UC-NRLF B 3 3b7 bDT 91 n r .•j}|jmjygE|«gsg; k \.A ^ W ' V i i : J2.^CJ2^ b 1 IvIIBRARV OK THK University of California. OIl^T Ol^ / Mrs, SARAH P. WALSWORTH Received October, i8g4. Accessions No.^^^J^^ . Class No. ^■*'': EXTEACTS FEOM NOTICES OF FIEST EDITION. OPINIONS OF DISTINGUISHED LITERARY MEN. From "Wm. H. McGjjffey, Professor at Woodivard Collegej'Cincinnati, Ohio. "Mr. Beeclier sketches character with a masterly hand; and the old, as well as the young, must bear witness to the truth and fidelity of his portraits. I would recommend the book to the especial atten- tion of those for whom it was designed, and hope that the ]3atronage extended to this may encourage the author to make other efforts through the press for the promotion of -enlightened patriotism and sound morals." From D. H. Allen, Professor at Lane Seminary, Cincinnati, Ohio. "We have a variety of books designed for young men, but I know of none worth half as much as this. It will be sure to be read, and if read, will not be easily forgotten ; and the young man who reads and remembers it will always have before him a vivid picture of the snares and pitfalls to which he is exposed. Bvcttj youth sliould pos- sess it. Every father should place it in the hands of his sons. It should he in every Sabbath-school library, on board every steamboat, in every hotel, and wherever young men spend a leisure hour." From Dr. A. Wylie, President of the Indiana University, at Bloomiwjton. "The indignant rebukes which the author deals out against that spirit of licentiousness which shows itself in those frivolous Avorks which he mentions, and which are corrupting the taste as Avell as the morals of our youth, have my warmest approbation. That the genius and wit of Addison himself should be set aside for the trash of such works is lamentable : it is ominous. "The warnings which Mr. Beecher has given on the subject of amusements are greatly needed ; and his satire on that of ' repudiation, ' no less. "In short, the book deserves a place on the shelf of every house- holder in the land, to be read by the old as well as the young." Vlii KOTICES OF THE FIRST EDITION. ;;- Frcm Dr. C. White, President of IVahash College, Cmwfordsvilh, Indiana. *'Rcv. H. W. Bcecber's Lectures follow a long series of elaborate and able works addressed to young men by some of our best writers. It is no small merit of this production that it is not less instructive and impressive than the best of those which have preceded it, at the same time that it is totally unlike them all. Mr. Beecher has given to young men most important warnings and most valuable advice with unusual fidelity and effect. Avoiding the abstract and formal, he has l»ointcd out to the young the evils and advantages which surround them with so much reality and vividness, that we almost forget we > are reading a book instead of looking personally into the interior scenes of a living and breathing community. These Lectures will bear to be read often." ( From Hon. John McLean, Judge of the Supreme Court of the United States. "I know of no work so admirably calculated, if read with atten- tion, to lead young men to correctness of thought and action ; and I earnestly recommend it to the study of every young man who desires to become eminently respectable and useful," From E. "W. Sehon, General Agent American Bible Society for the West. "The intention of the author is well preserved throughout this volume, "We commend the book for its boldness and originality of thought and independence of expression. The young men of our country cannot too highly appreciate the efforts of one who has thus nobly and affectionately labored for their good." From, James H. Perkins, Pastor of the Unitarian Cliurch, Cincinnati, Ohio. *' 1 have read IMr. Henry W. Beeclier's Lectures to Young Men Avith a great deal of pleasure. They appear to me to contain advice letter adapted to our country than can he found in any similar work with uhlch I am acquainted ; and this advice is presented in a style far better calculated than that common to the pulpit to attract and plea.se the young. I should certainly recommend the volume to any young man of my acquaintance as worthy of frequent perusal, and trust our American puljiit may produce many others as pleasing and practical." From T. R. Cressy, Pastor of the First Baptist Church, Cincinnati, Ohio. ^ "There is so much ignorance among good men in general, in all our cities and large towns, of the astonishing prevalence of vice, especially of licentiousness, and of its procuring causes ; and there is such a false delicacy on the part of those w^ho know these things NOTICES OF THE FIEST EDITION. IX to hold them up to the gaze of the unsuspecting, — that this hook will not pass for its real Avorth. But it is a valuable work. It speaks the truth in all plainness. It slwuld he in every family library ; every young man should first rcao? and then study it." Froin J. Blanchard, Pastor of the Fifth Prcshyterian Church, Cincinnati, Ohio. "The book is both pleasing and profitable; filled with vivid sketches and delineations of vice, weighty instructions, pithy senti- ments, delicate turns of thought, and playful sallies of humor ; and in style and matter is admirably adapted to the tastes and wants of the class for whom it is written." From T. A. Mills, Pastor of the Third Prcshyterian Church, Cincinnati, Ohio. "The matter of this work is excellent, and the style striking and attractive. The dangers of young men are vividly portrayed, and much moral instruction given. Many of the popular errors of the present day are handled as they deserve. No young man can read the book attentively without profit, and its perusal would prove ad- vantageous even to those who are inmiersed in the cares and business of life. It will need no recommendation after it becomes known." From S. W. Lvnde, Pastor of the Ninth Street Baptist Church, Cincinnati, Ohio. "The Lectures to Young Men, by H. W. Beecher, appear to be well adapted to usefulness, and worthy of an extensive circulation." From the Indiana State Journal. ""We have no doubt that these Lectui-es, as read, will produce a powerful impression The pictures which glow from the hand of the artist arrest the eye (so admirable is the style and arrange- ment), nor will the interest once aroused slacken until the whole sketch shall be contemplated. And the effect of the sketch — like that of a visit to the dens of iniquity shorn of their blandishments — cannot fail to be of the most Avholesome admonitory character." From the Daily Cincinnati Gazette. " To find anything new or peculiar in a work of this kind, nowa- days, would indeed be strange. In this respect we w^ere agreeably surprised in looking over the book before us. The subjects, though many of them are commonplace, are important, and handled in a masterly manner. The author shows himself acquainted with the world, and with human nature in all its varying phases. He writes as one who has learned the dangers and temptations that beset the young from personal observation, and not from hearsay." X NOTICES OF THE FIRST EDITION. From the Ohio State Journal, Coluiribus, Ohio. ** Tlie garb in which the author presents his subjects makes them exceedingly attractive, and must make his Lectures very popular when the public shall become acquainted with them. When deliv- ered, it was not the design of the accomplished author to publish them ; but at the earnest solicitation of a number of prominent citi- zens of Indiana, who were convinced that they would have a highly benehcial influence in arresting the progress of vice and immorality, he prepared them for the press, and they are now published in a cheap and neat form, the typography being highly creditable to the Western press." From the Baptist Cross and Journal, Columhxis, Ohio. "It is an excellent book, and should be in the hands of every young man and of many parents. But few of those who are anxious to place their sons in large towns and cities are aware of the temptations which beset them there, or of the many sons thus placed who are unable to withstand these temptations. This work will open their eyes and place them on their guard. It is written in a popular, captivating style, and is neatly printed. It goes right at the besetting sins of the age, and handles them without gloves. It ought to be extensively circulated." From the^'Cincinnati (/O.) Daily Herald. " Mr. Beecher looks at things in his own way, and utters his thoughts in his own style. His conceptions are strong, his speech direct and to the point. The work is worthy of anybody's perusal. '^ " One thing more before we leave this book. It is entirely practi- cal, and specially appropriate to the times ; and its views, so far as we can speak from our own perusal, are just, and very forcible." From the Louisville (Ky.) Journal. " It is the most valuable addition to our didactic literature that has been made for many years. Let all get it and read it care- fully." NOTICES OF THE THIED EDITION. XI NOTICES OF THE THIED EDITION From the Olive Branch. " Beeckee's Lecttkes to You^-G Mex. — One of the most able, interesting, and really useful works for young men is the volume of Lectures addressed to them by Henry "Ward Beecher. Every young man should have a copy of it. The second edition is now before the public, published by John P. Jewett & Co., Salem." From the New York Commercial Advertiser. " We have received ' Lectures to Young Men on Important Sub- jects,' by the Kev. H. W. Beecher, the second edition of a work that has already effected much good, and, we trust, is destined to achieve still more. Tlie subjects are practical, such as concern all young men, especially at the present day. The sentiments of the writer are put forth with much conciseness and vigor of style, for Mr. Beecher writes like one in earnest. "We could wish that every young man had the book put into his hands, — especially every youth whose avocation or choice may lead him to reside in any of the larger cities of the Union." From the Christian Observer, Philadelphia. •' Beecher's Lecttkes to Yotjxg Men. — This is a new edition of an approved and excellent book, which it affords us pleasure to recommend to young men in every part of the country. The author's thoughts, style, and manner are his own ; and his vivid sketches of the evils and advantages which surround the young are replete with important coimsels and valuable instruction." From the Christian Mirror, Portland, Maine. ""We have read the whole, and do not hesitate to indorse the strong recommendations of "Western presidents and professors of col- leges. Judge McLean, and numerous clergymen, Presbyterians, Bap- tists, and Unitarians. Professor Allen, of Lane Seminary, * knows of no book designed for young men worth^ half so much as this.' Xll KOTICES OF THE THIRD EDITION. President W5'lie says it * deserves a place on the shelf of every house- hold in the land.' President White says, 'it is not less instructive than the best of those which have preceded it, at the same time that it is totally unlike them all,' Judge McLean 'knows of no work so admirably calculated to lead young men to correctness of thought and action.' We might copy other testimonies agreeing with these, but it is not necessary. Characters and qualities, whether for warning or imitation, are drawn with uncommon grajihic power and justness of delineation, as any one may satisfy himself who will turn to ' the j)icture gallery,' and survey the full-length portraits of the Wit, the Humorist, the Cynic, the Libertine, the Demagogue, and the Party- man. Would that every family might procure and peruse it." From the Christian Citizen. "Lectures to Young Mex. By Henry Ward Beecher. — This is a volume of good strong Saxon thoughts, which no young man can read without thinking the like. The author talks right into the avo- cations of every-day life, as if he had been there himself, and were not dealing in kid-glove theories of life and duty. Young men, you had better buy that book ; it costs but little, and it will be worth a hundred dollars a year to you if you read it in the right way." Highly recommendatory notices appeared in the New York Evange- list, Is^'ew York Observer, Christian World, Christian Eegister, Chris- tian Watchman, etc., etc. We have not the papers to copy them from. Froyn the Cliristian Eeflector, Boston. "This is a 'young man's manual' to the purpose. It treats of the most important subjects with simple directness, and yet with the hand of a master. There are thousands of young men in Boston who would read it with profit and interest, and not a few whom its peru- sal might save from 'the yawning gulf of corruption and niin.' This is the second edition of a work first publislied in Cincinnati, and already honored with the cordial approbation of many distin- guished men. It is a handsomely printed volume of moderate size, pages 250. Mr. Beecher dedicates the work to his honored father, Lyman Beecher, D. D. Let every young man secure this book and read it." From the Portland Transcript. " Beecher's Lectures to Young Men.— In handling his sub- jects the author has a peculiar style. There is a freshness and origi- NOTICES OF THE THIRD EDITION. XUl nality about it that at once arrests attention. He ^\Tites with an ungloved hand ; presents truth as truth should be presented, — naked. Whatever there is beautiful, whatever hideous about her, there she stands, a mark for all to gaze at. We have vices enough in New England which need rebuking and reforming. There are none so virtuous who may not be profited by these Lectures. They are ad- dressed to the young men particularly, yet the aged may glean from them many a useful lesson. We commend the work heartily to all. It is not a dry, abstract treatise on morals, but highly practical throughout. The pictures presented are lifelike, — flesh-and-blood portraits. The illustrations are apt and happy, while an occasional vein of humor comes in as a very agreeable seasoning. The author writes like one in earnest, like one who feels the importance of the duty he has assumed. A better work for the young we have rarely read." From the Daihj Evening Transcript, Boston. " These Lectures abound in important and impressive truths, ex- pressed in clear and pungent language. Mr. Beecher's style is re- markable for compactness and forcibleness. He occasionally thunders and lightens, but it is to arouse young men to the dangers to which they are exposed. There is a freshness and vivacity about his thoughts and language which must interest as well as instruct and warn the young. We would that every young man in our city — yea, in our country — had a copy of these Lectures in his hands. They can scarcely fail to interest every intelligent reader, nor to ben- efit every young man not lost to a sense of duty, not blind to danger, not in love with vice." From the Advocate of Moral Reform, New York. "Beechep.'s Lectures to Young Men. — Wherever this book is known, it is regarded of superlative worth. In our judgment no young man should enter upon city life without it. Employers, both in city and country, should place it in the hands of their clerks and apprentices. Fathers should give it to their sons, and sons should keep it next their Bibles, and engrave its precepts upon their hearts. We are glad to learn that, although so recently published, it has passed to a third edition, and the demand for it is increasing." From the Congregational Journal, Concord, X. IF. "The writer draws his sketches with the hand of a master, and entering upon his work with a hearty interest in the young, for XIV NOTICES OF THE THIRD EDITION. whom he writes it, he makes them feel that he is honest and in earnest. While the book is not wanting in seriousness, it has the cliarni of varietj' ; and though it encourages stern rehgious and moral principles, the pictures drawn in it are so vivid, that it will be read with the interest of an ingenious work of hction. Every father should put it in his family," BY THE SAME AUTHOR. YALE LECTURES OX PREACHING. Delive'-ed before the Classes of Theology and the Faculty of the Divin- ity School of Yule Coll-ge. 12mo. Price, extra cloth, stamped cover, $ 1.25 ; half calf or half morocco, $2.50. "What a charming, what a 'fruity' volume is this last venture of Henry Ward Beccher ! The ' Yale Lectures on Preaching ' can be read by everybody, layman or Clergyman, with delight. We can point to few recent novels which are more enter- taining than this book." — IS mlun Giubc. " We know of no dozen treatises on the preacher's work which contain so much of sensible and valuable instruction as is compressed into this little volume." — J^Ttw York Independent. IN PREPARATION. H. ^Y. BEECHER'S WORKS. Uniform Edition. This will inclu'^e "Norwood," "Eyes and Ears," "Summer in the Soul," the early " Star Papers," "English and American Speeches," and other works, embracing some which are now out of print, and for wh'ch there is constant call. The "Yale Lectures on Preaching" ■was the first volume of this set of books. " Lectures to Young Men " is the second. " Star Papers " will follow, embracing the original issue and much additional matter. f (^ %^ r LECTURES TO YOUiNG xMEN, ON VAEIOUS IMPORTANT SUBJECTS. BY HENRY WARD BEECHER. JletD (0t)ition, WITH ADDITIONAL LECTURE S. iiir NEW YOPtK: J. B. FORD AND COMPANY. 1873. v^"^^/ S" Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1872, BY J. B. FORD AND COMPANY, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. University Press: Welch, Bigelow, & Co., Cambridge ^ TO LYMAN" BEECHEE, D.D. To you I owe more than to any other living being. In childhood you were my Parent ; in later life, my Teacher ; in manhood, my Companion. To your affectionate vigilance I owe my principles, my knowledge, and that I am a Minister of the Gospel of Christ. For whatever profit they derive from this httle Book, the young will be indebted to you. PUBLISHEES' NOTICE. The new edition of Beecher's Lectures to Young Men, now first ofifered to the public, has been enriched with three additional Lectures, namely, those on '' Profane Swearing," " Vulgarity," and '' Happiness." The sale of more than sixty thousand copies of the previous editions is the best evidence of the merits of the book. The original edition, consisted of the first seven lectures ; in 1856 the eighth was added, under the title of " Relative Duties" (this is now called "Practical Hints"). The present issue, which will be the permanent and standard form of the book in the Uniform Edition of Mr. Beecher's works, con- tains eleven lectures. In order to show the estimation in which the book has always been held, it has been deemed best to reproduce some of the notices of the earlier editions, those of the first largely from the Western, of the third from the Eastern papers. Mr. Beecher also adds to his former Prefaces some reminis- cences of the origin of the Lectures. PEEFA^E. \ This volume is the eldest-born of my books. It dates from 1844, and originally contained only the first seven Lectures. , The Lectures were dehvered on successive Sunday nights ; the church was crowded during the series, — a thing that sel- dom happened dm-ing my "Western life. Indianapolis in 1844 contained about four thousand inhabitants,* and had not less than twelve churches of eight different denominations. The audiences of the Second Presbyterian Church, of which I was pastor, did not average five hundred in number during the eight years of my settlement. But five hundred was regarded as a large audience. The Lectures were written, each one during the week preced- ing the day of its delivery. I well remember the enjoyment which I had in their preparation. They were children of early enthusiasm. I can see before me now, as plainly as then, the room which in our little ten-foot home served at once as parlor, study, and bedroom ; and the writing-chair, the place by the window, and the skeleton bookcase, with a few books scattered on solitary shelves, hke a handful of people in church on a rainy day. As soon as their publication was determined upon, I sat down to prepare them for the press. " Now," thought I, " it will be right to see what other authors have said on these subjects. Having first done the best I could, it will be fair to improve by hints from * It now numbers from sixty to seventy thousand. XVI PREFACE. others." Dr. Isaac Barrow's sermons had long been favorites of mine. I was fascinated by the exhaustive thoroughness of his treatment of subjects, by a certain calm and homely dignity, and by his marvellous procession of adjectives. Ordinarily, adjectives are the parasites of substantives, — courtiers that hide or smother the king with blandishments, — but in Barrow's hands they be- came a useful and indeed quite respectable element of composi- tion. Considering my early partiality for Barrow, I have always regarded it a w^onder that I escaped so largely from the snares and temptations of that rhetorical demon, the Adjective. Barrow has four sermons upon " Industry." I began reading them. Before half finishing the first one, I found that he had said everything I had thought of and a good deal more. In utter disgust I threw my manuscript across the room and saw it slide under the bookcase; and there it would have remained, had not my wife pulled it forth. After many weeks, however, I crept back to it, led by this curious encouragement. A young mechanic in my parish was reading with enthusiasm a volume of lectures to young men, then just published. Every time I met him he was eloquent with their praise. At length, by his per- suasion, I consented to read them, and soon opened my eyes with amazement. After going through one or two of them, I said, " If iliese lectures can do good, I am sure mine may take their chance!" I resumed their preparation, — but I kept Bar- row shut up on the shelf ! A young man, foreman in the printing-ofiice of the State Jour- nal, requested me to allow him to publish the Lectures, as the means of setting him up as a publisher. The effect, however, was just the reverse. Being without experience or capital, an edition of three thousand crushed him ; and the lectures went to John P. Jewett, of Boston. The book has had, in all, an extraordinary company of pub- lishers : first, Thomas B, Cutler, of Indianapolis ; then John P. Jewett, of Bt)ston ; then Brooks Brothers, of Salem, Mass. ; then Derby and Jackson, of New York ; then Ticknor and Fields, of Boston ; and finally, J. B. Ford & Co., of New York, who include it in their Uniform Edition of all my works. It has had a wide circulation in foreign lands, and I hope may yet find a PREFACE. Xvii field of further usefulness at home. My present English pub- lishers are Messrs. Thomas Nelson and Sons of Edinburgh and London, whose rights I trust may be courteously observed by the trade there, which I regret to say has not been the case with others of my books in their hands. HENRY WAED BEECHER. Brooklyn, N. Y., November 1, 1S72. PKEFACE TO THE EIEST EDITIOK Having watched the courses of those who seduce the young, — their arts, their blandishments, their pretences ; having witnessed the beginning and consummation of ruin, almost in the same year, of many young men, naturally well disposed, whose down- fall began with the appearances of innocence, — I felt an earnest desire, if I could, to raise the suspicion of the young, and to direct their reason to the arts by which they are with such facility destroyed. I ask every young man who may read this book not to sub- mit his judgment to mine, not to hate because I denounce, nor blindly to follow me ; but to weigh my reasons, that he may form his own judgment. I only claim the place of a companion ; and that I may gain his ear, I have sought to present truth in those forms which best please the young ; and though I am not without hope of satisfying the aged and the wise, my whole thought has been to carry with me the intelligent sympathy of YOUNG MEN. India^'apolis, 1845. w PEEFACE TO THE SECOND EDITIOK It is proper to remark, that many of the statements in these Lectures, which may seem severe or overdrawn in JSTew England, are hterally true in the West. Insensibihty to pubhc indebted- ness, gambhng among the members of the bar, the ignoble arts of politicians, — I know not if such things are found at the East; but within one year past an edition of three thousand copies of these Lectures has been distributed through the West, and it has been generally noticed in the papers, and I have never heard objections from any quarter that the canvas has been too strongly colored. Indianapolis, 1846. J^ t.^ ' ^A^/ i#r K.^4 e,^" m^A CONTENTS. ♦ Page I. Industry and Idleness 1 II. Twelve Causes of Dishonesty .... 28 III. Six Warnings 52 lY. Portrait Gallery 72 Y. Gamblers and Gambling 96 YI. The Strange Woman 124 YII. Popular Amusements ,160 YIII. Practical Hints 189 IX. Profane Swearing 219 X. YULGARITY 236 XI. IIappixess 256 \ .^u^iijru^ -^ - •-'-'^' ^ -- -'-^ ^rr-- •'^ ^7^ Lectuees to Xou^g Mer LECTUEE I. ^ INDUSTRY AND IDLENESS. "Give us this day our daily bread." — Matt. vi. 11. "This we commanded you, that if any would not work, neither should he eat. for we hear that there are some which walk among you disorderly, working not at all, but are busybodies. now them that are such we command and EXHORT BY OUR LORD JeSUS ChRIST, THAT WITH QUIETNESS THEY WORK, AND EAT THEIR OWN BREAD." — 2 TheSS. iii. 10-12. ^^^^?f-?HE bread which we solicit of God, he gives ^'K., ] ] us through our own industry. Prayer ^^>.j;:^-/:;^ SOWS it, and Industry reaps it. ^M^^3H^ As industry is habitual activity in some useful pursuit, so not only inactivity, but also all efforts without the design of usefulness, are of tlie nature of idleness. The supine sluggard is no more indolent than the bustling do-nothing./ Men may walk much, and read ~]^ much, and talk much, and pass the day without an unoc- / r^ cupied moment, and yet be substantially idle ; because industry requires, at least, the intention of usefulness.^ But gadding, gazing, lounging, mere pleasure-mongering, ^ readini^ for the relief of ennui, — these are as useless as ^ . . . . P sleeping, or dozing, or the stupidity of a surfeit. -d- 3 'A LECTUEES TO YOUXG MEN. There are many grades of idleness, and veins of it run tLroiigli the most industrious life. We shall in- dulge in some descriptions of the various classes of idlers, and leave the reader to judge, if he be an indo- lent man, to which class he belongs. 1. The lazy man. He is of a very ancient pedigree, for his family is minutely described by Solomon : How long icilt thou slecjJ, sluggard ? when toilt thou arise out of thy sleep ? This is the language of impatience ; the speaker has been trying to awaken him, — pulling, pushing, rolling him over, and shouting in his ear ; but all to no purpose. He soliloquizes whether it is possi- ble for the man ever to wake up ! At length the sleeper drawls out a dozing petition to be let alone : Yet a little slee'p, a little slumher, a little folding of the hands to sleep; and the last words confusedly break into a snore, — that somnolent lullaby of rejDose. Long ago the birds have finished their matins, the sun has ad- vanced full hidi, the dew has c^one from the OTass, and the labors of industry are far in progress, when our sluggard, awakened by his very efforts to maintain sleep, slowly emerges to perform life's great duty of feeding, with him second only in imj^ortance to sleep. And now, well rested and suitably nourished, surely he will abound in labor. Nay, the sluggard luill not plough hij reaso7i of the cold. It is yet early spring ; there is ice in the North, and the winds are hearty; his tender skin shrinks from exposure, and he waits for milder days, envying the residents of tropical climates, where cold never comes and harvests wave spontaneously. He is valiant at sleeping and at the trencher ; but for other courage, the slothfid man saith, There is a INDUSTRY AND IDLENESS. 3 lion icitliout ; I shall he slain in the street. He has not been out to see ; but lie heard a noise, and resolutely betakes himself to prudence. Under so thriving a manager, so alert in the morning, so busy through the day, and so enterprising, we might anticipate the thrift of his husbandry. / ivent by the field of the slothful, and hy the vineyard of the man void of understanding ; and lo ! it ivas all groiun over tvith thorns, and nettles had covered the face thereof and the stone wall thereof was broken down. To complete the picture, only one thing more is wanted, — a description of his house, — and then we should have, at one view, the lazy man,^I]Lis farm and house. Solomon has given us that also : By mueh slothfulness the huilding dccayeth ; and through idleness of the hands the house dro2:)2oet]i through. Let all this be put together, and possibly some reader may find an unpleasant resemblance to his own affairs. He sleeps long and late, he wakes to stupidity, with indolent eyes sleepily rolling over neglected work, neg- lected because it is too cold in spring, and too hot in summer, and too laborious at all times, — a great cow- ard in danger, and therefore very blustering in safety. His lands run to waste, his fences are dilapidated, his crops chiefly of weeds and brambles ; a shattered house, the side leaning over as if wishing, like its owner, to lie down to sleep ; the chimney tumbling down, the roof breaking in, with moss and gTass sprouting in its crevices ; the well without pump or windlass, a trap for their children. This is the very castle of indolence. 2. Another idler as useless, but vastly more active, than the last, attends closely to every one's business except his own. His wife earns the children's bread 4 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. and his, procures lier own raiment and his ; she pro- cures the wood, she procures the water, while he, with hands in his pocket, is busy watching the building of a neighbor's barn, or advising another how to trim and train his vines ; or he has heard of sickness in a friend's family, and is there to suggest a hundred cure?, and to do everything but to help ; he is a spectator of shooting- matches, a stickler for a ring and fair play at every fight. He knows all the stories of all the families that live in the town. If he can catch a stranger at the tavern in a rainy day, he pours out a strain of informa- tion, a pattering of words as thick as the rain-drops out of doors. He has good advice to everybody, how to save, how to make money, how to do everything ; he can tell the saddler about his trade ; he gives advice to the smith about his work, and goes over with him when it is forged to see the carriage-maker put it on ; suggests improvements, advises this paint or that varnish, criti- cises the finish, or praises the trimmings. He is a vio- lent reader of newspapers, almanacs, and receipt-books ; and with scraps of history and mutilated anecdotes, he faces the very schoolmaster, and gives up only to the volubility of the oily village lawyer : few have the hardi- hood to match hiin. And thus every day he bustles through his multi- farious idleness, and completes his circle of visits as regularly as the pointers of a clock visit each figure on the dial-plate ; but alas ! the clock forever tells man the useful lesson of time passing steadily away and returning never ; but what useful tiling do these busy, buzzing idlers perform ? 3. We introduce another idler. He follows no IXDUSTRY AND IDLENESS. 5 voGation; lie only follows those who do. Sometimes he sweeps along the streets with consequential gait, sometimes perfumes it with wasted odors of tobacco. He also haunts sunny benches or breezy piazzas. His business is to sec ; his desire to be seen, and no one fails to see him, — so gaudily dressed, his hat sitting aslant upon a wilderness of hair, like a bird half startled from its nest, and every thread arranged to pro- voke attention. He is a man of honor ; not that he keeps his word or shrinks from meanness. He de- frauds his laundress, his tailor, and his landlord. He drinks and smokes at other men's expense. He gam- bles and swears, and fights — when he is too drunk to be afraid ; but still he is a man of honor, for he has whiskers and looks fierce, wears mustachios, and says. Upon my lionor, sir ; Do you clouM my honor, sir ? Thus he appears by day: by niglit he does not appear ; he may be dimly seen flitting ; his voice may be heard loud in the carousal of some refection-cellar, or above the songs and uj)roar of a midnight return, and home staggering. 4. The next of this brotherhood excites our pity. He began life most thriftily ; for his rising family he was gathering an ample subsistence ; but, involved in other men's affairs, he went down in their ruin. Late in life he begins once more, and at length, just secure of an easy competence, his ruin is compassed again. He sits down quietly under it, complains of no one, envies no one, refuseth the cup, and is even more pure in morals than in better days. He moves on from day to day, as one who walks under a spell : it is the spell of despondency wliich nothing can disencliant or arouse. 6 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. He neither seeks work nor refuses it. He wanders among men a dreaming gazer, poorly clad, always kind, always irresolute, able to plan nothing for himself nor to execute what others have planned for him. He lives and he dies, a discouraged man, and the most harmless and excusable of all idlers. 5. I have not mentioned the fashionable idler, whose riches defeat every object for which God gave him birth. He has a fine form and manly beauty, and the chief end of life is to display them. With notable diligence he ransacks the market for rare and curious fabrics, for costly seals and chains and rings. A coat poorly fitted is the unpardonable sin of his creed. He meditates upon cravats, employs a profound discrimina- tion in selecting a hat or a vest, and adopts his conclu- sions upon the tastefulness of a button or a collar with the deliberation of a statesman. Thus caparisoned, he saunters in fashionable galleries, or flaunts in stylish equipage, or parades the streets with simpering belles, or delights their itching ears with compliments of flat- tery or with choicely culled scandal. He is a reader of fictions, if they be not too substantial, a writer of cards and hillet-doux, and is especially conspicuous in albums. Gay and frivolous, rich and useless, polished till the enamel is worn off, his whole life serves only to make him an animated puppet of pleasure. He is as corrupt in imagination as he is refined in manners ; he is as selfish in private as he is generous in j)ublic ; and even what he gives to another is given for his own sake. He worships where fashion worshi]3s : to-day at the theatre, to-morrow at the church, as either exhibits the whitest hand or the most polished actor. A gaudy. INDUSTRY AND IDLENESS. 7 active, and indolent butterfly, he flutters without in- dustry from flower to flower, until summer closes and frosts sting him, and he sinks down and dies, unthought of and unremembered. 6. One other portrait should be drawn of a business man, who wishes to subsist by his occupation, while he attends to everything else. If a sporting club goes to the woods, he must go. He has set his line in every hole in the river, and dozed in a summer day under every tree along its bank. He rejoices in a riding- party, a sleigh-ride, a summer frolic, a winter's glee. He is everybody's friend, universally good-natured, forever busy where it will do him no good, and remiss where his interests require activity. He takes amuse- ment for his main business, which other men employ as a relaxation; and the serious labor of life, which other men are mainly employed in, he knows only as a relaxation. After a few years he fails, his good-nature is something clouded ; and as age sobers his buoyancy without repairing his profitless habits, he soon sinks to a lower grade of laziness and to ruin. It would be endless to describe the wiles of idleness, — how it creeps upon men, how secretly it mingles with their pursuits, how much time it purloins from the scholar, from the professional man, and from the artisan. It steals minutes, it clips off the edges of hours, and at length takes possession of days. Where it has its will, it sinks and drowns employment ; but where necessity or ambition or duty resists such vio- lence, then indolence makes labor heavy, scatters the attention, puts us to our tasks with wandering thoughts, with irresolute purpose, and with dreamy visions. Thus 8 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. when it may, it plucks out hours and rules over them ; and wliere this may not be, it lurks around them to im- pede the sway of industry, and turn her seeming toils to subtle idleness. Against so mischievous an enchant- ress we should be duly armed. I shall, therefore, describe the advantages of industry and the evils of indolence. ( 1. A hearty industry promotes happiness.) Some men of the greatest industry are unha23py from infe- licity of disposition ; they are morose, or suspicious, or envious. Such qualities make happiness impossible ^ VNunder any circumstances. >> ' Health is the platform on wdiich all happiness must ) ^ be built. Good appetite, good digestion, and good sleep ^T** are the elements of health, and industry confers them. As use polishes metals, so labor the faculties, until the body performs its unimpeded functions with elastic cheerfulness and hearty enjoyment. Buoyant spirits are an element of happiness, and activity produces them ; but they fly away from slug- gishness, as fixed air from open wine. • Men's spirits are like water, which sparkles when it runs, but stag- nates in still pools, and is mantled with green, and breeds corruption and filth. ) The applause of conscience, the self-respect of pride, the consciousness of indepen- dence, a manly joy of usefulness, the consent of every faculty of the mind to one's occupation, and their grati- fication in it, — these constitute a happiness superior to the fever-flashes of vice in its brightest moments. . After an experience of ages, which has taught nothing diflerent [from this, men should have learned that satisfaction is not the product of excess, or of indolence, or of riches, but of industry, temperance, and usefulness. Every vil- INDUSTRY AND IDLENESS. 9 lage has instances whicli ought to teach young men that he who goes aside from the simplicity of nature and the purity of virtue, to wallow in excesses, carousals, and surfeits, at length misses the errand of his life, and, sinking with shattered body prematurely to a dis- honored grave, mourns that he mistook exhilaration for satisfaction, and abandoned the very home of happiness when he forsook the labors of useful industry. The poor man with industry is happier than the rich man in idleness ; for labor makes the one more manly, and riches unmans the other. The slave is often happier than the master, who is nearer undone by license than his vassal by toil Luxurious couches, plushy carpets from Oriental looms, pillows of eider- down, carriages contrived with cushions and springs to make motion imperceptible, — is the indolent mas- ter of these as happy as the slave that wove the car- pet, the Indian who hunted the Northern flock, or the servant who drives the pampered steeds ? Let those who envy the gay revels of city idlers, and pine for their masquerades, their routs, and their operas, expe- rience for a week the lassitude of their satiety, the unarousable torpor of their life when not under a fiery stimulus, their desperate ennui and restless somnolency, and tliey would gladly flee from their haunts as from a land of cursed enchantment. 2. Industry is the parent of thrift. In the over- burdened states of Europe, the severest toil often only suffices to make life a wretclied vacillation between food and famine ; but in America^jndush^^Msj3^^ Jthough God has stored the w^orld with an endless variety of riches for man's wants, he h as made them al l — pfe — . — 10 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. .accessible only to industry- The food we eat, the rai- ment which covers us, the house which protects, must be secured by diligence. To tempt man yet more to industry, every product of the earth has a susceptibil- ity of improvement ; so that man not only obtains the gifts of nature at the j^rice of labor, but these gifts be- come more precious as we bestow upon them greater sldll and cultivation. The wheat and maize which crown our ample fields were food fit but for birds, be- fore man perfected them by labor. The fruits of the forest and the hedge, scarcely tempting to the extrem- est hunger, after skill has dealt with them and trans- planted them to the orchard and the garden, allure every sense with the richest colors, odors, and flavors. The world is full of germs which man is set to develop ; and there is scarcely an assignable limit to which the hand of skill and labor may not bear the powers of nature. The scheming speculations of the last ten years have produced an aversion among the young to the slow ac- cumulations of ordinary industry, and fired them with a conviction that shrewdness, cunning, and bold ven- tures are a more manly way to wealth. There is a swarm of men, bred in the heats of adventurous times, whose thoughts scorn pence and farthings, and who humble themselves to speak of dollars : hundreds and t?wusands are their words. They are men of great oper- ations. Forty thousand dollars is a moderate profit of a single speculation. They mean to own the bank, and to look down before they die upon Astor and Girard. The young farmer becomes almost ashamed to meet his schoolmate, whose stores line whole streets. INDUSTRY AXD IDLENESS. 11 whose stocks are in every bank and company, and whose increasing money is already wellnigh inestimable. But if the butterfly derides the bee in summer, he was never known to do it in the lowering days of autumn. Every few years commerce has its earthquakes, and the tall and toppling warehouses which haste ran up are first shaken down. The hearts of men fail them for fear ; and the suddenly rich, made more suddenly poor, fill the land with their loud laments. But noth- ing strange has happened. When the whole story of commercial disasters is told, it is only found out that they who slowly amassed the gains of useful industry built upon a rock, and they who flung together the imaginary millions of commercial speculations built upon the sand. "When times grew dark, and the winds came, and the floods descended and beat upon them both, the rock sustained the one, and the shifting sand let down the other( If a young man has no higher ambition in life than riches, industry — plain, rugged brown-faced, homely-clad, old-fashioned industry — must be courted. ' Young men are pressed with a most unprofitable haste. They wish to reap before they have ploughed or sown. Everything is driving at such a rate that tliey have become giddy. Laborious occupa- tions are avoided. Money is to be earned in genteel leisure, with the help of fine clothes, and by the soft seductions of smooth hair and luxuriant whiskers. Parents, equally wild, foster the delusion. Shall the promising lad be apprenticed to his uncle, the black- smith ? The sisters think the blacksmith so very smutty; the mother shrinks from the ungentility of his swarthy labor ; the father, weighing the matter pru- 12 LECTURES TO YOUNG > MEN. dentially deeper, finds that a vjliole life had been spent, in earning the uncle's property. These sagacious par- ents, wishing the tree to bear its fruit before it has ever blossomed, regard the long delay of industrious trades as a fatal objection to them. The son, then, must be a rich merchant, or a popular lawyer, or a bro- ker ; and these only as the openings to speculation. Young business men are often educated in two very unthrifty species of contempt, — a contempt for small gains, and a contempt for hard labor. To do one's own • errands, to wlieel one's own barrow, to be seen with a bundle, bag, or burden, is disreputable. ]\Ien are so sharp nowadays that they can compass by their shrewd heads what their fathers used to do with their heads and hands. 3. Industry gives character and credit to the young. The reputable portions of society have maxims of pru- dence by Avhich the young are judged and admitted to their good opinion. Does he regard his luorcl .? 7s he industrious ? Is he economical ? Is he free from im- moral hcdjiis t The answer which a young man's con- duct gives to these questions settles his reception among )good men. Experience has shown that the other good i qualities of veracity, frugality, and modesty are apt to I be associated with industry. A prudent man would scarcely be persuaded that a listless, lounging fellow would be economical or trustworthy. An employer w^ould judge wisely that, where there was little regard for time or for occupation, there would be as little, upon temptation, for honesty or veracity. Pilferings of the till and robberies are fit deeds for idle clerks and lazy apprentices. Industry and knavery are some- INDUSTEY AND IDLENESS. 