rendered obvious by the following illustration. At rising in the morning, one person submits it to chance in what manner the day shall be spent. He reads the book that is casually thrown in his way, and continues the reading no longer than he is prompted by present inclination. Should another be presented, it is assumed with equal readiness, and abandoned with the same caprice. Another person has the subject of investigation before him, and the book by which he is determined to aid his inquiries. At the close of the day there will be an important difference in the value of their respective acquirements. In the latter case, the mind is fixed upon its object; in the former, it has no object. The one pursues the path previously marked out for himself; the other had no path to pursue.

That which is true of a day, may be true of a year, or of a longer period.

2. Much time is lost in reading with divided attention. The power of fixing the attention, i. e. of commanding the thoughts, has the most important connexion with mental improvement. Your acquisitions will be very nearly proportionate to the degree in which this power is possessed; and this power, let it be observed, is not born with us, but is the creature of habit. So far obtain the command of your minds, as easily to exclude all thoughts foreign to the subject which you wish to investigate, and your success in the investigation will exceed your hopes. But if while a book, however well chosen, engrosses the eye, the attention is shared by another object, or divided among many, little will be acquired; and what is still worse, the mind becomes unmanageable, and habits of inattention will be confirmed. Nor ought I to omit this opportunity of suggesting, that as memory depends much on attention, you will by this careless manner of reading, form a bad memory, or impair a good one. I speak of forming a memory, in a full belief that this is as truly within our own power, as to form an intellectual or moral character.

You have all been sensible, I presume, on some occasions, of the difficulty of confining your attention to a particular subject, and you have known too, the unhappy effects in which this dif

ficulty has resulted. We sometimes imagine that we have made great efforts in studying a subject, when in reality, the subject has scarcely been studied at all. The effort has been chiefly expended in unsuccessful endeavors to fix the mind. The general of an army could hardly be so far mistaken, as to suppose that he had been engaged in hard fighting, when he had been principally occupied in urging his troops, or in bringing back fugitives into the line. Whatever you read or study, let your mind be wholly engrossed by the subject.

3. A state of mind nearly allied to that which has just been noticed is indecision. You must not only ascertain what ought to be done, but must determine to do it. There is doubtless a time for deliberating; and on the right use of this it depends whether a man's life shall be distinguished for temerity, or good judgment. But the whole of life is not to be devoted to inquiry or indecision. Deliberation becomes important chiefly because it relates to action. The purpose of inquiry is to ascertain the fitness of an object, and the most direct and honorable way to attain it.

Let doubt and deliberation end, whenever it becomes fully apparent what ought to be done. No great effort of bodily strength is to be expected, when the sinews and fibres are relaxed. In this particular, there is a striking coincidence between the body and the mind. There must be a tone, a kind of elasticity produced in the intellectual powers; otherwise the greatest advantage will not be obtained, from your time and means of instruction. Nothing of very high value can be acquired without determination.

It is among the most permanent advantages of a collegiate education, that the general course of study is defined and established. In this respect there can be no uncertainty what ought to be done. The object is distinctly exhibited. Nothing is wanting but determination and perseverance. But while these are wanting, time will be partially lost, and the progress of mental cultivation will be slow and disheartening.

4. Another way of losing time is by spending it in idle conversation, and low pursuits. I need not inform you how criminal this is, when contemplated in a moral view. You know on VOL. II.

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• whose authority it rests, that "by our words we shall be justified or condemned." I have at present, peculiar reference to your intellectual characters and progress. Conversation relating to your stated exercises, or on subjects of science and literature in general, is doubtless a very correct and advantageous way of spending your time. It well becomes young men of academical character, to cultivate literary intercourse. Your exercises will hereby become the more familiar, and the subjects to which they relate be more deeply impressed on the mind. In addition to this you will acquire a command of language, and ability to take part in literary discussions. On the contrary, by idle, impure, or profane conversation, and low pursuits, your intellectual natures will be degraded-you will contract aversion from manly and laudable employments-you will lose all relish for good society and be prepared on leaving college, to form such associations as will lead you either to forget or to pervert to the worst purposes, whatever of knowledge may be here obtained.

