthful character, and combining
Instruction with Amusement. By Walter Aimwell, author of
" The Boy's Own Guide," " The Boy's Book of Morals and Manners."
&c. With numerous Illustrations.
The first three volumes of the series, now ready, are —
OSCAR ; or, The Boy who had his own Way. 16mo, cl., gt. C3 cts,
CLINTON; or, Boy-Lipe in the Country. 16mo, cloth, gilt. 63cts.
ELLA j or, Turning over a New Leap. 16mo, cloth, gilt. 63 cts.
C®- Each volume will be complete and independent of itaelf, but the series will b«
connected by a partial identity of character, localities, &c. (n)
 VALUABLE WORKS.
KNOWLEDGE IS POWER : A VIEW OF THE PRODUCTIVE
FORCES OP MODERN SOCIETY, and the Results of Labor, Capital, and
Skill. By CHARLES KNIGHT. American edition, with Additions, by
DAVID A. WELLS, Editor "Annual of Scientific Diseovery," etc.
With numerous Illustrations. 12mo, cloth. $1.25.
This work is eminently entitled to be ranked in that class styled " books for the
people." The author ia one of the most popular writers of the day. Ilia style is
easy and racy, sufficiently polished for the most refined, while it is peculiarly fitted
to captivate plain, unlettered, but thinking men. It is remarkable for its fullness
and variety of information, and for the felicity and force with which the author ap
plies hia facts to his reasoning. The facts and illustrations are drawn from almost
every branch of skilful industry. It is a work, in short, which thu mechanic and
artisan of every description will be sure to read with a RELISH.

MY SCHOOLS AND SCHOOLMASTERS ; OR, THE STORY

OF MY EDUCATION. By HUGH MILLER, Author of " Footprints of
the Creator," etc. 12mo, cloth. $1.25.
*' This autobiography is quite worthy of the renowned author. ITis first attempt*
at literature, and his career until he stood forth an ackowledged power among the
philosophers and ccclesiatical leaders of his native land, arc given without egotism,
with a power and vivacity which arc truthful and delightsome." — PRESBYTERIAN.
*' Hugh Miller is one of the most remarkable men of the age. Having risen from the
humble walks of life, and from the employment of a stone-cutter, to the highest rank
among scientific men, everything relating to his history possesses an interest which
belongs to that of (few living men. The book has nil the ease and graphic power
which is characteristic of his writings."— NEW YOUK OBSERVER.
** This volume is a book for the ten thousand. It Is embellished with an admirable
likeness of Hugh Miller, the stone mason — his coat off and his sleeves rolled up —
with the implements of labor in hand — his form erect, and hia eye bright and pierc
ing. The biography of such a man will interest every reader. It is a living thing-
teaching a lesson of self-culture of immense value." — PHILA. CHRISTIAN OBS.
" It is a portion of autobiography exquisitely told. He is a living proof that a single
man may contain within himself something more than all the books In the world.
This is one of the best bonks we have read." — LONDON CORHESP. N. Y. TBIBUNE.
" It la a work of rare interest ; at times having the facination of a romance, and
again suggesting the profoundest views of education and of science. The ex-mason
holds a graphic pen; a quiet humor runs through his pages." — N. Y. ISDEI'ESIJENT.
"This autobiography is THE book for poor boys, and others who are struggling with
poverty and limited advantages ; and perhaps it is not too much to predict that In a
few years it will become one of the poor man's chwsies."— Nsw EJJG. FABMRE.

THE HALLIG ; oil, THE SHEEPFOLD IN THE WATERS. A

Tale of Humble Life on the Coast of Schleswig. Translated from the
German of Biernatzski, by Mrs. GEOUGE P. MARSH. With a Biog*-
raphical Sketch of the Author. 12mo, cloth. $1.00.
The author of this work was the grand-son of nn exiled Polish nobleman. Hisown
portrait is understood to be drawn in one of the characters of the Tale, and indeed
the whole work has a substantial foundation in fact. As a revelation of on entire new
phase of human society, it will strongly remind the reader of Miss Bremer's tales.
In originality and brilliancy of imagination, it is not inferior to those; — its aim is far
higher. The elegance of Mrs. Marsh's translation will at once arrest the attention
of every competent judge. (Q)
 Srto unit Uopliu Stilts tux Oflutlj.
THE AIMWELL STORIES;
A SERIES OP VOLUMES, ILLUSTRATIVE OF YOUTHFUL CHARAC
TER, AND COMBINING INSTRUCTION WITH AMUSEMENT.
Br "WALTER AIMWELL,
Author of "The Boy's Own Guide," " Boy's Book of Morals and Manners/' Ac
With Numerous Illustrations.

The volumes will contain about 300 pages, 16mo, each, bound In cloth, with gilt
backs. Price 63 cents.
&&- Each volume will be complete and independent of Itself, but the series
will be connected together by a partial Identity of characters, localities, Ac.
The first two volumes of this series are now ready. They are entitled—
OSCAR;
Ob, THE BOX WHO HAD HIS OWN WAT,
AND

CLINTON;
Oe, BOT-LIFE IN THE COUNTRT.