13 times found associated ; but men wonder at it as at a strange thing. The epithets of society which betoken its experience are all in favor of industry. Thus the terms, " a hard-working man/' " an industrious man," " a laborious artisan," are employed to mean an honest man, a trustivorthy man. I may here, as well as anywhere, impart the secret of what is called good and had luck. There are men who, supposing Providence to have an implacable spite against them, bemoan in the poverty of a wretched old age the misfortunes of their lives. Luck forever ran against them, and for others. One, with a good pro- fession, lost his luck in the river, where he idled away his time a-fishing when he should have been in the office. Another, with a good trade, perpetually burnt up his luck by his hot temper, which provoked all his customers to leave him. Another, with a lucrative business, lost his luck by amazing diligence at every- thing but his business. Another, who steadily fol- lowed his trade, as steadily followed his bottle. An- other, who was honest and constant to his work, erred by perpetual misjudgments, — he lacked discretion. Hun- dreds lose their luck by indorsing, by sanguine specula- tions, by trusting fraudulent men, and by dishonest gains. A man never has good luck who has a bad wife. I never knew an early-rising, hard-working, prudent man, careful of his earnings and strictly hon- est, who complained of bad luck. A good character, good habits, and iron industry are impregnable to the assaults of all the ill luck that fools ever dreamed of But wlien I see a tatterdemalion creeping out of a grocery Jate in the forenoon, with his hands stuck into 14 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. his pockets, the rim of his hat turned up, and the crown knocked in, I know he has had bad luck; for the worst of all luck is to be a sluggard, a knave, or a tippler. 4. Industry is a substitute for genius. Where one or more faculties exist in the highest state of devel- opment and activity, — as the faculty of music in Mozart, invention in Fulton, ideality in Milton, — we call their possessor a genius. But a genius is iisnally understood to be a creature of such rare facility of mind, that he can do anything without labor. Accord- ing to the popular notion, he learns without study, and knows without learning. He is eloquent without prep- aration, exact without calculation, and profound with- out reflection. While ordinary men toil for knowledge by reading, by comparison, and by minute research, a genius is supposed to receive it as the mind receives dreams. His mind is like a vast cathedral, through whose colored windows the sunlight streams, painting the aisles with the varied colors of brilliant pictures. Such minds may exist. So far as my observations have ascertained the spe- cies, they abound in academies, colleges, and Thespian societies, in village debating-clubs, in coteries of young artists, and among young professional aspirants. They are to be known by a reserved air, excessive sen- sitiveness, and utter indolence ; by very long hair, and very open shirt-collars ; by tlie reading of much ■wretched poetry, and the writing of much yet more wretched ; by being very conceited, very affected, very disagreeable, and very useless ; — beings whom no man wants for friend, pupil, or companion. INDUSTRY AXD IDLENESS. 15 The occupations of the great man and of the com- mon man are necessarily, for the most part, the same ; for the business of life is made up of minute affairs, re- quiring only judgment and diligence. A high order of intellect is required for the discovery and defence of truth ; but this is an unfrequent task. Where the ordi- nary wants of life once require recondite principles, they will need the application of familiar truths a thousand times. Those who enlarge the bounds of knowledge, must push out with bold adventure beyond the common walks of men. But only a few pioneers are needed for the largest armies, and a few profound men in each occupation may herald the advance of all the business of society. The vast bulk of men are re- quired to discharge the homely duties of life ; and they have less need of genius than of intellectual industry and patient enterprise. Young men should observe that those who take the honors and emoluments of mechani- cal crafts, of commerce, and of professional life are rather distinguished for a sound judgment and a close application, than for a brilliant genius. In the ordinary business of life, industry can do anytliing which genius can do, and very many things which it cannot. Genius is usually impatient of application, irritable, scornful of men's dulness, squeamish at petty disgusts: it loves a conspicuous place, short work, and a large reward ; it loathes the sweat of toil, the vexations of life, and the dull burden of care. Industry has a firmer muscle, is less annoyed by de- lays and repulses, and, like water, bends itself to the shape of the soil over which it flows ; and, if checked, will not rest, but accumulates, and mines a passage be- jiUiriVB 16 LECTURES TO Y(3UNG MEX. neatli, or seeks a side-race, or rises above and overflows the obstruction. AVliat genius performs at one im- pulse, industry gains by a succession of blows. In ordinary matters they differ only in rapidity of exe- cution, and are upon one level before men, — who see the result but not the 2^'>^occss. It is admirable to know that those things which, in skill, in art, and in learning, the world has been unwill- ing to let die, have not only been the conceptions of genius, but the products of toil. The masterpieces of antiquity, as well in literature as in art, are known to have received their extreme finish from an almost incredible continuance of labor upon them. I do not remember a book in all the departments of learning, nor a scrap in literature, nor a work in all the schools of art, from which its author has derived a permanent re- nown, that is not known to have been long and patient- ly elaborated. Genius needs industry, as much as industry needs genius. If only Milton's imagination could have conceived his visions, his consummate in- dustry only could have carved the immortal lines which enshrine them. If only E"ewton's mind could reach out to the secrets of nature, even his could only do it by the homeliest toil The works of Bacon are not mid- summer-night dreams, but, like coral islands, they have risen from the depths of truth, and formed their broad surfaces above the ocean by the minutest accretions of persevering lal3or. The conceptions of Michael Angelo would have perished like a night's fantasy, had not his industry given them permanence. From enjoying the pleasant walks of industry we turn reluctantly to explore the patlis of indolence. INDUSTRY AND IDLENESS. 17 All degrees of indolence incline a man to rely upon others and not upon himself, to eat their bread and not his own. His carelessness is somebody's loss ; his neglect is somebody's downfall ; his j^romises are a per- petual stumbling-block to all who trust them. If he borrows, the article remains borrowed ; if he begs and gets, it is as the letting out of waters, — no one knows when it will stop. He spoils your work, disappoints your expectations, exhausts your patience, eats up your substance, abuses your confidence, and hangs a dead weight upon all your plans ; and the very best thing an honest man can do with a lazy man is to get rid of him. Solomon says. Bray a fool in a mortar amonrj wheat luith a pestle, yet ivill not his foolishness depart from him. He does not mention what kind of a fool he meant ; but as he speaks of a fool by pre-eminence, I take it for granted he meant a lazy man ; and I am the more inclined to the opinion, from another expression of his experience : As mnerjar to the teeth, and as smoJce to the eyes, so is the sluggard to them that send him. Indolence is a great spendthrift. An indolently in- clined young man can neither make nor keej) property. I have high authority for this : ITe also thcct is slothful in his work is brother to him that is a great waster. When Satan would put ordinary men to a crop of mischief, like a wise husbandman he clears the ground and prepares it for seed; but he finds the idle man already prepared, and lie has scarcely the trouble of sowing ; for vices, like weeds, ask little strewing, ex- cept what the wind gives their ripe and winged seeds, shaking and scattering them all abroad. Indeed, lazy men may fitly be likened to a tropical prairie, over 18 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. which the wind of temptation perpetually blows, drift- ing every vagrant seed from hedge and hill, and which, without a moment's rest through all the year, waves its rank harvest of luxuriant weeds. First, the imagination will be haunted with unlawful visitants. Upon the outskirts of towns are shattered houses abandoned by reputable persons. They are not empty, because all the day silent ; thieves, vagabonds, and villains haunt them, in joint possession with rats, bats, and vermin. Such are idle men's imaginations, — full of unlawful company. The imagination is closely related to the passions, and fires them with its heat. The day-dreams of indo- lent youth glow each hour with warmer colors and bolder adventures. The imagination fashions scenes of enchantment in which the passions revel, and it leads them out, in shadow at first, to deeds which soon they will seek in earnest. The brilliant colors of far- away clouds are but the colors of the storm ; the sala- cious day-dreams of indolent men, rosy at first and distant, deepen every day darker and darker to the color of actual evil. Then follows the blight of every habit. Indolence promises without redeeming the pledge ; a mist of forgetfulness rises up and obscures the memory of vows and oaths. The negligence of laziness breeds more falsehoods than the cunning of the sharper. As poverty waits upon the steps of in- dolence, so upon such poverty brood equivocations, sub- terfuges, lying denials. Falsehood becomes the instru- ment of every plan. Negligence of truth, next occa- sional falsehood, then wanton mendacity, — tliese three strides traverse the whole road of lies. INDUSTRY AXD IDLENESS. 19 Indolence as surely runs to dishonesty as to lying. Indeed they are but different parts of the same road, and not far apart. In directing the conduct of the Ephesian converts, Paul says, Let him that stole steal no more ; hut rather let him laJjor, icorking vnth his hands the thing ichich is good. The men who were thieves were those who had ceased to work. Industry was the road back to honesty. When stores are broken open, the idle are first suspected. The desperate forgeries and swindHngs of past years have taught men, upon their occurrence, to ferret their authors among the un- employed, or among those vainly occupied in vicious pleasures. The terrible passion for stealing rarely grows upon the young, except through the necessities of their idle pleasures. Business is first neglected for amusement, and amusement soon becomes the only business. The appetite for vicious pleasure outruns the means of pro- curing it. The theatre, the circus, the card-table, the midnight carouse, demand money. When scanty earn- ings are gone, the young man pilfers from the till. First, because he hopes to repay, and next, because he de- spairs of paying ; for the disgrace of stealing ten dol- lars or a thousand will be the same, but not their re- spective pleasures. ^SText, he will gamble, since it is only another form of stealing. Gradually excluded from reputable society, the vagrant takes all the badges of vice, and is familiar with her paths, and through them enters the broad road of crime. Society precipi- tates its lazy members, as water does its filth, and they form at the bottom a pestilent sediment, stirred up by every breeze of evil into riots, robberies, and murders. 20 LECTURES TO YOUXG MEN. Into it drains all the filth, and out of it, as from a morass, flow all the streams of pollution. Brutal -wretches, desperately haunted by the law, crawling in human filth, brood here their villain schemes, and plot mischief to man. Hither resorts the truculent dema- gogue, to stir np the fetid filth against his adversaries, or to bring up mobs out of this sea which cannot rest, but casts up mire and dirt. The results of indolence upon communities are as marked as upon individuals. In a town of industrious people the streets would be clean, houses neat and comfortable, fences in repair, school-houses swarming wdth rosy-faced children, decently clad and well be- haved. The laws would be respected, because justly administered. The church would be thronged with de- vout worshippers. The tavern would be silent, and for the most part empty, or a welcome retreat for weary travellers. Grog-sellers would fail, and mechanics grow rich ; labor would be honorable, and loafins^ a discrrace. For music, the people would have the blacksmith's anvil and the carpenter's hammer ; and at home, the spinning-whieel, and girls cheerfully singing at their work. Debts would be seldom paid, because seldom made ; but if contracted, no grim officer would be in- vited to the settlement. Town officers would be re- spectable men, taking office reluctantly, and only for the public good. Public days would be full of sports, without fighting ; and elections would be as orderly as weddings or funerals. In a town of lazy men I should expect to find crazy houses, shingles and weather-boards knocked off; doors hingeless, and all a-creak ; windows stuffed with rags, INDUSTRY AND IDLENESS. 21 hats, or pillows. Instead of flo^yers in summer, and "warmth in winter, every side of the house would swarm wdth vermin in hot weather, and with starveling pigs in cold ; fences would be curiosities of lazy contrivance, and gates hung wdth ropes, or lying flat in the mud. Lank cattle w^ould follow every loaded w^agon, suppli- cating a morsel, with famine in their looks. Children would be ragged, dirty, saucy ; the school-house empty ; the jail full ; the church silent ; the grog-vshops noisy ; and the carpenter, the saddler, and the blacksmith would do their principal wqrk at taverns. Lawyers would reion ; constables flourish, and hunt sneakinof criminals ; burly justices (as their interests might dic- tate) would connive a compromise, or make a commit- ment. The peace-officers would wdnk at tumults, arrest rioters in fun, and drink with them in good earnest. Good men would be obliged to keep dark, and bad men would swear, fight, and rule the town. Public days would be scenes of confusion, and end in rows ; elec- tions would be drunken, illegal, boisterous, and brutal. The young abhor the last results of idleness; but they do not perceive that the first steps lead to the last. They are in the opening of this career : but wdth them it is genteel leisure, not laziness ; it is relaxation, not sloth ; amusement, not indolence. But leisure, relaxa- tion, and amusement, when men ought to be usefully engaged, are indolence. A specious industry is the w^orst idleness. A young man perceives that the first steps lead to the last, with every l^ody but himself. lie sees others become drunkards by social tippling ; he sips socially, as if lie could not be a drunkard. He sees others become dislioncst by petty habits of fraud ; but 22 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. will indulge slight aberrations, as if he could not be- come knavish. Though others, by lying, lose all char- acter, he does not imagine that his little dalliances with falsehood will make him a liar. He knows that sala- cious imaginations, villanous pictures, harlot snuff-boxes, and illicit familiarities have led thousands to her door, whose house is the way to hell ; yet he never sighs or trembles lest these things should take him to this in- evitable way of damnation ! In reading these strictures upon indolence, you will abhor it in others without suspecting it in yourself. While you read, I fear you are excusing yourself; you are supposing that your leisure has not been laziness, or that, with your disposition, and in your circumstan- ces, indolence is harmless. Be not deceived: if you are idle, you are on the road to ruin ; and there are few stopping-places upon it. It is rather a precipice than a road. While I point out the temptation to indolence, scrutinize your course, and pronounce honestly upon, your risk. 1. Some are tempted to indolence by their wretched training, or, rather, wretched want of it. How many families are the most remiss, whose low condition and sufferings are the strongest inducement to industry! The children have no inheritance, yet never work ; no education, yet are never sent to school. It is hard to keep their rags around them, yet none of them will earn better raiment. If ever there was a case when a gov- ernment should interfere between parent and child, that seems to be the one where children are started in life with an education of vice. If, in every community, three things should be put together, which always work IXDUSTEY AND IDLENESS. 23 together, the front would be a grog-shop, the middle a jail, the rear a gallows; an infernal trinity, and the recruits for this three-headed monster are largely drafted from the lazy children of wortliless parents. 2. The children of rich parents are apt to be reared in indolence. The ordinary motives to industry are wanting, and the temptations to sloth are multiplied. Other men labor to provide a support, to amass wealth, to secure homage, to obtain power, to multiply the elegant products of art. The child of affluence inherits these things. ^^Iiy should he labor who may com- mand universal service, whose money subsidizes the in- ventions of art, exhausts the luxuries of society, and makes rarities common by their abundance ? Only the blind would not see that riches and ruin run in one channel to prodigal children. The most rigorous regi- men, the most confirmed industry and steadfast moral- ity, can alone disarm inherited wealth, and reduce it to a blessing. The profligate wretch, who fondly watches his father's advancing decrepitude, and secretly curses the lingering steps of death (seldom too slow except to hungry heirs), at last is overblessed in the tidings that the loitering work is done, and the estate his. Wlien the golden shower has fallen, he rules as a prince in a court of expectant parasites. All tlie sluices by which pleasurable vice drains an estate are opened wide. A few years complete the ruin. The hopeful heir, avoided by all whom he has helped, ignorant of useful labor, and scorning a knowledge of it, fired with an incurable appetite for vicious excitement, sinks steadily down, — a profligate, a wretch, a villain-scoundrel, a convicted felon. Let parents who hate their offspring rear them 24 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. to hate labor, and to inlierit riclies, and before long they will be stung by every vice, racked by its poison, and damned by its penalty. 3. Another cause of idleness is found in the secret effects of youthful indulgence. The purest pleasures lie within the circle of useful occupation. Mere pleas- ure, sought outside of usefulness, existing by itself, is fraught with poison. When its exhilaration has thoroughly kindled the mind, the passions thenceforth refuse a simple food ; they crave and require an excite- ment higher than any ordinary occupation can give. After revelling all night in wine-dreams, or amid the fascinations of the dance, or the deceptions of the drama, what has the dull store or the dirty shop which can continue the pulse at this fever-heat of delight ? The face of Pleasure to the youthful imagination is the face of an angel, a paradise of smiles, a home of love ; while the rugged face of Industry, imbrowned by toil, is dull and repulsive : but at the end it is not so. These are harlot charms wliich Pleasure wears. At last, when Industry shall put on her beautiful garments, and rest in the palace which her own hands have built. Pleas- ure, blotched and diseased with indulgence, shall lie down and die upon the dung-hill. 4. Example leads to idleness. The children of in- dustrious parents, at the sight of vagrant rovers seeking their sports wherever they will, disrelish labor, and envy this unrestrained leisure. At the first relaxation of parental vigilance, they shrink from tlieir odious tasks. Idleness is begun wlien labor is a burden, and industry a bondage, and only idle relaxation a pleasure. The example of political men, office-seekers, and INDUSTRY AND IDLENESS. 25 public officers is not usually couducive to inclustiy. The idea insensibly fastens upon tlie mind that great- ness and hard labor are not companions. The inexpe- rience of youth imagines that great men are men of great leisure. They see them much in public, often applauded and greatly followed. How disgusting in contrast is the mechanic's life ! A tinkering-shop, dark and smutty, is the only theatre of his exploits ; and labor, which covers him with sweat and fills him with weariness, brings neither notice nor praise. The am- bitious apprentice, sighing over his soiled hands, hates liis ignoble w^ork; neglecting it, he aspires to better things, plots in a caucus, declaims in a bar-room, fights in a grog-shop, and dies in a ditch. 5. But the indolence begotten by venal ambition must not be so easily dropped. At those periods of occasional disaster, when embarrassments cloud the face of commerce, and trade drags heavily, sturdy la- borers forsake industrial occupations and petition for office. Had I a son able to gain a livelihood by toil, I had rather bury him than witness his beggarly suppli- cations for office, — sneaking along the path of men's passions to gain his advantage, holding in the breath of his honest opinions, and breathing feigned words of flattery to hungry ears, popular or official, and crawling, viler than a snake, through all the unmanly courses by which ignoble wretches purloin the votes of the dis- honest, the drunken, and the vile. The late reverses of commerce have unsettled the habits of thousands. Manhood seems debilitated, and many sturdy yeomen are ashamed of nothing but la- bor. For a farthing-pittance of official salary, for the 2 26 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. miserable fees of a constable's office, for the parings and perquisites of any deputysliip, a hundred men in every village rush forward, scrambling, jostling, crowding, each more obsequious than the other to lick the hand that holds the omnipotent vote or the starveling office. The most supple cunning gains the prize. Of the dis- appointed crowd a few, rebuked by their sober reflec- tions, go back to their honest trade, ashamed and cured of office-seeking. But the majority grumble for a day, then prick forth their ears, arrange their feline arts, and mouse again for another office. The general appe- tite for office and disrelish for industrial callings is a prolific source of idleness ; and it would be well for the honor of young men if they were bred to regard ofi&ce as fit only for those who have clearly shown themselves able and willing to support their families without it. iN'o office can make a worthless man respectable, and a man of integrity, thrift, and religion has name enough without badge or office. 6. Men become indolent through the reverses of fortune. Surely, despondency is a grievous thing and a heavy load to bear. To see disaster and wreck in the present, and no light in the future, but only storms, lurid by the contrast of past prosperity, and growing darker as they advance ; to wear a constant expectation of woe like a girdle ; to see w^ant at the door, imperi- ously knocking, while there is no strength to repel, or courage to bear its tyranny ; — indeed, this is dreadful enough. But there is a thing more dreadful. It is more dreadful if the man is wrecked with his fortune. Can anything be more poignant in anticipation than one's own self, unnerved, cowed down and slackened to Ustdustry axd idleness. 27 ntter pliancy, and helplessly drifting and driven down the troubled sea of life ? Of all things on earth, next to his God, a broken man should cling to a courageous industry. If it brings nothing back and saves nothing, it will save him. To be pressed down by adversity has nothing in it of disgrace; but it is disgraceful to lie down under it like a supple dog. Indeed, to stand coDiposedly in the storm, amidst its rage and wildest devastations, to let it beat over you and roar around you, and pass by you, and leave you undismayed, this is to be a max. Adversity is the mint in which God stamps upon us his image and superscription. In this matter men may learn of insects. The ant will repair his dwelling as often as the mischievous foot crushes it ; the spider will exhaust life itself, before he will live without a web ; the bee can be decoyed from his labor neither by plenty nor scarcity. If summer be abun- dant, it toils none the less; if it be parsimonious of flowers, the tiny laborer sweeps a wider circle, and by industry repairs the frugality of the season. ^lan should be ashamed to be rebuked in vain by the spider, the ant, and the bee. Seest thou a man diligent in his husiness? he shall stand hefore kings ; he shall not stand before mean men. ^r-*^. ^,''^.^--*V?,-S^ o ,^^?^, ^s^^ tl^^s^^-^?^;^ "^VU^ LECTUEE 11. TWELVE CAUSES OF DISHONESTY. Providing for honest things, not only in the sight of the Lord, but also in the sight of men." — 2 Cor. viii. 21. ;XLY extraordinary circumstances can give the appearance of dishonesty to an honest man. Usually, not to seem honest is not to he so. The quality must not be doubt- twilight, lingering between night and day and taking hues from both ; it must be daylight, clear and effulgent. This is the doctrine of the Bible : Providing for honest things, not only in the sight of the Lord, BUT ALSO IX THE SIGHT OF MEN. In general it may be said that no one has honesty without dross until he has honesty without suspicion. We are passing through times upon which the seeds of dishonesty have been sown broadcast, and they have brought forth a hundreds-fold. These times will pass away, but like ones will come again. As physicians study the causes and record the phenomena of plagues and pestilences, to draw from them an antidote against their recurrence, so should we' leave to another genera- tion a history of moral plagues, as the best antidote to their recurring malignity. Upon a land — capacious beyond measure, wdiose prodigal soil rewards labor with an unharvestable abun- TWELVE CAUSES OF DISHONESTY. 29 dance of exuberant fruits, occupied by a people signal- ized by enterprise and industry — there came a sum- mer of prosperity Avliicli lingered so long and shone so brightly, that men forgot that winter could ever come. Each day grew brighter. No reins were put upon the imagination. Its dreams passed for realities. Even sober men, touched with wildness, seemed to expect a realization of Oriental tales. Upon this bright day came sudden frosts, storms, and blight. Men awoke from gorgeous dreams in the midst of desolation. The harvests of years were swept away in a day. The strongest firms were rent as easily as the oak by light- ning. Speculating companies were dispersed as seared leaves from a tree in autumn. Merchants were ruined by thousands, clerks turned adrift by ten thousands. Mechanics were left in idleness. Farmers sighed over flocks and wheat as useless as the stones and dirt. The wide sea of commerce was stagnant ; upon the realm of industry settled down a sullen lethargy. Out of this reverse swarmed an unnumbered host of dishonest men, like vermin from a carcass. Banks were exploded, or robbed, or fleeced by astounding for- geries. Mighty companies, witliout cohesion, went to pieces, and hordes of wretches snatched up every bale that came ashore. Cities were ransacked by troops of \nllains. The unparalleled frauds, which sprung like mines on every hand, set every man to trembling lest the next explosion should be under his own feet. Fi- delity seemed to have forsaken men. ]\Iany that had earned a reputation for sterling honesty were cast so suddenly headlong into wickedness, that man shrank from man. Suspicion overgrew confidence, and the 30 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. heart bristled with the nettles and thorns of fear and jealousy. Then had almost come to pass the divine de- lineation of ancient wickedness : The good man is per- ished 02ct of the earth ; and there is none itpright among men : they all lie in ivait for hlood ; they hunt every man his hrother with a net. That they may do evil ivith loth hands earnestly, the prince asheth, and the judge asltethfor a reward ; arid the great man, he utter eth his misehievous desire ; so they lurap it up. The lest of them is as a brier ; the most upright is sharper than a thorn hedge. The world looked upon a continent of inexhanstible fertility (whose harvest had glutted the markets, and rotted in disuse) filled with lamentation, and its inhabitants wandering like bereaved citizens among the ruins of an earthquake, mourning for children, for houses crushed, and property buried forever. That no measure might be put to the calamity, the Church of God, which rises a stately tower of refuge to desponding men, seemed now to have lost its power of protection. When the solemn voice of Eeligion should have gone over the land, as the call of God to guilty man to seek in him their strength, in this time when Eeligion should have restored sight to the blind, made the lame to walk, and bound up the broken-hearted, she was herself mourning in sackcloth. Out of her courts came the noise of warring sects ; some contending against others with bitter w^arfare, and some, possessed of a demon, wallowed upon the ground, foaming, and rending themselves. In a time of panic and disaster and distress and crime, the fountain which should have been for the healing of men cast up its sediments, and gave out a bitter stream of pollution. TWELVE CAUSES OF DISHONESTY. 31 In every age a universal pestilence lias hushed the Earner of contention, and cooled the heats of parties ; but the greatness of our national calamity seemed only to enkindle the fury of political parties. Contentions never ran with such deep streams and impetuous cur- rents, as amidst the ruin of our industry and prosperity. States were greater debtors to foreign nations than their citizens were to each other. Both States and citi- zens shrunk back from their debts, and yet more dis- honestly from the taxes necessary to discharge them. The general government did not escape, but lay be- calmed, or pursued its course, like a ship, at every fur- lorn? toucliinof the rocks or beatino^ against the sands. The Capitol trembled with the first waves of a question which is yet to shake the whole land. New questions of exciting qualities perplexed the realm of legislation and of morals. To all this must be added a manifest decline of family government ; an increase of the ratio of popular ignorance ; a decrease of reverence for law, and an effeminate administration of it. Popular tu- mults have been as frequent as freshets in our rivers, and, like them, have swept over the land with desola- tion, and left their filthy slime in the highest places, — upon the press, upon the legislature, in the halls of our courts, and even upon the sacred bench of jus- tice. If unsettled times foster dishonesty, it should have flourished amoncj us. And it has. Our nation must expect a periodical return of such convulsions ; but experience should steadily curtail their ravages, and remedy their immoral tendencies. Young men have before them lessons of manifold wis- dom tauglit by the severest of masters, — experience. 32 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. They should be studied, and, that they may be, I shall, from tliis general survey, turn to a specific enumersF tion of the causes of dishonesty. 1. Some men find in their bosom, from tlie first, a vehement inclination to dislionest ways. Knavish pro- pensities are inherent, born with the child, and trans- missible from parent to son. The children of a sturdy thief, if taken from him at birth and reared by hon- est men, would, doubtless, have to contend against a strongly dishonest inclination. Foundlings and orphans under public charitable charge are more apt to become vicious than other children. They are usually born of low and vicious parents, and inherit their parents' pro- pensities. Only the most thorough moral training can overrule this innate dej^ravity. 2. A child naturally fair-minded may become dis- honest by parental example. He is early taught to be sharp in bargains, and vigilant for every advantage. Little is said about honesty, and much upon shrewd traffic. A dexterous trick becomes a family anecdote ; visitors are regaled with the boy's precocious keenness. Hearing the praise of his exploits, he studies craft, and seeks parental admiration by adroit knaveries. He is taught, for his safety, that he must not range beyond the law ; that would be unprofitable. He calculates his morality thus: Legal honesty is the lest jpolicy ; dislionesty, then, is a bad bargain, and therefore wrong ; everything is wrong which is unthrifty. Whatever profit breaks no legal statute — though it is gained by falsehood, by unfairness, by gloss, tlirough dishonor, unkindness, and an unscrupulous conscience — he con- siders fair, and says, The law allows it. Men may spend TWELVE CAUSES OF DISHONESTY. 33 a long life without an indictable action and without an honest one. No law can reach the insidious ways of subtle craft. The law allows and religion forbids men to profit by others' misfortunes, to prowl for prey among the ignorant, to overreach the simple, to suck the last life-drops from the bleeding, to hover over men as a vulture over herds, swoojoing down upon the weak, the straggling, and the weary. The infernal craft of cunning men turns the law itself to piracy, and works outrageous fraud in the hall of courts, by the decision of judges, and under the seal of justice. 3. Dishonesty is learned from one's employers. The boy of honest parents and honestly bred goes to a trade or a store where the employer practises legal frauds. The plain honesty of the boy excites roars of laughter among the better taught clerks. The master tells them that such blundering truthfulness must be pitied; the boy evidently has been neglected, and is not to be ridiculed for what he could not help. At first, it verily pains the youth's scruples and tinges his face to frame a deliberate dishonesty, to finish and to polish it. His tongue stammers at a lie ; but the example of a rich master, the jeers and gibes of shop- mates, with gradual practice, cure all this. He be- comes adroit in fleecing customers for his master's sake, and equally dexterous in fleecing his master for his own sake. 4. Extravagance is a prolific source of dishonesty. Extravagance — which is foolish expense, or expense disproportionate to one's means — may be found in all gTades of society ; but it is chiefly apparenj;-'aiicK>tig the rich, those aspiring to wealth, and those' wishing to be 2* C 34 LECTUKES TO YOUNG MEN. thought affluent. Many a young man cheats liis busi- ness by transferring his means to theatres, race-courses, expensive parties, and to the nameless and numberless projects of pleasure. The enterprise of others is baf- fled by the extravagance of their family ; for few men can make as much in a year as an extravagant woman can carry on her back in one winter. Some are am- bitious of fashionable society, and will gratify their vanity at any expense. This disproportion between means and expense soon brings on a crisis. The victim is straitened for money ; without it he must abandon his rank ; for fashionable society remorselessly rejects- all butterflies which have lost their brilliant colors. Which shall he choose, honesty and mortifying exclu- sion or gayety purchased by dishonesty ? The severity of this choice sometimes sobers the intoxicated brain, and a young man shrinks from the gulf, appalled at the darkness of dishonesty. But to excessive vanity high- life, with or without fraud, is paradise, and any other life purgatory. Here many resort to dishonesty with- out a scruple. It is at this point that public senti- ment half sustains dishonesty. It scourges the thief of necessity, and pities the thief of fashion. The struggle with others is on the very ground of honor. A wife led from affluence to frigid penury and neglect, from leisure and luxury to toil and want; daughters, once courted as rich, to be disesteemed when poor; — this is the gloomy prospect, seen througli a magic haze of despondency. Honor, love, and generos- ity, strangely bewitclied, ])lead for dishonesty as the only alternative to such suffering. But go, young man, to your wife ; tell her the alternative ; if she is worthy TWELVE CAUSES OF DISHONESTY. 35 of you, she will face your poverty with a courage which shall shame your fears, and lead you into its wilderness and through it, all unshrinking. Many there be who went weeping into this desert, and erelong, having found in it the fountains of the purest peace, have thanked God for the pleasures of poverty. But if your wife unmans your resolution, imploring dishonor rather than penury, may God pity and help you ! You dwell with a sorceress, and few can resist her wiles. 5. Debt is an inexhaustible fountain of dishonesty. The Eoyal Preacher tells us : Tlie horroicer is ser- vant to the lender. Debt is a rigorous servitude. The debtor learns the cunning tricks, delays, concealments, and frauds by which slaves evade or cheat their mas- ter. He is tempted to make ambiguous statements ; pledges, with secret passages of escape ; contracts, with fraudulent constructions ; lying excuses and more men- dacious promises. He is tempted to elude responsibil- ity, to delay settlements, to prevaricate upon the terms, to resist equity, and devise specious fraud. Wlien the eager creditor would restrain such vagrancy by law, the debtor then thinks himself released from moral ol)ligation, and brought to a legal game, in which it is lawful for the best player to win. He disputes true accounts, he studies subterfuges, extorts provo- cations delays, and harbors in every nook and corner and passage of the law's labyrinth. At length the measure is filled up, and the malignant power of debt is known. It has opened in the heart every fountain of iniquity ; it has besoiled the conscience, it has tar- nished the honor, it has made the man a deliberate student of knavery, a systematic practitioner of fraud ; 36 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. it has dragged him through all the sewers of petty pas- sions, — anger, hate, revenge, malicious folly, or malig- nant shame. "V\^ien a debtor is beaten at every point, and the law will put her screws upon him, there is no depth in the gulf of dishonesty into which he will not boldly plunge. Some men put their property to the flames, assassinate the detested creditor, and end the frantic tragedy by suicide or the gallows. Others, in view of the catastrophe, have converted all property to cash, and concealed it. The law's utmost skill and the creditor's fury are alike powerless now; the tree is green and thrifty, its roots drawing a copious supply from some hidden fountain. Craft has another harbor of resort for the piratical crew of dishonesty, viz., putting the property out of the lauh reach hy a fraudulent conveyance. Whoever runs in debt, and consumes the equivalent of his indebted- ness ; whoever is fairly liable to damage for broken contracts ; whoever by folly, has incurred debts and lost the benefit of his outlay ; whoever is legally obliged to pay for his malice or carelessness ; whoever by infi- delity to public trusts has made his property a just remuneration for his defaults ; — whoever of all these, or whoever, under any circumstances, puts out of his hands property, morally or legally due to creditors, is A DISHONEST MAN. The crazy excuses which men ren- der to their consciences are only such as every villain makes wdio is unwilling to look upon the black face of his crimes. He who will receive a conveyance of property, know- ing it to be illusive and fraudulent, is as wicked as the principal ; and as much meaner, as the tool and subordi- TWELA'E CAUSES OF DISHONESTY. 37 nate of villany is meaner than the master who uses him. If a church, knowing all these facts, or wilfully igno- rant of them, allows a member to nestle in the security of tlie sanctuary, then the act of this robber and the connivance of the church are but the two parts of one crime. 6. Baxkruptcy, although a brancli of debt, deserves a separate mention. It sometimes crushes a man's spirit, and sometimes exasperates it. The poignancy of the evil depends much upon the disposition of the creditors, and as much upon the disposition of the vic- tim. Should theij act with the lenity of Christian men, and lie with manly honesty, promptly rendering up whatever satisfaction of debt he has, he may visit the lowest places of human adversity, and find tliere the light of good men's esteem, the support of con- science, and the sustenance of religion. A bankrupt may fall into the Jiands of men whose tender mercies are cruel ; or his dishonest equivocations may exasperate their temper and provoke every thorn and brier of the law. "When men's passions are let loose, especially their avarice, whetted by real or imagi- nary wrong ; when there is a rivalry among creditors lest any one should feast upon the victim more than his share, and they all rush upon him like wolves upon a wounded deer, dragging him down, ripping him open, breast and flank, plunging deep their bloody muzzles to reach the heart, and taste blood at the very fountain, — is it strange that resistance is desperate and unscrupu- lous ? At length the sufferer drags liis mutilated car- cass aside, every nerve and muscle wrung with pain, 38 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. and liis whole body an instrument of agony. He curses the whole inhuman crew with envenomed im- precations, and thenceforth, a brooding misanthrope, he pays back to society by studied villanies the legal wrongs which the relentless justice of a few, or his own knavery, has brought upon him. 7. There is a circle of moral dishonesties practised because the law allows them. The very anxiety of law to reach the devices of cunning so perplexes its statutes with exceptions, limitations, and supplements, that, hke a castle gradually enlarged for centuries, it has its crevices, dark corners, secret holes, and winding passages, — an endless harbor for rats and vermin, where no trap can catch them. We are villanously infested with legal rats and rascals who are able to com- mit the most flagrant dishonesties with impunity. They can do all of wrong which is profitable, without that part which is actionable. The very ingenuity of these miscreants excites such admiration of their skill that their life is gilded with a specious respectability. Men profess little esteem for blunt, necessitous thieves who rob and run away ; but for a gentleman wdio can break the whole of God's law so adroitly as to leave man's law unbroken, who can indulge in such conservative steal- ing that his fellow-men award him a rank among honest men for the excessive skill of his dishonesty, — for such an one, I fear, there is almost universal sympathy. 8. Political dishonesty breeds dishonesty of every kind. It is possible for good men to permit single sins to coexist with general integrity, where the evil is in- dulged through ignorance. Once, undoubted Cln^istians were slave-traders. They miglit be while unenlight- TWELVE CAUSES OF DISHONESTY. 39 ened, but not in our times. A state of niind wliicli will mtcncl one fraud will, upon occasions, intend a thousand. He that upon one emergency will lie will be supplied with emergencies. He that will perjure himself to save a friend will do it, in a desperate junct- ure, to save himself. The highest AYisdom has in- formed us tliat He that is unjust in the least is imjust also in much. Circumstances may withdraw a poli- tician from temptation to any but political dishonesty ; but under temptation a dishonest politician would be a dishonest cashier, — would be dishonest anywhere, in anything. The fury which destroys an opponent's character would stop at nothing if barriers were thrown down. That which is true of the leaders in poHtics is true of subordinates. Political dishonesty in voters runs into general dishonesty, as the rotten speck taints the whole apj)le. A community whose politics are conducted by a perpetual breach of honesty on both sides will be tainted by immorality throughout. Men will play the same game in their pri^'ate affairs which they have learned to play in public matters. The guile, the crafty vigilance, the dishonest ad\'antage, the cun- ning sharpness, the tricks and traps and sly evasions, the equivocal promises and unequivocal neglect of them, which characterize political action, will equally characterize private action. The mind has no kitchen to do its dirty work in while the parlor remains clean. Dishonesty is an atmosphere ; if it comes into one apartment it penetrates every one. Whoever will lie in politics will lie in traffic. Whoever will slander in politics will slander in personal squabbles. A pro- fessor of religion who is a dishonest politician is a 40 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEX. dishonest Cliristiaii. His creed is a perpetual index of liis liypocrisy. The genius of our government directs the attention of every citizen to politics. Its spirit reaches the ut- termost bound of society and pervades the whole mass. If its channels are slimy with corruption, what limit can be set to its malign influence ? The turbulence of elections, the virulence of the press, the desperation of bad men, the hopelessness of efforts which are not cun- ning but only honest, have driven many conscientious men from any concern with politics. This is suicidal. Thus the tempest will grow blacker and fiercer. - Our youth will be caught up in its whirling bosom and dashed to pieces, and its hail will break down every green thing. At God's house the cure should begin. Let the hand of discipline smite the leprous lips which shall utter the profane lieresy, All is fair in 2^olitics. If any hoary professor, drunk with the mingled wine of excitement, shall tell our youth that a Christian man may act in politics by any other rule of morality than that of the Bible, and that wickedness performed for a party is not as abominable as if done for a man, or that any necessity justifies or palliates dishonesty in word or deed, let such an one go out of the camp, and his pestilent breath no longer spread contagion among our youth. No man who loves his country should shrink from her side when she groans with raging distempers. Let every Christian man stand in his place, rebuke every dishonest practice, scorn a political as well as a personal lie, and refuse with in- dignation to be insulted by tlie solicitation of an im- moral man. Let good men of all parties require hon- TWELVE CAUSES OF DISHONESTY. 