To secure that attention which is so necessary to the student's success, the codes of all literary institutions have provided, that certain hours should be punctually devoted to study. Were this provision not accompanied with any allowance of time for relaxation, it would be evidently unreasonable. But where ample provision of this kind is made, all infringement on the law -all neglect of study-hours must be without excuse. A habit of leaving your rooms, or of freely admitting others into them, in hours of study, is with obvious propriety, noticed and condemned by the laws of this Seminary. The former is indeed a twofold offence; first, against order, for the maintenance of which the law has made a wise provision; and secondly against politeness, as a person thus guilty throws himself on those who are desirous of making a better use of their time, and may not possess the resolution, which indeed they ought to have, of saying to him plainly that his visits are unwelcome.

Amusements are justifiable, so far only, as they contribute to health, or prepare the mind for more vigorous and effectual application. By bodily exercise both these objects are accom

plished at the same time. Whatever kind of diversion either partakes of dissipation, or leads to it, should be the object of unqualified reprobation. All kinds of irregularity or excess, in stead of contributing to health, impair it. The injurious effects are frequently so great as to be immediately perceptible; but if long delayed, still are they real and certain. No person can violate with final impunity, the order of nature, or laws of sobrie ty. Nor is the mind, by every species of dissipation less injuriously affected, than the body; and it is perversion of language to speak of recreating the mind, by that which deadens perception, disorders the judgment, and stupifies the powers of investigation.

Even in those bodily exercises, which, if used with moderation, are innocent and salutary, there may be danger of excess. Never let it escape you, that there is a broad line of distinction between amusement, and the duties of life. He who converts amusement into an employment, places his mind upon them, or uses them for their own sake, is guilty of an error not less absurd than that of the miser who, because wealth is known to procure the necessaries and luxuries of life, attributes it to an absolute inherent value, and makes it an object of passionate idolatry.

Among graduates, it is not uncommon to review the four years of college education, with a mixture of pleasure and selfreproach. The latter emotion arises from a consciousness of not having appreciated time, nor those facilities for the acquisition of literature and science, which accompany so long a residence at a public seminary. There are individuals no doubt who cannot reproach themselves severely on this account. But how large this number is you will be able to form a tolerably correct estimate, by taking a retrospect of that portion of college life, which is already past. I make this appeal, without meaning to have it in any measure implied, that inattention to study is either a prominent or general trait in the present character of this institution. There are many among you, I well know, whose sedulous application results not from the (ignoble) impulse of legal penalties, but from an inherent sense of proprie

ty and a thirst for knowledge. Still, is there a person present, who has lost no time in any of the ways, which have been enumerated? Is there one, whose intellectual improvement, might not, under the same circumstanses, have been somewhat greater, than it is at present? The fact is that we are all, as men, as human beings, inclined to inaction; and vis inertiae seems almost as truly a quality of mind, as it is of matter!

Permit me on this subject to add a few remarks by way of counsel.

1. Let that examination be made, which has been suggested. Consider whether there are not some portions of time, in each day, which might be employed to more valuable account; and calculate what would be the amount at the close of a whole year of all these fragments of time. May not a more rigid economy, as to this most precious article, be established, the good effects of which would be perceptible even in a few weeks? If it would be perceptible in a few weeks, how important might be the result at the close of that term of years, usually assigned to a college education? But if this economical use of time be maintained for four years, in the period of youth, it will become habitual, and will probably endure till the end of life. What may not be effected by it in the term of thirty or forty years?

With so great industry and perseverance you connect, it is probable, ideas of severe restraint and self denial. Be it so:

"Nil sine magno,

Vita labore dedit mortalibus."-Hor. Sat. L. 1. 9. 59.

But the self-denial is, I apprehend, exceedingly overrated. That which is habitual is performed without painful effort. Hence that excellent aphorism, "Pitch upon that course of life, which is most excellent, and habit will render it most agreeable."

Besides, things are agreeable or disagreeable, not merely as they are in themselves, but as they are viewed in relation to other objects. A thing, in itself indifferent or even in some measure offensive, becomes interesting and pleasant, if it is al