Xotfces of Clinton.
Well, the boys have read it, and pronounce it "first-rate." We confirm'their
judgment. It enters into the heart of the boy ; comprehenjis his thoughts, his
wishes, and his temptations ; mingles in his sports ; stimulates him in his
studies, and implants right principles and noble views. It is a safe book, an
entertaining book, and a useful book. — The Independent, iV. Y.
We attempted to read this book, but the boys got bold of it, and, morning,
noon, and night, they kept hold of it, until one, and another, and another stUL
had read it through. If their Judgment is worth anything, the book Is capital,
one of the very best of its kind. — N. Y. Evangelist.
Wo like "Clinton " for its naturalness. It is a narrative about real life, pleas
antly described in just the way to attract young readers, resembling, and quite
equal to, the " Rollo " series. — Christian Register.
A better book, as a mere book of combined amusement and lnstruction for
boys, could scarcely be found. — Saturday Evening Mail.
"Aprimc Vook," as we heard a little boy say who had Just got through with
it. — Youth's Companion, Boston.
A better book a boy can hardly read. — Forrester** Boys' and Girls' Magazine*
The boy who begins it is sure to peruse it from title-page to finis ; and he whc
does so can hardly fall of wishing to be a better and wiser boy. — Zion's Herald.
One of the best books for boys we have ever seen. Its descriptions are exact,
and all its details are those of actual life. Its moral and religious Influence is ex
celleut. — CongregationalUt. (lc>
PLEASANT PAGES FOR YOUNG PEOPLE;
OR, BOOK OF HOME EDUCATION AND ENTERTAINMENT.
BY S. PROUT NEWCOMBE. With numerous Illustrations. 75c.
actr This work is designed for the pleasure and profit of young people ; and, as the
title indicates, intended as an aid to Home Education. The great variety of subject*
presented, consisting of Moral Lessors, Natural History, History, Travels, Physical
Geography, Object Lessons, Drawing and Perspective, Musie. Poetry, ete., and withal*
•o skilfully treated as to make truth simple and attractive, renders it an admirable
family book for winter evenings and summer days.
A very excellent book. History, philosophy, science, stories, and descriptions of
games are all mingled together, and he who does not like the compound must be hard
to please. — Post.
Pleasant pages, containing information on a great variety of subjects. Here we
have science and art made plain and captivating. The lessons in drawing and per
spective alone are worth the price of the volume. And then a thousand questions
'which the intelligent young mind raises are here answered. — Parlor Magazine.
This is indeed a home book of endless amusement. — Boston Atlas.
An admirable book of home education. We commend it to families. — Alb. Spec,
A work admirably adapted to the instruction and amuscmentof the young. — Reg.
A pleasant book, full of all sorts of information upon all sorts of subjects.'- Jour.
One of the most delightful works for young people we have ever met with. Few
persons, young or old, could examine its pages without gaining knowledge of a useful
kind. It is one of the most successful combinations of the pleasant with the useful
to be found. — Dailg Advertiser.
A book of not only " pleasant pages," but of singularly instructive poges. Even
people not so very young might be profited by its perusal. — South Boston Gazette.
It presents much solid information, and opens before the young new fields of ob-
•ervation. The youngsters will clap thcir hands with joy. — Scientific American.
There is a great deal of valuable information communicated in a very simple and
easy way. While it is full of useful instruction [Link] is also suggestive to
those who are called to conduct thcir education. — Puritan Recorder.
We like this book : it is well fitted for the family library. The youns? like facto (
when these are set forth in a pleasant way, the interest is greater than fiction ever
awakens, unless the fiction is made to appear like truth. — Gode;fs Ladies' Book.

THE GUIDING STAR ; or, The Bible God's Message. By

LOUISA PAYSOS HOPKINS. With Frontispiece. 16mo, cloth, 50 cts.
An excellent work to put into the hands of youth. It is written in conversational
fltyle, and opens up most beautifully, and with great simplicity, the great leading ev
idences that the Bible contains God's message to man. Those seeking ailer truth will
find it worthy of frequent perusal.— DR. SPRAGUR, in AUxmg Spectator.
We cordially commend the work to parents, children, and Sabbath schools. — Cong.
This volume should be in the hands of every youthful reader, and adult persons
would find it not only interesting, but instructive. — Ch. Chron.
The popular author of this book has conferred a favor on the public, for which she
deserves something more than thank's.— Ch. Secretarg.
One of the most valuable books for youth that we have seen. — Cong. Journal.
A book of more than common excellence. How often have we wished that ftll th«
youth of our land might become familiar with its contents— t-'ft. Mirror. X
 NATIONAL SERIES OF AMERICAN HISTORIES.
By Rev. Joseph Bnnvard.

PLYMOUTH AND THE PILGRIMS ; or, Incidents of

Adventures in the History of the First Settlers. With Illustrations.
16mo, cloth, 60 eta.
When once taken up It will not be laid down without regret until finished. — Courier.
An exceedingly interesting volume. — Am. Traveller.
Popular reading, particularly adapted to entertain and instruct youth. — Mercantile
Journal.
Every New Englander, wherever he resides, should own this book. — Scientific Am.
An extremely interesting volume, written in a plain but vigorous style, adapted to
the young, but will be read with interest by the older ones, — Ch. Freeman.
Highly attractive In style and instructive in matter. — N. Y. Com. Adv.

NOVELTIES OF THE NEW WORLD; an Account of

the Adventures and Discoveries of the First Explorers of North America.
With numerous Illustrations. 16mo, cloth, 60 cts.
A series of books which will serve as valuable introductions and enticements to
more extended historical reading. — Am. Traveller.
It has all the luterest of a romance. — Portland Transcript.
We have seen the boys bend over these pages, unwilling to leave them, either for
play or sleep; and when finished, inquiring anxiously when the next would come. —
Watehman and Reflector.
Neither too childish for adults, nor yet too difficult of comprehension for children.
They will delight as well as instruct. — Mercantile Journal.
Interesting scenes and events in the New "World arc here brought together and in
vested with a charm that is irresistible by old as well as young. — Ch. Intelligeacer.