41 esty, integrity, veracity, and morality in politics, and there, as powerfully as anywliere else, the requisitions of public sentiment will ultimately be felt. 9. A corrupt public sentiment produces dishonesty. A public sentiment in which dishonesty is not disgrace- ful, in which bad men are respectable, are trusted, are honored, are exalted, is a curse to the young. The fever of speculation, the universal derangement of busi- ness, the growing laxness of morals, is, to an alarming extent, introducing such a state of things. Men of no- torious immorality, whose dishonesty is flagrant, whose private habits would disgrace the ditch, are powerful and popular. I have seen a man stained with every sin except those which required courage; into whose head I do not think a pure thought has entered for forty years, in whose heart an honorable feeling would droop for very loneliness ; — in evil he was ripe and rotten; hoary and depraved in deed, in word, in his present life and in all his past ; evil when by himself, and viler among men ; corrupting to the young ; to domestic fidelity a recreant, to common honor a traitor, to honesty an outlaw, to religion a hypocrite; base in all that is worthy of man, and accomplished in what- ever is disgraceful ; and yet this wretch could go where he would, enter good men's dwellings and purloin their votes. Men would curse him, yet obey him ; hate him, and assist him ; warn their sons against him, and lead them to the polls for him. A public sentiment which produces ignominious knaves cannot breed hon- est men. Any calamity, civil or commercial, which checks the administration of justice between man and man, is ruin- 42 LECTUKES TO YOUNG MEN. ous to honesty. The violent fluctuations of business cover tlie ground with rubbish over whicli men stumble, and fill the air with dust in which all the shapes of honesty appear distorted. Men are thrown upon un- usual expedients, dishonesties are unobserved ; those who have been reckless and profuse stave off the legiti- mate fruits of their folly by desperate shifts. We have not yet emerged from a period in which debts were in- secure, the debtor legally protected against the rights of the creditor ; taxes laid, not by the requirements of justice, but for political effect, and lowered to a dishon- est insufficiency, and when thus diminished, not col- lected ; the citizens resisting their own officers, officers resigning at the bidding of the electors, the laws of property paralyzed, bankrupt laws built up, and stay- laws unconstitutionally enacted, upon which the courts look with aversion, yet fear to deny them, lest the wild- ness of popular opinion should roll back disdainfully upon the bench, to despoil its dignity and prostrate its power. General suffering has made us tolerant of gen- eral dishonesty ; and the gloom of our commercial dis- aster threatens to become the pall of our morals. If the shocking stupidity of the public mind to atro- cious dishonesties is not aroused, if good men do not bestir themselves to drag the young from this foul sor- cery, if the relaxed bands of honesty are not tightened and conscience intoned to a severer morality, our night is at hand, our midnight not far off. Woe to that guilty people who sit down upon broken laws, and wealth saved by injustice ! Woe to a generation fed upon the bread of fraud, whose children's inheritance shall be a perpetual memento of tlieir fathers' unright- TWELVE CAUSES OF DISHONESTY. 43 eousness ; to whom dishonesty shall be made pleasant by association with the revered memories of father, brother, and friend ! But when a whole people, united by a common disre- gard of justice, conspire to defraud public creditors; and States vie with States in an infamous repudiation of just debts, by open or sinister methods ; and nations ex- ert their sovereignty to protect and dignify the knavery of a Commonwealth, — then the confusion of domes- tic affairs has bred a fiend before whose flight honor fades away, and under whose feet the sanctity of truth and the religion of solemn compacts are stamped down and ground into the dirt. Keed we ask the causes of growing dishonesty among the young, and the increas- ing untrustworthiness of all agents, when States are seen clothed with the panoply of dishonesty, and na- tions put on fraud for their garments ? Absconding agents, swindling schemes, and defalca- tions, occurring in such melancholy abundance, have at length ceased to be wonders, and rank with the com- mon accidents of fire and flood. The budget of each week is incomplete without its mob and runaway cash- ier, its duel and defaulter ; and as waves which roll to the shore are lost in those which follow on, so the villanies of each week obliterate the record of the last. The mania of dislionesty cannot arise from local causes ; it is the result of disease in the whole commu- nity, an eruption betokening foulness of the blood, blotches symptomatic of a disordered system. 10. Financial agents are especially liable to the temptations of dishonesty. Safe merchants and vision- ary schemers, sagacious adventurers and rash specu- 44 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. lators, frugal beginners and retired millionnaires, are constantly around them. Every word, every act, every entry, every letter, suggests only wealth, — its germ, its bud, its blossom, its golden harvest. Its brilliance dazzles the sight, its seductions stir the appetites, its power fires the ambition, and the soul concentrates its energies to obtain wealth, as life's highest and only joy. Besides the influence of such associations, direct deal- ing in money as a commodity has a peculiar effect upon the heart. There is no property between it and the mind, no medium to mellow its light. The mind is diverted and refreshed by no thoughts upon the quality of soils, the durability of structures, the advantages of sites, the beauty of fabrics ; it is not invigorated by the necessity of labor and ingenuity which the mechanic feels, by the invention of the artisan, or the taste of the artist. The whole attention falls directly upon naked money. The hourly sight of it whets the appe- tite, and sharpens it to avarice. Thus with an intense regard of riches steals in also the miser's relish of coin, — that insatiate gazing and fondling, by which seduc- tive metal wins to itself all the blandishments of love. Those who mean to be rich often begin by imitating the expensive courses of those who are rich. They are also tempted to venture, before they have means of their own, in brilliant speculations. How can a young cashier pay the drafts of his illicit pleasures, or procure the seed for the harvest of speculation, out of his nar- row salary ? Here first begins to work the leaven of death. The mind wanders in dreams of gain ; it broods over projects of unlawful riches, stealthily at first, and then with less reserve ; at last it boldly meditates the TWELVE CAUSES OF DISHONESTY. 45 possibility of being dishonest and safe. Wlien a man can seriously reflect upon dishonesty as a possible and profitable thing, he is already deeply dishonest. To a mind so tainted will flock stories of consummate craft, of effective knavery, of fraud covered by its brilliant success. At times the mind shrinks from its own thoughts, and trembles to look down the giddy cliff on whose edge they poise, or over which they fling them- selves like sporting sea-birds. But these imaginations will not be driven from the heart where they have once nested. They haunt a man's business, visit him in dreams, and, vampire-like, fan the slumbers of the victim whom they will destroy. In some feverish hour, vibrating between conscience and avarice, the man staggers to a compromise. To satisfy his con- science he refuses to steal ; and to gratify his avarice, he horrows the funds, not openly, not of owners, not from men, but from the till, the safe, the vault ! He resolves to restore the money before discovery can ensue, and pocket the profits. Meanwhile, false entries are made, perjured oaths are sworn, forged papers are filed. His expenses gTow profuse, and men wonder from what fountain so copious a stream can flow. Let us stop here to survey his condition. He flour- ishes, is called prosperous, thinks himself safe. Is he safe or honest? He has stolen, and embarked the amount upon a sea over which wander perpetual storms, where wreck is the common fate, and escape the acci- dent ; and now all his chance for the semblance of hon- esty is staked upon the return of his embezzlements from among the sands, the rocks and currents, the winds and waves and darkness, of tumultuous speculation. 46 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. At length dawns the day of discovery. His guilty dreams have long foretokened it. As he confronts the disgrace almost face to face, how changed is the hid- eous aspect of his deed from that fair face of promise with which it tempted him ! Conscience and honor and plain honesty, which left him when they could not restrain, now come back to sharj^enhis anguish. Over- awed by the prospect of open shame, of his wife's dis- grace and his children's beggary, he cows down, and slinks out of life a frantic suicide. Some there be, however, less supple to shame. They meet their fate with cool impudence, defy their em- ployers, brave the court, and too often with success. The delusion of the public mind or the confusion of affairs is such, that, while petty culprits are tumbled into prison, a cool, calculating, and immense scoundrel is pitied, dandled, and nursed by a sympathizing com- munity. In the broad road slanting to the rogue's re- treat are seen the officer of the bank, the agent of the State, the officer of the church, in indiscriminate haste, outrunning a lazy justice, and bearing off the gains of astounding frauds. Avarice and pleasure seem to have dissolved the conscience. It is a day of troiMc and of imyUxity from the Lord. We tremble to think that our children must leave the covert of the family, and go out upon that dark and yesty sea, from whose wrath so many wrecks are cast up at our feet. Of one thing I am certain ; if the Church of Christ is silent to such deeds, and makes her altar a refuge to such dislionesty, the day is coming when she shall have no altar, the light shall go out from her candlestick, her walls shall be desolate, and the fox look out at her windows. TWELVE CAUSES OF DISHONESTY. 47 11. ExECUTR^E CLEMENCY, by its frequency, has been a temptation to dishonesty. Who will fear to be a culprit when a legal sentence is the argument of pity and the prelude of pardon ? What can the community expect but growing dishonesty, when juries connive at acquittals, and judges condemn only to petition a par- don ; when honest men and officers fly before a mob ; when jails are besieged and threatened, if felons are not relinquished ; when the Executive, consulting the spirit of the community, receives the demands of the mob, and humbly complies, throwing down the fences of the law, that base rioters may walk, unimpeded, to their work of vengeance, or unjust mercy ? A sickly sentimentality too often enervates the administration of justice ; and the pardoning power becomes the master-key to let out unwashed, unrepentant criminals. They have fleeced us, robbed us, and are ulcerous sores to the body politic ; yet our heart turns to water over their merited pun- ishment. A fine young fellow, by accident, writes another's name for his own ; by a mistake equally un- fortunate he presents it at the bank ; innocently draws out the large amount ; generously spends a part, and absent-mindedly hides the rest. Hard-hearted ^^^:etches there are who would punish him for this ! Young men, admiring the neatness of the affair, pity his misfortune, and curse a stupid jury that knew no better than to send to a penitentiary him whose skill deserved a cash- iership. He goes to his cell, the pity of a whole metrop- olis. Bulletins from Sing-Sing inform us daily w^hat Edwards is doing, as if he were Napoleon at St. Helena. At length, pardoned, he will go forth again to a re- nowned liberty! 48 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. If there be one way quicker than another, by which the Executive shall assist crime and our laws foster it, it is that course which assures every dishonest man that it is easy to defraud, easy to avoid arrest, easy to escape punishment, and easiest of all to obtain a pardon. 12. Commercial speculations are prolific of dis- honesty. Speculation is the risking of capital in enter- prises greater than we can control, or in enterprises whose elements are not at all calculable. All calcula- tions of the future are uncertain ; but those which are based upon long experience approximate certainty, while those which are drawn by sagacity from probable events are notoriously unsafe. Unless, however, some venture, we shall forever tread an old and dull path ; therefore enterprise is allowed to pioneer new ways. The safe enterpriser explores cautiously, ventures at first a little, and increases the venture with the ratio of experience. A speculator looks out upon the new region as upon a far-away landscape, whose features are softened to beauty by distance ; upon a liope he stakes that which, if it wins, will make him, and if it loses, will ruin him. When the alternatives are victory or utter destruction, a battle may sometimes still be necessary. But com- merce has no such alternatives ; only speculation pro- ceeds upon them. If the capital is borrowed, it is as dishonest, upon such ventures, to risk as to lose it. Should a man bor- row a noble steed and ride among incitements which he knew would rouse up his fiery spirit to an uncon- trollable height, and, borne away with wild speed, be plunged over a precipice, his destruction might excite our pity, but could not alter our opinion of his dishon- TWELVE CAUSES OF DISHOXESTY. 49 esty. He borrowed property, and endangered it where he knew that it would be uncontrollable. If the cajoital be one's own, it can scarcely be risked and lost without the ruin of other men. Xo man could blow up his store in a compact street, and destroy only his own. 'Men of business are, like threads of a fabric, woven together, and subject, to a great extent, to a com- mon fate of prosperity or adversity. I have no right to cut off my hand ; I defraud myself, my family, the community, and God ; for all these have an interest in that hand. Neither has a man the right to throw away his property. He defrauds himself, his family, the com- munity in which he dwells ; for all these have an inter- est in that property. If waste is dishonesty, then every risk, in proportion as it approaches it, is dishonest. To venture without that foresight which experience gives is wrong ; and if we cannot foresee, then we must not venture. Scheming speculation demoralizes honesty and almost necessitates dishonesty. He who puts his own inter- ests to rash ventures will scarcely do better for others. The speculator regards the weightiest affair as only a splendid game. Indeed, a speculator on the ex- change and a gambler at his table follow one voca- tion, only with different instruments. One employs cards or dice, the other property. The one can no more foresee the result of his schemes than the other what spots will come up on his dice ; the calcula- tions of both are only the chances of luck. Both burn with unhealthy excitement ; both are avaricious of gains, but careless of what they win ; both depend more upon fortune than skill ; they have a common dis- 3 D 50 LECTUKES TO YOUNG MEN. taste for labor ; with each, right and wrong are only the accidents of a game ; neither would scruple in any hour to set his whole being on the edge of ruin, and, going over, to pull down, if possible, a hundred others. The wreck of such men leaves them with a drunk- ard's appetite and a fiend's desperation. The revulsion from extravagant hopes to a certainty of midnight darkness ; the sensations of poverty, to him who was in fancy just stepping upon a princely estate ; the humiliation of gleaning for cents, where he has been profuse of dollars ; the chagrin of seeing old competitors now above him, grinning down upon his poverty a malignant triumph ; the pity of pitiful men, and the neglect of such as should have been his friends, — and who were, while the sunshine lay upon his path, all these things, like so many strong winds, sweep across the soul so that it cannot rest in the cheerless tranquil- lity of honesty, but casts up mire and dirt. How stately the balloon rises and sails over continents, as over petty landscapes ! The slightest slit in its frail covering sends it tumbling down, swaying widely, whirling and pitching hither and thither, until it plunges into some dark glen, out of the path of honest men, and too shat- tered to tempt even a robber. So have we seen a thou- sand men pitched down ; so now in a thousand places may their wrecks be seen. But still other balloons are framing, and the air is full of victim-venturers. If our young men are introduced to life with distaste for safe ways because the sure profits are slow ; if the opinion becomes prevalent that all business is great only as it tends to the uncertain, the extravagant, and the romantic, then we may stay our hand at once, nor waste twel-^t: causes of dishoxesty. 51 labor in absurd expostulations of honesty. I had as lief preach humanity to a battle of eagles as to urge honesty and integrity upon those wlio have determined to be rich, and to gain it by gambling stakes and mad- men's ventures. All the bankruptcies of commerce are harmless com- pared with a bankruptcy of public morals. Should the Atlantic Ocean break over our shores, and roll sheer across to the Pacific, sweeping every vestige of cultiva- tion and burying our wealth, it would be a mercy, com- pared to that ocean-deluge of dishonesty and crime wliich, sweeping over the whole land, has spared our wealth and taken our virtue. AVhat are cornfields and vineyards, what are stores and manufactures, and what are gold and silver and all the precious commodities of the earth, among beasts ? — and what are men, bereft of conscience and honor, but beasts ? We will fore^et those things which are behmd, and hope a more cheerful future. "We turn to you, youxg MEX ! All good men, all patriots, turn to watch your advance upon the stage, and to implore you to be worthy of yourselves and of your revered ancestry. 0, ye favored of Heaven ! with a free land, a noble inheri- tance of wise laws, and a prodigality of wealth in pros- pect, advance to your possessions ! May you settle down, as did Israel of old, a people of God in a prom- ised and protected land, true to yourselves, true to your country, and true to your God ! ^ v» ^ ^^ ^ r-^, r ^ * (^ .^/* igf? /^ /.'\ _^ , V -^ ^ »,</ /f- •4-:^^ W^^^^'^a^'^^.^ir^ ^ LECTUEE III. SIX WARNINGS. ** The generation of the upright shall be blessed, wealth AND riches shall BE IN HIS HOUSE." — Ps. Cxii. 2, 3. **He that GETTETH riches, and NOT BY RIGHT, SHALL LEAVE THEM IN THE MIDST OF HIS DAYS, AND AT THE END SHALL BE A FOOL." — Jer. xvii. 11. HEIST jnstly obtained and rationally used, riches are called a gift of God, an evidence of his favor, and a great reward. When gathered unjustly and corruptly used, wealth is pronounced a canker, a rust, a fire, a curse. There is no contradiction, then, when the Bible persuades to industry and integrity by a promise of riches, and then dissuades from wealth as a terrible thing, destroy- ing soul and body. Blessings are vindictive to abusers, and kind to rightful users ; they serve us, or rule us. Eire warms our dwelling, or consumes it. Steam serves man, and also destroys him. Iron, in the plow, the sickle, the house, the ship, is indispensable. The dirk, the assassin's knife, the cruel sword, and the spear are iron also. The constitution of man and of society alike evinces the design of God. Both are made to be happier by the possession of riches ; their full development and perfection are dependent, to a large extent, upon wealth. SIX WARNINGS. 53 Without it, there can be neither books nor implements, neither commerce nor arts, neither towns nor cities. It is a folly to denounce that, a love of which God has placed in man by a constitutional faculty, that with which he has associated high grades of happiness, that which has motives touching every faculty of the mind. Wealth is an artist, — by its patronage men are encour- aged to paint, to carve, to design, to build, and adorn ; a MASTER-MECHANIC, — and inspires man to invent, to discover, to apply, to forge, and to fashion ; a hus- bandman, — and under its influence men rear the flock, till the earth, plant the vineyard, the field, the orchard, and the garden ; a manufacturer, — and teaches men to card, to spin, to weave, to color, and dress all useful fabrics ; a merchant, — and sends forth ships, and fills warehouses with their returning cargoes gathered from every zone. It is the scholar's patron ; sustains his leisure, rewards his labor, builds the college, and gathers the library. Is a man weak ? — he can buy the strong. Is he ignorant ? — the learned will serve his wealth. Is he rude of speech ? — he may procure the advocacy of the eloquent. The rich cannot buy honor, but honorable places they can ; they cannot purchase nobility, but they may its titles. Money cannot buy freshness of heart, but it can ei-ery luxury wliich tempts to enjoy- ment. Laws are its body-guard, and no earthly power may safely defy it, either while running in the swift channels of commerce, or reposing in the reservoirs of ancient families. Here is a wonderful thing, that an inert metal, which neither thinks nor feels nor stirs, can set the whole world to thinking, planning, run- 54 LECTUEES TO YOUNG MEN. uing, digging, fashioning, and drives on the sweaty mass with never-ending labors ! Avarice seeks gold, not to build or buy therewith, not to clothe or feed itself, not to make it an instru- ment of wisdom, of sldll, of friendship, or religion. Avarice seeks it to heap it up ; to walk around the pile and gloat upon it ; to fondle and court, to kiss and hug the darhng stuff to the end of life with the homage of idolatry. Pride seeks it ; for it gives power and place and titles, and exalts its possessor above his fellows. To be a thread in the fabric of life, just like any other thread, hoisted up and down by the treadle, played across by the shuttle, and woven tightly into the piece, — this may suit humility, but not pride. Vanity seeks it ; what else can give it costly cloth- ing and rare ornaments and stately dwellings and showy equipage, and attract admiring eyes to its gaudy colors and costly jewels ? Taste seeks it ; because by it may be had whatever is beautiful or refining or instructive. What leisure has poverty for study, and how can it collect books^ manuscripts, pictures, statues, coins, or curiosities ? Love seeks it ; to build a home full of delights for father, wife, or child : and, wisest of all, Eeligion seeks it ; to make it the messenger and servant of benevolence to want, to suffering, and to ignorance. What a sight does the busy world present, as of a great workshop, where hope and fear, love and pride, and lust and pleasure and avarice, separate or in part- nership, drive on the universal race for wealth : delving SIX WARNINGS. 55 in the mine, digging in the earth, sweltering at the forge, plying the shuttle, plowing the waters ; in houses, in shops, in stores, on the mountain-side or in the val- ley ; by skill, by labor, by thought, by craft, by force, by traffic ; — all men, in all places, by all labors, fair and unfair, the world around, busy, busy ; ever searching for wealth, that wealth may supply their pleasures. As every taste and inclination may receive its grati- fication through riches, the universal and often fierce pursuit of it arises, not from the single impulse of avarice, but from the impulse of the whole mind ; and on this very account its pursuits should be more exactly regulated. Let me set up a warning over against the special dangers which lie along the road to riches. I. I warn you against thinking that riches nrxessarily confer happiness, and poverty unhappiness. Do not begin life supposing that you shall be heart-rich when you are purse-rich. A man's happiness depends pri- marily upon his disposition : if that be good, riches will bring pleasure ; but only vexation, if that be evil. To lavish money upon shining trifles, to make an idol of one's self for fools to gaze at, to rear mansions beyond our wants, to garnish them for display and not for use, to chatter through the heartless rounds of pleasure, to lounge, to gape, to simper and giggle, — can wealth make vanity happy by such folly ? If wealth descends upon AVARICE, does it confer happiness ? It blights the heart, as autumnal fires ravage the prairies. The eye glows with greedy cunning, conscience shrivels, the light of love goes out, and the wretch moves amidst his coin no better, no happier, than a loathsome reptile in a mine of gold. A dreary fire of self-love burns in the bosom 56 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. of the avaricious rich, as a hermit's flame in a ruined temple of the desert. The fire is kindled for no deity, and is odorous with no incense, but only warms the shivering anchorite. Wealth will do little for lust but to hasten its cor- ruption. There is no more happiness in a foul heart than there is health in a pestilent morass. Satisfaction is not made out of such stuft' as fighting carousals, ob- scene revelry, and midnight orgies. An alligator, gor- ging or swollen with surfeit and basking in the sun, has the same happiness which riches bring to the man who eats to gluttony, drinks to drunkenness, and sleeps to stupidity. But riches indeed bless that heart whose almoner is benevolence. If the taste is refined, if the affections are pure, if conscience is honest, if charity listens to the needy and generosity relieves them ; if the public-spirited hand fosters all that embellishes and all that ennobles society, — then is the rich man happy. On the other hand, do not suppose that poverty is a waste and howling wilderness. There is a poverty of vice, mean, loathsome, covered with all the sores of depravity. There is a poverty of indolence, where vir- tues sleep, and passions fret and bicker. There is a poverty which despondency makes, — a deep dungeon, in which the victim wears hopeless chains. May God save you from that ! There is a spiteful and venomous poverty, in which mean and cankered hearts, repairing none of their own losses, spit at others' prosperity, and curse the rich, themselves doubly cursed by their own hearts. But there is a contented poverty, in which industry SIX WARNINGS. 57 and peace rule ; and a joyful hope, which looks out into another world where riches shall neither fly nor fade. This poverty may possess an independent mind, a heart ambitious of usefulness, a hand quick to sow the seed of other men's happiness, and find its own joy in their enjoyment. If a serene age finds you in such poverty, it is such a wilderness, if it be a wilderness, as that in which God led his chosen people, and on which he rained every day a heavenly manna. If God open to your feet the way to wealth, enter it cheerfully : but remember that riches will bless or curse you, as your own heart determines. But if, circum- scribed by necessity, you are still indigent, after all your industry, do not scorn poverty. There is often in the hut more dignity than in the palace ; more satisfac- tion in the poor man's scanty fare than in the rich man's satiety. II.- Men are warned in the Bible against making HASTE TO BE RICH. He that liastctli to he rich hath an evil eye, and consider etli ivot that 'povertij shcdl come upon him. This is spoken, not of the alacrity of enterprise, but of the precipitancy of avarice. That is an evil eye which leads a man into trouble by incorrect vision. "When a man seeks to prosper by crafty tricks instead of careful industry ; when a man's inordinate covetous- ness pushes him across all lines of honesty that he may sooner clutch the prize; when gambling speculation would reap where it had not strewn ; when men gain riches by crimes, — there is an evil eye, which guides them tlirough a specious prosperity to inevitaljle ruin. So dependent is success upon patient industry, that he who seeks it otherwise tempts his own ruin. A young 3* 68 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. lawyer, unwilling to wait for that practice which re- wards a good reputation, or unwilling to earn that repu- tation by severe application, rushes through all the dirty paths of chicane to a hasty prosperity ; and he rushes out of it by the dirtier paths of discovered villany. A young politician, scarcely waiting till the law allows his majority, sturdily legs for that popularity which he should have patiently earned. In the ferocious conflicts of political life, cunning, intrigue, falsehood, slander, vituperative violence, at first sustain his pretensions, and at last demolish them. It is thus in all tlie ways of traffic, in all the arts and trades. That prosperity wdiich grows like the mushroom is as poisonous as the mushroom. Few men are destroyed ; but many destroy themselves. When God sends wealth to hless men he sends it gradually, like a gentle rain. When God sends riches to punish men, they come tumultuously, like a roaring torrent, tearing up landmarks and sweeping all before them in promiscuous ruin. Almost every evil which environs the path to wealth springs from that criminal haste which substitutes adroitness for industry, and trick for toil. III. Let me warn you against covetousness. Tliou shall not covet is the law by which God sought to bless a favorite people. Covetousness is greediness of money. The Bible meets it with significant ivocs,^ by God's hatred,^- by solemn waitings, \ by denunciations,^ by exclusion from heciven.\ This pecuniary gluttony comes upon the competitors for wealth insidiously. At first, * Hab. ii. 9. + Ps. x. 3. % Luke xii. 15. § 1 Cor. v. 10, 11 ; Isa. vii. 17. II 1 Cor. vi. 10. SIX WARNINGS. 59 business is only a means of paying for our pleasures. Vanity soon whets the appetite for money, to sustain her parade and competition, to gratify her piques and jealousies. Pride throws in fuel for a brighter flame. Vindictive hatreds often augment the passion, until the whole soul glows as a fervid furnace, and the body is driven as a boat whose ponderous engine trembles with the utmost energy of steam. Covetousness is improfitable. It defeats its own pur- poses. It breeds restless daring where it is dangerous to venture. It works the mind to fever, so that its judgments are not cool nor its calculations calm. Greed of money is like fire ; the more fuel it has, the hotter it burns. Everything conspires to intensify the heat. Loss excites by desperation, and gain by ex- hilaration. When there is fever in the blood, there is fire on the brain ; and courage turns to rashness, and rashness runs to ruin. Covetousness breeds misery. The sight of houses better than our own, of dress beyond our means, of jew- els costlier than we may wear, of stately equipage and rare curiosities beyond our reach, — these hatch the viper brood of covetous thoughts ; vexing the poor, who would be rich ; tormentins^ the rich, who would be richer. The covetous man pines to see pleasure ; is sad in the presence of cheerfulness ; and the joy of the world is his sorrow, because all the happiness of others is not his. I do not wonder that God cibhors * him. He inspects his heart, as he would a cave full of noisome birds or a nest of rattling reptiles, and loathes the sight of its crawling tenants. To the covetous man life is a * Ps. X. 3. 60 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. nightmare, and God lets liim wrestle with it as best he may. Mammon might build its palace on such a heart, and Pleasure bring all its revelry there, and Honor all its garlands, — it would be like pleasures in a sepulchre and garlands on a tomb. The creed of the greedy man is brief and consistent ; and, unlike other creeds, is both subscribed and believed. The chief end of man is to glorify gold and enjoy it for- ever : life is a time afforded, man to grow rich in : death, the winding up of sjjeculations : heaven, a mart with golden streets : hell, a place where shiftless men are pun- ished with everlasting poverty. God searched among the beasts for a fit emblem of contempt to describe the end of a covetous prince : He shall he huricd with the hurial of an ass, draivn and cast forth hcyond the gates of Jerusalem.'^ He whose heart is turned to greediness, who sweats through life under the load of labor only to heap up money, and dies with- out private usefulness or a record of public service, is no better, in God's estimation, than a pack-horse, a mule, an ass ; a creature for burdens, to be beaten and worked and killed, and dragged off by another like him, abandoned to the birds and forgotten. He is buried with the burial of an ass ! This is the miser's epitaph, — and yours, young man ! if you earn it by covetousness ! IV. I warn you against selfishness. Of riches it is written : There is no good in them hnt for a man to re- joice and to do good in his life. If men absorb their property, it parclies the heart so that it will not give forth blossoms and fruits, but only thorns and thistles. * Jer. xxii, 19. SIX WAEXINGS. 61 If men radiate and reflect upon others some rays of the prosperity which shines upon themselves, wealth is not only harmless, but full of advantage. The thoroughfares of wealth are crowded by a throng who jostle and thrust and conflict, like men in the tumult of a battle. The rules which crafty old men breathe into the ears of the young are full of selfisli wisdom, teaching them that the chief end of man is to harvest, to husband, and to hoard. Their life is made obedient to a scale of preferences graded from a sordid experience, a scale which has penury for one extreme, and parsimony for the other ; and the virtues are ranked between them as they are relatively fruitful in physical thrift. Every crevice of the heart is calked with cos- tive maxims, so that no precious drop of wealth may leak out through inadvertent generosities. Indeed, generosity and all its company are thought to be little better than pilfering picklocks, against whose wiles the heart is prepared, like a coin-vault, with iron-clenched walls of stone and impenetrable doors. Mercy, pity, and sympathy are vagrant fowls ; and that they may not scale the fence between a man and his neio'h- bors, their wings are clipped by the miser's master- maxim. Charity begins at home. It certainly stays there. The habit of regarding men as dishonest rivals dries up, also, the kindlier feelings. A shrewd trafficker must watch his fellows, be suspicious of their proffers, vigilant of their movements, and jealous of their pledges. The world's way is a very crooked way, and a very guileful one. Its travelers creep by stealth, or walk craftily, or glide in concealments, or appear in spe- 62 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. cious guises. He wlio stands out watching among men, to pluck his advantage from their hands, or to lose it by their wiles, comes at length to regard all men as either enemies or instruments. Of course he thinks it fair to strip an enemy, and just as fair to use an in- strument. Men are no more to him than bales, boxes, or goods, — mere matters of traffic. If he ever relaxes his commercial rigidity to indulge in the fictions of poetry, it is when, perhaps on Sundays or at a funeral, he talks quite prettily about friendship and generosity and philanthropy. The tightest ship may leak in a storm, and an unbartered penny may escape from this man when the surprise of the solicitation gives no time for thought. The heart cannot wholly petrify without some honest revulsions. Opiates are administered to it. This busi- ness man tells his heart that it is beset by unscrupulous enemies, that beneficent virtues are doors to let them in, that liberality is bread given to one's foes, and selfishness only self-defense. At the same time he enriches the future with generous promises. While he is getting rich he cannot afford to be liberal ; but when once he is rich, ah ! how liberal he means to be ! — as though habits could be unbuckled like a girdle, and were not rather steel bands riveted, defying the edge of any man's resolution, and clasping the heart with invincible servitude ! Thorough selfishness destroys or paralyzes enjoyment. A heart made selfish by the contest for wealth is like a citadel stormed in war. The banner of victory waves over dilapidated walls, desolate chambers, and magazines riddled with artillery. Men, covered with sweat and SIX WARNINGS. 63 begrimed with toil, expect to find joy in a heart reduced by selfishness to a smouldering heap of ruins. I warn every aspirant for wealth against the infernal canker of selfishness. It will eat out of the heart with the fire of hell, or bake it harder than a stone. The heart of avaricious old age stands like a bare rock in a bleak wilderness, and there is no rod of authority, nor incantation of pleasure, which can draw from it one crystal drop to quench the raging thirst for satisfaction. But listen not to my words alone ; hear the solemn voice of God, pronouncing doom upon the selfish : Your riches are corrupted^ and your garments arc moth-eaten. Your gold and silver is cankered ; and the rust of them shall he a tvitness against you, and shall eat your flesh as it were fire.* y. I warn you against seeking wealth by covert DISHONESTY. The everlasting plea of petty fraud or open dishonesty is its necessity or 'profitahleness. It is neither necessary nor profitable. The hope is a deception and the excuse a lie. The severity of com- petition affords no reason for dishonesty in word or deed. Competition is fair, but not all methods of competition. A mechanic may compete with a mechanic by rising earlier, by greater industry, by greater skill, more punc- tuality, greater thoroughness, by employing better ma- terials, by a more scrupulous fidehty to promises, and by faciHty in accommodation. A merchant may study to excel competitors by a better selection of goods, by more obliging manners, by more rigid honesty, by a better knowledge of the market, by better taste in the arrangement of his goods. Industry, honesty, Idnd- * James v. 2, 3. 64 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. ness, taste, genius, and skill are the only materials of all rightful competition. But whenever you have exerted all your knowledge, all your skill, all your industry, with long-continued patience and without success, then it is clear, not that you may proceed to employ trick and cunning, but that you must stop. God has put before you a bound which no man may overleap. There may be the appearance of gain on the knavish side of the wall of honor. Traps are always baited with food sweet to the taste of the intended victim ; and Satan is too crafty a trapper not to scatter the pitfall of dishonesty with some shining particles of gold. But wdiat if fraud were necessary to permanent suc- cess, will you take success upon such terms ? I per- ceive, too often, that young men regard the argument as ended when they prove to themselves that they can- not be rich ivithout guile. Very well ; then be poor. But if you prefer money to honor, you may well swear fidelity to the villain's law ! If it is not base and de- testable to gain by equivocation, neither is it by lying ; and if not by lying, neither is it by stealing ; and if not by stealing, neither by robbery nor murder. Will you tolerate the loss of honor and honesty for the sake of profit ? For exactly this Judas betrayed Christ, and Arnold his country. Because it is the only way to gain some pleasure, may a wife yield her honor, a poli- tician sell himself, a statesman barter his counsel, a judge take bribes, a juryman forswear himself, or a witness commit perjury ? Then virtues are market- able commodities, and may be hung up, like meat in the sliambles, or sold at auction to the hidiest bidder. SIX WARNINGS. 65 Who can afford a victory gained by a defeat of his virtue ? What pros]3erity can compensate the plunder- ing of a man's heart ? A good oiamc is rather to be chosen than great riches : sooner or later every man will find it so. With what dismay would Esau have sorrowed for a lost birthright, had he lost also the pitiful mess of pot- tage for which he sold it ? With what double despair would Judas have clutched at death, if he had not ob- tained even the thirty pieces of silver which were to pay his infamy ? And with what utter confusion will all dishonest men, who were learning of the Devil to defraud other men, find, at length, that he was giving his most finished lesson of deception, — by cheatiog them, and making poverty and disgrace the only fruit of the lies and frauds which were framed for profit ! Getting treasure hy a lying tongue is a vanity tossed to and fro of them that seek death. Men have only looked upon the hcginning of a career when they pronounce upon the profitableness of dis- honesty. Many a ship goes gayly out of harbor which never returns again. That only is a good voyage which brings home the richly freighted ship, God explicitly declares that an inevitable curse of dishonesty shall fall upon the criminal himself, or upon his children : He that hy usury and unjust gain incrcasetli his sid)stance, he shall gather it for him that luill pity the 2)oor. His children are far from safety, and they are crushed in the gate. Neither is there any to deliver them : the rohher swalloiueth up their suhstance. Iniquities, whose end is dark as midnight, are per- mitted to open bright as the morning ; the most poi- 66 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. sonous bud unfolds witli brilliant colors. So the threshold of perdition is burnished till it glows like the gate of paradise. There is a ivaij which seemeth right unto a man, hut the ends thereof are the ways of death. This is dishonesty described to the life. At first you look down upon a smooth and verdant path covered w^ith flowers, perfumed with odors, and overhung with fruits and grateful shade. Its long perspective is illu- sive ; for it ends quickly in a precipice, over which you pitch into irretrievable ruin. For the sources of this inevitable disaster we need look no further than the effect of dishonesty upon a man's own mind. The difference between cunning and wisdom is the difference between acting by the certain and immutable laws of nature and acting by the shifts of temporary expedients. An honest man puts his prosx3erity upon the broad current of those laws which govern the world. A crafty man means to pry between them, to steer across them, to take advantage of them. An honest man steers by God's chart ; and a dishonest man by his own. Which is the most liable to perplex- ities and fatal mistakes of judgment ? "Wisdom steadily ripens to the end ; cunning is worm-bitten, and soon drops from the tree. I could repeat the names of many men (every village has such, and they swarm in cities) who are skillful, in- defatigable, but audaciously dishonest ; and for a time they seemed going straight forward to the realm of wealth. I never knew a single one to avoid ultimate ruin. Men who act under dishonest passions are like men riding fierce horses. It is not always with the rider when or where he shall stop. If for his sake the SIX WAENDsGS. 67 steed dashes wildly on while the road is smooth, so, turning suddenly into a rough and dangerous way, the rider must go madly forward for the steed's sake, — now chafed, his mettle up, his eye afire, and beast and bur- den like a bolt speeding through the air, until some bound or sudden fall tumble both to the ground, a crushed and mangled mass. A man pursuing plain ends by honest means may be trouUcd on every side, yet not distressed ; 'j^erj^Uxed, hut not in despair ; persecuted, hut not forsaken ; cast down, hut not destroyed. But those that pursue their advan- tage by a round of dishonesties, lolienfear cometh as a desolation, and destruction as a luhirhcind, luhen distress and anguish come iqoon tliem, .... slicdl eat of the fruit of their own way, and he filled luith their own de- vices ; for the turning away of the simpile shall slay them, and the prosperity of fools shcdl destroy them. VI. The Bible Overflows with warnings to those who gain wealth by violent extortion or by any flagrant villany. Some men stealthily slip from under them the possessions of the poor. Some beguile the simple and heedless of their patrimony. Some tyrannize over ignorance, and extort from it its fair domains. Some steal away the senses and intoxicate the mind, the more readily and largely to clieat ; some set their traps in all the dark places of men's adversity, and prowl for wrecks all along the shores on which men's fortunes go to pieces. Men will take advantage of extreme misery to wTing it with more griping tortures, and compel it to the extremest sacrifices ; and stop only when no more can be borne by the sufferer, or nothing more extracted by the usurer. The earth is as full of avaricious mon- 68 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. sters as the tropical forests are of beasts of prey. But amid all the lions and tigers and hyenas is seen the stately bulk of three huge Behemoths. The first Behemoth is that incarnate fiend who navi- gates the ocean to traffic in human misery and freight with the groans and tears of agony. Distant shores are sought with cords and manacles, villages surprised with torch and sword, and the loathsome ship swal- lows what the sword and the fire have spared. By night and day the voyage speeds, and the storm spares wretches more relentless than itself The wind wafts and the sun lights the path for a ship whose log is writ- ten in blood. Hideous profits, dripping red, even at this hour, lure these infernal miscreants to their remorseless errands. The thirst of gold inspires such courage, skill, and cunning vigilance, that the thunders of four allied navies cannot sink the infamous fleet. What wonder ? Just such a Behemoth of rapacity stalks among us, and fattens on the blood of our sons. Men there are, who, without a pang or gleam of remorse, will coolly wait for character to rot, and health to sink, and means to melt, that they may suck up the last drop of the victim's blood. Our streets are full of reeling wretches whose bodies and manhood and souls have been crushed and put to the press, that monsters might wring out of them a wine for their infernal thirst. The agony of midnight massacre, the frenzy of the ship's dungeon, the living death of the middle passage, the wails of separation, and the dismal torpor of hopeless servitude, — are tliese found only in the piracy of the slave-trade ? They all are among us ! worse assassina- tions ! worse dragging to a prison-ship I worse groans SIX WARNINGS. 69 ringing from the fetid hold ! worse separations of fami- lies ! worse bondage of intemperate men, enslaved by that most inexorable of all taskmasters, sensual habit ! The third Behemoth is seen lurking among the In- dian savages, and bringing the arts of learning and the skill of civilization to aid in plundering the debauched barbarian. The cunning, murdering, scalping Indian is no match for the Christian white man. Compared with the midnight knavery of men reared in schools, rocked by religion, tempered and taught by the humane institutions of liberty and civilization, all the craft of the savage is twilight. Vast estates have been accumu- lated without having an honest farthing in them. Our Penitentiaries might be sent to school to the Treaty- grounds and Council-grounds. Smugglers and swindlers might humble themselves in the presence of Indian traders. All the crimes against property known to our laws flourish with unnatural vigor, and some unlmown to civilized villany. To swindle ignorance, to overreach simplicity, to lie without scruple to any extent, from mere implication down to perjury ; to tempt the savages to rob each other, and to receive their plunder ; to sell goods at incredible prices to the sober Indian, then to intoxicate him, and steal them all back by a sham bar- gain, to be sold again and stolen again; to employ falsehood, lust, threats, whiskey, and even the knife and the pistol ; in short, to consume the Indian's substance by every vice and crime possible to an imprincipled heart inflamed with an insatiable rapacity, unwatched by justice, and unrestrained by law, — this it is to be an Indian trader. I would rather inherit the bowels of Vesuvius, or make my bed in Etna, than own those 70 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. estates wliicli have been scalped off from human beings as the hunter strips a beaver of its fur. Of all these, of ALL who gain possessions by extortion and robbery, never let yourself be envious ! / was envious at the foolish, tuhen I saw the jprosperity of the wicked. Their eyes stand out luith fatness : they have more than heart could wish. Tliey are corrupt, and speak wickedly con- cerning oppression. They have set their mouth against the heaven, and their tongue walketh through the earth. When I sought to knoiv this, it was too painful for me, until I went into the sanctuary. Surely thou didst set them in slippery places ! thou castedst them down into de- struction as in a moment ! They are utterly consumed with te7'rors. As a dream ivhen one awakcth, so, Lord, when thou awakest, thou shalt despise their image ! I would not bear their heart who have so made money, were the world a solid globe of gold, and mine. I would not stand for them in the judgment, were every star of heaven a realm of riches, and mine. I would not walk with them the burning marl of hell, to bear their torment, and utter their groans, for the throne of God itself. Let us hear the conclusion of the whole matter. Eiches got by deceit cheat no man so much as the getter. Eiches bought with guile God will pay for with vengeance. Eiches got by fraud are dug out of one's own heart, and destroy the mine. Unjust riches curse the owner in getting, in keeping, in transmitting. They curse his children in their father's memory, in their own wasteful habits, in drawing around them all bad men to be their companions. Wliile I do not discourage your search for wealth, I SIX WARNINGS. 71 warn you that it is not a cruise upon level seas and un- der bland skies. You advance where ten thousand are broken in pieces before they reach the mart ; where those who reach it are worn out, by their labors, past enjoying their riches. You seek a land pleasant to the sight, but dangerous to the feet ; a land of fragrant winds, which lull to security ; of golden fruits which are poisonous ; of glorious hues, which dazzle and mislead. You may be rich and be pure ; but it will cost you a struggle. You may be rich and go to heaven ; but ten, doubtless, will sink beneath their riches, where one breaks through them to heaven. If you have entered this shining way, begin to look for snares and traps. Go not careless of your danger, and provoking it. See, on every side of you, how many there are who seal God's word with their blood : — They that will he rich fall into temptation and a snare, and into many foolish and hurtful lusts, ivhich droivn men in destruction and perditio7i. For the love of money is the root of all evil, vjhich, ivhile some have cov- eted after, they have erred from th& faith, and pierced themselves through with many sorrows. LECTUEE IV. PORTRAIT GALLERY. My son, if sinners entice thee, consent thou not." — Proverbs i. 10. E who is allured to embrace evil under some engaging form of beauty or seductive ap- pearance of good is enticed. A man is terii2:)ted to what he knows to be sinful ; he is enticed where the evil appears to be innocent. The enticer wins his way by bewildering the moral sense, setting false lights ahead of the imagination, painting disease with the hues of health, making impurity to glow like innocency, strewing the broad road with flow- ers, lulling its travelers with soothing music, hiding all its chasms, covering its pitfalls, and closing its long perspective with the mimic glow of paradise. The young are seldom tempted to outright wicked- ness ; evil conies to them as an enticement. The honest generosity and fresh heart of youth would revolt from open meanness and undisguised vice. The Adversary conforms his wiles to their nature. He tempts them to the basest deeds by beginning with innocent ones, gliding to more exceptionable, and, finally, to positively wicked ones. All our warnings, then, must be against the vernal beauty of vice. Its autumn and winter none PORTRAIT GALLERY. 73 wish. It is my purpose to describe the enticement of particular men upon the young. Every youth knows that there are dangerous men abroad who would injure him by lying, by slander, by overreaching and plundering him. From such they have little to fear, because they are upon their guard. Few imagine that they have anything to dread from those who have no designs against them ; yet such is the instinct of imitation, so insensibly does the example of men steal upon us and warp our conduct to their likeness, that the young often receive a deadly injury from men with whom they never spoke. As all bodies in nature give out or receive caloric until there is an equilibrium of temperature, so there is a radiation of character upon character. Our thoughts, our tastes, our emotions, our partialities, our prejudices, and, finally, our conduct and habits, are insensibly changed by the silent influence of men who never once directly tempted us, or even knew the effect which they produced. I shall draw for your inspection some of those dangerous men, whose open or silent enticement has availed against thousands, and will be exerted upon thousands more. I. The Wit. It is sometimes said by phlegmatic theologians that Christ never laughed, but often wept. I shall not quarrel with the assumption. I only say that men have within them a faculty of mirthfulness which God created. I suppose it was meant for use. Those who do not feel the impulsion of this faculty are not the ones to sit in judgment upon those who do. It would be very absurd for an owl in an ivy-bush to read lectures on optics to an eagle ; or for a mole to counsel a lynx on the sin of sharp-sightedness. He is di\dnely 4 74 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. N favored who may trace a silver vein in all the affairs of life, see sparkles of light in the gloomiest scenes, and absolute radiance in those which are bright. There are in the clouds ten thousand inimitable forms and hues to be found nowhere else ; there are in plants and trees beautiful shapes and endless varieties of color; there are in flowers minute pencilings of exquisite shade ; in fruits a delicate bloom, — like a veil, making the face of beauty more beautiful ; sporting among the trees and upon the flowers are tiny insects, gems which glow like living diamonds. Ten thousand eyes stare full npon these things and see nothing ; and yet thus the Divine Artist has finished his matchless work. Thus, too, upon all the labors of life, the events of each hour, the course of good or evil ; upon each action, or word, or attitude ; upon all the endless changes transpiring among myriad men, there is a delicate grace, or bloom, or si)arkle, or radiance, which catches the eye of wit, and delights it with appearances which are to the weightier matters of life what odor, colors, and sym- metry are to the marketable and commercial properties of matter. A mind imbued with this feeling is full of dancing motes, such as we see moving in sunbeams when they pour through some shutter into a dark room ; and when the sights and conceptions of wit are uttered in words, they diffuse upon others that pleasure whose brightness shines upon its own cheerful imagination. It is not strange that the wit is a universal favorite. All companies rejoice in his presence, watch for his words, repeat his language. He moves like a comet whose incomings and outgoings are uncontrollable. He PORTEAIT GALLERY. 75 astonishes the regular stars with the eccentricity of his orbit, and flirts his long tail athwart the heaven without the slightest misgivings that it will be troublesome, and coquets the very sun with audacious familiarity. When wit is unperverted, it lightens labor, makes the very face of care to shine, diffuses cheerfulness among men, mul- tiplies the sources of harmless enjoyment, gilds the dark things of life, and heightens the lustre of the brightest. If perverted, wit becomes an instrument of malevolence, it gives a deceitful coloring to vice, it reflects a sem- blance of truth upon error, and distorts the features of real truth by false lights. The wit is liable to indolence, by relying upon his genius ; to vanity, by the praise which is offered as incense; to malignant sarcasm to avenge his af- fronts ; to dissipation, from the habit of exhilaration, and from the company which court him. The mere wit is only a human bauble. He is to life what bells are to horses, — not expected to draw the load, but only to jingle while the horses draw. The young often repine at their own native dullness ; and since God did not choose to endow them with this shining quality, they will make it for themselves. Forthwith they are smitten with the itch of imitation. Their ears purvey to their mouth the borrowed jest, their eyes note the wit's fashion ; and the awkward youth clumsily apes, in a side circle, the wit's deft and graceful gesture, the smooth smile, the roguish twinkle, the sly look, much as Caliban would imitate Ariel. Every community is supplied with self-made wits. One retails other men's sharp witticisms as a Jew puts off threadbare garments. Another roars over his own 76 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. brutal quotations of Scripture. Another invents a wit- ticism by a logical deduction of circumstances, and sniffs and giggles over the result as complacently as if other men laughed too. Others lie in wait around your con- versation to trip up some word or strike a light out of some sentence. Others fish in dictionaries for pitiful puns. And all fulfil the prediction of Isaiah, Ye shall conceive chaff, and hring forth stuhUe. It becomes a mania. Each school has its allusions, each circle has its apish motion, each companionhood its park of wit-artillery ; and we find street-wit, shop- wit, auction-wit, school-wit, fool's-wit, whiskey-wit, stable- wit, and almost every kind of wit but mother-wit, — puns, quibbles, catches, would-be-jests, threadbare stories, and gewgaw tinsel, — everything but the real diamond, which sparkles simply because God made it so that it could not help sparkling. Eeal, native mirthfulness is like a pleasant rill which quietly wells up in some ver- dant nook, and steals out from among reeds and willows noiselessly, and is seen far down the meadow, as much by the fruitfulness of its edges in flowers as by its own glimmering light. Let every one beware of the insensible effect of witty men upon him ; they gild lies, so that base coin may pass for true; that which is grossly wrong wit may make fascinating ; when no argument could persuade you, the coruscations of wit may dazzle and blind you ; when duty presses you, the threaten ings of this human lightning may make you afraid to do right. Eemember that the very hcst office of wit is only to lighten the serious labors of life ; that it is only a torch, by which men may cheer the gloom of a dark way. When it sets PORTRAIT GALLERY. 77 up to be your counsellor or your guide, it is the fool's fire, flitting irregularly, and leading you into the quag or morass. The great dramatist represents a witty sprite to have put an ass's head upon a man's shoulders ; be- ware that you do not let this mischievous sprite put an ape's head upon yours. If God has not given you this quicksilver, no art can make it ; nor need you regret it. The stone, the wood, and the iron are a thousand times more valuable to society than pearls and diamonds and rare gems ; and sterling sense and industry and integrity are better a thousand times, in the hard Avork of living, than the brilliance of wit. II. There is a character which I shall describe as the Humorist. I do not employ the term to designate one who indulges in that pleasantest of all wit, latent wit ; but to describe a creature who conceals a coarse animal- ism under a brilliant, jovial exterior. The dangerous humorist is of a plump condition, evincing the excel- lent digestion of a good eater, and answering very w^ell to the Psalmist's description : His eyes stand out u'itJi fatness; he is not in trouble as other men are; he has more than heart could ivish, and his tongue vjalkcth through the earth. Whatever is pleasant in ease, what- ever is indulgent in morals, whatever is solacing in luxury, — the jovial few, the convivial many, the glass, the cards, the revel, and midnight uproar, — these are his delights. His manners are easy and agreeable ; his face redolent of fun and good-nature ; his whole air that of a man fond of the utmost possible bodily refresh- ment. Withal, he is sufficiently circumspect and secre- tive of his course to maintain a place in genteel society ; 78 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. for that is a luxury. He is not a glutton, but a choice eater. He is not a gross drinker, only a gentlemanly consumer of every curious compound of liquor. He lias traveled ; he can tell you which, in every city, is the best bar, the best restaurateur, the best stable. He knows every theater, each actor ; particularly is he versed in tlie select morsels of the scandalous indul- gence peculiar to each. He knows every race-course, every nag, the history of all the famous matches, and the pedigree of every distinguished horse. The whole vocabulary of pleasure is vernacular, — its wit, its slang, its watchwords, and black-letter literature. He is a pro- found annalist of scandal ; every stream of news, clear or muddy, disembogues into the gulf of his prodigious memory. He can tell you, after living but a week in a city, who gambles, when, for what sums, and with what fate ; who is impure ; who was, who is suspected ; who is not suspected, but ought to be. He is a morbid anatomist of morals; a brilliant flesh-fly, unerring to detect taint. Like other men, he loves admiration, and desires to extend his influence. All these manifold accomplish- ments are exhibited before the callow young. That he may secure a train of useful followers, he is profuse of money ; and moves among them with an easy, insinu- ating frankness, a never-ceasing gayety, so spicy with fun, so diverting with stories, so full of little hits, sly in- nuendoes, or solemn wit, witli now and then a rare touch of dexterous mimicry, and the whole so pervaded by the indescribable flavor, the changing hues of humor, — that the young are bewildered with idolatrous admira- tion. What gay young man, who is old enough to ad- PORTRAIT GALLERY. 79 mire himself and be ashamed of his parents, can resist a man so bedewed with humor, narrating exquisite stories with such mock gravity, with such slyness of mouth and twinkling of the eye, wdth such grotesque attitudes and significant gestures ? He is declared to be the most remarkable man in the world. Xow take off this man's dress, put out tlie one faculty of mirth- fulness, and he will stand disclosed without a single positive virtue. With strong appetites deeply indulged, hovering perpetually upon the twilight edge of every vice, and whose wickedness is only not apparent be- cause it is garnished with flowers and garlands ; who is not despised, only because his various news, artfully told, keeps us in good-humor with ourselves. At one period of youthful life, this creature's influence sup- plants that of every other man. There is an absolute fascination in him which awakens a craving in the mind to be of his circle ; plain duties become drudgery, home has no light ; life at its ordinary key is monotonous, and must be screwed up to the concert pitch of this wonderful genius 1 As he tells his stories, so, with a wretched grimace of imitation, apprentices will try to tell them ; as he gracefully swings through the street, they will roU ; they will leer because he stares gen- teelly ; he sips, they guzzle, — and talk impudently, because he talks with easy confidence. He walks erect, they strut ; he lounges, they loll ; he is less than a man, and they become even less than he. Copper rings, huge blotches of breastpins, wild streaming handker- chiefs, jaunty hats, odd clothes, superfluous Avalking- sticks, ill-uttered oaths, stupid jokes, and blundering pleasantries, — these are the first-fruits of imitation ! 80 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. There are various grades of it, from tlie office, store, shop, street, clear clown to the hostlery and stable. Our cities are filled with these juvenile nondescript monsters, these compounds of vice, low^ wit, and vul- garity. The original is morally detestable, and the counterfeit is a very base imitation of a very base thing, the dark shadow of a very ugly substance. III. The Cynic. The cynic is one who never sees a good quality in a man, and never fails to see a bad one. He is the human owl, vigilant in darkness and blind to light, mousing for vermin, and never seeing noble game. The cynic puts all human actions into only two classes, — openly bad, and secretly bad. All virtue and generosity and disinterestedness are merely the cqopeaTance of good, but selfish at the bottom. He holds that no man does a good thing except for profit. The effect of his conversation upon your feelings is to chill and sear them, to send you aw^ay sore and morose. His criticisms and innuendoes fall indiscriminately upon every lovely thing, like frost upon flow^ers. If a man is said to be pure and chaste, he will answer. Yes, in the daytime. If a w^oman is pronounced virtuous, he will reply. Yes, as yet. Mr. A is a religious man : Yes, on Sundays. Mr. B has just joined the church : Certainly ; the elections are coming on. The minister of the gosjoel is called an example of diligence : It is Ids trade. Such a man is generous : Of other men's money. This man is obliging: To hdl sitsjneion and cheat you. That man is upright : Because lie is green. Thus his eye strains out every good quality and takes in only the bad. To him religion is liypocrisy, honesty a preparation for fraud, virtue only w^ant of opportunity, and undeniable purity. PORTRAIT GALLERY. 81 asceticism. The livelong day he will coolly sit with sneering lip, uttering sharp speeches in the quietest manner and in polished phrase, transfixing every char- acter which is presented : His vjords arc softer than oil, yet are they drawn swords. All this, to the young, seems a wonderful knowledge of human nature ; they honor a man who appears to have found out mankind. Tliey begin to indulge them- selves in flippant sneers ; and with supercilious brow, and impudent 'tongue wagging to an empty brain, call to naught the wise, the long tried, and the venerable. I do believe that man is corrupt enough ; but some- thing of good has survived his wreck, something of evil religion has restrained, and something partially restored ; yet I look upon the human heart as a moun- tain of fire. I dread its crater. I tremble when I see its lava roll the fiery stream. Therefore I am the more glad, if upon the old crust of past eruptions I can find a single flower springing up. So far from rejecting appearances of virtue in the corrupt heart of a depraved race, I am eager to see their light as ever mariner was to see a star in a stormy night. Moss will grow upon gravestones ; the ivy will cling to the mouldering pile ; the mistletoe springs from the dying branch ; and, God be praised, something green, something fair to the sight and grateful to the heart, will yet twine around and grow out of the seams and cracks of the desolate temple of the human heart ! Wlio could walk through Thebes, Palmyra, or Petra^a, and survey the wide waste of broken arches, crumbled altars, fallen pillars, effaced cornices, toppling walls, and crushed statues, with no feelings but those of contempt ? 4 * F 82 LECTUHES TO YOUNG MEN. "Wlio, unsorrowing, could see the stork's nest upon the carved pillar, satyrs dancing on marble pavements, and scorpions nestling where beauty once dwelt, and dragons the sole tenants of royal palaces ? Amid such melan- choly magnificence, even the misanthrope might weep ! If here and there an altar stood unbruised, or a graven column unblemished, or a statue nearly perfect, he might \vell feel love for a man-wrought stone, so beautiful, when all else is so dreary and desolate. Thus, tliough man is as a desolate city, and his passions are as the wild beasts of the wilderness howling in kings' palaces, yet he is God's workmanship, and a thousand touches of exquisite beauty remain. Since Christ hath put his sovereign hand to restore man's ruin, many points are remoulded, and the fair form of a new fabric already appears growing from the ruins, and the first faint flame is glimmering upon the restored altar. It is impossible to indulge in such habitual severity of opinion upon our fellow-men without injuring the tenderness and delicacy of our own feelings. A man will he what his most cherished feelings are. If he en- courage a noble generosity, every feeling will be enriched by it ; if he nurse bitter and envenomed thoughts, his own spirit will absorb the poison ; and he will crawl among men as a burnished adder, whose life is mischief and whose errand is death. Although experience should correct the indiscriminate confidence of the young, no experience should render them callous to goodness, wherever seen. He who hunts for flowers will find flowers ; and he who loves weeds may find weeds. Let it be remembered that no man, who is not himself mortally diseased, will have a relish PORTRAIT GALLERY. 83 for disease in others. A swollen TVTetcli, blotched all over with leprosy, may grin hideously at every wart or excres- cence upon beauty. A wholesome man will be pained at it, and seek not to notice it. Eeject, then, the morbid ambition of the cynic, or cease to call yourself a man ! TV. I fear that few villages exist without a specimen of the Libertine. His errand into this world is to explore every depth of sensuality, and collect upon himself the foulness of every one. He is proud to be vile ; his ambition is to be viler than other men. Were we not confronted almost daily by such wretches, it would be hard to believe that any could exist to whom purity and decency were a bur- den, and only corruption a delight. This creature has changed his nature, until only that which disgusts a pure mind pleases his. He is lured by the scent of carrion. His coarse feelings, stimulated by gross excit- ants, are insensible to delicacy. The exquisite bloom, the dew and freshness of the flowers of the heart which delight both good men and God himself, he gazes upon as a Behemoth would gaze enraptured upon a prairie of flowers. It is so much pasture. The forms, the odors, the hues, are only a mouthful for his terrible appetite. Therefore his breath blights every innocent thing. He sneers at the mention of purity, and leers in the very face of Virtue, as though she were herself corrupt, if the truth were known. He assures the credulous dis- ciple that there is no purity ; that its appearances are only the veils which cover indulgence. Nay, he solicits praise for the very openness of liis evil ; and tells the listener tliat all act as he acts, but only few are cour- ageous enough to own it. But the uttermost parts of 84 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. depravity are laid open only when several such monsters meet together, and vie with each other, as we might suppose shapeless mud-monsters disport in the slimiest ooze of the ocean. They di^-e in fierce rivalry which shall reach the most infernal depth and bring up the blackest sediment. It makes the blood of an honest man run cold, to hear but the echo of the shameless rehearsals of tlieir salacious enterprises. Each strives to tell a blacker tale than the other. AMien the al)omination of their actual life is not damnable enough to satisfy the ambition of their unutterable corruption, they devise, in their imagination, scenes yet more flagrant ; swear that they have performed them, and, when they separate, each strives to make his lying boastings true. It would seem as if miscreants so loathsome would have no power of temptation upon the young. Experience shows tliat the worst men are, often, the most skillful in touching the springs of human action. A young man knows little of life, less of himself. He feels in his bosom the various impulses, wild desires, restless cravings he can hardly tell for what, a sombre melancholy when all is gay, a violent exhilaration when others are sober. These wild gushes of feeling, peculiar to youth, the sagacious tempter has felt, has studied, has practised upon, until he can sit before that most capacious organ, tlie human mind, knowing every stop, and all the com- binations, and competent to touch any note through the diapason. As a serpent deceived the purest of mortals, so now a beast may mislead their posterity. He begins afar off. He decries the virtue of all men ; studies to produce a doubt that any are under self-restraint. He unpacks his filthy stories, plays off the fireworks of his PORTRAIT GALLERY. 85 corrupt imagination, — its blue-liglits, its red-liglits, and green-liglits, and sparkle-spitting lights, — and edging in upon the yielding youth, who begins to wonder at his experience, he boasts his first exploits, he hisses at the purity of women ; he grows yet bolder, tells more wicked deeds, and invents worse even than he ever per- formed, though he has performed worse than good men ever thought of. All thoughts, all feelings, all ambition, are merc^ed in one, and that the lowest, vilest, most de- testable ambition. Had I a son of years, I could, with thanksgiving, see him go down to the graA^e, rather than fall into the maw of this most besotted devil. The plague is mercy, the cholera is love, the deadliest fever is refreshment to man's body, in comparison with this epitome and essence of moral disease. He lives among men, hell's ambas- sador with full credentials ; nor can we conceive that there should be need of any other fiend to perfect the works of darkness, while he carries his body among us, stuffed with every pestilent drug of corruption. The heart of every virtuous young man should loathe him ; if he speaks, you should as soon hear a wolf bark. Gather around you the venomous snake, the poisonous toad, the fetid vulture, the prowling hyena, and their company would be an honor to you above his ; for they at least remain within their own nature ; but he goes out of his nature that he may become more vile than it is possible for a mere animal to be. He is hateful to religion, hateful to virtue, hateful to decency, hateful to the coldest morality. The stench ful ichor of his dissolved heart has flowed over every feel- ing of his nature, and left them as the burning lava 86 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. leaves the garden, the orchard, and the vineyard. And it is a wonder that the bolt of God which crushed Sodom does not slay him. It is a wonder that the earth does not refuse the burden, and open and swallow him up. I do not fear that the young will be undermined by his di7rct assaults. But so7ne will imitate, and their example will be again freely imitated, and, finally, a remote circle of disciples will spread the diluted con- tagion among the virtuous. This man will be the foun- tain-head, and though none will come to drink at a hot spring, yet farther down along the stream it sends out will be found many scooping from its waters. V. I have described the Devil in his native form, but he sometimes appears as an angel of light. There is a polished libertine, in manners studiously refined, in taste faultless ; his face is mild and engaging ; his words drop as pure as newly made honey. In general society he would rather attract regard as a model of purity, and Suspicion herself could hardly look askance upon him. Under this brilliant exterior, his heart is like a sepul- cher, full of all un cleanness. Contrasted with the gross libertine, it would not be supposed that he had a thought in common with him. If his heart could be opened to our eyes, as it is to God's, we should perceive scarcely dissimilar feeling in respect to appetite. Professing unbounded admiration of virtue in general, he leaves not in private a point untransgressed. His reading has culled every glowing picture of amorous poets, every tempting scene of loose dramatists and looser novelists. Enriched by these, his imagination, like a rank soil, is overgrown with a prodigal luxuriance of poison herbs and deadly flowers. Men such as this man is frequently PORTRAIT GALLERY. 87 aspire to be the censors of morality. They are hurt at the injudicious reprehensions of vice from the pulpit. They make great outcry when plain words are employed to denounce base things. They are astonishingly sensi- tive and fearful lest good men should soil their hands wdth too much meddling with evil. Their cries are not the evidence of sensibility to virtue, but of too lively a sensibility to vice. Sensibility is, often, only the flut- tering of an impure heart. At the very time that their voice is ringing an alarm against immoral reformations, they are secretly skeptical of every tenet of virtue, and practically unfaithful to every one. Of these two libertines, the most refined is the more dangerous. The one is a rattlesnake which carries its warning with it ; the other, hiding his bur- nished scales in the grass, skulks to perform unsuspected deeds in darkness. The one is the visible fog and miasm of the morass ; the other is the serene air of a tropical city, which, though brilliant, is loaded with invisible pestilence. The Politician. If there be a man on earth whose character should be framed of the most sterling honesty, and whose conduct should conform to the most scrupu- lous morality, it is the man who administers public affairs. The most romantic notions of integrity are here not extravagant. As, under our institutions, pub- lic men will be, upon the whole, fair exponents of the character of their constituents, the plainest way to se- cure honest public men is to inspire those who make them with a riglit understanding of what political char- acter ought to be. Young men should be prompted to discriminate between the specious and the real, the art- 88 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. ful and the honest, the wise and the cunning, the patriotic and the pretender. I will sketch — YI. The Demagogue. The lowest of politicians is that man who seeks to gratify an invariable selfishness by pretending to seek the public good. For a profitable popularity he accommodates himself to all opinions, to all dispositions, to every side, and to each prejudice. He is a mirror, with no face of its own, but a smooth surface from which each man of ten thousand may see himself reflected. He glides from man to man, coincid- ing with their views, pretending their feelings, simulat- ing their tastes : with this one, he hates a man ; with that one, he loves the same man ; he favors a law, and he dislikes it ; he approves, and opposes ; he is on both sides at once, and seemingly wishes that he could be on one side more than both sides. He attends meet- ings to suppress intemperance, but at elections makes every grog-shop free to all drinkers. He can with equal relish plead most eloquently for temperance, or toss off a dozen glasses in a dirty grocery. He thinks that there is a time for everything, and therefore at one time he swears and jeers and leers with a carousing crew ; and at another time, having happily been converted, he dis- ]olays the various features of devotion. Indeed, he is a capacious Christian, an epitome of faith. He piously asks the class-leader of the w^elfare of his charge, for he was always a Methodist and always shall be, — until he meets a Presbyterian ; then he is a Presbyterian, old school or new, as the case requires. However, as he is not a bigot, he can afford to be a Baptist, in a good Baptist neighborhood, and with a wink he tells the zealous elder that he never had one of his children PORTRAIT GALLERY. 89 baptized, not lie ! He whispers to the reformer that he abhors all creeds but baptism and the Bible. After all this, room will be found in his heart for the fugitive sects also, which come and go like clouds in a summer sky. His flattering attention at church edifies the simple-hearted preacher, who admires that a plain ser- mon should make a man whisper Amen, and weep. Upon the stump his tact is no less rare. He roars and bawls with courageous plainness on points about wdiich all agree ; but on subjects where men differ his meaning is nicely balanced on a pivot, that it may dip either way. He depends for success chiefly upon humorous stories. A glowing patriot a telling stories is a dangerous antag- onist ; for it is hard to expose the fallacy of a hearty laugh, and men convulsed with merriment are slow to perceive in what way an argument is a reply to a story. Perseverance, effrontery, good-nature, and versatile cunning have advanced many a bad man higher than a good man could attain. Men will admit that he has not a single moral virtue ; but he is smart. We object to no man for amusing himself at the fertile resources of the politician here painted ; for sober men are some- times pleased with the grimaces and mischievous tricks of a versatile monkey ; but would it not be strange in- deed if they should select him for a ruler, or make him an exemplar to their sons ? VII. I describe next a more respectable and more dangerous politician, — the Party Man. He has asso- ciated his ambition, his interests, and his affections with a party. He prefers, doubtless, that his side should be victorious by the best means, and under the champion- ship of good men ; but rather than lose the victory, he i 90 LECTURES TO YOUXG MEN. "svill consent to any means, and follow any man. Thus, with a general desire to be upright, the exigency of his party constantly pushes him to dishonorable deeds. He opposes fraud by craft, lie by lie, slander by counter-aspersion. To be sure, it is wrong to misstate, to distort, to suppress or color facts ; it is wrong to em- ploy the evil passions ; to set class against class, — the poor against tlie rich, the country against the city, the farmer against the mechanic, one section against another section. But his opponents do it, and if they will take advantage of men's corruption, he must, or lose by his virtue. He gradually adopts two characters, a personal and a political character. All the requisitions of his conscience he obeys in his private character ; all the requisitions of his party he obeys in his political con- duct. In one character he is a man of principle ; in the other, a man of mere expedients. As a man he means to be veracious, honest, moral ; as a i^olitician, he is deceitful, cunning, unscrupulous, — anything for party. As a man, he abhors the slimy demagogue ; as a politician, he employs him as a scavenger. As a man, he shrinks from the flagitiousness of slander ; as a poli- tician, he permits it, smiles upon it in others, rejoices in the success gained by it. As a man, he respects no one who is rotten in heart ; as a politician, no man through whom victory may be gained can be too bad. As a citizen, he is an apostle of temperance ; as a poli- tician, he puts his shoulder under the men who deluge tlieir track with whiskey, marching a crew of brawling patriots, pugnaciously drunk, to exercise the freeman's noblest franchise, the vote. As a citizen, he is con- siderate of the young, and counsels them with admirable POrtTllAIT GxVLLERY. 91 wisdom ; then, as a politician, lie votes for tools, sup- porting for the magistracy worshipful aspirants scraped from the ditch, the grog-shop, and the brothel ; thus saying by deeds, which the young are quick to under- stand, " I jested, when I warned you of bad company ; for you perceive none worse than those whom I delight to honor." For his religion he will give up all his sec- ular interests ; but for his politics he gives up even his religion. He adores virtue, and rewards vice. Whilst bolstering up unrighteous measures, and more unright- eous men, he prays for the advancement of religion and justice and lienor ! I would to God that his prayer might be answered upon his own political head ; for never was there a place where such blessings were more needed ! I am puzzled to know what will happen at death to this politic Christian, but most unchristian politician. Will both of his characters go heavenward together ? If the strongest prevails, he will certainly go to hell. If his weakest (which is his Christian character) is saved, what will become of his political character ? Shall he be sundered in two, as Solomon proposed to divide the contested infant ? If this style of character were not flagitiously ^vicked, it would still be supremely ridiculous ; but it is both. Let young men mark tliese amphibious exemplars to avoid their influence. The young have nothing to gain from those who are saints in religion and morals, and Machiavels in politics ; who have partitioned off their heart, invited Christ into one half and Belial into the other. It is wisely said that a strictly honest man who de- sires purely the public good, who will not criminally flatter the people, nor take part in lies or party slander. 92 LECTURES TO YOUXG MEN. nor desceud to the arts of the rat, the weasel, and the fox, cannot succeed in politics. It is calmly said by thousands that one cannot be a politician and a Chris- tian. Indeed, a man is liable to downright ridicule if he ^eaks in good earnest of a scrupulously honest and religiously moral politician. I regard all such represen- tations as false. We are not without men whose career is a refutation of the slander. It poisons the com- munity to teach this fatal necessity of corruption in a course which so many must pursue. It is not strange, if such be the popular opinion, that young men include the sacrifice of strict integrity as a necessary element of a j3olitical life, and calmly agree to it, as to an inevitable misfortune, rather than to a dark and voluntary crime. Only if a man is an ignorant heathen, can he escape blame for such a decision ! A young man, at this day, in this land, who can coolly purpose a life of most un- manly guile, who means to earn his bread and fame by a sacrifice of integrity, is one who requires only tempta- tion and opportunity to become a felon. What a heart has that man who can stand in the very middle of the Biljle, with its transcendent truths raising their glowing fronts on every side of him, and feel no inspiration but that of immorality and meanness ! He knows that for him have been founded the perpetual institutions of religion ; for him prophets have spoken, miracles been WTOui^ht, heaven robbed of its Maij^istrate, and the earth made sacred above all })lanets as the Eedeemer's burial- place ; — he knows it all, and plunges from this height to the very bottom of corruption ! He hears that he is immortal, and despises the immortality ; that he is a son of God, and scorns the dignity ; an heir of heaven, PORTRAIT GALLERY. 