ROMANCE OF AMERICAN HISTORY; or, an Account

of the Settlement of North Carolina and Virginia, embracing the tragic
Ineidents connected with the Spanish Settlements, French Colonies, Eng
lish Plantation at Jamestown, Captivity of Captain Smith, the Adven
tures of Pocahontas, etc. With Illustrations. 60 cents.
All the interest of romance, and the addition of veritable history. — Puritan Rcc
It is a most pleasing and instructive book. — Home Journal.
Interesting as a novel, and a thousand times more profitable reading. — Lit. Mes.
Every library should be furnished with this Series of American Histories. — 2f. S.
Farmer.
Admirably fitted for family reading, and calculated to interest the young. — Trav.
At'ractive series of books founded on the early history of our country ; it will make
a most valuable addition to all family libraries. — Arthur's Gazette.
No more interesting and instructive reading can be put into the hands of youth. —
Portland Transcript.
The series will embrace the most interesting and important events which hare oc
curred in the United States since the settlement of the country. Each volume to ba
complete in itself; and yet, when all are published, they will together form a regular
Saxna or [Link] Histories. Y
 VALUABLE WORKS FOR THE YOUNG.
BY REV. HAEVEY KEWCOMB.
HOW TO BE A MAN ; a Book for Boys, containing Useful
Hints on the Formation of Character. Cloth, gilt, 50 cts.
" My design in writing haa been to contribute something towards forming the char
acter of those who arc to be ova future electors, legislators, governors, j udges, minis
ters, lawyers, and physicians, — after the best model. It is intended for boys — or, if
you please, for goung gentlemen, ;n early youth." — Preface.
M How to be a Man " is an inimitable little volume. We desire that it be widely cir
culated. It should be put into the hands of every youth in the land. — Tem;. Bap.

HOW TO BE A LADY ; a Book for Girls, containing Useful

Hints on the Formation of Character. Cloth, gilt, 50 cts.
K Having daughters of his own, and having been many years employed in writing
for the young, he hopes to offer some good advice, in an entertaining way, for girls or
misses, between the ages of cight and fifteen. Ilis object is, to assist them in forming
thcir characters upon the best model; that they may become well-bred, intelligent, re
fined, and good; and then they will be real ladies, in the highest sense." — Preface.
Parents will consult the interests of thcir daughters, for time and eternity, in mak
ing them acquainted with this attractive and most useful volume, — .A'. 1' Evangelist.
The following Notices applg to both the above Volumes.
It would he better for the next generation if every youth would "read, learn, and
inwardly digest" the contxnts of these volumes. — .Ar. Y. Commercial.
These volumes contain much matter wh;ch is truly valuable. — Jfer. Journal.
They contain wise and important counsels and cautions, adapted to the young, and
made entertaining by the interesting style and illustrations of the author. They arc
fine mirrors, in which are reflected the prominent lineaments of the Christian goung
gentleman and goung ladg. Elegant presents for the young. — American Pulpit.
Ncwcomb's books are excellent. We are pleased to commend them. — N. Y. 06s.
They are booka well caleulated to do good. — Phil. Ch. Chronicle,
Common-sense, practical hints on the formation of character and habits, and arc
Adapted to the improvement of youth. — Mothers* Journal.

ANECDOTES FOR BOYS; Entertaining Anecdotes and

Narratives, illustrative of Principles and Character. 18mo, gilt, 42 cts.

ANECDOTES FOR GIRLS ; Entertaining Anecdotes and

Narratives, illustrative of Principles and Character. 18;no, gilt, 42 cts.
Interesting and instructive, without bcing fict;tious. The aneedotes are many,
short, and spirited, with a moral drawn from each, adapted to every age, condition,
and duty of life. We commend them to families and schools. — Albang Spectator.
'Works of great value, for a truth or principle is sooner instilled into the youthful
heart by an aneedote, than in any other way. They are well selected. — Ev'g Gaz.
Nothing has a greater interest for a youthful mind than a well-told story, and no
medium of conveying moral instructions BO attractive or so successful. The influ
ence is fur more powerful when the child is assured that they are true. 'We cannot
too strongly recommend them to parents. — Western Continent, Baltimore. V
VALUABLE WORKS FOR THE YOUjNG.
TOUNG AMERICANS ABROAD; or, Vacation in Europe:
the Results of a Tour through Great Britain, France, Holland, Belgium,
Germany, and Switzerland. I'y John Overton [Link], D. D., and
his Pupils. With Elegant I 'liquations. 16rao, cloth, 75 cts.

A highly entertaining work, embrarifg more real information, such as every one
wishes to know about Europe, than any other book of travels ever published.
Three intelligent lads, who knew how to use their eyes, aecompanied their tutor
on a European tour ; and, from u carefully -kept journal, they wrote out, in a series of
letters to a favorite companion in study, at home, their impressions of the most re
markable places en route. The pencilling are genuine und unaffected, and in all
respects form an interesting and instructive record of travel. — Sartain's Magazine.
One of the most instructive and delightful took* of the age.— Southern Lit. Gax.
Boys, here is a book that will suit you cxact'y. It is a series of letters from certain
boys travelling In Europe to their classmates hi t*iw country. It will improve your
knowledge and amuse you during leng winter [Link]/hts. — Methodist Prot.
It is worth much more than many a larger and to>>re pretentious volume, for gi vinj
a daguerreotype of things abroad.— Congregation "lilt,
A beautiful book for young people, unlike any til*ng wc have eT-*r wen. — Ch, Ofr
Most interesting book that can be put irtothe hani'i fifth's younf. * Olive Eraneh*
The best book of foreign travel for youth to he found 11 tie ^hoK ntige of Amel*
can literature. — Buffalo Morning Express.

THE ISLAND HOME; or, the Youug Castaways. By

Christopher Komaunt, Esq. With Elegant I'lus-rations. 75 cts.
The best and prettiest book for boys that we have lately se"n — .Boston Post.
A stirring and unique work. It will interest the Juvenile met* vasOy. — 0\ive Br.
Delightful narrative of the adventures of six boys win put to sea [-*X an open boat,
and were drifted to a desert island, where they lived in the manner of Itobinsou Cru
soe.— jr. Y. Com.
A book of great interest, and one which will be a treat to any boy. *"**JP**rta Circle
The young will pore over its pages with almost enchanted interest.— Tr^nZcript.
A modern Robinson Crusoe story, without the dreary solitude of that lamc-u here
It will amuse and instruct the young in no ordinary degree. — Southern £*&. Gazette
A story that bids fair to rival the far-famed Robinson Crusoe. We become as Pinch
Interested in the Max, Johnny, Arthur, and the rest of the goodly company, M it the
Swiss Family Robinson. — Sartain's Magazine.

THE AMERICAN STATESMAN ; or, Illustrations of 4hft

Life and Character of Daniel Webster, for the Entertainment antf
Instruction of American Youth. By the Rev. Joseph Banvakd, au
thor of " Plymouth and the Pilgrims," " Novelties of the New World,"
" Romance of American History," ete. With elegant Illustrations. 75c.
•9- A work of great Interest, presenting a sketeh of the most striking and Impor
tant events which oecurred in the history of the distinguished statesman, Daniel
Webster, avoiding entirely all points of a political character ; holding up to view, for
the admiration and emulation of American youth, only his commendable traits of
character. It is just such a work as every American patriot would wish his chili ren
to read and reflect upon. -\y
 MY FIRST IMPRESSIONS
OF ENGLAND AND ITS PEOPLE.
BY HUGH MILLER, author of " Old Red Sandstone,'' " Foot
prints uf the Creator," ete., w;lh a fine iikeness of the author. 12mo, 1,00.
Let not the careless reader imagine, from the title of this book, that it is a common
book of travels, on the contrary, it js a very remarkable one, both ;n design, spirit, and
execution. The facts recorded, and the v;ews advanced in this book, are so fresh,
vivid, and natural, that we cannot but commend it as a treasure, both of information
and entertainment. — Willis's Jfame Journal.
This is a noble book, worthy of the author of the Footprints of the Creator and the
Old Red Sandstone, because it is seasoned with the same power of vivid description,
the same minuteness of observation, and soundness of criticism, and the same gen;al
piety. We have read it with deep ;nterest, and with ardent admiration of the au
thor's temper and genius. It is almost impossible to lay the book down, even to at
tend to more pressing matters. It is, w;thout compliment or hyperbole, a most de
lightful volume. — A- Y. Commervial.
This is a most amusing and instructive book, by a master hand. — Dem. fiev.
The author of this work proved himself, in the Footprints of the Creator, one of the
most original thinkers and powerful writers of the age. In the volume before us he
adds new laurels to his reputation. Whoever wishes to understand the character of
the present race of Englishmen, as contradistinguished from past generations; to
comprehend the workings of political, social, and religious agitation in the minds, not
of the nobility or gentry, but of the people, will discover that, in this volume, he has
found a treasure. — Peterson's Magazine. ,
Ills eyes were open to see, and his ears to hear, every thing ; and, as the result of
What he saw and heard in " ;nerrie " England, he has made one of the most spirited
and attractive volumes of travels and observations that we have met with. — Trav.
Ill gh Miller is one of the most agreeable, entertaining, and instructive writers of
the age. We know of no work in England so full of adaptedness to the age as this.
Jt opens up clearly to view the condition of its various classes, sheds new l;ght into
its social, moral, and religious history, its geological peculiarities, and draws conclu
sions of great value, — Albang Spectator. •
The author, one of the most remarkable men of the age, arranged for this journey
Into England, expecting to " lodge in humble cottages, and wear a humble dress, and
ece what was to be seen by humble men only,— society without its mask." Such an.
observer might be expected to bring to view a thousand things unknown, or partially
known before ; and abundantly does he fulfil this expectation. It is one of the most
absorbing books of the time. — Portland Ch. Jftrror.