93 and infamously sells liis heirsliip and himself, for a con- temptible mess of loathsome pottage ! Do not tell me of any excuses. It is a shame to attempt an excuse ! If there were no religion, if that vast sphere, out of which glow all the supereminent truths of the Bible, was a mere emptiness and void, yet, methinks, the very idea of fatherland, the exceeding preciousness of the laws and liberties of a great people, would enkindle such a high and noble enthusiasm, that all baser feel- ings would be consumed ! But if the love of country, a sense of character, a manly regard for integrity, the example of our most illustrious men, the warnings of religion and all its solicitations, and the prospect of the future,- — dark as perdition to the bad, and light as paradise to the good, — cannot inspire a young man to anything higher than a sneaking, truckling, dodging scramble for fraudulent fame and dishonest bread, it is because such a creature has never felt one sensation of manly virtue ; it is because his heart is a howling wil- derness, inhospitable to innocence. Thus have I sketched a few of the characters which abound in every community ; dangerous, not more by their direct temptations than by their insensible influ- ence. Tlie sight of their deeds, of their temporary suc- cess, their apparent happiness, relaxes the tense rigidity of a scrupulous honesty, inspires a ruinous liberality of sentiment toward vice, and breeds the thouglUs of evil ; and EVIL THOUGHTS are the cockatrice's eggs, hatching into all bad deeds. Eemember, if by any of these you are enticed to ruin, you will have to bear it alone ! Tliey are strong 94 LECTUKES TO YOUXG MEN. to seduce, but heartless to sustain their victims. They will exhaust your means, teach you to desj^ise the God of your fathers, lead you into every sin, go with you while you afford them any pleasure or profit, and then, when the inevitable disaster of wickedness begins to overwhelm you, they will abandon whom they have de- bauched. When, at length, death gnaws at your bones and knocks at your heart ; when staggering and worn out, your courage wasted, your hope gone, your purity, and long, long ago your peace, — will he who first en- ticed your steps now serve your extremity with one office of kindness ? Will he stay your head, cheer your dying agony with one word of hope, or light the way for your coward steps to the grave, or weep when you are gone, or send one pitiful scrap to your desolate family ? What reveler wears crape for a dead drunkard ? What gang of gamblers ever intermitted a game for the death of a companion, or went on kind missions of relief to broken-down fellow-gamblers ? What harlot weeps for a harlot ? What debauchee mourns for a debauchee ? They would carouse at your funeral, and gamble on your coffin. If one flush more of pleasure were to be liad by it, they would drink shame and ridicule to your memory out of your ow^n skull, and roar in bacchanal revelry over your damnation ! All the shameless atro- cities of wicked men are nothing to their licartlcssncss toward each other when broken down. As I have seen worms writhing on a carcass, overcrawling each other, and elevating their fiery heads in petty ferocity against each otlier, while all were enshrined in the corruption of a common carrion, I have thought, all ! shameful picture of wicked men tempting each other, abetting each PORTRAIT GALLERY. 95 other, until calamity overtook tliem, and then fighting and devouring or abandoning each other, without pity or sorrow or compassion or remorse. Evil men of every degree will use you, flatter you, lead you on until you are useless ; then, if the virtuous do not pity you, or God compassionate, you are without a friend in the universe. My son, if sinners entice thee, consent thou not. If tliey say, Come with us, .... we shall find all precious substance, we shall fill our houses with spoil ; cast in thy lot among us ; let us all have one purse : my son, walk not thou in the %vay with them ; refrain thy feet from their path : for their feet mm to evil, and make haste to shed hlood, .... a7id they lay in wait for their OWN hlood, they lurk p>rivily for their own lives. GAMBLERS AND GAMBLING. Then the soldiers, when they had cRrciFiED Jesus, took his GARMENTS AND MADE FOUR PARTS, TO EVERY SOLDIER A PART, AND ALSO HIS COAT. NoW THE COAT WAS WITHOUT SEAM, WOVEN FROM THE TOP THROUGHOUT. ThEY SAID THEREFORE AMONG THEMSELVES, LeT US NOT REND IT, BUT CAST LOTS FOR IT, WHOSE IT SHALL BE. ThESE THINGS THEREFORE THE SOLDIERS DID." HAYE condensed into one account the sep- arate parts of this gambling transaction as narrated by each Evangelist. How marked in every age is a gambler's character ! The enraged priesthood of ferocious sects taunted Christ's d3ring agonies ; the bewildered multitude, accustomed to cruelty, could shout ; but no earthly creature, but a gambler, could "be so lost to all feeling as to sit down coolly under a dying man to wrangle for his garments, and arbitrate their avaricious differences by casting dice for his tunic, with hands spotted with his spattered blood, warm and yet undried upon them. The descend- ants of these patriarchs of gambling, however, have taught us that there is nothing possible to hell, uncon- genial to these, its elect saints. In this lecture it is my disagreeable task to lead your steps down the dark path to their cruel haunts, there to exhibit their infernal pas- sions, their awful ruin, and their ghastly memorials. In GAMBLERS AND GAMBLING. 97 this house of darkness, amid fierce faces gleaming with the fire of fiercer hearts, amid oaths and groans and fiendish orgies, ending in murders and strewn Avith sweltering corpses, — do not mistake, and suppose yourself in hell, — you are only in its precincts and vestibule. Gambling is the staking or winning of property upon mere hazard. The husbandman renders produce for his gains ; the mechanic renders the product of labor and skill for his gains ; the gambler renders for his gain the sleights of useless skill, or, more often, downright cheat- ing. Betting is gambling ; there is no honest equiva- lent to its gains. Dealings in fancy stocks are often- times sheer gambling, with all its worst evils. Profits so earned are no better than the profits of dice, cards,- or hazard. AMien skill returns for its earniuGfs a useful service, as knoAvledge, beneficial amusements, or profit- able labor, it is honest commerce. The skill of a pilot in threading a narrow channel, the skill of a lawyer in threading a still more intricate one, are as substantial equivalents for a price received as if they w^ere mer- chant goods or agricultural products. But all gains of mere skill, which result in no real benefit, are gambling gains. Gaming, as it springs from a principle of our nature, has, in some form, probably existed in every age. AVe trace it in remote periods and among the most barbar- ous people. It loses none of its fascinations among a civilized people. On the contrary, tlie habit of fierce stimulants, the jaded appetite of luxury, and the satiety of wealth seem to invite the master excitant. Our 5 G 98 LECTURES TO YOUXG MEN. land, not apt to be behind in good or evil, is full of gambling in all its forms, — the gambling of commerce, the gambling of bets and wagers, and the gambling of games of hazard. There is gambling in refined circles, and in the lowest ; among the members of our national government, and of our State governments. Thief gam- bles with thief, in jail ; the judge who sent them there, the la^vyer who prosecuted, and the lawyer who de- fended them, often gamble too. This vice, once almost universally prevalent among the Western bar, and still too frequently disgracing its members, is, however, we are happy to believe, decreasing. In many circuits, not long ago, and in some now, the judge, the jury, and the bar shuffled cards by night and law by day, — dealing out money and justice alike. The clatter of dice and cards disturbs your slumber on the boat, and rings drowsily from the upper rooms of the hotel. This vice pervades the city, extends over every line of travel, and infests the most moral districts. The secreted lamp dimly lights the apprentices to their game ; with unsus- pected disobedience, boys creep out of their beds to it ; it goes on in the store close by the till ; it haunts the shop. The scoundrel in his lair, the scholar in his room, the pirate on his ship, gay women at parties, loafers in the street-corner, public functionaries in their offices, the beggar under the hedge, the rascal in prison, and some professors of religion in the somnolent hours of the Sabbath, waste their energies by the ruinous excitement of the game. Besides these players, there are troops of professional gamblers, troops of hangers- on, troops of youth to be clravm in. An inexperienced eye would detect in our peaceful towns no signs of this GAMBLERS AND GAMBLING. 99 vnltnre flock ; so in a sunny day, when all cheerful birds are singing merrily, not a buzzard can be seen • but let a carcass drop, and they will push forth their gaunt heads from their gloomy roosts, and come flap- ping from the dark woods to speck the air and dot the ground with their numbers. The universal prevalence of this vice is a reason for parental vigilance, and a reason of remonstrance from the citizen, the parent, the minister of the gospel, the patriot, and the press. I propose to trace its opening, describe its subjects, and detail its effects, r*A. young man, proud of freedom, anxious to exert his manhood, has tumbled his Bible and sober books and letters of counsel into a dark closet. He has learned various accomplishments, — to flirt, to boast, to swear, to fight, to drink. He has let every one of these chains be put around him, upon the solemn promise of Satan that he would take them off whenever he wished. Hearing of the artistic feats of eminent gamblers, he emulates them. So he ponders the game. He teaches what he has learned to his shopmates, and feels himself their master. As yet he has never played for stakes. It begins thus : Peeping into a bookstore, he watches till the sober customers go out ; then slips in, and with assumed boldness, not concealing^ his shame, he asks for cards, buys them, and hastens out. The first game is to pay for the cards. After the relish of playing for a stake, no game can satisfy them vntliotU a stake. A few nuts are staked, then a bottle of wine, an oyster- supper. At last they can venture a sixpence in actual money, just for the amusement of it. I need go no further ; whoever wishes to do anything with the lad 100 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. can do it now. If properly plied and gradually led, lie will go to any length, and stop only at the g;allows. Do you doubt it ? let us trace him a year or two further on. With his father's blessing and his mother's tears, the young man departs from home. He has received his patrimony, and embarks for life and independence. Upon his journey he rests at a city ; visits the " school of morals " ; lingers in more suspicious places ; is seen by a sharper, and makes his acquaintance. The knave sits by him at dinner ; gives him the news of the place, and a world of advice ; cautions him against sharpers ; inquires if he has money, and charges him to keep it secret ; offers himself to make with him the rounds of the town, and secure him from imposition. At length, that he may see all, he is taken to a gaming-house, but, with apparent kindness, warned not to play. He stands by to see the various fortunes of the game ; some for- ever losing ; some, touch what number they will, gain- ing piles of gold. Looking in thirst where wine is free. A glass is taken ; another of a better kind ; next, the best the landlord has, and two glasses of that. A change comes over the youth ; his exhilaration raises his cour- acje and lulls his caution. Gamblini:^ seen seems a differ- ent thing from gambling painted by a pious father ! Just then his friend remarks that one might easily double his money by a few ventures, but that it was, perhaps, prudent not to risk. Only this was needed to fire his mind. What ! only prudence between me and gain ? Then that shall not be long ! He stakes ; he wins. Stakes again ; wins again. Glorious ! I am the lucky man that is to break the bank ! He stakes, and wins again. His pulse races, liis face burns, his blood GA3IBLEES AXD GAMBLIXG. 101 is up, and fear gone. He loses ; loses again ; loses all liis winnings ; loses more. But fortune turns again ; he wins anew. He has now lost all self-command. Gains excite him, and losses excite him more. He doubles his stakes ; then trebles them, — and all is swept. He rushes on, puts up his whole purse, and loses the whole ! Then he would borrow ; no man wdll lend. He is des- perate ; he will fight at a word. He is led to the street and thrust out. The cool breeze which blows upon his fevered cheek wafts the slow and solemn stroke of the clock, — one, — two, — three, — four ; four of the morn- ing ! Quick work of ruin ! an innocent man destroyed in a night ! He staggers to his hotel, remembers, as he enters it, that he has not even enough to pay his bill. It now flashes upon him that his friend, who never had left him for an hour before, had stayed behind where his money is, and doubtless is laughing over his spoils. His blood boils with rage. But at length comes up the remembrance of home ; a parent's training and counsels for more than twenty years destroyed in a night ! " Good God ! what a wretch I have been ! I am not fit to live. I cannot go home. I am a stranger here. O, that I were dead ! 0, that I had died before I knew this guilt, and were lying wliere my sister lies ! God ! God ! my head w^U burst with agony ! " He stalks his lonely room with an agony which only the young heart knows in its first horrible awakening to remorse, — when it looks despair full in the face, and feels its hideous incantations tempting him to suicide. Subdued at length by agony, cowed and weakened by distress, he is sought again by those who plucked him. Cunning to subvert inexperience,- 4©r.-¥aiste the evil pas- I; UKI7!' 0? TFT'- >J^ 102 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEX. sions and to allay the good, they make him their pliant tool. Farewell, young man ! I see thy steps turned to that haunt again ! I see hope lighting thy face ; but it is a lurid liglit, and never came from heaven. Stop before that threshold. Turn, and bid farewell to home, fare- well to innocence, farewell to venerable father and aged mother 1 The next step shall part thee from them all forever. And now henceforth be a mate to thieves, a brother to corruption. Thou hast made a league with death, and unto death shalt thou go. Let us here pause, to draw the likeness of a few who stand conspicuous in that vulgar crowd of gamblers, with which hereafter he will consort. The first is a taciturn, quiet man. No one knows when he comes into town or when he leaves. No man hears of his gaining ; for he never boasts, nor reports his luck. He spends little for parade ; his money seems to go and come only through the game. He reads none, converses none, is neither a glutton nor a hard drinker ; he sports few ornaments, and \vears plain clothing. Upon the whole, he seems a gentlemanly man ; and sober citizens say, " His only fault is gambling." What then is tliis only fault ? In his heart he has the most intense and consuming lust of play. He is quiet because every passion is absorbed in one ; and that one burning at the highest flame. He thinks of nothing else, cares only for this. All other things, even the hottest lusts of other men, are too cool to be temptations to him, so much deeper is the style of his passions. He wdll sit upon his chair, and no man shall see him move for hours, except to play his cards. He sees none come in, GAMBLERS AND GxVMBLING. 103 none go out. Death might groan on one side of the room, and marriage might sport on the other, — he would laiow neither. Every created influence is shut out ; one thing only moves him, — the game ; and that leaves not one pulse of excitability unaroused, but stirs his soul to the very dregs. Very different is the roistering gamester. He bears a jolly face, a glistening eye something watery through watching and drink. His fingers are manacled in rings ; his bosom glows with pearls and diamonds. He learns the time which he wastes from a watch full gorgeously carved (and not with the most modest scenes), and slung around his neck by a ponderous golden chain. There is not so splendid a fellow to be seen sweeping through the streets. The landlord makes him welcome, — he will bear a full bill. The tailor smiles like May, ^he will buy half his shop. Other places bid him welcome, — he will bear large stealings. Like the judge, he makes his circuit, but not for justice ; like the preacher, he has his appointments, but not for instruction. His circuits are the race- courses, the crawded capital, days of general convoca- tion, conventions, and mass-ojatherinos. He will flame on tlie race-track, bet his thousands, and beat the ring at swearing, oaths vernacular, imported, simple, or com- pound. The drinking-booth smokes wdien he draws in his welcome suite. Did you see him only by day, flam- ing in apparel, jovial and free-hearted, at the restaura- teur or hotel, you would think him a prince let loose, — a cross between Prince Hal and Falstaff. But night is his day. These are mere exercises, and brief prefaces to his real accomplishments. He is a 104 LECTUKES TO YOUNG MEN. good fellow wlio dares play deeper ; lie is wild, indeed, who seems wilder ; and he is keen, indeed, who is sharper than he is, after all tliis show of frankness. JSTo one is quicker, slyer, and more alert at a game. He can shuffle tlie pack till an honest man would as soon think of looking for a iDarticular drop of water in the ocean as for a particular card in any particular place. Perhaps he is ignorant which is at the top and which at the bottom ! At any rate, watch him closely, or you will get a lean hand and he a fat one. A jDlain man w^ould think him a wizard or the Devil. When he touches a pack they seem alive, and acting to his will rather than his touch. He deals them like lightning ; they rain like snow-flakes, sometimes one, sometimes two, if need be four or five together, and his hand hardly moved. If he loses, very well, he laughs ; if he gains, he only laughs a little more. Full of stories, full of songs, full of wit, full of roistering spirit, — yet do not trespass too much upon his good-nature with in- sult. All this outside is only the spotted hide which covers the tiger. He who provokes this man shall see what lightning can break out of a summer-seeming cloud. These do not fairly represent the race of gamblers, — conveying too favorable an impression. Tliere is one, often met on steamboats, traveling solely to gamble. He has the servants or steward or some partner in league with him, to fleece every unwary player whom he inveigles to a game. He deals falsely ; heats his dupe to madness by drink, drinking none himself; watches the signal of his accomplice telegraphing his opponent's hand; at a stray look, he will sli^:) your GAMBLERS AND GAMBLING. 105 money off and steal it. To cover false playing, or to get rid of paying losses, he will lie fiercely and swear uproariously, and break up the play to fight with knife or pistol, — first scraping the table of every penny. When tlie passengers are asleep he surveys the luggage, to see what may be worth stealing ; he pulls a watch from under the pillow of one sleeper, fumbles in the pockets of another, and gathers booty throughout the cabin. Leaving the boat before morning, he appears at some village hotel, a magnificent gentleman, a polished traveler, or even a distinguished nobleman ! There is another gambler, cowardly, sleek, stealthy, humble, mousing, and mean, — a simple bloodsucker. For money he will be a tool to other gamblers ; steal for them and from them; he plays the jackal, and searches victims for them, humbly satisfied to pick the bones afterward. Thus (to employ his own language) he ropes in the inexperienced young, flatters them, teaches them, inflames their passions, purveys to their appetites, cheats them, debauches them, draws them down to his own level, and then lords it over them in malignant meanness. Himself impure, he plunges others into lasciviousness, and with a train of reekinoj satellites, he revolves a few years in the orbit of the game, the brothel, and the doctor's shop, then sinks and dies ; the world is purer, and good men thank God that he is gone. Besides these, time would fail me to describe the ineffable dignity of a gambling judge ; the cautious, phlegmatic lawyer, gambling from sheer avarice ; the broken-down and cast-away politician, seeking in the game the needed excitement, and a fair field for all the 5* 106 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. base tricks he once played off as a patriot ; the pert, sharp, keen jockey-gambler ; the soaked, obese, plethoric, wheezing bacchanal ; and a crowd of ignoble worthies, wearing all the badges and titles of vice throughout its base peerage. A detail of the evils of gambling should be preceded by an illustration of that constitution of mind out of which they mainly spring, — I mean its excitability. The body is not stored with a fixed amount of strength, nor the mind with a uniform measure of excitement ; but both are capable, by stimulation, of expansion of strength or feeling almost without limit. Experience shows that, within certain bounds, excitement is health- ful and necessary, but beyond this limit exhausting and destructive. Men are allowed to choose between moderate but long-continued excitement and intense but short-lived excitement. Too generally they prefer the latter. To gain this intense thrill, a thousand methods are tried. The inebriate obtains it by drink and drugs ; the politician, by the keen interest of the civil campaign; the young, by amusements which violently inflame and gratify their appetites. When once this higher flavor of stimulus has been tasted, all that is less becomes vapid and disgustful. A sailor tries to live on shore ; a few weeks sufiice. To be sure, there is no hardship or cold or suffering ; but neither is there the strong excitement of the ocean, the gale, the storm, and the world of strange sights. The poli- tician perceives that his private affairs are deranged, his family neglected, his character aspersed, his feelings exacerbated. When men hear him confess that his career is a hideous waking dream, the race vexatious. GAMBLERS AND GAMBLI^'G. 107 and the end vanity, tliey wonder that he clings to it ; but he knows that nothing but the fiery wine which he has tasted will rouse up that intense excitement, now be- come necessary to his happiness. For this reason great men often cling to public office with all its envy, jealousy, care, toil, hates, competitions, and unrequited fidelity ; for these very disgusts and the perpetual struggle strike a deeper chord of excitement than is possible to the gentler touches of home, friendship, and love. Here, too, is the key to the real evil of promiscuous novel- reading, to the habit of revery and mental romancing. JSTone of life's common duties can excite to such wild pleasure as these ; and they must be continued, or the mind reacts into the lethargy of fatigue and ennui. It is upon this principle that men love 2^ctin ; suffering is painful to a spectator; but in tragedies, at public executions, at pugilistic combats, at cock-fightings, horse-races, bear-baitings, bull-fights, gladiatorial shows, it excites a jaded mind as nothing else can. A tyrant torments for the same reason that a girl reads her tear- bedewed romance, or an inebriate drinks his dram. ^N'o longer susceptible even to inordinate stimuli, actual moans and shrieks, and the writhing of utter agony, just suffice to excite his worn-out sense, and inspire, probably, less emotion than ordinary men have in listening to a tragedy or reading a bloody novel. Gambling is founded upon the very worst perversion of this powerful element of our nature. It lieats every part of the mind like an oven. The faculties which produce calculation, pride of skill, of superiority, love of gain, hope, fear, jealousy, hatred, are absorbed in the game, and exhilarated or exacerbated by victory or 108 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. ^ defeat. These passions are doubtless excited in men by the daily occurrences of life ; but then they are transient, and counteracted by a thousand grades of emotion, which rise and fall like the undulations of the sea. But in gambling there is no intermission, no counteraction. The whole mind is excited to the utmost, and concentrated at its extreme point of exci- tation for hours and days, with the additional waste of sleepless nights, profuse drinking, and other congenial immoralities. Every other pursuit becomes tasteless ; for no ordinary duty has in it a stimulus which can scorch a mind which now refuses to burn without blazing, or to feel an interest which is not intoxication. The victim of excitement is like a mariner who vent- ures into the edge of a whirlpool for a motion more exhilarating than plain sailing. He is unalarmed during the first few gyrations, for escape is easy. But each turn sweeps him farther in ; the power augments, the speed becomes terrific, as he rushes toward the vortex, all escape now hopeless. A noble ship went in ; it is spit out in broken fragments, splintered spars, crushed masts, and cast up for many a rood along the shore. The specific evils of gambling may now be almost imagined. I. It diseases the mind, unfitting it for the duties of life. Gamblers are seldom industrious men in any useful vocation. A gambling mechanic finds his labor less relishful as his passion for play increases. He grows unsteady, neglects his work, becomes unfaithful to promises ; what he performs he sliglits. Little jobs seem little enough ; he desires immense contracts, whose uncertainty has much the excitement of gambling, — GAMBLERS AND GAMBLING. 109 and for the best of reasons; and in the pursuit of great and sudden profits, by wild scliemes, he stumbles over into ruin, leaving all who employed or trusted him in the rubbish of his speculations. A gambling lawyer, neglecting the drudgery of his profession, will court its exciting duties. To explore authorities, compare reasons, digest, and write, — this is tiresome. But to advocate, to engage in fiery con- tests with keen opponents, — this is nearly as good as gambling. ]\Iany a ruined client has cursed the law, and cursed a stupid jury, and cursed everybody for his irretrievable loss, except his lawyer, who gambled all night when he should have prepared the case, and came half asleep and debauched into court in the morning to lose a good case mismanaged, and snatched from his gambling hands by the art of sober opponents. A gambling student, if such a thing can be, with- draws from thoughtful authors to the brilliant and spicy ; from the pure among these to the sharp and ribald; from all reading about depraved life to seeing ; from sight to experience. Gambling vitiates the im- agination, corrupts the tastes, destroys the industry; for no man will drudge for cents who gambles for dollars by the hundred, or practice a piddling economy while, with almost equal indifference, he makes or loses five hundred in a niMit. o II. For a like reason it destroys all domestic habits and affections. Home is a prison to an inveterate gambler; there is no air there that he can breathe. For a momojit he may sport with his children and smile upon his wife ; but his heart, its strong passions, are not there. A little branch-rill may flow through 110 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. the family, but tlie deep river of his affections flows away from home. On the issue of a game, Tacitus narrates that the ancient Germans would stake their property, their wives, their children, and themselves. AVhat less than this is it, when a man will stake that property which is to give his family bread, and that honor which gives them place and rank in society ? When 'playiny becomes desperate gamhliiig, the heart is a hearth where all the fires of gentle feelings have smouldered to ashes ; and a thorough-paced gamester could rattle dice in a charnel-house, and wTangie for his stakes amid murder, and pocket gold dripping with the blood of his own kindred. III. Gambling is the parent and companion of every vice which pollutes the heart or injures society. It is a practice so disallowed among Christians, and so excluded by mere moralists, and so liateful to indus- trious and thriving men, that those Avho practice it are shut up to themselves ; unlike lawful pursuits, it is not modified or restrained by collision with others. Gam- blers herd with gamblers. They tempt and provoke each other to all evil, without affording one restraint, and without providing the counterbalance of a single virtuous impulse. They are like snakes coiling among snakes, poisoned and poisoning ; like plague patients, in- fected and diffusing infection ; each sick, and all con- tagious. It is impossible to put bad men together and not have them grow worse. The herding of convicts promiscuously produced such a fermentation of de- pravity, that, long ago, legislators forbade it. When criminals, out of jail, herd together by choice, the same corrupt nature will doom them to growing loathsome- ness, because to increasing wickedness. GAMBLERS AND GAMBLING. Ill IV. It is a provocative of thirst. The bottle is almost as needful as the card, the ball, or the dice. Some are seduced to drink ; some drink for imitation, at first, and fashion. When sujoer-excitements, at in- tervals, subside, their victim cannot bear the deathlike gloom of the reaction; and, by drugs or liquor, fire up their system to the glowing point again. There- fore, drinking is the invariable concomitant of the theater, circus, race-course, gaming-table, and of all amusements which powerfully excite all but the moral feelings. When the double fires of dice and brandy blaze under a man, he w^ll soon be consumed. If men are found who do not drink, they are the more notice- able, because exceptions. V. It is, even in its fairest form, the almost inev- itable coMse of dishonesty. Eobbers have robbers' honor ; thieves have thieves' law ; and pirates conform to pirates' regulations. But w^here is there a gambler's code ? One law there is, and this not universal. Pay your ganibling debts. But on the Avide question, how is it fair to vjin, what law is there ? What will shut a man out from a gambler's club ? May he not discover his opponent's hand by fraud ? May not a concealed thread, pulling the significant one; one, two; or one, two, three; or the sign of a bribed servant or w^aiter, inform him, and yet his standing be fair ? May he not cheat in shuffling, and yet be in full orders and ca- nonical ? May he not cheat in dealing, and yet be a welcome gambler ? May he not steal the money from your pile by laying his hands upon it, just as any other thief would, and yet be an api)roved gambler ? ]\Iay not the whole code be stated thus : Pay ichat yon lose, 112 LECTUKES TO YOUNG MEX. get iL'liat you can, and in any way you can ! I am told, j)erliaps, that there are honest gamblers, gentlemanly gamblers. Certainly ; there are always ripe apples before there are rotten. Men always hcgin before they end ; there is always an approximation before there is contact. Players will play truly till they get used to playing untruly, will be honest tiU they cheat, wiU be honorable till they become base; and when you have said all this, what does it amount to but this, that men who really gaml3le really cheat; and that they only do not cheat who are not yet real gamblers ? If this mends the matter, let it be so amended. I have spoken of gamesters only among themselves : this is the least part of the evil ; for who is concerned when lions destroy bears, or wolves devour wolf-cubs, or snakes sting vipers ? In respect to that department of gam- bling which includes the roping in of strangers, young men, collecting-clerks, and unsuspecting green-hands, and robbing them, I have no language strong enough to mark down its turpitude, its infernal rapacity. After hearing many of the scenes not unfamiliar to every gambler, I think Satan might be proud of their deal- ings, and look up to them with that deferential respect with which one monster gazes upon a superior. There is not even the expectation of honesty. Some scullion- herald of iniquity decoys the unwary wretch into the secret room ; he is tempted to drink, made confident by the specious simplicity of the game, allowed to win; and every bait and lure and blind is employed; then he is plucked to the skin by tricks wliich appear as fair as lionesty itself. The robber avows his deed, does it openly ; the gambler sneaks to the same result under GAMBLERS AND GAMBLING. 113 skulking pretenses. There is a frank way and a mean way of doing a wicked thing. The gambler takes the meanest way of doing the dirtiest deed. The victim's own partner is sucking his blood ; it is a league of sharpers, to get his money at any rate ; and the wicked- ness is so unblushing and unmitigated, that it gives, at last, an instance of what the deceitful human heart, knavish as it is, is ashamed to try to cover or conceal ; but confesses with helpless honesty that it is fraud, cheating, stealing, robhcrij, and notliing else. If I walk the dark street, and a perishing, hungry wretch meets me and bears off my purse with but a sinole dollar, the whole town awakes ; the ofidcers are alert, the myrmidons of the law scout and hunt and bring in the trembling culprit to stow him in the jail. But a worse thief may meet me, decoy my steps, and by a greater dishonesty filch ten thousand dollars, — and what then ? T]ie story spreads, the sharpers move abroad unharmed, no one stirs. It is the day's conver- sation ; and Hke a sound it rolls to the distance, and dies in an echo. Shall such astounding iniquities be vomited out amidst us, and no man care ? Do we love our children, and yet let them walk in a den of vipers ? Shall we pretend to virtue and purity and religion, and yet make partners of our social life men whose heart has conceived such damnable deeds, and whose hands have performed them ? Shall there be even in the eye of religion no difference between the corrupter of youth and their guardian ? Are all the lines and marks of morality so effaced, is the nerve and courage of virtue so quailed by the frequcin} and bulduuss of flagitious 0^>^ OP TITT. *-N^ 114 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. crimes, that men, covered over with wickedness, shall find their iniquity no obstacle to their advancement among a Christian people ? In almost every form of iniquity there is some shade or trace of good. We have in gambling a crime stand- ing alone, — dark, malignant, uncompounded wicked- ness ! It seems in its full growth a monster without a tender mercy, devouring its own offspring witliout one feeling but appetite. A gamester, as such, is the cool, calculating, essential spirit of concentrated avaricious selfishness. His intellect is a living thing, quickened with double life for villainy ; his heart is steel of four- fold temper. When a man hcgins to gamble he is as a noble tree full of sap, green with leaves, a shade to beasts, and a covert to birds. When one becomes a thorough gambler, he is like that tree lightning-smitten, rotten in root, dry in branch, and sapless ; seasoned hard and tough : nothing lives beneath it, nothing on its branches, unless a hawk or a vulture perches for a moment to whet its beak, and fly screaming away for its prey. To every young man who indulges in the least form of gambling I raise a warning voice. Under the spe- cious name of amusement you are laying the founda- tion of gambling. Playing is the seed from which comes up gambling. It is the light wind which brings the storm. It is the white frost which preludes the winter. You are mistaken, however, in supj)osing that it is harmless in its earliest beginnings. Its terrible blight belongs, doubtless, to a later stage ; but its con- sumption of time, its destruction of industry, its distaste for the calmer pleasures of life, belong to the very GAMBLERS AND GAMBLING. 115 heginning. You will begin to play with every generous feeling. Amusement will be the plea. At the begin- ning the game will excite enthusiasm, pride of skill, the love of mastery, and the love of money. The love of money, at first almost imperceptible, at last will rule out all the rest, like Aaron's rod, — a serpent, swal- lowing every other serj^ent. Generosity, enthusiasm, pride and skill, love of mastery, will be absorbed in one mighty feeling, the savage lust of lucre. There is a downward climax in this sin. The open- ing and ending are fatally connected, and drawn toward each other with almost irresistible attraction. If gam- bling is a vortex, playing is the outer ring of the maelstrom. The thousand-pound stake, the whole estate put up on a game, — what are these but the instruments of kindling that tremendous excitement which a diseased heart craves ? What is the amuse- ment for which you play but the excitement of the game ? And for what but this does the jaded gambler play ? You differ from him only in the degree of the same feeling. Do not solace yourself that you shall escape because others have ; for they stopped, and you go on. Are you as safe as they, when you are in the gulf- stream of perdition, and they on the shore ? But have you ever asked hoio many have escaped ? Xot one in a thousand is left unblighted ! You have nine hun- dred and ninety-nine chances against you and one for you, and will you go on ? If a disease should stalk through the town, devouring whole families, and sparing not one in five hundred, would you lie down under it quietly because you had one chance in five hundred ? Had a scorpion stung you, would it alleviate your 116 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN". pangs to reflect that you had only one chance in one hundred ? Had you swallowed corrosive poison, would it ease your convulsions to think there was only one chance in fifty for you ? I do not call every man wdio plays a gambler, but a gambler in cmhryo. Let me trace your course from the amusement of innocent playing to its almost inevitable end. Seem the first. A genteel coffee-house, whose hu- mane screen conceals a line of grenadier bottles, and ,hides-respectable blushes from impertinent eyes. There ^s a quiet little room opening out of the bar, and here sit four jovial youths. The cards are out, tlie wines are in. The fourth is a reluctant hand ; he does not love the drink nor approve the game. He anticipates and fears the result of both. Why is he here ? He is a whole-souled fellow, and is afraid to seem ashamed of any fashionable gayety. He will sip his wine upon the importunity of a friend newly come to tow^n, and is too polite_tD_spoil that friend'^ pleasure by refusing a part \ x\ thp. gn.mp... They sit, shuffle, deal ; the night wears on, the clock telling no tale of passing hours, — the prudent liquor-fiend has made it safely dumb. The night is getting old ; its dank air grows fresher ; the east is gray; the gaming and drinking and hilarious laughter are over, and the youths wending homeward. What says conscience ? No matter what it says ; they did not hear, and we will not. Whatever was said, it w^as very shortly answered thus : " This has not been gambling ; all were gentlemen ; there w^as no cheating ; simply a convivial evening ; no stakes except the bills incident to the entertainment. If anybody blames a young man for a little innocent exhilaration on a special GAMBLEES AXD GAMBLING. 117 occasion, lie is a superstitious bigot ; let liim croak ! " SucL. a gariiiske4-gaiBe is made the text to justify the whole round, of gaiiihling. Let us then look at Scene the second. In a room so silent that there is no sound except the shriU. cock crowing the morning, where the forgotten candles burn dimly over the long and lengthened wick, sit four men. Carved marble could not be more motionless, save their hands. Pale, watchful, though weary, their eyes pierce the cards or furtively read each other's faces. Hours have passed over them thus. At length they rise without words ; some, with a satisfaction which only makes their faces brightly haggard, scrape off the piles of money ; others, dark, suUen, silent, fierce, move away from their lost money. The darkest and fiercest of the four is that young friend who first sat down to make out a game. He will never sit so innocently again. What says he to his conscience now ? " I have a right to gamble ; I have a right to be damned, too, if I choose ; whose busi- ness is it ? " Scene the third. Years have passed on. He has seen youth ruined, at first with expostulation, then with only silent regret, then consenting to take part of the spoils ; and, finally, he has himself decoyed, duped, and stripped them without mercy. Go with me into that dilapidated house, not far from the landing, at New Orleans. Look into that dirty room. Around a broken table, sitting upon boxes, kegs, or rickety chairs, see a filthy crew dealing cards smouched with tobacco, grease, and li([uor. One has a pirate-face burnished and burnt with brandy ; a shock of grizzly, matted hair, half covering his villain eyes, which glare out like a wdld 118 LECTUKES TO YOUNG MEN. beast's from a tliicket. Close by him wheezes a white- faced, dropsical wretch, vermin covered, and stenchful. A scoundrel Spaniard and a burly negro (the j oiliest of the four) complete the group. They have spectators, — drunken sailors, and ogling, thieving, drinking women, who should have died long ago, when all that was womanly died. Here hour draws on hour, sometimes with brutal laughter, sometimes with threat and oath and uproar. Tlie last few stolen dollars lost, and temper too, each charges each with cheating, and high words ensue, and blows ; and the whole gang burst out the door, beating, biting, scratching, and rolling over and over in the dirt and dust. The worst, the fiercest, the drunkest of the four is our friend who began by making up the game. Scene the fourth. Upon this bright day stand with me, if you would be sick of humanity, and look over that multitude of men kindly gathered to see a murderer hung At last a guarded cart drags on a thrice-guarded wretch. At the gallows' ladder his courage fails. His coward feet refuse to ascend ; dragged u^, he is sup- ported by bustling officials; his brain reels, his eye swims, while the meek minister utters a final prayer by his leaden ear. The prayer is said, the noose is fixed, the signal is given ; a sliudder runs through the crowd as he swings free. After a moment his convulsed limbs stretch down and hang heavily and still ; and he who began to gamble to make up a game, and ended with stabbing an enraged victim whom he had fleeced, has here played his last game, — himself the stake. I feel impelled, in closing, to call the attention of all sober citizens to some potent influences which are ex- erted in favor of gambling. GAMBLEKS AND GAMBLING. 119 In our civil economy we have legislators to devise and enact wholesome laws, lawyers to counsel and aid those who need the laws' relief, and judges to determine and administer the laws. If legislators, lawyers, and judges are gamblers, with what hope do we warn off the young from this deadly fascination, against such author- itative examples of liigh public functionaries ? AVith what eminent fitness does that judge press the bench who, in private, commits the vices which ofi&cially he is set to condemn I AVitli what singular terrors does he frown on a convicted gambler with whom he played last night and will play again to-night ! How wisely should the fine be light which the sprightly criminal will win and pay out of the judge's own pocket ! With the name of Judge is associated ideas of im- maculate purity, sober piety, and fearless, favorless justice. Let it then be counted a -dark crime for a recreant official so far to forget his reverend place and noble office as to run the gantlet of filthy vices, and make the word Judge to suggest an incontinent trifler, who smites with his mouth and smirks with his eye ; who holds the rod to strike the criminal, and smites only the law to make a gap for criminals to pass through ! If God loves this land, may he save it from truckling, drinking, swearing, gambling, vicious judges ! * With such judges I must associate corrupt Legisla- tors, whose bawling patriotism leaks out in all the * The general eminent integrity of the Bench is unquestionable, and no remarks in the text are to be construed as an oblique aspersion of the profession. But the purer our judges generally, the move shameless is it that some will not abandon either their vices or their office. 120 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. sinks of infamy at the capital. These living exemplars of vice pass still-born laws against vice. Are such men sent to the capital only to practice debauchery ? La- borious seedsmen, they gather every germ of evil; and, laborious sowers, at home they strew them far and wide. It is a burning shame, a high outrage, that public men, by corrupting the young with the example of manifold vices, should pay back their constituents for their honors. Our land has little to fear from abroad, and much from within. We can bear foreign aggression, scarcity, the revulsions of commerce, plagues, and pestilences ; but we cannot bear vicious judges, corrupt courts, gambling legislators, and a vicious, corrupt, and gam- bling constituency. Let us not be deceived. The decay of civil institutions begins at the core. The outside wears all the lovely hues of ripeness when the inside is rotting. Decline does not begin in bold and startling acts ; but, as in autumnal leaves, in rich and glowing colors. Over diseased vitals consumptive laws wear the hectic blush, a brilliant eye, and transparent skin. Could the public sentiment declare that personal MORALITY is the first element of patriotism, that cor- rupt legislators are the most pernicious of criminals, that the judge wlio lets the villain off is the villain's patron, that tolerance of crime is intolerance of virtue, our nation might defy all enemies and live forever. And now, my young friends, I beseech you to let alone this evil before it be meddled with. You are safe from vice when you avoid even its apj)earance, and only then. The first steps to wickedness are im- perceptible. AVe do not wonder at the inexperience of GAMBLEES AXD GAMBLING. 121 Adam; but it is wonderful that six thousand years' repetition of the same arts and the same uniform disaster should have taught men nothing; that gen- eration after generation should perish, and the wreck be no warning. The mariner searches his chart for hidden rocks, stands off from perilous shoals, and steers wide of reefs on which hang shattered morsels of wrecked ships, and runs in upon dangerous shores with the ship manned, the wheel in hand, and the lead constantly sounding. But the mariner upon life's sea carries no chart of other men's voyages, drives before every wind that will speed him, draws upon horrid shores with slumbering crew, or heads in upon roaring reefs as though he would not perish where thousands have perished before him. Hell is populated with the victims of harmless amusements. Will man never learn that the way to hell is through the valley of deceit ? The power of Satan to hold his victims is nothing to that mastery of art by which he first gains them. When he approaches to charm us, it is not as a grim fiend, gleaming from a lurid cloud, but as an angel of light radiant with inno- cence. His words fall like dew upon the flower, as musical as the crystal drop warbling from a fountain. Begniiled by his art, he leads you to the enclianted ground. 0, how it glows with every" refulgent hue of heaven ! Afar off he marks tlie dismal gulf of vice and crime, its smoke of torment slowly rising, and rising forever; and he himself cunningly warns you of its dread disaster, for the very purpose of blinding and drawing you thither. He leads you to captivity through all the bowers of lulling magic. He plants your foot 122 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. on odorous flowers ; he fans your cheek with balmy breath ; lie overhangs your head with rosy clouds ; he fills your ear with distant, drowsy music, charming every sense to rest. ye who liave tliought tlie way to heU was bleak and frozen as Norway, parched and barren as Sahara, strewed like Golgotha with bones and skulls reeking with stench like the vale of Gehenna, — witness your mistake ! The way to hell is gorgeous. It is a highway, cast up ; no lion is there, no ominous bird to hoot a warning, no echoings of the wailing-pit, no lurid gleams of distant fires, or moaning sounds of hidden woe. Paradise is imitated to build you a way to death ; the flowers of heaven are stolen and poisoned ; the sweet plant of knowledge is here ; the pure white flower of religion; seeming virtue and the charming tints of innocence are scattered all along like native herbage. The enchanted victim travels on. Standing afar behind, and from a silver trumpet, a heavenly mes- senger sends down the wind a solemn warning : There IS A WAY WHICH SEEMETH RIGHT TO MAN, BUT THE END THEREOF IS DEATH. And again, with louder blast : The WISE MAN FORESEETH THE EVIL ; FOOLS PASS ON AND ARE PUNISHED. Startled for a moment, the victim pauses, gazes round upon the flowery scene, and whispers, Is it not harmless ? Harmless ! responds a serpent from the grass. Harmless ! echo the sighing winds. Harmless ! re-echo a hundred airy tongues. If now a gale from heaven might only sweep the clouds away through which the victim gazes ! , if God would break that potent power which chains the blasts of hell, and let the sulphur-stench roll up the vale, how would the vision change, — the road become a track of dead men's GAMBLERS AXD GAMBLING. 123 bones, tlie heavens a lowering storm, the balmy breezes distant wailings, and all those balsam-shrubs that lied to his senses sweat drops of blood upon their poison boughs ! Ye who are meddling with the edges of vice, ye are on this road, and utterly duped by its enchantments. Your eye has akeady lost its honest glance, your taste has lost its purity, your heart throbs with poison. TJie leprosy is all over you ; its blotches and eruptions cover you. Your feet stand on sHppery i^laces, whence in due time they shall slide, if you refuse the warning which I raise. They shall slide from heaven, never to be visited by a gambler; slide down to that fiery abyss below you, out of which none ever come. Then, when the last card is cast, and the game over, and you lost, — then, when the echo of your fall shall ring through hell, — in mahgnant triumph shall the Arch-Gambler, who cunningly played for your soul, have his prey ! Too late you shall look back upon life as a mighty game, in which you were the stake and Satan the winner. VI. THE STRANGE WOMAN. All scripture is given by inspiration of God, and is profit- able FOR doctrine, for REPROOF, FOR CORRECTION, FOR INSTRUC- TION IN RIGHTEOUSNESS: THAT THE MAN OF GOD MAY BE PERFECT, THOROUGHLY FURNISHED UNTO ALL GOOD WORKS." — 2 Tim. iii. 16, 17. UEELY one cannot declare tlie whole coun- sel of God, and leave out a subject which is interwoven with almost every chapter of the Bible. So inveterate is the prejudice against introducing into the pulpit the subject of licen- tiousness, that ministers of the gospel, knowing the vice to be singularly dangerous and frequent, have yet by silence almost complete, or broken only by circuitous allusions, manifested their submission to the popular taste.* That vice upon which it has pleased God to be more explicit and full than upon any other; against which he uttered his voice upon Sinai, Thou shalt not commit adultery; upon which the lawgiver, Moses, legislated with boldness ; which judges condemned ; * The liberality with which this lecture was condemned before I had written it, and the prompt criticisms afterwards, of those who did not hear it, have induced me to print it almost unaltered. Otherwise I should have changed many portions of it from forms of expression peculiar to the pulpit into those better suited to a book. THE STRANGE WOMAN. 125 upon which the A^enerable prophets spake oft and again; against which Christ with singular directness and plainness uttered the purity of religion ; and upon which he inspired Paul to discourse to the Corinthians, and to almost every primitive church; — this subject, upon which the Bible does not so much speak as thunder, not by a single bolt, but peal after peal, we are solemnly warned not to introduce into the pidpit ! I am entirely aware of the delicacy of introducing this subject into the pulpit. One difficulty arises from the sensitiveness of unaf- fected purity. A mind retaining all the dew and freshness of innocence shrinks from the very idea of impurity, as if it were sin to have thought or heard of it, — as if even the shadow of the evil would leave some soil upon the unsullied whiteness of the virgin - mind. Shall we be angry with this ? or shall we rudely rebuke so amiable a feeling, because it regrets a neces- sary duty ? God forbid ! If there be, in the world, that whose generous faults should be rebuked only by the tenderness of a reproving smile, it is the mistake of inexperienced purity. We would as soon pelt an angel, bewildered among men and half smothered with earth's noxious vapors, for his trembling apprehensions. To any such, who have half wished that I might not speak, I say: Nor would I, did I not know that purity will suffer more by the silence of sliame than by the honest voice of truth. Another difficulty springs from the nature of the English language, which has hardly been framed in a school where it may wind and fit itself to all the phases of impurity. But were I speaking French, — the dialect 126 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. of refined sensualism and of licentious literature, the language of a land where taste and learning and art ^Yait upon the altars of impurity, — then I might copiously speak of this evil, nor use one plain word. But I thank God the honest English tongue which I have learned has never been so bred to this vile sub- servience of evil. We have plain words enough to say plain things, but the dignity and manliness of our lan- guage has never grown supple to twine around brilliant dissipation. It has too many plain words, vulgar words, vile words ; but it has few mirror-words, which cast a sidelong image of an idea ; it has few words which wear a meaning smile, a courtesan glance significant of some- thing unexpressed. When public vice necessitates pub- lic reprehension, it is, for these reasons, difficult to redeem plainness from vulgarity. We must speak plainly and properly ; or else speak by innuendo, which is the Devil's language. Another difficulty lies in the confused echoes which vile men create in every community when the pulpit disturbs them. Do 1 not know the arts of cunning men ? Did not Demetrius the silversmith (worthy to have lived in our day !) become most wonderfully pious, and run all over the city to rouse up the dormant zeal of Diana's worshippers, and gather a mob, to whom he preached that Diana must he cared for ; when to his fellow-craftsmen he told the truth, OUR craft is in DANGER? Men will not quietly be exposed. They foresee the rising of a virtuously retributive public sen- timent, as the mariner sees the cloud of the storm rolling up the heavens. They strive to forestall and resist it. How loudly will a liquor-fiend protest against THE STRAXGE WOMAN. 127 temperance lectures, — sinful enough for redeeming victims from his paw ! How sensitive some men to a church bell ! They are high-priests of revivals at a horse-race, a theater, or a liquor supper ; but a religious revival pains their sober minds. Even thus the town will be made vocal with outcries against sermons on licentiousness. "Who cries out? — the sober, the immaculate, the devout ? It is the voice of the son of midnight ; it is the shriek of the strange woman's victim ; and their sensitiveness is not of purity, but of fear. Men protest against the indecency of the pul- pit, because the pulpit makes them feel their own inde- cency ; they would drive us from the investigation of vice, that they may keep- the field open for their own occupancy. I expect such men's reproaches. I know the reasons of them. I am not to be turned by them, not one hair's breadth, if they rise to double their pres- ent volume, until I have hunted home the wolf to his lair, and ripped off his brindled hide in liis very den ! Another difficulty exists in the criminal fastidious- ness of the community upon this subject. This is the counterfeit of delicacy. It resembles it less than paste jewels do the pure pearl. "Where delicacy, the atmos- phere of a pure heart, is lost, or never was had, a substitute is sought ; and is found in forms of delicacy, not in its feelings. It is a delicacy of exterior, of eti- quette, of show, of rules ; not of thought, not of pure imagination, not of the crystal-current of the heart. Criminal fastidiousness is the Pharisee's sepulcher; clean, white, beautiful without, full of dead men's bones within, — the Pliarisee's platter, the Pliarisee's cup, — it is the very Pharisee himself; and, like him of old. 128 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. lays on burdens grievous to be borne. Delicacy is a spring whicli God has sunken in the rock, which the winter never freezes, the summer never heats ; which sends its quiet waters with music down the flowery hillside, and which is pure and transparent, because it has at the bottom no sediment. I would tliat every one of us had this well of life gushing from our hearts, — an everlasting and full stream ! False modesty always judges by the outside ; it cares lioiu you speak more than ivhat. That which would outrage in plain words may be implied furtively, in the sallies of wit or fancy, and be admissible. Every day I see this giggling modesty, which blushes at lan- guage more than at its meaning ; which smiles u2:)on base things, if they will appear in the garh of virtue. That disease of mind to which I have frequently alluded in these lectures, which leads it to clothe vice beauti- fully and then admit it, has had a fatal effect also upon literature ; giving currency to filth by coining it in the mint of beauty. It is under the influence of this dis- ease of taste and heart, that we hear expressed such strange judgments upon English authors. Those who speak plainly what they mean, when they speak at all, are called rude and vulgar ; while those upon whose ex- quisite sentences the dew of indelicacy rests like so many brilliant pearls of the morning upon flowers, are called our moral authors ! The most dangerous writers in the English language are those whose artful insinuations and mischievous polish reflect upon the mind the image of impurity, without presenting the impurity itself. A plain vul- garity in a writer is its own antidote. It is like a foe THE STRAXGE WOMAN. 129 who attacks us o^^enly, and gives us opportunity of defence. But impurity, secreted under beauty, is like a treacherous friend who strolls with us in a garden of sweets, and destroys us by the odor of poisonous flowers proffered to our senses. Let the reprehensible gross- ness of Chaucer be compared with the perfumed, elaborate brilliancy of Moore's license. I would not willmgly answer at the bar of God for the writings of either; but of the two, I would rather bear the sin of Chaucer's plain-spoken words, which never suggest more than they say, than the sin of Moore's language, over which plays a witching hue and shade of licen- tiousness. I would rather put the downright and often abominable vulgarity of Swift into my child's hand, than the scoundrel indirections of Sterne. They are both impure writers, but not equally harmful. The one says what he means, the other means what he dare not say. Swift is, in this respect, Belial in his own form ; Sterne is Satan in the form of an angel of light : and many will receive the temptation of the angel who would scorn the proffer of the demon. "What an in- credible state of morals in the English Church, that permitted two of her eminent clergy to be the most licentious writers of the age, and as impure as almost any of the English literature ! Even our most classic authors have chosen to elaborate, with exquisite art, scenes wliich cannot but have more effect upon the pas- sions than upon the taste. Embosomed in the midst of Thomson's glowing Seasons one finds descriptions un- surpassed by any part of Don Juan ; and as much more dangerous than it is, as a courtesan countenanced by virtuous society is more dangerous than when among 6* I 130 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. her own associates. Indeed, an author who surprises you with refined indelicacies in moral and reputable writings is worse than one who, without disguise, and on purpose, serves up a w^hole banquet of indelicacies. Many will admit poison morsels well sugared, who would revolt from an infernal feast of impurity. There is little danger that rohhers will tempt the honest young to robbery. Some one first tempts him to falsehood, next to petty dishonesty, next to pilfering, then to thieving ; and now only will the robber influence him, when others have handed him down to his region of crime. Those authors who soften evil and show de- formity with tints of beauty, who arm their general purity with the occasional sting of impurity, — these are they who take the feet out of the strait path, the guiltiest path of seduction. He who feeds an inflamed appetite with food spiced to fire is less guilty than he who hid in the mind the leaven which wrought this appetite. The polished seducer is certainly more dan- gerous than the vulgar debauchee, both in life and in literature. In this contrast are to be placed Shakespeare and Bulwer : Shakespeare is sometimes gross, but not often covertly impure. Bulwer is slyly impure, but not often gross. I am speaking, however, only of Shakespeare's plays, and not of his youthful fugitive pieces ; which, I am afraid, cannot have part in this exception. He began wrong, but grew better. At first he wrote by the taste of his age ; but when a man, he wrote to his own taste : and though he is not without sin, yet, com- pared with liis contemporaries, he is not more illustrious for his genius than for his purity. Eeprehension, to be THE STRANGE WO.MAX. 131 effective, should be just. Xo man is prepared to excuse properly the occasional blemishes of this wonderful writer, who has not been shocked at the immeasurable licentiousness of the dramatists of his cycle. One play of Ford, one act, one conversation, has more abomina- tions than the whole world of Shakespeare. Let those women who ignorantly sneer at Shakespeare remember that they are indebted to him for the noblest conceptions of woman's character in our literature, — the more praise- worthy, because he found no models in current authors. The occasional touches of truth and womanly delicacy in the early dramatists are no compensation for the wholesale coarseness and vulgarity of their female char- acters. In Shakespeare, woman appears in her true form, — pure, disinterested, ardent, devoted ; capable of the noblest feelings and of the highest deeds. The language of many of Shakespeare's women would be shocking in our day; but so would be the domestic manners of that age. The same actions may in one age be a sign of corruption, and be perfectly innocent in another. No one is shocked that in a pioneer-cabin one room serves for a parlor, a kitchen, and a bedroom for the whole family and for promiscuous guests. Should fastidiousness revolt at this as vulgar, the vulgarity must be accredited to the fastidiousness, and not to the custom. Yet it would be inexcusable in a refined metropolis, and everywhere the moment it ceases to be necessary. But nothing in these remarks must apologize for language or deed which indicates an impure heart. No age, no custom, may plead extenua- tion for essential lust ; and no sound mind can refrain from commendation of the master dramatist of the 132 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. world, when he learns that, in writing for a most licen- tious age, he rose above it so far as to become something like a model to it of a more virtuous way. Shake- si^eare left the dramatical literature immeasurably purer than it came to him. Bulwer has made the English novel literature more vile than he found it. The one was a reformer, the other an implacable corrupter. We respect and admire the one (while we mark his faults) because he with- stood his age ; and we despise with utter loathing the other, whose specific gravity of wickedness sunk him below the level of his own age. With a moderate caution, Shakespeare may be safely put into the hands of the young. I regard the admission of Bulwer as a crime against the first principles of virtue. In all the cases which I have considered, you will remark a greater indulgence to that impurity which "breaks out on the surface, than to that which lurks in the blood and destroys the constitution. It is the curse of our literature that it is traversed by so many rills of impurity. It is a vast champaign, waving with unexampled luxuriance of flower and vine and fruit; but the poisonous flower everywhere mingles with the pure, and the deadly cluster lays its cheek on the wholesome grape ; nay, in the same cluster grow both the harmless and the hurtful berry ; so that the hand can hardly be stretched out to gather flower or fruit without coming back poisoned. It is both a shame and an amazing wonder that the literature of a Chris- tian nation should reek with a filth which Pagan an- tiquity could scarcely endure; tliat the ministers of Christ should liave left floating in the pool of offensive THE STRANGE WOMAN. 133 writino-s much that would have brousjht blood to tlie cheek of a Koman priest, and have shamed an actor of the school of Aristophanes. Literature is, in turn, both the cause and effect of the spirit of the age. Its effect upon this age has been to create a lively relish for exquisitely artful licentiousness, and disgust only for vulgarity. A witty, brilliant, suggestive indecency is tolerated for the sake of its genius. An age which translates and floods tlie community with French novels (inspired by Venus and Bacchus), which re- prints in popular forms Byron and Bulwer and Moore and Fielding, proposes to revise Shakespeare and expur- gate the Bible ! Men who, at home, allow Don Juan to lie within reach of every reader, will not allow a minis- ter of the gospel to expose the evil of such a literature. To read authors whose lines drop with the very gall of death ; to vault in elegant dress as near the edge of in- decency as is possible without treading over ; to express the utmost possible impurity so dexterously that not a vulgar word is used, but rosy, glowing, suggestive lan- guage, — this, with many, is refinement. But to expose the prevalent vice, to meet its glittering literature with the plain and manly language of truth, to say nothing except what one desires to say plaiidy, — this, it seems, is vulgarity ! One of the first steps in any reformation must be, not alone nor first the correction of the grossness, but of the elegances, of impurity. Could our literature and men's conversation be put under such autliority that neither should express by insinuation what dared not be said openly, in a little time men would not dare to say at all what it would be indecent toepeak plainly. I'DI i' 134 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. If there be here any disciples of Bulwer ready to disport in the very ocean of license, if its waters only seem translucent ; who can read and relish all that fires the heart, and are only then distressed and shocked when a serious man raises the rod to correct and repress the evil ; if there be here any who can drain his goblet of mingled wine, and only shudder at crystal water; any who can see this modern prophet of villainy strike the rock of corruption to water his motley lierd of revelers, but hate him who, out of the rock of truth, should bid gush the healthful stream, — I beseech them to bow their heads in this Christian assembly, and weep their tears of regret in secret places, until the evening service be done, and Bulwer can stanch their tears, and comfort again their wounded hearts. Whenever an injunction is laid upon plain and unde- niable Scripture truth, and I am forbidden, upon pain of your displeasure, to preach it, then I should not so much regard my personal feelings as the affront which you put upon my Master ; and in my inmost soul I shall resent that affront. There is no esteem, there is no love, like that which is founded in the sanctity of relig- ion. Between many of you and me that sanctity exists. I stood by your side when you awoke in the dark valley of conviction and owned yourselves lost. I have led you by the hand out of the darkness ; by your side I have prayed, and my tears have mingled with yours. I have bathed you in the crystal waters of a holy baptism ; and when you sang the- song of tlie ransomed captive, it filled my heart with a joy as great as that wliich uttered it. Love, beginning in such scenes, and drawn from so sacred a fountain, is not commercial, not fluctuating. THE STRANGE WOMAN. 135 Amid severe toils, and not a few anxieties, it is the crown of rejoicing to a pastor. AA^iat have we in this world but you ? To be your servant in the gospel, we renounce all those paths by which other men seek pre- ferment. Silver and gold is not in our houses, and our names are not heard where fame proclaims others. Eest we are forbidden until death ; and, girded with the whole armor, our lives are spent in the dust and smoke of continued battle. But even such love will not tolerate bondage. We can be servants to love, but never slaves to caprice; still less can we heed the mandates of iniquity. The proverbs of Solomon are designed to furnish us a series of maxims for every relation of life. There will naturally be the most said where there is the most needed. If the frequency of warning against any sin measures the liability of man to that sin, then none is worse than impurity. In many separate passages is the solemn warning against the strange woman given with a force which must terrify all but the innocent or incorrigible, and with a delicacy which all will feel but those whose modesty is the fluttering of an impure imagination. I shall take such parts of all these passages as wiU make out a connected narrative. When vmclom enteretJi into thy heart, and hioidcdge is pleasant u7ito thy soul, discretion shall 2'^J^cscrve thee, . ... to deliver thee from the stranrje tvoman, which flattereth ivith her tongue ; her lips drop as a honcyeomh, her month is smootJier than oil. Slie sitteth at the door of 136 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. her house, on a seat in the high 2^lnces of the city, to call to passengers who go right on their luays: " Whoso is simple, let him tarn in hither." To him that wcmteth unclerstanding, she saith, "Stolen ivaters are sweet, and bread eaten in seeret is pleasant'' ; hut he hioiocth not that the dead are there. Lust not after her heauty, neither let her take thee ivith her eyelids. She forsaketli the guide of her youth, and forgetteth the covenant of her God. Lest thou shouldst pjonder the path of life, her ways are mov- ahle, that thou eanst not know them. Remove thy ivay far from her, and eome not nigh the door of her house, for her house inelineth unto death. She has east down many icounded ; yea, many strong men have been slain by her. Her house is the way to hell, going doivn to the chamber of death ; none that go unto her return again ; neither take they hold of the paths of life. Let not thy heart decline to her taays, lest thou mourn at last, when thy flesh and thy body are consumed, and say, " Hoio have L hated instruction, and my heart despised reproof. L was in all evil in the midst of the congregation and assembly!' I. Can language be found which can draw a corrupt beauty so vividly as this : Which forsakcth the guide of her youth, and forgetteth the covenant of her God .? Look out upon that fallen creature whose gay sally through the street calls out the significant laugh of bad men, the pity of good men, and the horror of the pure. Was not her cradle as pure as ever a loved infant pressed ? Love soothed its cries. Sisters watched its peaceful sleep, and a mother pressed it fondly to her bosom. Had you afterwards, wlien spring tlowers covered the earth, and every gale was odor, and every sound was THE STEANGE WOMAN. 137 music, seen lier, fairer than the lily or the violet, search- ing them, would you not have said, " Sooner shall the rose grow poisonous tlmn she ; both may wither, but neither corrupt." And how often, at evening, did she clasp her tiny hands in prayer ! How often did she put the wonder-raising questions to her mother, of God and heaven and the dead, as if she had seen heavenly things in a vision ! As young womanhood advanced, and these foreshadowed graces ripened to the bud and burst into bloom, health glowed in her cheek, love looked from her eye, and purity was an atmosphere around her. Alas, she forsook the guide of her youth! Faint thoughts of evil, like a far-off cloud which the sunset gilds, came first ; nor does the rosy sunset blush deeper along the heaven, than her cheek at the first thought of evil. Xow, ah, mother, and thou guiding elder sister, could you have seen the lurking spirit em- bosomed in that cloud, a holy prayer might have broken the spell, a tear have washed its stain ! Alas, they saw it not! She spoke it not; she was forsaking the guide of her youth. She thinketh no more of heaven. She breatheth no more prayers. She hath no more peniten- tial tears to shed, until, after a long life, she drops the bitter tear upon the cheek of despair, — then her only suitor. Thou hast forsaken the covenant of thy God. Go down ! fall never to rise ! Hell opens to be thy home ! O Prince of torment, if thou hast transforming power, give some relief to this once innocent child whom another has corrupted ! Let thy deepest dam- nation seize him who brought her hither; let his coronation be upon the very mount of torment, and 138 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. the rain of fiery hail be his sahitation ! He shall be crowned with thorns poisoned and anguish-bearing, and every woe beat upon him, and every wave of hell roll over the first risings of baffled hope. Thy guilty thoughts and guilty deeds shall flit after thee with bows which never break, and quivers forever emptying but never exhausted. If Satan hath one dart more poisoned than another, if God hath one bolt more trans- fixing and blasting than another, if there be one hideous spirit more unrelenting than others, they shall be thine, most execrable wretch, who led her to forsake the guide of her youth, and to abandon the covenant of her God. II. The next injunction of God to the young is upon the ensnaring danger of beauty. Desire not her leauty in thy heart, oieither let her take thee ivith her eyelids. God did not make so much of nature with exquisite beauty, or put within us a taste for it, without object. ^ He meant that it should delight us. He made every flower to charm us. He never made a color, nor grace- ful flying bird, nor silvery insect, without meaning to please our taste. When he clothes a man or woman with beauty, he confers a favor, did we know how to , receive it. Beauty, with amiable dispositions and ripe intelligence, is more to any w^oman than a queen's crown. The peasant's daughter, the rustic belle, if they have woman's sound discretion, may be rightfully prouder than kings' daughters ; for God adorns those who are both good and beautiful, man can only conceal the want of beauty by blazing jewels. As moths and tiny insects flutter around the bright blaze which was kindled for no harm, so the foolish young fall down burned and destroyed by the blaze of THE STRANGE WOMAN. 139 beauty. As the flame T\'liich burns to destroy the in- sect is consuming itself and soon sinks into the socket, so beauty, too often, draws on itseK that ruin which it inflicts upon others. If God hath given thee beauty, tremble ; for it is as gold in thy house ; thieves and robbers will prowl around and seek to possess it. If God hath put beauty before thine eyes, remember how many strong men have been cast down wounded by it. Art thou stronger than David ? Art thou stronger than mighty patri- archs, — than kings and princes, who by its fascina- tions have lost peace and purity, and honor and riches, and armies, and even kingdoms ? Let other men's destruction be thy ^^isdom ; for it is hard to reap pru- dence upon the field of experience. III. In the minute description of this dangerous creature, mark next how seriously we are cautioned of her WILES. Her wiles of dress. Coverings of ta'pestry and the fine linen of Egyipt are hers ; the perfumes of myrrh and aloes and cinnamon. Silks and ribbons, laces and rinses, gold and equipage ; ah, how mean a price for damna- tion ! The wretch who would be hung simply for the sake of riding to the gallows on a golden chariot, clothed in king's raiment, what a fool were he! Yet how many consent to enter the chariot of Death, — drawn by the fiery steeds of lust which fiercely fly, and stop not for food or breath till they have accomplished their fatal journey, — if they may spread their seat with flowery silks, or flaunt their forms with glowing apparel and precious jewels ! Her wiles of speech. Beasts may not speak ; this 140 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. honor is too higli for tliem. To God's imaged son this prerogative belongs, to utter thought and feeling in articulate sounds. We may breathe our thoughts to a thousand ears, and infect a multitude with the best portions of our soul. How, then, has this soul's breath, this echo of our thoughts, this only image of our feel- ings, been perverted, that from the lips of sin it hath more persuasion than from the lips of wisdom ! What horrid wizard hath put the world under a spell and charm, that words from the lijDS of a strange woman shall ring upon the ear like tones of music ; while words from the divine lips of religion fall upon the startled ear like the funeral tones of the burial-bell ! Philos- ophy seems crabbed ; sin, fair. Purity sounds morose and cross ; but from the lips of the harlot words droj.) as honey and flow smoother than oil ; her speech is fair, her laugh is merry as music. The eternal glory of purity has no luster, but the deej) damnation of lust is made as bright as the gate of heaven. Her wiles of love. Love is the mind's light and heat ; it is that tenuous air in which all the other faculties exist, as we exist in the atmosphere. A mind of the greatest stature, without love, is like the huge pyramid of Egypt, chill and cheerless in all its dark halls and passages. A mind with love is as a king's palace lighted for a royal festival. Shame that the sweetest of all the mind's attril)iites should be suborned to sin ! that this daugliter of God should become a Ganymede to arrogant lusts, the cup- bearer to tyrants ! yet so it is. Devil-tempter ! will thy poison never cease ? shall beauty be poisoned ? shall lan^ua^ije be charmed ? shall love be made to THE STRANGE WOMAN. 141 defile like pitch, and burn as the living coals ? Her tongue is like a bended bow, which sends the silvery shaft of flattering words. Her eyes shall cheat thee, her dress shall beguile thee ; her beauty is a trap, her sighs are baits, her words are lures, her love is poisonous, her flattery is the spider's web spread for thee. O, trust not thy heart nor ear with Delilah ! The locks of the mightiest Samson are soon shorn ofl", if he will but lay his slumbering head upon her lap. He who could slay heaps upon heaps of Philistines, and bear upon his huge shoulders the ponderous iron gate, and pull down the vast temple, was yet too weak to contend with one wicked, artful woman ! Trust the sea with thy tiny boat, trust the fickle wind, trust the chan2;in<T skies of April, trust the miser's generosity, the tyrant's mercy ; but, ah ! simple man, trust not thyself near the artful w^oman, armed in her beauty, her cunning raiment, her dimpled smiles, her sighs of sorrow, her look of love, her voice of flattery ; for if thou hadst the strength of ten Ulysses, unless God help thee, Calypso shall make thee fast, and hold thee in her island. Xext, beware the wile of her reasonings. To Mm that wantdli understanding she saith, Stolen tcaters are sweet j and bread eaten in secret is 2^lcasant. I came forth to meet thee, and I have found thee. ^^^lat says she in the credulous ear of inexperience ? "Why, she tells him that sin is safe ; she swears to him that sin is pure ; she protests to him tliat sin is inno- cent. Out of history she will entice liim, and say : Who hath ever refused my meat-offerings and drink- offerings ? AVhat king have I not sought ? AVhat con- queror have I not conquered ? Philosophers Im^'e not, 142 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. in all their T\'isdom, learned to hate me. I have been the guest of tlie world's greatest men. The Egyptian priest, the Athonian sage, the Eoman censor, the rude Gaul, liave all worshiped in my temple. Art thou afraid to tread where Plato trod, and tlie pious Socrates ? Art thou wiser than all that ever lived ? Nay, she readeth the Bible to him ; she goeth back along the line of history, and readeth of Abraham and of his glorious compeers ; she skippeth past Joseph with averted looks, and readeth of David and of Solomon ; and whatever chapter tells how good men stumbled, there she has turned down a leaf, and will persuade thee, with honeyed speech, that the best deeds of good men were their sins, and that thou shouldst only imitate them in their stumbling and falls. Or, if the Bible will not cheat thee, how will she plead thine own nature ; how will she whisper, God hath made tlice so. How, like her father, will she lure thee to pluck the apple, saying. Thou shalt not surely die. And she will hiss at virtuous men, and spit on modest women, and shake her serpent tongue at any parity which shall keep thee from her ways. 0, then, listen to what God says : With much fair speech she causcth him to yield ; tvith the flattery of her lips she forced him. He goeth after her as an ox goetli to slaughter, or as a fool to the correction of the stocks, till a dart strike through his liver, — as a "bird liasteth to a snare and knoweth not that it is for his life. I will point only to another wile. When inexpe- rience has been beguiled by her infernal machinations, how, like a flock of startled birds, will spring up late regrets and shame and fear ; and, worst of all, how will THE STRAXGE WOMAN. 143 conscience ply her scorpion- whip and lash thee, utter- ing with stern visage, " Thou art dishonored, thou art a wretch, thou art lost ! " When the soul is full of such outcry, memory cannot sleep ; she wakes, and while conscience still plies the scourge, will bring back to thy thoughts youthful purity, home, a mother's face, a sister's love, a father's counsel. Perhaps it is out of the high heaven that thy mother looks down to see thy baseness. 0, if she has a mother's heart, — nay, but she cannot weep for thee there ! These wholesome ipains, not to be felt if there were not yet health in the mind, would save the victim, could they have time to work. But how often ha^^e I seen the spider watch, from his dark round hole, the struggling fly, until he began to break his web ; and then dart out to cast his long, lithe arms about him, and fasten new cords stronger than ever. So, God saith, the strange woman shall secure her ensnared victims, if they struggle : Lest thou shouldst loondcr the path of life, hzT ivays are movable, that thou canst not know them. She is afraid to see thee soberly thinking of leaving her and entering the path of life ; therefore her ways are movable. She multiplies devices, she studies a thousand new wiles, she has some sweet word for every sense, — obsequience for thy pride, praise for thy vanity, generosity for thy selfishness, religion for thy con- science, racy quips for thy wearisomeness, spicy scandal for thy curiosity. She is never still, nor the same ; but evolving as many shapes as the rolliug cloud, and as many colors as dress the wide prairie. IV. Having disclosed her wiles, let me show you what God says of the chances of escape to those who 144 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. once follow her : None that go unto her return a/jain, neither take they hold of the jmths of life. The strength of this language was not meant absolutely to exclude hope from those who, having wasted their substance in riotous living, would yet return ; but to warn the un- fallen into what an almost hopeless gulf they plunge, if y they venture. Some may escape, — as here and there a mangled sailor crawls out of the water upon the beach, the only one or two of the whole crew; the rest are gurgling in the wave with impotent struggles, or already sunk to the bottom. There are many evils which hold their victims by the force of hahit ; there are others which fasten them by breaking their return to society. Many a person never reforms, because reform would bring no relief. There are other evils which hold men to them, because they are like the beginning of a fire ; they tend to burn with fiercer and wider flames, until all fuel is consumed, and go out only when there is nothing to burn. Of this last kind is the sin of licen- tiousness •; and when the conflagration once breaks out, experience has shown what the Bible long ago declared, that the chances of reformation are few indeed. The certainty of continuance is so great, tliat the chances of escape are dropped from the calculation ; and it is said, roundly, none that go unto her return again. V. We are repeatedly warned against the strange woman's house. There is no vice like licentiousness to delude with the most fascinating proffers of delight, and fulfil the promise with the most loathsome experience. All vices /^at the beginning are silver-tongued, but none so impas- i/ sioned as this. All vices in the end cheat their dupes. THE STEANGE WOMAN. 145 but none with such overwhehning disaster as licentious- ness. I shall describe by an allegory its specious seductions, its plausible promises, its apparent inno- cence, its delusive safety, its deceptive joys, — their change, their sting, their flight, their misery, and the victim's ruin. Her HOUSE has been cunningly planned by an Evn, ARCHITECT to attract and please the attention. It stands in a vast garden full of enchanting objects. It shines in glowing colors, and seems fuU of peace and full of pleasure. All the signs are of unbounded enjoyment, safe, if not innocent. Though every beam is rotten, and the house is the house of death, and in it are all the vicissitudes of infernal misery, yet to the young it ap- pears a palace of delight. They will not believe that death can lurk behind so brilliant a fabric. Those who are within look out and pine to return, and those who are without look in and pine to enter. Such is the mastery of deluding sin. That part of the garden which borders oti the high- way of innocence is carefully planted. There is not a poison weed nor thorn nor thistle there. Ten thousand flowers bloom, and waft a thousand odors. A victim cautiously inspects it ; but it has been too carefully pat- terned upon innocency to be easily detected. This outer garden is innocent ; innocence is the lure to wile you from the path into her grounds ; innocence is the bait of that trap by which she lias secured all her victims. At the gate stands a comely porter, saying blandly, Whoso is simple, let him turn in hither. Will the youth enter ? Will he seek her house ? Ta himself lie says, " I will enter only to see the garden, — its fruits, its 146 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. flowers, its birds, its arbors, its warbling fountains ! " He is resolved in virtue. He seeks wisdom, not pleasure. Dupe ! you are deceived already ; and this is your first lesson of wisdom. He passes, and the porter leers behind him. He is within an Enchanter's garden. Can he not now return, if he wishes ? He will not wish to return, until it is too late. He ranges the outer garden near to the highway, thinking, as he walks, " How foolishly have I been alarmed at pious lies about this beautiful place ! I heard it was hell ; I find it is paradise ! " Emboldened by the innocency of his first steps, he explores the garden farther from the road. The flowers grow richer ; their odors exhilarate ; the very fruit breathes perfume like flowers, and birds seem intoxi- cated with delight among the fragrant shrubs and loaded trees. Soft and silvery music steals along the air. " Are angels singing ? 0, fool that I was, to fear this place ! it is all the heaven I need ! Eidiculous priest, to tell me that death was here, where all is beauty, fragrance, and melody ! Surely, death never lurked in so gorgeous apparel as this. Death is grim and hideous." He has come near to the strange woman's house. If it was beautiful from afar, it is celestial now ; for his eyes are bewitched with magic. ^When our passions enchant us, how beautiful is the ^ way to death ! In every window are sights of pleasure ; from every opening issue sounds of joy, — the lute, the harp, bounding feet, and echoing laughter. Nymphs have descried this pilgrim of temptation ; they smile and beckon. Where are his resolutions now ? This is the virtuous youth who came to observe ! He has THE STEAXGE WOMAN. 147 already seen too mucli ; but lie will see more : he will taste, feel, regret, weep, wail, die I The most beautifuT nymph that eye ever rested on approaches with decent guise and modest gestures, to give him hospitable wel- come. For a moment he recalls his home, his mother, his sister-circle ; but they seem far away, dim, power- less. Into his ear the beautiful herald pours the sweetest sounds of love : " You are welcome here, and worthy. You have early wisdom, to break the bounds of super- stition, and to seek these grounds where summer never ceases and sorrow never comes. Hail, and welcome, to the house of pleasure ! " There seemed to be a response to these words ; the house, the trees, and the very air seemed to echo, " Hail, and welcome I " In the still- ness which followed, had the victim been less intoxi- cated, he might have heard a clear and solemn voice which seemed to fall straight down from heaven : Come not nigh the door of her house. Her house IS the way to hell, going down to the chambers of death! It is too late. He has gone in, who shall never return. He goetli after her straighticay as an ox goeth to the slaughter, or as a fool to the correction of the stocks, .... anclhnoiceth not that it is for his life. Enter with me, in imagination, the strange woman's house, where God grant you may never enter in any other way. There are five wards. Pleasure, Satiety, Discovery, Disease, and Death. Ward of Pleasure. — The eye is dazzled with the magnificence of its apparel, — elastic velvet, glossy silks, burnished satin, crimson drapery, phishy carpets. Ex- quisite pictures glow upon the Avails ; carved marble 148 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. adorns every niche. The inmates are deceived by these lying shows ; they dance, they sing ; with beaming eyes they utter softest strains of flattery and graceful compliment. They partake the amorous wine and the repast which loads the table. They eat, they drink, they are blithe and merry. Surely, they should be ; for after this brief hour they shall never know purity nor joy again. For this mometit's revelry they are sell- ing heaven. The strange woman walks among her guests in all her charms ; fans the flame of joy, scatters grateful odors, and urges on the fatal revelry. As her poisoned wine is quaffed, and the gay creatures begin to reel, the torches wane and cast but a twilight. One by one the guests grow somnolent ; and, at length, they all repose. Their cup is exhausted, their pleasure is forever over, life has exhaled to an essence, and that is consumed. AVhile they sleep, servitors, practiced to the work, remove them all to another ward. Ward of Satiety. — Here reigns a bewildering twilight through which can hardly be discerned the wearied in- mates, yet sluggish upon their couches. Overflushed with dance, sated Avith wine and fruit, a fitful drowsi- ness vexes them. They wake to crave ; they taste to loathe ; they sleep to dream ; they wake again from unquiet visions. They long for the sharp taste of pleasure, so grateful yesterday. Again they sink, re- pining, to sleep ; by starts they rouse at an ominous dream; by starts they hear strange cries. The fruit burns and torments, the wine shoots sharp pains through their pulse. Strange wonder fills them. They remember the recent joy, as a reveler in the morning thinks of his midnight madness. The glowing garden THE STRANGE WOMAN. 