NEW WORK.
MY SCHOOLS AND SCHOOLMASTERS;
OR THE STORY OP MY EDUCATION.
BY HUGH MILLER, author of "Footprints of the Creator,"
" Old Red Sandstone," " First Impressions of England/* ete. 12mo, cU
This is a personal narrative of a deeply interesting and instructive character, con
cerning one of the most remarkable men of the age. No one who purchases this book
Trill have occasion to regret it, our word for ill U
 fkiE CAPTIVE IN PATAGONIA;
OR LIFE AMONG THE GIANTS.
By BENJAMIN F. BOURNE. With Illustrations. 12mo, cloth, 85cts.
This work, by Captain Bourne, — who was taken captive and retained three months
:-> ;n-- Patagonians, — gives an account of his capture and final escape; a description
of this strange people ; thcir manners, customs, habits, pursuits ; the country,ltm «oil
productions, ete., of which little or nothing has heretofore been known, c--- A work
of thrilling interest, and of instruction to every class of readers.
Any book, descriptive of a country which ts almost like fable land to the c;vilized
world, must possess great interest; but this work, besides having this attraction. U
written with much vigor and spirit, and is replete with a variety of interesting fuels,
'lescriptive of the manners, customs, character, ete., of the Patagonians. — Sal\ Jour.
A work of thrilling interest, and bids fair to be another Uncle Tom's Cabin. C*p-
tain Bourne is well known and highly respected in this community ; and the narra
tive of his strange adventures, startling and romantic as they may seem, eun be relied
upon as strictly true. — A'antuckct Eagle.
We have seldom read a work of such intense interest.— y. //. Sentinel.
This is a narrative of great interest. — Phil. Ch. Observer.
We question whether the scenes, trials, hardships, adventures, ete., could have been
more vividly drawn had they emanated from the pen of an IRVING or a COOPRR.—
Rutland (Vt.) Herald,
The author is known as a respectable man, and one of high integrity ; and from hij
Own experience has given particulars of the manners, customs, habits, and pursuits
Of the natives. It Is a thrilling narrative, and as exciting as Typce. — Newport Mere.
No work of romance can exceed to enchain the mind and awaken interest. — Cong.
Seldom, if ever, have we perused a work with so intense on interest. No work of
romance can excel it in power to enchant the mind, and awaken a nervous desire to
possess the valuable information which it communicates. — Amherst Express.
Having begun it one evening, we would not quit until the book had been finished.
— Montpelier Journal.
Uncle Tom may stand aside for the present. Mrs. Stowe may herself, as well as
her readers, listen to the tale of a New Bedford sailor. His narrative is one that can
not fail to move both to smiles and tears, — containing touches of the broadest and
most genial humor, as well as passages of limple pathos, which dissolve the soul in
•ympathy. — B. II. Aurora.
Possessing all the interest of real adventure, with all the attract;veness of romance,
we do not wonder at its popularity. — Boston Atlas.
We have never before perused any personal narrative that has interested us as thU
one. — Fountain and Journal, Me.
We have scarcely been able to leave its attractive pages. If the reader wishes to be
amused, instructed, delighted, and benefited, he cannot do better than to procure a
copy. — Gardiner Evening Transeript.

THE HISTORY OF BANKING; with a Comprehensive,

Aecount of the Origin, Rise, and Progress of the Banks of England, Ire
land, and Scotland. By WILLIAM JOHN LAWSOW. First American
Edition. Revised, with numerous additions. By J. SMITH HOMAMS,
Editor of Bankers* Magazine. 1 vol. octavo, 3,00.
*-*- A novel book, yet Interesting and instructive ; containing aneedotes of men
who have figured largely in the business, cases of forgeries, counterfcits, detections,
rials, ete. It
 VALUABLE WORK.

CYCLOPEDIA OF ANECDOTES OF LITERATURE

AND THE FINE ARTS. Containing a copious and choice selection of
Anecdotes of the various forms of Literature, of the Arts, of Architecture,
Engravings, Music, Poetry, Painting, and Sculpture, and of the most cel
ebrated Literary Characters and Artists of different Countries and Ages,
&e. By KAZLITT ARVINE, A. M., Author of " Cyclopedia of Moral and
Religious Anecdotes." With ;llustrations. 725 pages octavo, cloth, 3,00.
This is unquestionably the choicest collection of aneedotes ever published. It con
tains three thousand and fortg Aneedotes, and such is the wonderful variety, that It
tvill be found an almost inexhaustible fund of interest for every class of readers;
and to public speakers, to all classes of literarg and scientific men, to artixts, mechan
ies, and others, a perfect DICTION ABT,ybr reference. There are also more than one
hundred and fiftg fine. Illustrations.
We know of no work which comprises BO much valuable Information In a form s*
entertaining.— .A'. Y, Chronicle,
Here is a perfect repository of the most choice and approved specimens of this spe
cies of information. The work is replete with such entertainment as is adapted to all
grades of readers, the most or least intellectual. — Methodist Quarterlg Magazine*
One of the most complete things of the kind ever given to the public. There 10
•carcely a paragraph in the whole book which will not interest some one deeply ; for,
while men of letters, argument, and art cannot afford to do without its immense fund
Of sound maxims, pungent wit, apt illustrations, and brilliant examples, the mer
chant, mechanic and laborer will find it one of the choicest companions of the hour*
of relaxation. " Whatever be the mood of one's mind, and however limited the time
for reading, in the almost endless variety and great brevity of the articles he can find
•omething to suit his feelings, which he can begin and end at once. It may als» ba
made the very life of the social circle, containing pleasant reading for all ages, at all
times and seasons. — Buffalo Com. Advertiser.
A well spring of entertainment, to be drawn from at any moment. — Bangor Whig,
A magn;ficent collection of aneedotes touching literature and the fine arts. — Al-
ttang Spectator.
The most comprehensive collection of aneedotes ever published. — Satem Gazette*
A publication of which there is little danger of speaking in too flattering terms ; a
perfect Thesaurus of rare and curious information, carefully selected and method
ically arranged. A jewel of a book to lie on one's table, to snatch np in those brief
moments of lcisure that could not be very profitably turned to account by recoum
to any connected work in any department of literature. — Trog Budget.
No family ought to be without it, for it is at once cheap, valuable, and very Inter
esting ; containing matter compiled from all kinds of books, from all quarters of tho
plobe, from all ages of the world, and in relation to every corporeal matter at all wor
thy of bcing remarked or remembered. - New Jerseg Union.
A rich treasury of thought, and wit. and learning, illustrating the characteristies and
peculiarities of many of the most distinguished names In history. - Phil. Cftrwt. 06*.
The range of topies is very wide, relating to nature, religion, science, and art ; fur
nishing apposite Illustrations for the preacher, the orator, the Sabbath school teacher,
and the instructors of our common schools, academies, and colleges. It is a valuable
work for the fireside, caleulated to please and edify all classes. — Zanesville Ch, Rep.
This is one of the most entertaining works for desultory reading we have seen. 'W»
hardly know of any thing at once BO instructive and amusing. — ,,Y. Y. Ch. Intel.
G
A PILGRIMAGE TO EGYPT;
EMBRACING A DIARY OF EXPLORATIONS ON THE NILE,
WITH OBSERVATIONS, illustrative of the Manners, Cus
toms, and Institutions of the People, and of the present condition of the
Antiquities and Ruins. By J. V. C. Smith, M. D., Editor of the Boston
Medical and Surgical Journal. With numerous elegant Engravings. 1,05.
There is a lifelike interest in the narratives and descriptions of Dr. Smith's pen,
which takes you along with the traveller, so that when he closes a chapter you feel
that you have reached an inn, where you will rest for a while ; and then, -with a re- t
freshed mind, you will be ready to move on again, in a journey full of fresh, and. in- **
structive incidents and explorations. — Ch. Witness.
Every page of the volume- is entertaining and instructive, and even those who are
well read in Egyptian manners, customs, and scenery, cannot fail ,to find something
new. — Mercantile Journal.
This volume ia neither a re- hash of guide books, nor a condensed mensuration of
heights and distances from works on Egyptian antiquities. It contains the daily ob
servations of a most intelligent traveller, whose descriptions bring to the reader's eye
the scenes he witnessed. We have read many books on Egypt, some of them full of
science and learning, and some of wit and frolie, but none which furnished so clear am
tdea of Egypt as it is, — of its ruins as they now are, and of its people as they now
live and move. — Watehman and Reflector.
One of the most cgreeable books of travel which have been published for a long
time. — Daily Advertiser.
It is readable, attractive, and interesting. You seem to be travelling with him, and
seeing the things which he aeea. — Bunker JIUl Aurora.
"We see what Egypt was ; we see what Egypt is ; and with prophetic endowment
we see what it is yet to be. It is a charming book, not written for antiquarians and
the learned, but for the million, and by the million it will be read. — CongregationalisU
Mr. Smith is one of the sprightliest authors in America, and tliis work is worthy of
his pen. He is particularly happy in presenting the comical and grotesque side of
objects. — Commonwealth.
The reader may be sure of entertainment in such a land, under the guidance of
such an observer as Dr. Smith, and will be surprised, when he has aecompanied him
through the tour, at the vivid impression which he retains of persons, and places, and
incidents. — Salem Gazette.
This is really one of the most entertaining books upon Egypt that we have met
with. — Albany Argus.
One of the most complete and perfect books of the kind ever published. — Diadem.
Of all the books we have read on Egypt, we prefer this. It goes ahead of Stephens's.
Reader, obtain a copy for yourself. — Trumpet.
The author is a keen observer, and describes what he observes with a graphic pen.
The volume abounds in vivid descriptions of the manners, customs, and institutions
of the people visited, th3 present condition of the ancient ruins, aecompanied by a
large number of illustrations. — Courier.