149 and tlie banquet now seem all stripped and gloomy. They meditate return ; pensively tliey long for their native spot. At sleepless moments mighty resolutions form, — substantial as a dream. ]\Iemory grows dark. Hope v/ill not shine. The past is not pleasant, the present is wearisome, and the future gloomy. Ward of Discovery. — In the third ward no decep- tion remains. The floors are bare, the naked walls drip filth, the air is poisonous with sickly fumes, and echoes with mirth concealing hideous misery. None supposes that he has been happy. The past seems like the dream of the miser, who gathers gold spilled like rain upon the road, and wakes, clutching his bed and crying, " Where is it ? " On your right hand, as you enter, close by the door, is a group of fierce felons in deep drink with drugged liquor. AVith red and swollen faces, or white and thin, or scarred with ghastly corruption ; with scowling brows, baleful eyes, bloated lips, and demoniac grins ; in person all uncleanly, in morals all debauched, in peace bankrupt, — the desperate wretches ^\Tangle one with the other, swearing bitter oaths, and heaping reproaches each upon each. Around the room you see miserable crea- tures unappareled, or dressed in rags, sobbing and moaning. That one who gazes out at the window, 7 calling for her mother and weeping, was right tenderly and purely bred. She has been baptized twice, — once to God and once to the Devil. She sought this place in the very vestments of God's house. " Call not on thy mother ; she is a saint in heaven, and cannot hear thee ! " Yet all night long she dreams of home and childhood, and wakes to sigli and weep; and between her sobs she cries, "]\lother! mother!" ; 150 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEX. Yonder is a youth, once a servant at God's altar. His liair hangs tangled and torn, his eyes are bloodshot, his face is livid, his fist is clinched. All the day he wanders up and down, cursing sometimes himself and sometimes the wretch that brought him hither ; and when he sleeps he dreams of hell, and then he wakes to feel all he dreamed. This is the ward of reality. All know why the first rooms looked so gay, they were enchanted. It was enchanted wine they drank, and enchanted fruit they ate ; now they know the pain of fatal food in every limb. Ward of Disease. — Ye that look wistfully at the pleasant front of this terrific house, come with me now, and look long into the terror of this ward, for liere are the seeds of sin in their full-harvest form. We are in a lazar-room ; its air oppresses every sense, its sights con- found our thoughts, its sounds pierce our ear, its stench repels us ; it is full of diseases. Here a shuddering wretch is clawing at his breast to tear away that worm which gnaws his heart. By him is another, whose limbs are dropping from his ghastly trunk. Next swel- ters another in reeking filth, his eyes rolling in bony sockets, every breath a pang, and every pang a groan. But yonder, on a pile of rags, lies one whose yells of frantic agony appall every ear. Clutching his rags with spasmodic grasp, his swollen tongue lolling from a blackened mouth, his bloodshot eyes glaring and roll- ing, he shrieks oaths ; now blaspheming God, and now imploring him. He hoots and shouts, and shakes his grisly head from side to side, cursing or praying ; now calling death, and then, as if driving away fiends, yell- ing, " Avaunt ! avaunt ! " THE STRAXGE WOMAN. 151 Another has been ridden by pain until he can no longer shriek, but lies foaming and grinding his teeth, and clinches his bony hands until the nails pierce the palm, — though there is no blood there to issue out, — trembling; all the time with the shudders and chills of utter agony. Tlie happiest wretch in all this ward is an idiot, dropsical, distorted, and moping ; all day he wags his head, and chatters, and laughs, and bites his nails ; then he will sit for hours motionless, with open jaw, and glassy eye fixed on vacancy. In this ward are huddled all the diseases of pleasure. This is the torture-room of the strange woman's house, and it excels the Inquisition. The wheel, the rack, the bed of knives, the roasting fire, the brazen room slowly heated, the slivers driven under the nails, the hot pincers, — what are these to the agonies of the last days of licentious vice ? Hundreds of rotting wretches would change their couch of torment in the strange woman's house for the gloomiest terror of the Inquisi- tion, and profit by the change. Nature herself becomes the tormentor. N'ature, long trespassed on and abused, at length casts down the wretch ; searches every vein, makes a road of every nerve for the scorching feet of pain to travel on, pulls at every muscle, breaks in the breast, builds fires in the brain, eats out the skin, and casts living coals of torment on the heart, ^^llat are hot pincers to the envenomed claws of disease .? What is it to be put into a pit of snakes and slimy toads, and feel their cold coil or piercing fang, to the creeping of a whole body of vipers, — where every nerve is a viper, and every vein a viper, and every muscle a serpent; and the whole body, in all its parts, coils and twists 152 LECTURES TO YOUXG MEN". upon itself in unimaginable anguish ? I tell you there is no inquisition so bad as that which the doctor looks upon. Youug man, I can show you in this ward worse pangs than ever a savage produced at the stake, than ever a tyrant waning out by engines of torment, than ever an inquisitor devised ! Every year, in every town, die wretches scalded and scorched with agony. Were the sum of all the pain that comes with the last stages of vice collected, it would rend the very heavens with its outcry, would shake the earth, would even blanch the cheek of infatuation. Ye that are loiter in jx in the garden of this strange woman among her cheat- ing flowers, ye that are dancing in her halls in the first ward, come hither ; look upon her fourth ward, its vomited blood, its sores and fiery blotches, its prurient sweat, its dissolving ichor and rotten bones 1 Stop, young man ! You turn your head from this ghastly room ; and yet, stop, and stop soon, or thou shalt lie here ; mark the solemn signals of thy passage ! Thou hast had already enough of warnings in thy cheek, in thy bosom, in thy pangs of premonition. But, ah ! every one of you who are dancing wdth the covered paces of death in the strange w^oman's first hall, let me break your spell ; for now I shall open the doors of tlie last ward. Look ! Listen ! Witness your own end, unless you take quickly a warning ! Ward of Death. — No longer does the incarnate wretch pretend to conceal her cruelty. She thrusts, — ay, as if they were dirt, — she shovels out the wretches. Some fall headlong through the rotten floor, a long fall to a fiery bottom. The floor trembles to deep thunders which roll below. Here and there jets of THE STRANGE WOMAN. 153 flame sprout up and give a lurid liglit to the murky hall. Some would fain escape ; and, flying across the treacherous floor, which man never safely passed, they go, through pitfalls and treacherous traps, with hideous outcries and astounding yells, to perdition. Fiends laugh. The infernal laugh, the cry of agony, the thunder of damnation, shake the very roof, and echo from wall to wall. that the young might see the end of vice before they see the beginning ! I know that you shrink from ") this picture ; but your safety requires that you should [ look long into the Ward of Death, that fear may supply -< strength to your virtue. See the blood oozing from / the wall, the fiery hands which pluck the wretches [ down, tlie light of hell gleaming through, and hear its , roar as of a distant ocean chafed with storms. AVill^' you sprinkle the wall with your blood? will you feed those flames with your flesh ? will you add your voice to those thundering wails ? will you go down a prey through the fiery floor of the chamber of death ? Believe, then, the word of God : Her house is the loay to Jiell, going doiun to the chamhcrs of death; .... avoid it, pass not hy it, ticrn from it, and joass aicay ! 1 have described the strange woman's house in strong language, and it needed it. If your taste shrinks from the description, so does mine. Hell, and all the ways of hell, when we pierce the cheating disguises and see the truth, are terrible and trying to behold ; and if men would not walk there, neither would we pursue their steps, to sound the alarm and gather back whom we can. Allow me to close by directing your attention to a few points of especial danger. 154 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. I. I solemnly warn yon against indulging a morbid imagination. In that busy and mischievous faculty begins the evil. AVere it not for his airy imaginations, man might stand his own master, not overmatched by the worst part of himself. But ah ! these summer reveries, these venturesome dreams, these fairy castles, builded for no good purposes, — they are haunted by impure spirits, who will fascinate, bewitch, and corrupt you. Blessed are the pure in heart. Blessed art thou, most favored of God, whose thoughts are chastened, whose imagination will not breathe or fly in tainted air, and whose path hath been measured by the golden reed of Purity. May I not paint Purity as a saintly virgin in spot- less white, walking with open face in an air so clear that no vapor can stain it ? ** Upon her lightning-brow love proudly sitting, Flames out in power, shines out in majesty." Her steps are a queen's steps. God is her father, and- thou her brother, if thou wilt make her thine. Let thy heart be her dwelling; wear upon thy hand her ring, and on thy breast her talisman. II. Next to evil imaginations, I warn the young of evil companions. Decaying fruit corrupts the neigh- boring fruit. You cannot make your head a metropolis of base stories, the ear and tongue a highway of im- modest words, and yet be pure. Another, as well as yourself, may throw a spark on the magazine of your passions ; beware how your companions do it. No man is your friend who will corrupt you. An impure man is every good man's enemy, — your deadly foe ; THE STRANGE WO:\rAX. 155 and all the "^orse, if he hide his poisoned dagger under the cloak of good fellowship. Therefore, select your associates, assort them, winnow them, keep the grain, and let the wind sweep away the chaff. III. But I warn you, with yet more solemn em- phasis, against evil books and evil pictuees. There is in every town an undercurrent which glides beneath our feet, unsuspected by the pure ; out of which, not- withstanding, our sons scooj) many a goblet. Books are hidden in trunks, concealed in dark holes; pic- tures are stored in sly portfolios, or trafficked from hand to hand ; and the handiwork of depraved art is seen in other forms which ought to make a harlot blush. I should tliink a man would loathe himself, and wake up from owning such things as from a horrible night- mare. Those who circulate them are incendiaries of morality ; those who make them ec|ual the worst public criminals. A pure heart would shrink from these abominable things as from death. France, where religion long ago went out smothered in licentiousness, has flooded the w^orld with a species of literature red- olent of depravity. Upon the plea of exhibiting nature and man, novels are now scooped out of the very lava of corrupt passions. They are true to nature, but to nature as it exists in knaves and courtesans. Under a plea of humanity, we have shown up to us troops of harlots, to prove that they are not so bad as purists think ; gangs of desperadoes, to show that there is nothing in crime inconsistent with the noblest feelings. AVe have in French and English novels of the infernal school humane murderers, lascivious saints, holy in- 156 LECTURES TO YOUKG MEN. fidels, honest robbers. These artists never seem lost, except when straining rifter a conception of religion. Their devotion is such as miglit be expected from thieves in the purlieus of thrice-deformed vice. Ex- hausted libertines are our professors of morality. They scrape the very sediment and muck of society to mould their creatures ; and their volumes are monster-galleries in which the inhabitants of old Sodom would have felt at home as connoisseurs and critics. Over loathsome women and unutterably vile men, huddled together in motley groups, and over all their monstrous deeds, — their lies, their plots, their crimes, tlieir dreadful pleasures, their glorying conversation, — is throAvn the checkered light of a hot imagination, until they glow with an infernal lustre. Novels of the French school and of English imitators are the common sewers of society, into which drain the concentrated filth of the worst passions, of the worst creatures, of the worst cities. Such novels come to us impudently pretending to be reformers of morals and liberalizers of religion ; they propose to instruct our laws, and teach a discreet humanity to justice The Ten Plagues have visited our literature ; water is turned to blood ; frogs and lice creep and hop over our most familiar things, — the couch, the cradle, and the bread-trough ; locusts, mur- rain, and fire are smiting every green thing. I am ashamed and outraged when I think that wretches could be found to open these foreign seals and let out tlieir plagues upon us ; tliat any Satanic pilgrim should voyage to France to dip from the dead sea of her abomination a baptism for our sons. It were a mercy, to this, to import serpents from Africa and pour thera THE STKANGE WOMAN. 157 out on our prairies ; lions from Asia, and free them in our forests ; lizards and scorpions and black tarantulas from the Indies, and put them in our gardens. Men could slay these, but those offspring reptiles of the French mind, who can kill these ? You might as well draw sword on a plague, or charge a malaria with the bayonet. This black-lettered literature circulates in this town, floats in our stores, nestles in the shops, is fingered and read nightly, and hatches in the young mind broods of salacious thoughts. While the parent strives to infuse Christian purity into his child's heart, he is anticipated by most accursed messengers of evil ; and the heart hisses already like a nest of young and nimble vipers. TV. Once more, let me persuade you that no ex- amples in higli places can justify imitation in low places. Your purity is too precious to be bartered because an ofiicial knave tempts by his example. I would that every eminent place of state were a sphere of light, from which should be flung down on your path a cheering glow to guide you on to virtue. But if these wandering stars, reserved, I do believe, for final blackness of darkness, wheel their malign spheres in the orbits of corruption, go not after them. God is greater than wicked gi^eat men ; heaven is higher than the highest places of nations ; and if God and heaven are not brighter to your eyes than great men in high places, then you must take part in their doom, when, erelong, God shall dash them to pieces. V. Let me beseech you, lastly, to guard your heart- purity. Xever lose it ; if it be gone, you have lost from the casket the mo.st precious gift of God. The first 158 LECTUEES TO YOUNG MEN. purity of imagination, of thought, and of feeling, if soiled, can be cleansed by no fuller's soap ; if lost, can- not be found, though sought carefully with tears. If a harp be broken, art may repair it ; if a light be quenched, the flame may enkindle it ; but if a flower be crushed, what art can repair it ? if an odor be wafted away, who can collect or bring it back ? The heart of youth is a wide prairie. Over it hang the clouds of heaven to water it ; the sun throws its broad sheets of light upon it, to wake its life ; out of its bosom spring, the long season through, flowers of a hundred names and hues, twining together their lovely forms, wafting to each other a grateful odor, and nod- ding each to each in the summer breeze. 0, such 'would man be, did he hold that purity of heart which God gave him ! But you have a depraved heart. It is a vast continent; on it are mountain-ranges of pow- ers, and dark, deep streams, and pools, and morasses. If once the fuU and terrible clouds of temptation do settle thick and fixedly upon you, and begin to cast down their dreadful stores, may God save whom man can never ! Then the heart shall feel tides and streams of irresistible power marking its control, and hurrying fiercely down from steep to steep with growing desola- tion. Your only resource is to avoid the uprising of your giant passions. We are drawing near to a festival day,* by the usage of ages consecrated to celebrate the birth of Christ. At his advent, God hung out a prophet-star in the heaven ; guided by it, the wise men journeyed from the East and worshiped at his feet. 0, let the star of Purity hang * This lecture was delivered upon Christmas eve. THE STRAXGE WOMAN. 159 out to thine eye brighter than the Orient orb to the Magi ; let it lead thee, not to the Babe, but to His feet who now stands in heaven, a Prince and Saviour ! If thou hast sinned, one look, one touch, shall cleanse thee whilst thou art worshiping, and thou shalt rise up healed. n VII. POPULAR AMUSEMENTS. EeJOICE, 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." — Eccl. xi. 9. AM to venture the delicate task of repre- hension, always unwelcome, but peculiarly offensive upon topics of public popular amusement. I am anxious, in the begin- ning, to put myself right with the young. If I satisfy myself, Christian men, and the sober community, and do not satisfy them, my success will be like a physician's wiiose prescriptions please himself and the relations, and do good to everybody except the patient, — he dies. Allow me, first of all, to satisfy you that I am not meddling with matters which do not concern me. This is the impression which the patrons and partners of criminal amusements study to make upon your minds. Tliey represent our duty to be in the church, taking care of doctrines and of our own members. When more than tliis is attempted, when we speak a word for you who are not church-members, we are met with the POPULAR AMUSEMENTS. 161 surly answer, '' Why do you meddle with things which don't concern you ? If you do not enjoy these pleas- ures, why do you molest those who do ? May not men do as they please in a free country, without being hung up in a gibbet of public remark ? " It is conveniently forgotten, I suppose, that in a free country we have the same right to criticise pleasure which others have to enjoy it. Indeed, you and I both know, young gentle- men, that in coffee-house circles, and in convivial feasts nocturnal, the Church is regarded as little better than a spectacled old beldam, whose impertinent eyes are spy- ing everybody's business but her own; and who, too old or too homely to be tempted herself with compul- sory virtue, pouts at the joyous dalliances of the young and gay, EeHgion is called a nun, sable with gloomy vestments ; and the Church a cloister, where ignorance is deemed innocence, and which sends out querulous reprehensions of a world which it knows nothing about, and has professedly abandoned. This is pretty, and is only defective in not being true. The Church is not a cloister, nor her members recluses, nor are our censures of vice intermeddling. ISTot to dwell in generalities, let us take a plain and common case. A strolling company offer to educate our youth, and to show the community the road of morality, which, probably, they have not seen themselves for twenty years. AVe cannot help laughing at a generosity so much above one's means : and when tliey proceed to hew and hack eacli other with rusty iron to teach our boys valor, and dress up practical mountebanks to teach theoretical virtue, if we laugh somewliat more they turn upon us testily: Do you mind your own husi- 162 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. 71CSS, and leave its luitli ours. We do not interfere with your ]jrcacliing, do you let alone our acting. But, softly; may not religious people amuse them- selves with very diverting men ? I hope it is not bigotry to have eyes and ears. I hope it is not fanaticism, in the use of these excellent senses, for us to judge that throwing one's heels higher than their head, a dancing, is not exactly the way to teach virtue to our daughters ; and that women, whose genial warmth of temperament has led them into a generosity some- thing too great, are not the persons to teach virtue, at any rate. no, we are told. Christians must not know that all this is very singular. Christians ought to think that men who are kings and dukes and philosophers on the stage are virtuous men, even if they gamble at night and are drunk all day ; and if men are so used to comedy that their life becomes a perpetual farce on morality, we have no right to laugh at this extra profes- sional acting. Are toe meddlers who only seek the good of our own families, and of our own community where we live and expect to die ; or tliey, who wander up and down with- out ties of social connection, and without aim, except of money to be gathered off from men's vices ? I am anxious to put all religious men in their right position before you ; and in this controversy between them and the gay world to show you the facts upon both sides. A floating population, in pairs or compa- nies, without leave asked, blow the trumpet for all our youth to flock to their banners. Are they related to them ? Are they concerned in the welfare of our town ? Do they live among us ? Do they bear any part of our POPULAR AMUSEMENTS. 163 burdens ? Do they care for our substantial citizens ? "VYe grade our streets, build our schools, support all our municipal laws, and the young men are ours, — our sons, our brothers, our wards, clerks, or apprentices ; they are living in our houses, our stores, our shops, and we are their guardians, and take care of them in health and watch them in sickness, — yet every vagabond who floats in hither swears and swaggers as if they were all his ; and when they offer to corrupt all these youth, we pa}dng them round sums of money for it, and we get courage finally to say that we had rather not, that industry and honesty are better than expert knavery, — they turn upon us in great indignation with, Wluj don't you mind your own husiness ? What are you meddling tvitJi our affairs for ? I will suppose a case. "With much painstaking I have saved enough money to buy a little garden-spot. I put all around it a good fence ; I put the spade into it and mellow the soil full deep ; I go to the nursery and pick out choice fruit trees : I send abroad and select the best seeds of the rarest vegetables ; and so my gar- den thrives. I know every inch of it, for I have watered every inch with sweat. One morning I am awakened by a mixed sound of sawing, digging, and delving ; and, looking out, I see a dozen men at work in my garden. I run down and find one man sawing out a huge hole in the fence. " My dear sir, what are you doing ? " " 0, this high fence is very troublesome to climb over ; I am fixing an easier way for folks to get in." Anotlier man has headed down several choice trees, and is putting in new grafts. " Sir, what are you changing the kind for ? " " 0, this kind don't suit me ; I like a new kind." One 1G4 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. man is digging up my beans to plant cockles ; another is rooting up my strawberries to put in purslane ; and another is destroying my currants and gooseberries and raspberries to plant mustard and Jamestown weed. At last I lose all patience and cry out, " Well, gentlemen, this will never do. I will never tolerate this abom- inable imposition ; you are ruining my garden." One of them says, " You old hypocritical bigot, do mind your business, and let us enjoy ourselves ! Take care of your house, and do not pry into our pleasures." Fellow-citizens, I own that no man could so invade your garden, but men are allowed thus to invade our town and destroy our children. You will let them evade your laws to fleece and demoralize you ; and you sit down under their railing, as though you were the in- truders ! just as if the man who drives a thief out of his house ought to ask the rascal's pardon for interfering with his little plans of pleasure and profit. Every parent has a right, every citizen and every minister has the same right, to expose traps, which men have to set them ; the same right to prevent mischief, which men have to plot it ; the same right to attack vice, which vice has to attack virtue, — a better right to save our sons and brothers and companions, than artful men have to destroy them. The necessity of amusement is admitted on all hands. There is an appetite of the eye, of the ear, and of every sense, for wliich God has provided the material. Gayety of every degree, this side of puerile levity, is whole- some to the body, to the mind, and to the morals. Kature is a vast repository of manly enjoyments. The magnitude of God's works is not less admirable than its POrULAR AMUSEMENTS. 165 exhilarating beauty. The rudest forms have something of beauty, the ruggedest strength is graced with some charm, the very pins and rivets and clasps of nature are attractive by qualities of beauty more than is neces- sary for mere utility. The sun could go down without gorgeous clouds, evening could advance without its evanescent brilliance, trees might have flourished with- out symmetry, flo\\'ers have existed without odor, and fruit without flavor. AVhen I have journeyed through forests where ten thousand shrubs and vines exist without apparent use, through prairies whose undula- tions exhibit sheets of flowers innumerable, and abso- lutely dazzling the eye with their prodigality of beauty, — beauty not a tithe of which is ever seen by man, — I have said, it is plain that God is himself passionately fond of beauty, and the earth is his garden, as an acre is man's. God has made us like himself, to be pleased by the universal beauty of the world. He has made provision in nature, in society, and in the family, for amusement and exhilaration enough to fill the heart with the perpetual sunshine of delight. Upon this broad earth, purfled with flowers, scented with odors, brilliant in colors, vocal with echoing and re-echoing melody, I take my stand against all demor- alizing pleasure. Is it not enough that our Father's house is so full of dear delights, that we must wander prodigal to the swineherd for husks, and to tlie slough for drink ? When the trees of God's heritai^e bend over our head and solicit our hand to pluck the golden fruitage, must we still go in search of the apples of Sodom, outside fair and inside ashes ? Men shall crowd to tlie circus to hear clowns and 166 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. see rare feats of liorsemanshij) ; but a bird may poise beneath the very sun, or, flying downward, swooj) from the high heaven, then flit with graceful ease hither and tliither, pouring liquid song as if it were a perennial fountain of sound, — no man cares for that. Upon the stage of life the vastest tragedies are per- forming in every act, — nations pitching headlong to their final catastrophe, others raising their youthful forms to begin the drama of their existence. Tlie world of society is as full of exciting interest as nature is full of beauty. The great dramatic throng of life is hustling along, — the wise, the fool, the clown, the miser, the bereaved, the broken-hearted. Life mingles before us smiles and tears, sighs and laughter, joy and gloom, as the spring mingles the winter storm and summer sun- shine. To this vast theater which God hath builded, wdiere stranger plays are seen than ever author writ, man seldom cares to come. When God dramatizes, wdien nations act, or all the human kind conspire to educe the vast catastrophe, men sleep and snore, and let the busy scene go on, unlocked, unthought upon ; and turn from all its varied mas^nificence to hunt out some candle-lighted hole and gaze at drunken ranters, or cry at the piteous virtue of harlots in distress. It is my object, then, not to withdraw the young from pleasure, but from unworthy pleasures ; not to lessen their enjoyments, but to increase them by rejecting the counterfeit and the vile. Of gambling I have already sufficiently spoken. Of cock-fighting, bear-baiting, and pugilistic contests I need to speak but little. Tliese are the desperate ex- citements of debauched men; but no man becomes POPULAR AMUSEMENTS. 167 desperately criminal until lie lias been genteelly crim- inal. No one spreads his sail upon such waters at first ; these brutal amusements are but the gulf into which flow all the streams of criminal pleasures, and they who embark upon the river are sailing toward the gulf. Wretches who have waded all the depths of iniquity and burned every passion to the socket, find in rage and blows and blood the only stimulus of which they are susceptible. You are training yourselves to be just such wretches, if you are exhausting your pas- sions in illicit indulgences. As it is impossible to analyze separately each vicious amusement proffered to the young, I am compelled to select two, each the representative of a clan. Thus, the reasonings applied to the amusement of racing apply equally well to all violent amusements which congregate indolent and dissipated men by ministering intense excitement. The reasonings applied to the theater, with some modifications, apply to the circus, to promiscuous balls, to night-reveling, bacchanalian feasts, and to other similar indulgences. ^lany who are not in danger may incline to turn from these pages ; they live in rural districts, in vil- lages or towns, and are out of the reach of jockeys and actors and gamlders. This is the very reason why you should read. \Ve are such a migratory, restless people, tliat our home is usually everywhere but at home ; and almost every young man makes annual or biennial visits to famous cities, conveying produce to market, or purchasing wares and goods. It is at such times that the young are in extreme danger, for they are particularly anxious, at such times, to appear at 1G8 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. their full age. A young man is asliamed, in a great hotel, to seem raw and not to know the mysteries of tlie bar and of the toM'n. They put on a very remai'k- able air, which is meant for ease ; they affect profusion of expense ; they tliink it meet for a gentleman to know all that certain other city gentlemen seem proud of knowinoj. As sober citizens are not found lounoing: at hotels, and the gentlemanly part of the traveling com- munity are usually retiring, modest, and unnoticeable, the young are left to come in contact chiefly with a very flash class of men who swarm about city restau- rants and hotels, swollen clerks, crack sportsmen, epi- cures, and rich, green youth, seasoning. These are the most numerous class which engage the attention of the youDg. They bustle in the sitting-room or crowd the bar, assume the chief seats at the table, and play the petty lord in a manner so brilliant as altogether to dazzle our poor country boy, who mourns at his deficient education, at the poverty of his rural oaths, and the meagerness of those illicit pleasures which he formerly nibbled at with mouse-like stealth ; and he sighs for these riper accomplishments. Besides, it is well known tliat large commercial establishments have, residing at such hotels, well-appointed clerks to draw customers to their counter. It is their business to make your acquaintance, to fish out the probable con- dition of your funds, to sweeten your temper with delicate tidbits of pleasure ; to take you to the theater, and a little farther on, if need be ; to draw you in to a generous supper, and initiate you to the high life of men whose whole life is only the varied phases of lust, gastronomical or amorous. POPULAR AMUSEMENTS. 169 Besides these, there lurk in such places lynx-eyed procurers ; men who have an interest in your appetites, who look upon a young man with some money just as a butcher looks upon a bullock, — a thing of so many pounds avoirdupois, of so much beef, so much tallow, and a hide. If you have nothing, they will have nothing to do with you; if you have means, they undertake to supply you with the disposition to use them. They know the city, they know its haunts, they know its secret doors, its blind passages, its spicy pleasures, its racy vices, clear down to the mud-slime of the very bottom. Meanwhile, the accustomed restraint of home cast off, the youth feels that he is unknown, and may do what he chooses, unexposed. There is, moreover, an intense curiosity to see many things of which he has long ago heard and wondered ; and it is the very art and education of vice to make itself attractive. It comes with garlands of roses about its brow, with nectar in its goblet, and love upon its tongue. If you have, beforehand, no settled opinions as to what is right and what is wrong ; if your judgment is now, for the first time, to be formed upon the propriety of your actions ; if you are not controlled by settled irrinciples, there is scarcely a chance for your purity: For this purpose, then, I desire to discuss these things, that you may settle your opinions and princi- ples before temptation assails you. As a ship is built upon the dry shore, which afterwards is to dare the storm and brave the sea, so would I build you stanch and strong ere you be launched abroad upon life. 8 170 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEX. I. Eacixg. — This amusement justifies its existence by the i^lea of utility. We will examine it upon its own ground. AYho are the patrons of the turf ? — farmers, laborers, men who are practically the most interested in the improvement of stock ? The unerr- ing instinct of self-interest would lead these men to patronize the course if its utility were real. It is notorious that these are not the patrons of racing. It is sustained by two classes of men, gambling jockeys and jaded rich men. In England, and in our own country, where the turf sports are freshest, they owe their existence entirely to the extraordinary excitement which they afford to dissipation or to cloyed appetites. Tor those industrial purposes for which the horse is chiefly valuable, for roadsters, hacks, and cart-horses, what do the patrons of the turf care ? Their whole anxiety is centered upon winning cups and stakes ; and that is incomparably the best blood which will run the longest space in the shortest time. The points re- quired for this are not, and never will be, the points for substantial service. And it is notorious that racing: in England deteriorated the stock in such important respects, that the light cavalry and dragoon service suffered severely, until dependence upon turf stables was abandoned. New England, where racing is un- known, is to this day the place where tlie horse exists in the finest qualities ; and, for all economical purposes, Virginia and Kentucky must yield to New England. Except for the sole purpose of racing, an Eastern horse brings a higher price than any other. The other class of patrons who sustain a course are mere gambling jockeys. As crows to a cornfield or POPULAR AMUSEMENTS. 171 vultures to their prey, as flies to summer-sweet, so to the annual races flow the whole tribe of gamesters and pleasure-lovers. It is the Jerusalem of wicked men ; and thither the tribes go up, like Israel of old, but for a far different sacrifice, ^o form of social abomination is unkno^\m or unpracticed ; and if all the good that is claimed, and a hundred times more, were done to horses, it would be a dear bargain. To ruin men for the sake of improving horses, to sacrifice conscience and purity for the sake of good bones and muscles in a beast, — this is paying a little too much for good brutes. Indeed, the shameless immorality, the perpetual and gi'owing dishonesty, the almost immeasurable secret villainy of gentlemen of the turf, has alarmed and dis- gusted many stalwart racers, who, having no objection to some evil, are appalled at tlie very ocean of depravity which rolls before them. I extract the w^ords of one of the leading sportsmen of England : " How many fine domains have been shared among these hosts of rapacious sharks during the last two hundred years ; and, unless the system he altered, how many more arc doomed tp fall into the same gidf ! For, we lament to say, the eril has increased ; all heretofore has been ' TARTS AND CHEESE- CAKES ' to the villainous ly'^^ocecdings of the last twenty years on the English turfy I will drop this barbarous amusement with a few questions. What have you, young men, to do with the turf, ad- mitting it to be what it claims, a school for horses .? Are you particularly interested in that branch of learning ? Is it safe to accustom yourselves to such tremendous excitement as tliat of racing ? __ 172 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. Is the invariable company of such places of a kind whicli you ought to be found in ? Will races make you more moral, more industrious, more careful, eco- nomical, trustworthy ? You who have attended them, what advice would you give a young man — a younger brother, for instance — who should seriously ask if he had better attend ? I digress to say one word to women. When a course was opened at Cincinnati, ladies would not attend it ; when one was opened here, ladies would not attend it. For very good reasons, — they were ladies. If it be said that they attend the races at the South and in England, I reply, that they do a great many other things which you would not choose to do. Eoman ladies could see hundreds of gladiators stab and hack each other ; could you ? Spanish ladies can see savage bull-fights ; would you ? It is possible for a modest woman to countenance very questionable practices, where the customs of society and the univer- sal public opinion approve them. But no woman can set herself against public opinion, in favor of an im- moral sport, without being herself immoral; for, if worse be wanting, it is immorality enough for a woman to put herself w^here her reputation will lose its sus- piciousless luster. ^ II. The Theater. — Desperate efforts are made,' year by year, to resuscitate this expiring evil. Its claims are put forth with vehemence. Let us examine them. The drama cultivates the taste. Let the appeal be to facts. Let the roll of English literature be explored, — our poets, romancers, historians, essayists, critics, and divines, — and for what part of their memorable writ- POPULAR AMUSEMENTS. 173 ings are we indebted to the drama ? If we except one period of our literature, the claim is wholly groundless ; and at this day the truth is so opposite to the claim that extravagance, affectation, and rant are proverbially denominated theatrical. If agriculture should attempt to supersede the admirable implements of husbandry now in use by the primitive plow or sharpened sticks, it would not be more absurd than to advocate that clumsy machine of literature, the theater, by the side of the popular lecture, the pulpit, and the press. It is not, congenial to our age or necessities. Its day is gone by ; it is in its dotage, as might be suspected from the weakness of the garrulous apologies which it puts forth. It is a scJiool of morals. Yes, doubtless ! So the guillotine is defended on the plea of humanity. In- quisitors declare their racks and torture-beds to be the instruments of love, affectionately admonishing the fallen of the error of their ways. The slave-trade has been defended on the plea of humanity, and slavery is now defended for its mercies. Were it necessary for any school or party, doubtless we should hear arguments to prove the Devil's grace, and the utility of his agency among men. But let me settle these impudent pretensions to theater virtue by the home thrust of a few 23lain questions. AVill any of you who have been to theaters please to tell me whether virtue ever received important acces- sions from the (jallcry of theaters ? Will you tell me whether the pit is a place where an ordinarily modest man would love to seat his children ? 174 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. Was ever a theater known where a prayer at the opening and a prayer at the close would not be tor- mentingly discordant ? How does it happen that in a school for morals the teachers never learn their own lessons ? Would you allow a son or daughter to associate alone w^ith actors or actresses ? Do these men who promote virtue so zealously, ivhcn acting, take any part in public moral enterprises when their stage dresses are off ? Which would surprise you most, to see actors steadily at church or to see Christians steadily at a theater ? Would not both strike you as singular incongruities ? What is the reason that loose and abandoned men abhor religion in a church and love it so much in a theater ? Since the theater is the handmaid of virtue, why are drinking-houses so necessary to its neighborhood, yet so offensive to churches ? The trustees of the Tremont Theater, in Boston, publicly protested against an order of council forbidding liquor to be sold on the premises, on the ground that it was impossible to support the theater without it. I am told that Christians do attend the theaters. Then I will tell them the story of the Ancients. A lioly monk reproached the Devil for stealing a young man who was found at the theater. He promptly replied, " I found him on my premises, and took him." But, it is said, if Christians would take theaters in hand, instead of abandoning them to loose men, they might become the handmaids of religion. The Church has Jiad an intimate acquaintance with POPULAR AMUSEMENTS. 175 the theater for eighteen hnndred years. During that period every available agent for the diffusion of moral- ity has been earnestly tried. The drama has been tried. The result is that familiarity has bred contempt and abhorrence. If, after so long and thorough an acquaint- ance, the Church stands the mortal enemy of theaters, the testimony is conclusive. It is the evidence of gen- erations speaking by the most sober, thinking, and honest men. Let not this vagabond prostitute pollute any longer the precincts of the Church with impudent proposals of alliance. When the Church needs an alliance, it will not look for it in the kennel. Ah, what a blissful scene would that be, the Church and Theater imparadised in each other's arms ! AYhat a sweet conjunction would be made, could we build our churches so as to preach in the morning and play in them by night. And how melting it would be, beyond the love of David and Jonathan, to see minister and actor in loving embrace ; one slaying Satan by direct thrusts of plain preaching, and the other sucking his very life out by the enchantment of the drama ! To this millennial scene of church and theater I only sug- gest a single improvement : that the vestry be enlarged to a ring for a circus, when not wanted for prayer-meet- ings ; that the Sabbath-school room should be furnished with card-tables, and useful texts of Scripture might be printed on the cards, for the pious meditations of gam- blers during the intervals of play and worship. Bat if these places are2^ut doiv)i, wxn vnll go to worse ones. Where will they find worse ones? Are those who go to the theater, the circus, the race-course, the men wlio abstain from worse places ? It is notorious 176 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. that the crowd of theater-goers are vomited up from these worse places. It is notorious that the theater is the door to all the sinks of iniquity. It is through this infamous place that the young learn to love those vicious associates and practices to which else they would have been strangers. Half the victims of the gallow^s and of the penitentiary will tell you that these schools for morals were to them tlie gate of debauchery, the porch of pollution, the vestibule of the very house of death. The drama makes one acquainted with human life and icith nature. It is too true. There is scarcely an evil incident to human life which may not be fully learned at the theater. Here flourishes every variety of wit, ridicule of sacred things, burlesques of religion, and licentious douUe-entcndres. JSTo where can so much of this lore be learned, in so short a time, as at the theater. There one learns how pleasant a thing is vice ; amours are consecrated, license is prospered, and the young come away alive to the glorious liberty of conquest and lust. But the stage is not the only place about the drama where human nature is learned. In the boxes the young may make the acquaintance of those who abhor home and domestic quiet ; of those who glory in profusion and obtrusive display ; of those who expend all, and more than their earnings, upon gay clothes and jewelry ; of those who tliiidv it no harm to horroio their money luithout leave from their employer's till ; of those who despise vulgar appetite, but affect j)olished and genteel licentiousness. Or he may go to the pit, and learn the v/hole round of villain life from masters in the art. He may sit down among thieves, POPULAR AMUSEMENTS. 