SCRIPTURE NATURAL HISTORY; Containing a De

scriptive Account of Quadrupeds, Birds, Fishes, Insects, Reptiles, Ser
pents, Plants, Trees, Minerals, Gems, and Precious Stones, mentioned in
the Bible. By William Carpenter, London ; with Improvements,
by Rev. Gorham D. Abbott. Illustrated by numerous Engravings.
Also, Sketches of Palestine. 12mo, cloth, 1,00. T
 CHAMBERS'S WORKS.
CHAMBEES'S CYCLOPEDIA OF ENGLISH LITEEA-
TURE. A Selection of the choicest productions of English Authors, from
the earliest to the present time. Connected by a Critical and Biographical
History. Forming two large imperial octavo volumes of 1400 pages,
double column letter-press , with upwards of 300 elegant Illustrations.
Edited by ROBERT CHAMBERS, embossed cloth, 5,00.
This work embraces about one thousand authors, chronologically arranged and
classed as Poets, Historians, Dramatists, Philosophers, Metaphysicians, Divines, ete.,
with choice selections from thcir writings, connected by a Biographical, Historical,
and Critical Narrative ; thus presenting a complete view of English literature from
the earliest to the present time. Open where you will, you cannot fuil to find matter
for profit and delight. The selections are gcma — infinite riehes in a little room ;
* A WHOLE ENGLISH LIBBABY FUSED DOWN INTO ONE CHEAP BOOR ! "
FBOM W. H. PRESCOTT, AUTHOR OF "FERDINAND AND ISABELLA." The pla»
Of the work is very judicious. . . . Readers cannot fail to profit largely by the
labors of the critic who has the talent and taste to separate what is really beautiful and
worthy of thcir study from what is superfluous.
I concur in the foregoing opinion of Mr. Prescott. - EDWARD EVERETT.
A work indispensable to the library of a student of English literature. — WAYLAND.
We hail with peculiar pleasure the appearance of this work. - A'orth Am. Review.
It has been fitly described as " a whole English librarg fused down into one cAeap
book." The Boston edition combines neatness with cheapness. — N. Y. Com, Adv.
O- The Ameriean edition contains additional likenesses of SHAKSPEARE, ADDI—
•ON, BY ROM ; a full length portrait of DR. JOHN sow, and a beautiful scenic rcpresen-
tationof OLIVER GOLDSMITH and DH. JOHNSON. These important additions, to
gether with superior paper and binding, render the Ameriean fur superior to the
English edition. The circulation of this work has been, immense, and ita sale in thli
country still continues unabated.
CHAMBERS'S MISCELLANY OF USEFUL AND EN-
TERTAINING KNOWLEDGE. Edited by WILLIAM CHAMBERS.
With Elegant Illustrative Engravings. Ten volumes, 16mo, cloth, 7,00.
This work has been highly recommended by distinguished individuals, u ad
mirably adapted to Family, Sabbath, and Distriet School Libraries.
It would be difficult to find any miscellany superior or even equal to it ; it riehly
deserves the epithet) "useful and entertaining," and I would recommend it very
strongly aa extremely well adapted to form parts of a library for the young, or of A
social or circulating library in town or country. — GEORGE B. EMERSON, MSQ.,
CUAIRMAN BOSTON SCHOOL BOOR COMMITTEE.
I am gratitied to have an opportunity to be instrumental in circulating " Cham-
bers's Miscellany " among the schools for which I am superintendent. — J. J. CLUTB,
Town. Sup. of Castlcton, If. Y.
I am not acquainted with any similar collection in the EnglUh language that can
compare with it for purposes of instruction or amusement. I should rejoice to se»
tl;atsetof books in every house in our country. — REV. JOHN O. CHOULES, D.D.
The Information contained in this work Is surprisingly great ; and for the fireside,
•nd the young, particularly, it cannot foil to prove a most valuable and entertaining
companion. — 2f. Y. Evangelist.
An admirable compilation. It unites the useful and entertaining. — N. Y. Com.
 CHAMBER 8' 8 WORKS.

CHAMBERS'S HOME BOOK AND POCKET MISCEL

LANY. Containing a Choice Selection of Interesting and Instructive
Reading for the Old and the Young. Six vols. 16mo, cloth, 3,00.
This work is considered fully equal, if not superior, to either of the Charaben's
other works in interest, and, like them, contains a vast fund of valuable information.
Following somewhat the plan of the "Miscellany," it is admirably adapted to the
•chool or the family library, furnishing ample variety for every class of readers, both
jld and young.
We do not know how it is possible to publish BO much good reading matter at such
ftlow price. We speak a good word for the literary excellence of the stories in this
irork ; we hope our people will introduce it into all thcir families, in order to drive
away the miserable flashy-trashy stuff so often found In the hands of our young
people of both sexes. — Scientific American.
Both an entertaining and instructive work, as it is a very cheap one. — Puritan Ree.
It cannot but have an extensive circulation. — Albang Express
Of all the series of cheap books, this promises to be the best. — Bangor Mereurg,
If any person wishes to read for amusement or profit, to kill time or improve it, gel
* Chombers's Home Book."— Chicago Times.
The Chambers are confessedly the beet caterers for popular and useful reading in
the world. - Willis's Home Journal.
A very entertaining, Instructive, and popular work. — JV. Y. Commervial.
The articles are of that attractive sort which suits us in moods of indolence when
we would linger half way between wokefulness and sleep. They require just thought
and activity enough to keep our feet from the land of Nod, without forcing us to run,
walk, or even stand. — Eclectic, Portland.
It is j ust the thing to amuse a lcisure hour, and at the same time combines instrvo
tion with amusement. — Dover Inquirer.
Messrs. Chambers, of Edinburgh, hove become famous wherever the English lan
guage is spoken and read, for thcir interesting and instructive publications. They
comb;ne instruction with amusement, and throughout they breathe a spirit of the
purest morality. — Chicago Tribune.

CHAMBERS'S REPOSITORY OF INSTRUCTIVE AND

AMUSING PAPERS. W;th Illustrations. An entirely New Series,
containing Original Articles, p. 260, I6mo, doth, per vol. 50 cents.
The Messrs. Chambers have recently commenced the publication of this work, un
der the title of "CHAMBEBs's REFOSITORY OF INSTRUCTIVE AKD AM ustwo
TBACTS," similar in style, ete., to the " Miscellany," which has maintained an enor
mous circulation of more than elghtg thousand copies in England, and has already
reached nearly the same in this country. Arrangements have been made by the
American publishers, to issue the work simultaneously with the English edition, a
rolume every two months, to continue until the whole series is completed, £ach
Tolume complete in itself, and will be sold in seta or single volumes.
03- Commendatory Letters, Reviews, Notices, &e., of each of Chambers's works,
rafficient to make a good sized duodec;mo volume, have been reccived by the pub
lishers, but room here will only allow giving a specimen of the vast multitude at
Eland. They are all popular, and contain valuable instructive and entertaining read
ing — such as should be found in every family, school, and college library.
 MOTHERS OF THE WISE ^ND
\ \
BY THE REV. JABEZ BURKS* *>•
Author of "Pulpit Cyclopaedia," etc. 16mo, <xjoth, 75 cents.
osr A beautiful gallery of portraits of those who not only wereV* wise and good*
In thcir own generation, but whose influence, long after they were Blujnhering in the
dust, went forth to live again in the;r children. A sketch ofthe motheSc,of the most
eminent men of the world, is given.
A handsome volume, containing heaven-blessed memorials of many Excellent
Christian mothers, for the encouragement of others. — Phil. Ch. Observer. ^
If this is not a popular work, it must be because mothers are scarce, and real Chil
dren are no more. It is full of the aneedotal literature of the subject— tales witl\a
moral. It ought to be in the Sabbath school library, and in every sitting room where»l
there is a mother. G. & L. have done many good things, but none better than tha\
republication of this book. — Puritan Recorder,
Blessed collection of important subjects, relating to, or bearing upon, the maternal
influence. It should be in the home ofevery mother in our land. — Albang Spectator.
One of the most delightful volumes we have read for a long time, and as useful and
valuable as it is delightful. We bespeak for it a universal reception. — Jf. Y, Com.
We wish it were read by every mother in the land.— ^Lutheran Observer.
We have lingered over the pages of this most attractive book, with feelings of in
terest, which we cannot express. — English Free Ch. Mag.
THE EXCELLENT WOMAN, as described in the Book of
Proverbs. With an Introduction by REV. W. B. SPRAGUJE, D. D., con
taining twenty-four splendid Illustrations. 12mo, cloth, 1,00.
«3- This elegant volume is an appropriate and valuable " gift book " for the hus
band to present the wife, or the child the mother. It treats of the following subjects :
The Virtuous Woman; Trustworthy; Beneficent; Active; Enterprising t Provi
dent ; Managing ; Energetic ; Vigilant ; Industrious ; Humane ; Thoughtful ; Taste
ful: Creditable; Trafficking; Reputable- Peaceful; Domestic ; Commended ; Pre
eminent; Godly, and Rewarded Woman-
We shall be glad if our commendation places it in the families of all our readers,
as a book to be read. — Watchman and Reflector.
Full of wisdom and instruction. — Salem Register.
It is not sufficient praise to say that we have been interested in the perusal of this
book. It is just such a book as the times demand. It presents to the female mind
Incentives to live for something. We recommend it to the careful perusal of all our
patrons. — Mothers' Journal.
An excellent book, elegantly printed, and embellished with beautiful engravings.
'We commend it to mothers, sisters, and daughters. — Phil. Ch. Observer.
Each successive reading will reveal some new gem of thought which, in the gen-
iral mass of excellence, had been overlooked before. — Advertiser.
THE MARRIAGE RING; Or. How to make Home Happy.
From the writings of JoHif ANGELL JAMES, Beautiful illustrated edu
tion. Illuminated title, and elegant variegated borders round the pages of
the book. I6mo, cloth, gilt, 75 cts.
a&- A more beautiful or appropriate * gift " to present a newly-married couple,
cannot be found.
A beautiful vol ume, suitable to present a newly-married couple. — Ch. Inter
Exquisite little volume, inculeating practical hints and wise suggestions. -
 CHAJOBTANT WORK.
CHAMBERF>PULAR CYCLOPAEDIA OF BIBLICAL
LANY. O*tE* Condensed from the larger work. By the Author,
Readillgj^TO,D. D., Author of "Scripture Daily Readings," &c. A»*
" James Taylor, D. D. With over 500 Illustrations. 3.00.
This w
other wtork 's designed to furnish a Dictionaet op the Bible, embodying flu
Follows of the best and nxwt recent researches In biblical literature, in which the
tcho"'" of Europe and America have been engaged. The work, the result of im-
jj-nsc labor and research, is pronounced, by universal consent, the best work of its
iass extant. It is not only Intended for ministers and theological students, but is also
particularly adapted to parents. Sabbath school teachers, and tiie great body of the re
ligious public. The illustrations, amounting to more than 300, are of the highest order.
A condensed view of the various topics comprehended in the work.
1. Biblical Criticism,— Embracing the History of the Bible Languages; Can*
on of Scripture ; Literary History and Peculiarities of the Sacred Books ;" Formation
and History cf Scripture Texts.
2. History, — Proper Names of Persons? Biographical Sketehes of prominent
Characters ; Detailed Aecounts of important Events recorded in Scripture ; Chronol
ogy and Genealogy of Scripture.
3. Geography, — Names of Places; Description of Scenery; Boundaries and Mu
tual Relations of the Countries mentioned in Scripture, so far as necessary to illus
trate the Sacred Text.
4. Arch.^ology,— Manners and Customs of the Jews and other nations men
tioned in Scripture ; their Sacred Institutions, Military Affairs, Political Arrange
ments, Literary and Scientific Pursuits.
5. Physical Science,-— Scripture Cosmogony and Astronomy, Zoology, Min
eralogy, Botany, Meteorology.
In addition to numerous flattering notices and reviews, personal letters from a
large number of the most distinguished Ministers and Laymen of different religious de
nominations in tlte country have been received, highly commending this work as ad
mirably adapted to ministers, Sabbath school teachers, heads of families, and all
Bible students.
The following extract of a letter is a fair specimen of individual letters received
from each of the gentlemen whose names are given below: —
" I have examined it with special and unalloyed satisfaction. It has the rare merit
of being all that it professes to be; and very few, I am sure, who may consult it will
deny that, in richness and fulness of detail, it surpasses their expectation. Many
ministers will rind it a valuable auxiliary; but its chief excellence is, that it furnishes
just the facilities which are needed by the thousands in families and Sabbath schools,
who are engaged in the important business of biblical education. It is in itself a li
brary of reliable information."
W, B. Sprague, D. D., Albany; J. J. Carruthers, D. D., Portland ; Joel Hawe*
D. D., Hartford, Ct.; Daniel Sharp, D. D., Boston; N. L. Frothingham, D. D., Boa-
ton ; Ephrairn Peabody, D. D., Boston ; A. L. Stone, Boston ; John S. Stone, D. D,
Brooklyn ; J. B. Waterbury, D. D., Boston ; Baron Stow, D. D., Boston ; Thomas H.
Skinner, D. D., New York ; Samuel W. Worcester, D. D„ Salem ; Horace BushneU,
D. D., Hartford, Ct. ; Right Reverend J. M. Wainwright D. D., New York ; Gardner
Spring, D.D., New York; W. T. Dwight, D.D., Portland; E. N. Kirk, Boston ; Prof.
George Bush, author of " Notes on the Scriptures," New York; Howard Malcom,
D. D., author of " Bible Dictionary ; " Henry J. Ripley, D. D., author of " Notes ob
the Scriptures ; '* N. Porter, Prof, in Yale College, New Haven, Ct. i Jared Sparks,
Edward Everett. Theodore Frelinghuyscn. Robert C. Winthrop. John McLean, Si
mon Greenleat; Thomas S. Williams, — and a large number of others of like char
acter and standing of the above, whose names cannot here appear. H
 ,
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