177 blood-loving scoundrels, swindlers, broken-down men of pleasure, — the coarse, the vulgar, the debauched, the inhuman, the infernal. Or, if still more of human nature is wished, he can learn yet more ; for the theater epitomizes every degree of corruption. Let the vir- tuous young scholar go to the gallery, and learn there decency, modesty, and refinement, among the quarrel- ing, drunken, ogling, mincing, brutal women of the brothel. Ah, there is no place like the theater for learning hmnan nature I A young man can gather up more experimental knowledge here in a week than else- where in half a year. But I wonder that the drama should ever confess the fact ; and, yet more, that it should lustily plead in self-defence that theaters teach men so much of humcm nature I Here are brilliant bars, to teach the young to drink ; here are gay com- panions, to undo in half an hour the scruples formed by an education of years ; here are pimps of pleasure, to delude the brain with bewildering sophisms of license ; here is pleasure, all flushed in its gayest, boldest, most fascinating forms ; and few there be who can resist its wiles, and fewer yet who can yield to them and escape ruin. If you would pervert the taste, go to the theater. If you would imbibe false views, go to the theater. If you would efface as speedily as pos- sible all qualms of conscience, go to the theater. If you would put yourself irreconcilably against the spirit of virtue and religion, go to the theater. If you would be infected wdth each particular vice in the catalogue of depravity, go to the theater. Let parents who wish to make their children weary of home and quiet do- mestic enjoyments, take them to the theater. If it be 8* L 178 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. desirable for tlie young to loathe industry and didactic reading, and burn for fierce excitements, and seek them by stealtli or through pilferings, if need be, then send them to the theater. It is notorious that the bill of fare at these temples of pleasure is made up to the taste of the lower appetites ; that low comedy, and lower farce, running into absolute obscenity, are the only means of filling a house. Theaters which should exhibit nothing but the classic drama would exhibit it to empty seats. They must be corrupt to live; and those who attend them will be corrupted. Let me turn your attention to several reasons which should incline every young man to forswear such criminal amusements. I. The first reason is, their waste of time. I do not mean that they waste only the time consumed while you are within them ; but they make you waste your time afterwards. You will go once, and wish to go again ; you wiU go twice, and seek it a third time ; you will go a third time, a fourth ; and whenever the bill flames you wHl be seized with a restlessness and crav- ing to go, until the appetite will become a j^^^^sion. You will then waste your nights ; your mornings being heavy, melancholy, and stupid, you wdll waste them. Your day wiU. next be confused and crowded, your duties poorly executed or deferred; habits of arrant shiftlessness will ensue, and day by day industry will grow tiresome, and leisure sweeter, until you are a waster of time, an idle man ; and if not a rogue, you will be a fortunate exception. II. You ought not to countenance these things, because they will ivaste i/our money. Young gentlemen, POPULAR AMUSEMENTS. 179 squandering is as shameful as hoarding. A fool can throw away, and a fool can lock up ; but it is a Avise man who, neither parsimonious nor profuse, steers the middle course of generous economy and frugal lib- erality. A young man at first thinks that all he spends at such places is the ticket price of the the- ater, or tlie small bet on the races ; and this he knows is not much. But this is certainly not the whole bill, nor half. First, you pay your entrance. But there are a thousand petty luxuries which one must not neglect, or custom will call him niggard. You must buy your cigars and your friend's. You must buy your juleps, and treat in your turn. You must occasionally wait on your lady, and she must be comforted with divers confections. You cannot go to such places in home- ly working dress; new and costlier clothes must be bought. All your companions have jewelry ; you will want a ring, or a seal, or a golden watch, or an ebony cane, a silver toothpick, or quizziug-glass. Thus, item presses upon item, and in the year a long bill runs up of money spent for little trifles. But if all this money could buy you off from the yet \vorse effects, the bargain would not be so dear. But compare, if you please, this mode of expenditure with the principle of your ordinary expense. In all ordinary and business transactions you get an cqitivaleni for your money, either food for support, or clothes for comlort, or permanent property. But Avhen a young man has spent one or two hundred dollars for the theater, cir- cus, races, balls, and reveling, what has he to show for it at the end of the year ? Nothing at all good, 180 LECTUKES TO YOUNG MEN. and mucli that is bad. You sink your money as really as if 3^ou threw it into the sea ; and you do it in such a way that you form habits of careless expense. You lose all sense of the value of 'property ; and when a man sees no value in property, he will see no neces- sity for labor ; and when he is lazy and careless of property, both, he will be dishonest. Thus, a habit which seems innocent — the habit of triflino: with property — often degenerates to worthlessness, indo- lence, and roguery. III. Such pleasures are incomj)atible wdth your ordi- nary pursuits. The very way to ruin an honest business is to be ashamed of it, or to put alongside of it something which a man loves better. There can be no industrial calling so exciting as the theater, the circus, and the races. If you wish to make your real business very stupid and hateful, visit such places. After the glare of the theater has dazzled your eyes, your blacksmith-shop will look smuttier than ever it did before. After you have seen stalwart heroes pounding their antagonists, you w^ill find it a dull business to pound iron ; and a valiant apprentice who has seen such gracious glances of love and such rapturous kissing of hands, will hate to dirty his heroic lingers with mortar, or by rolling felt on the hatter's board. If a man had a homely, but most useful wife, — patient, kind, intelligent, hopeful in sorrow, and cheerful in prosperity, but yet very plain, very homely, — would he be wise to bring under his roof a fascinating and artful beauty ? Would tlie contrast, and her wiles, make him love his own wife better ? Young gentlemen, your wives are your in- POPULAR AMUSEMENTS. 181 dustrial callings. These raree-shows are artful jades, dressed up on purpose to purloin your affections. Let no man be led to commit adultery with a theater, against the riolits of his own trade. IV. Another reason why you should let alone these deceitful pleasures is, that they will engage you in Lad company. To the theater, the ball, the circus, the race-course, the gaming-table, resort all the idle, the dissipated, the rogues, the licentious, the epicures, the gluttons, the artful jades, the immodest prudes, the joyous, the worthless, the refuse. When you go, you will not, at first, take introduction to them all, but to those nearest like yourself ; by them the way will be opened to others. And a very great evil has befallen a young man, when wicked men feel that they have a right to his acquaintance. When I see a gambler slap- ping a young mechanic on the back, or a lecherous scoundrel suffusing a young man's cheek by a story at which, despite his blushes, he yet laughs, I know the youth has been guilty of criminal indiscretion, or these men could not approach him thus. That is a brave and strong heart that can stand up pure in a company of artful wretches. When wicked men mean to seduce a young man, so tremendous are the odds in favor of practiced experience against innocence, that there is not one chance in a tliousand, if the young man lets them approach him. Let every young man remember that he carries, by nature, a breast of passions just such as had men have. With youth they slumber; but temptation can wake them, bad men can influence them ; they know the road, they know how to serenade the heart, how to raise the sash, and elope with each 182 LECTUEES TO YOUNG MEN. passion. There is but one resource for innocence among men or women ; and that is, an embargo upon all commerce of bad men. Bar the window, — bolt the door; nor answer their strain, if they charm never so wisely. In no other way can you be safe. So well am I assured of the power of bad men to seduce the erring purity of man, that I pronounce it next to impossible for man or woman to escape, if they peivnit had men to ajpj^roacli and dally ivitli them. O, there is more than magic in temptation, when it beams down upon the heart of man like the sun upon a morass ! At the noontide hour of purity the mists shall rise and wreathe a thousand fantastic forms of delusion ; and a sudden freak of passion, a single gleam of the imagination, one sudden rush of the capricious heart, and the resistance of years may be prostrated in a moment, the heart entered by the besieging enemy, its rooms sought out, and eA-ery lovely affection rudely seized by the invader's lust, and given to ravishment and to ruin. Now, if these morality teachers could guarantee us against all evil from their doings, we might pay their support, and think it a cheap bargain. The direct and necessary effect of their pursuit, however, is to demor- alize men. Those who defend theaters would scorn to admit actors into their society. It is wdtliin the knowledge of all that men who thus cater for public pleasure are usually excluded from respectable society. The general fact is not altered by the exceptions, and honorable ex- ceptions there are. But where there is one Siddons and one Ellen Tree and one Fanny Kemble, how many hun- POPULAE AMUSEMENTS. 183 dred actresses are there who dare not venture within modest society ? '\^^lere there is one Garrick and Sheridan, how many thousand licentious wretches are there whose acting is but a means of sensual indulgence ? In the support of gamblers, circus-riders, actors, and racing-jockeys, a Cliristian and industrious people are guilty of supporting thousands of mere mischief-mak- ers, men whose very heart is diseased, and whose sores exhale contagion to all around them. We pay moral assassins to stab the purity of our children. We warn our sons of temptation, and yet plant the seeds which shall bristle with all the spikes and thorns of the worst temptation. If to this strong language you answer that these men are generous and jovial, that their very business is to please, that they do not mean to do harm, I reply, that I do not charge them with trying to pro- duce immorality, but with pursuing a course which produces it, whether they try or not. An evil example does harm by its own liberty, without asking leave. Moral disease, like the plague, is contagious, whether the patient wishes it or not. A vile man infects his children in spite of himself. Criminals make criminals, just as taint makes taint, disease makes disease, plagues make plagues. Those who run the gay round of pleas- ure cannot help dazzling the young, confounding their habits, and perverting their morals ; it is the very nature of their employment. These demoralizing professions could not be sus- tained but by the patronage of moral men. Wliere do the clerks, tlie apprentices, the dissipated, get their money which buys an entrance ? From whom is that money drained, always, in every land which supports 184 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. vice ? Unquestionably from the good, the laborious, the careful. The skill, the enterprise, the labor, the good morals of every nation are always taxed for the expenses of vice. Jails are built out of honest men's earnings. Courts are supported from peaceful men's property. Penitentiaries are built by the toil of virtue. Crime never pays its own way. Vice has no hands to work, no head to calculate. Its whole faculty is to corrupt and to waste, and good men, directly or in- directly, foot the bill. At this time, when we are waiting in vain for the return of that bread which we wastefuUy cast upon the waters ; when, all over the sea, men are fishing up the wrecks of those argosies and full-freighted fortunes which foundered in the sad storm of recent times, — some question might be asked about the economy of vice ; the economy of paying for our sons' idleness ; the economy of maintaining a whole lazy profession of gamblers, racers, actresses, and actors, — human, equine, and belluine, — whose errand is mischief and luxury and license and giggling folly. It ought to be asked of men who groan at a tax to pay their honest foreign debts, whether they can be taxed to pay the bills of mountebanks ? * * We cannot pay for honest loans, but we can pay Elssler hundreds of thousands for being an airy sylph! America can pay vagabond fid- dlers, dancers, fashionable actors, dancing-horses, and boxing-men ! Heaven forbid that these should want ! But to pay honest debts, — indeed, indeed, we have honorable scruples about that ! Let our foreign creditors dismiss their fears and forgive us the com- mercial debt ; write no more drowsy letters ohowt public faith ; let them write spicy comedies, and send over fiddlers and dancers and actors and singers, — they will soon collect the debt and keep us good- POPULAR AMUSEMENTS. 185 It is astonishing liow little the influence of those professions has been considered, which exert themselves mainly to delight the sensual feelings of men. That whole race of men whose camp is the theater, the circus, the turf, or the gaming-table, is a race whose instinct is destruction, who live to corrupt, and live off of the cor- ruption which they make. For their suj)port we sacri- fice annual hecatombs of youthful victims. Even sober Christian men look smilingly upon the gairish outside of these train-bands of destruction ; and while we see the results to be, uniformly, dissipation, idleness, dis- honesty, vice, and crime, still they lull us with the lying lyric of classic drama and human life, morality, 'poetry, and divine comedy. natured! After every extenuation, — hard times, deficient currency want of market, etc., — there is a deeper reason than these at the bottom of our inert indebtedness. Living among the body of the people and having nothing to lose or gain by my opinions, I must say plainly that the community are not sensitive to the disgrace of flagrant public bankruptcy ; they do not seem to care whether their public debt be jiaid or not. I perceive no enthusiasm on that subject : it is not a topic for either party, nor of anxious private conversation. A pro- found indebtedness, ruinous to our credit and to our morals, is allowed to lie at the very bottom of the abyss of dishonest indifference. Men love to be taxed for their lusts ; there is an open exchequer for licentiousness and for giddy pleasure. We grow suddenly saving, when benevolence asks alms or justice duns for debts ; we dole a pit- tance to suppliant creditors to be rid of their clamor. But let the divine Fanny, with evolutions extremely efficacious upon the feelings, fire the enthusiasm of a whole theater of men, Avhose applauses rise, as she does ; let this courageous dancer, almost literally true to nature, display her adventurous feats before a thousand men, and the very miser will turn spendthrift ; the land which will not pay its honest creditors will enrich a strolling danseusc and rain down upon the stage a stream of golden boxes or golden coin, wreaths and rosy billet- djoux. 186 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. Disguise it as you will, these men of pleasure are, the world over, coRFtUPTERS of youth. Upon no principle of kindness can we tolerate them; no excuse is bold enough; we can take bail from none of their weak- nesses, — it is not safe to have them abroad even u^^on excessive bail. You might as well take bail of lions, and allow scorpions to breed in our streets for a suit- able license ; or, for a tax, indulge assassins. Men whose life is given to evil pleasures are, to ordinary criminals, what a universal j)estilence is to a local disease. They iill the air, pervade the community, and bring around every youth an atmosphere of death. Cor- rupters of youth have no mitigation of their baseness. Their generosity avails nothing, their knowledge noth- ing, their varied accomplishments nothing. These are only so many facilities for greater evil. Is a serpent less deadly because his burnished scales shine ? Shall a dove praise and court the vulture because he has such glossy plumage ? The more accomplishments a bad man has the more dangerous is he ; they are the gar- lands which cover up the knife with which he will stab. Tliere is no such thing as good corrupters. You might as well talk of a mild and pleasant murder, a very lenient assassination, a grateful stench, or a pious devil. We denounce them, for it is our nature to loathe perfidious corruption. We have no compunc- tion to withhold us. We mourn over a torn and bleed- ing lamb ; but who mourns the wolf which rent it ? We weep for despoiled innocence ; but who sheds a tear for the savage fiend who plucks away the flower of virtue ? We shudder and pray for the shrieking victim of the Inquisition ; but who would spare the hoary in- POPULAR AMUSEMENTS. 187 quisitor, before whose shriveled form the piteous maid implores relief in vain ? Even thus we palliate the sins of generous youth, and their downfall is our sor- row; but for their destroyers, for the coPtRUPTERS of YOUTH who practice the infernal chemistry of ruin and dissolve the young heart in vice, we have neither tears nor pleas nor patience. We lift our heart to Him who beareth the iron rod of vengeance and jjray for the ap- pointed time of judgment. Ye miscreants ! think ye that ye are growing tall and walking safely because God hath forgotten ? The bolt shall yet smite you ! you shall be heard as the falling of an oak in the silent forest, the vaster its growth the more terrible its resound- ing downfall. O thou corrupter of youth ! I would not take thy death for all the pleasure of thy guilty life a thousand-fold. Thou shalt draw near to the shadow of death. To the Christian these shades are the golden haze wliich heaven's light makes when it meets the earth and mingles with its shadows. But to thee these shall be shadows full of pliantom shapes. Im- ages of terror in the future shall dimly rise and beckon, the ghastly deeds of the past shall stretch out their skinny hands to push thee forward. Thou shalt not die unattended. Despair shall mock thee. Agony shall tender to thy parched lips her fiery cup. Re- morse shall feel for thy heart, and rend it open. Good men shall breathe freer at thy death, and utter thanks- giving when thou art gone. Men shall place thy grave- stone as a monument and testimony that a plague is stayed ; no tear shall wet it, no mourner linger tliere. And, as borne on the blast thy guilty spirit whistles toM'ard the gate of hell, the hideous sliricks of those frjlTIVl 188 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. -whom thy Land hath destroyed shall pierce thee, — hell's first welcome. In the bosom of that everlasting storm which rains perpetual misery in hell slialt thou, CORRUPTER OF YOUTH, be forever hidden from our view ; and may God wipe out the very thoughts of thee from our memory ! VIII. PRACTICAL HINTS* ' *' Dearly beloved, I beseech you, as strangers and pilgrims, ABSTAIN FROM FLESHLY LUSTS, WHICH WAR AGAINST THE SOUL ; HAVING YOUR CONVERSATION HONEST AMONG THE GeNTILES ; THAT, whereas they speak against you as evil-doers, they may by your good works, which they shall behold, glorify God in the day of visitation. Submit yourselves to every ORDINANCE OF MAN FOR THE LoRD's SAKE ; AVHETHER IT BE TO THE KING, AS SUPREME, OR UNTO GOVERNORS, AS UNTO THEM THAT ARE SENT BY HIM FOR THE PUNISHMENT OF EVIL-DOERS, AND FOR THE PRAISE OF THEM THAT DO WELL. FoR SO IS THE WILL OF God, that with WELL-DOING ye may PUT TO SILENCE THE IGNORANCE OF FOOLISH MEN ; AS FREE, AND NOT USING YOUR LIBERTY FOR A CLOAK OF MALICIOUSNESS, BUT AS THE SER- VANTS OF God. — 1 Pet. ii. 11-16. f^^l^^^^J^HIS passage shows the large-mindedness ^^firl ■ t > which the Apostle would put into the con- 'P&'-f^.'^\', duct of human affairs. The ordinary pro- r^:s^>^^^ cesses of human life, which so often are made vulgar and mean by pride and by selfislmess, and wliicli oftentimes seem to us to be inevitably joined to all tliat is unmanly, were looked upon by him as noble and ennobling, worthy of tlie best care and thouglit. It is peculiar to the New Testament tliat it underlays human life with motives that dignify it in all its parts. * Delivered Sunday evening, May 8, 1859. 190 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. I desire to refresh the minds of the young, more par- ticularly, with some thoughts respecting their various relations in life, and with some plain practical sugges- tions and instructions with reference to the best method of fulfilling their duties in those relations. The young are those to whom we look for future strength and for future good ; and the longer we live the more anxious we become that they who are to be tlie fresh recruits should be morally of right stature. Around them are peculiar temptations and trials, witch- ing, cunning, insidious, and forceful ; and we are obliged to see thousands falling by the way whose fall seems needless. They, like ourselves, are to have but one chance in life. We that are somewhat advanced in years, seeing how many perils there are around about that one chance, feel an earnest desire that every advan- tage should be given to those who are coming on to fill our places. We can live but once, and life is usually molded and takes its shape very early. I propose, therefore, on this occasion, to consider the relations which the young of both sexes sustain to their parents, their employers, to themselves, and to the com- munity or country in which they live. ISTo young person should consider it an advantage to get rid of parental supervision and care. Though to the child there comes a period when it irks the ear to be perpetually taught and restrained, yet there is nothing in after life that can take the place of father and mother to him. There is no other institution like the family ; there is no other love like parental love ; there is no other friendship like the friendship of father and of mother. While the boy and girl are yet sprout- PRACTICAL HINTS. 191 ing into manliood and -^'omanliood, they may be a Little impatient under restraint ; yet every after-year of in- dependence will teach the young man and maiden that there were no advantages like those which their parents gave them. Young man, there are no persons that will tell you tlie truth so faithfully, there are no persons that know your faults so well, there are none so dis- interestedly considerate for your well-being, as father and mother. Besides, no newspaper, no pulpit, no tri- bunal of any kind, ever discusses or touches these ques- tions that belong to the familiar converse of the family. We cannot approach, in these arms-length discourses, to that familiar wisdom which brings information home to the very spot where it is needed in individual charac- ter, as father and mother do at the nightly fireside. Do not be too anxious, tlierefore, to* break off the connection which exists between you and your parents. Eemember, that as the law c^overnin^f that social band makes it inevitable that you must inherit its honor or disgrace, so it acts retrospectively, and you are to cast back a part of your well-doing or iU-doing upon it. You are not free from your father and mother yet, nor are your obligations to them ended. As long as you live you will owe a child's duty to your parents. It is an obligatory duty as long as you are a minor ; it becomes a spontaneous offering of honor and affection when you pass to your majority. It is one of the worst signs that can mark young men and maidens that they easily forget the home of their father and mother; and you that have left country liomes and come down to this great thoroughfare, so far from laying aside the associations of home, and being 192 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. asliamed of its counsels and manners, be yet more assid- uous and careful than you ever were before to treasure them up. Hold fast to home influences and remem- brances ; and recollect that he who tries to shame you out of a father's and a mother's fear, and out of obedi- ence to them, tries to steal the most precious treasure you have. He that is trying to destroy the influence of your parents upon you is trying to take from you the most faithful love you ever knew. You shall lie down in the grave when you shall have traversed forty or eighty years of life, without having found another friend who has borne as much for you, or done as much for you, as your father or your mother. There is no need, I trust, that I should say more upon this point. I pass next to consider some of your duties to your employers ; and this branch of our subject includes a "wide range. I ask you to consider, in the first place, your rela- tions to your employers from the highest, and, therefore, from a Christian point of view. Do not vulgarize your secular relations, but make a matter of religion of them. At least, look at them in the highest moods and feelings of religious honor. It will make all the difference in the world whether you look at your duties to your em- ployers from a low and selfish point of view, or from a high-minded and generous point of view. It will make all the difference in the world whether you look at your employers simply as men who for the time being have an advantage over you, or wdio in some sense are your instruments, or are obstacles in your way ; or, on the other hand, as being, like yourselves, children of God, going with you to a common home and to a common PRACTICAL HINTS. 193 judgment, toward wliom you are bound to cherish all Christian feelings. Be sure, after having entered into any relationships, to faithfully perform your part. Be careful that you do not fall into a narrow, selfish, calculating mood. Especially avoid measuring every obligation and every fulfillment of duty upon a very narrow gauge, saying, " How little must I do to discharge my duty ? How few hours can I afford to put in ? How little diligence can I use ? " Guard most particularly against measur- ing what you do by the character of the persons for whom you do it. Remember that there are always two parties in every partnership, and if you happen in God's providence to be jDlaced under persons of merit and worth, you owe it first to them and secondly to your- selves, to act in a high and honorable way. But if your employers are as mean as mean can be, you never can afford, for your own sake, to act in any except a large, magnanimous, and manly way. There is no excuse for your acting peevishly or unfaithfully under any circumstances. Always aim to do more and not less than is expected of you. Even though the expectation is unreasonable, it affords no excuse for unfaithfulness in you. Desire to do more than is put upon you; and, even if you should be blamed at every step, keep that desire. The need- less fault-finding of your employers does not exonerate you from duty. If they are exacting, if they are a great deal too hard, it will not hurt you in the end. Kothini^ hurts an honorable man, nothii]<_>- liurts a true man. I never saw a man spoiled because too much was exacted of him, or because he did too mucli, unless 9 M 194 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. his hardships were so severe as to undermine or crush out his manliness, teaching him to do mean things, and leading him to run circuitous courses all around duty. If you are used hardly and roughly, you will be a tougher man in the end than if you had not received such usage. If you come out of such circumstances, you will come out as iron comes out of fire, — steel. All real or supposed evil ; all oppression, if your employers oppress you ; all cheating, if they cheat you ; all manner of dishonorableness, if they put it upon you, — all these things can never justify you in doing the same things to them in retaliation, or acquit you of one single duty.- If you are apprenticed to a miser, and if he diminishes your proper quantity of food, if he clothes you poorly, if he denies you your appropriate hours of relaxation, — these are his acts of wickedness. Do not make yourself a fellow to him by attempting to retaliate, by attempting to cheat him in the same way that he has cheated you. It is just as wrong for you to cheat him as for him to cheat you, although he may cheat you first. " Vengeance is mine : I will repay, saith the Lord." You have no right to undertake to repay men their wickedness in this world : you should leave that to God. And though the man that employs you be never so bad, do you remember to be good ; and every time you feel the edge of his evil, say to yourself, " I will see to it that I am not like him." Overcome evil with good. It is very difficult to do this, I know, especially in the presence of a hard and hateful man ; but I tell you it is duty, and duty can always be performed. Do not, therefore, fall into the habit of measuring PRACTICAL HINTS. 195 what you give and what you get, — service and remu- neration. In considering into what relations you shall enter in life, this is proper ; but when relations have once been established between one and another, the generous way of looking at things is the happier and better way, no matter how unequal it may seem. It is not best for you to disquiet yourself by turning over and over in your mind the circumstances you are in, and looking at them from the least favorable point of view. Always look on the hopeful side of tilings ; ahvays re- gard things in a charitable light ; always take a generous view of thino'S for your own sake, if on no other account. Eemember, also, that your moral character is worth more to you than everything else, in all your relationships in life. Xot only for religious reasons, but even for the commonest secular reasons, this is so. It is very desira- ble that you should have information ; it is very de- sirable that you should have a skillful and nimble hand for the pursuit in which you are engaged ; it is very desirable that you should understand business and men and life ; but it is still more desirable that you should be a man of integrity, — of strict, untemp table, or at least unbreakable integrity, — even for civil and secular reasons. For nothinsj is so much in demand as simple untemptability in men ; nothing is in so much demand as men who are held, by the fear of God and by the love of rectitude, to tliat whicli is right. Their price is above rubies. More than wedges of gold are they worth ; and nowhere else are they worth so much as in cities and marts like this, where so much must be put at stake upon the fidelity of agents. It is very hard to find men now. You can find good 196 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN, trees in the woods for masts, but that is difficult ; yet you can find ten such sticks easier than you can find one man that will resist temptation. We must make men now as they make masts ; tliey saw down a dozen trees, splice them together, and bind them round with iron hoops, and thus make masts that are sup]30sed to be stronger than they would be if each was a whole piece of timber. And so with men : if you want a good man, you have to take a dozen men and splice them to- gether, and wind the hoops of responsibility round and round them, and j)ut watching-bands all about them, before you can get a man with whom you will dare to leave your money ; and then he will run away with it. It is very hard to find a man of good sound timber that will stand the pressure of circumstances, that is without a flaw, that cannot be shaken, that will bear the stress of opportunity, temptation, and impu- nity. It is one of the most difficult matters to get a man who will safely go through these three things, — ojDimrtunity, tcmj^tation, imimiiity. A .man that can go through these three things, and stand proved in truth and honesty, is beyond all price ; and it is such men that we want. Business needs them; everything in commercial life needs them. Wherefore, remember that in all your business relations you should be doing two things. While you are gaining an outward ac- quaintance with those various professions or pursuits in which you are to engage for a livelihood, you should be doing a much more important thing, namely, you should be gaining an inward integrity ; training your- self to be a man of upright dealing, establishing a char- acter for the strictest rectitude. PRACTICAL HINTS. 197 ijQ very careful about your word. Be very shy of giving it ; but, once uttered, let it cliange to adamant. Ce as careful of it as if you were fully conscious that the eye of the living God was upon you, for it is upon you. Once having given it, never allow yourself to take it up and weigh it. The moment a man begins to think about a dishonesty, he has lialf committed it; the moment a man begins to think about a lie, he has half told it ; tlie moment a man begins to pull out his word or his promise to examine it, you may be sure he will break it ; as when, in an affray, a soldier begins to pull his sword from its sheath, you know tliat there is blood going to be spilt somewhere. When a man, after liaving given his word, begins to say, " I do not mean to break my promise, but if I did there would be good cause. Is there not some flaw in it ? can I not interjDret it thus and so ? " — that moment his word, and with it his honor, is good for nothing. Never deliberate on your word, but let it go as the arrow goes to the target, — let it strike, and stand. Be firm, also, under all provocation and under all temptations. Be careful that you do no wrong to your employers, without regard to their character or merit, and without any regard to their treatment of you. Let it be a matter of religious honor with you never to wrong them in the least thing. Be just as firm in your determination never to do any wrong /o/' them, as you are in your determination never to do any wrong agaiiist them. Xo matter if they do want a whiplash with which to strike out into iniquitous things, never let them tie you to their handle, and use you for such a purpose, however much it may cost you to resist their 198 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. endeavors to degrade you in this manner. One thing is certain, that all special reasons tliat you may urge to justify you in yielding, under circumstances like these, in the end will fall to the ground. You may be sure that a young man who trusts to integrity has a compass that will never deceive him, through night and darkness, or throufdi storms and winds and waves that threaten to overwhelm him. You are not to determine your duty, in matters of simple truth and honesty, by any fear of consequences. Suppose you are in debt ; suppose you are about to be pitched out of the establishment ; suppose you do not know where to get your daily bread, or how to pay for your clothes ; suppose you are without friends, — God Almighty is on the side of every man who is right ! Wait patiently, and God will make it appear. Do you believe that he who will not let a sparrow fall to the ground without his notice will not care for you ? Do you believe that he who feeds the birds of the air will not supply your wants ? Do you beheve that he who has starred the Bible all over with promises will let you make a sacrifice of yourself in integrity ? Is there no providence that takes care of men ? Is there no God of justice and of love who looks after his creatures ? Why should you be afraid to step out of the ship, if it be Christ who says, " Come to me " ? and when you step out upon the waves, why should you, like Peter, abandon your faith, and then sink because you are afraid ? Walk, no matter what may be the height of the wave or the fierceness of the storm, wherever duty calls. Remember that it is Christ who says, " Come to me. " Go, and go fearlessly. But never wrong your PEACTICAL HINTS. 199 employers ; neither do wrong for them. If they have got any mean work to be done, tell them to do it them- selves ; never do it for them. And generally, let me say, never ask a man to do for you anything that you would not do yourself; and never, under any circumstances whatever, do for any man that which you would not do for yourself You cannot shift responsibility in such matters. If you do any false swearing, you cannot charge it to the estab- lishment. You cannot be delegated to tell a lie so that in telling it you will be exonerated from guilt. You cannot be the bearer of a false statement, and be no more responsible for it than the mail-bag is for the contents of the letters which are carried in it. If you tell a lie for a man, yoit tell the lie, however much he also may do it. There is no such thing as your doing a wrong for others without being responsible for that wrong yourself. And if, wlien men send you to per- form little meannesses, you trot quickly to do their bidding, they will mark you, and say, " He is fit for it " ; but if, when men attempt to put upon you such miser- able business they find you stiff in opposition, they will mark that also, and say, " Is that all a pretense, or is it real ? " They think that perhaps they have found a person to be trusted ; but they will not be satisfied till they have thoroughly tested you. Tliey always wish to know if that which looks like gold is gold. So they will try you again and again ; and if you stand firm in your honesty, by and by they will say, " I do not know, after all, but he has got that tliiug in liim. I have heard of conscience, and it may be that lie has it. " Even after that they will try you in various ways, 200 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. and wlien they find that your uprightness is not a mere freak, is not a mere fit, but that it has a substantial foundation in your character, they will begin to say, " By and by I shall want a partner or a confidential clerk, and here is a young man wlio is honorable, intel- ligent, and active, and if he has got that thing in liim he is just the one for me ; but I will watch him, I will try him thoroughly before I enter into any important relationship with him. " For, I assure you, men think of a great many things in the office, when you are at work in the store below, that you do not dream of ; and you may depend upon it that when the sifting is all done, and the chaff is blown away, you that have been tlie soundest in your integrity will be among the plumpest of the wheat. Do not forget, therefore, that you are being educated for a moral purpose, and not merely for a secular one. Yet, I remark, do not be a man of integrity just because it is profitable. I would not like to put moral qualities up at auction as merchantable things. " God- liness, " it is true, " is profitable in all things, having promise of the life that now is and of that which is to come " ; but that is a very insufficient way of looking at it. Therefore, do not accustom yourselves to measure moral qualities by what they bring in the market, by mere gold and silver. Do not stop to ask how much your integrity costs you. Do not in any way take a low view of your moral training. If you find that truth and honesty and fidelity arc not presently re- warded, do not be discouraged. It is conceit, some- times, tliat leads men to tliink they are not properly rewarded. All men have a conceit with reference to PRACTICAL HINTS. 201 their deserts, and if within six months or a year after the performance of what they conceive to be a good act they are not rewarded for it, they are apt to feel injured. Do good, not ignorant that it will bring a reward, but do not do it for the sake of the reward which it will bring. Even if it brought no reward, you should do it for the sake of itself. A life of slippery experience can have but one end. Therefore be honest and truthfid. : be so because it is profitable, if you please ; but if it were not profitable, you should be so just the same. You certainly will gain more by this course, in a long run, than by the opposite one ; for I aver, tliat in nine hundred and ninety-nine cases out of a thousand, men who are not truthful, who are not diligent, who are not careful of their character, who are. not honest, end disastrously. There are two things about riches : one is to catch them, and the other is to hold them. I have seen many a man get money as a man catches a bird. He has the bird safe till he goes to put it into the cage, but when he opens his hand to put it in, out and off it flies. So the riches of many men take to themselves wings and fly away. How many men have been rich for a brief period, say for two or three years, and then gone down in some speculation, just as before they had gone up in some speculation. There are many men who, by wrong dealing, get themselves into a kind of prosperity. People refer to them, and pompously say, " What sense is there in preaching that a man must have integrity ? " They may be rich now, but I will not answer for their riches five or ten years hence. If I then look to see where all their show and pomp is, I 9* 202 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. shall very likely find that these things are gone ; that they have passed away ; and that new faces occupy tlie places where they were. I would to God that there were moral as there are physical statistics. If there were, it would be shown that integrity and permanent prosperity go together. I know there are apparent exceptions on both sides, but the general truth is that a stable prosperity must stand upon integrity. Let me speak, next, of a subject which stands inti- mately connected with your prosperity and virtue in life. I refer to the matter of your health. I feel more in- clined to do so because there are so many who have no friends to teach them on this subject, and who have no information respecting it. Health is the foundation of all things in this life. Although work is healthy and occupation almost indispensable to health and happi- ness, yet excessive work which taxes the brain almost invariably ends in weakening the digestive organs. There are men here who overtax their minds all day long, through months and years, ignorant that there is a subtle but inevitable connection between dyspepsia and too much mental exertion. I see around me the effects of too intense mental application in scholars, in bankers, in merchants, and in business men of every other class. It is a thing which every man should un- derstand, that there is a point beyond which, if he urge his brain, the injurious result will be felt, not in the head, but in the stomach. The nerves of the stomach become weakened by excessive mental application ; and the moment a man loses his stomach, the citadel of his physical life is taken. All your body is renewed from the blood of your system, and that blood is made from PRACTICAL HIXTS. 203 the food taken into the stomach. The cai^acity of tlie blood to renew nerve and fibre and bone and muscle, and thus to keep you in a state of health, depends upon the perfectness of your digestive functions. There is scarcely one man in a hundred who sup- poses that he must ask leave of his stomach to be a happy man. In many cases the difference between happy men and unhappy men is caused by their diges- tion. Oftentimes the difference between hopeful men and melancholy men is simply the difference of their digestion. There is much that is called spiritual ailment that is nothing but stomachic ailment. I have, during my experience as a religious teacher, had persons call upon me with that hollow cheek, that emaciated face, and that peculiar look which indicate the existence of this cerebral and stomachic difficulty, to tell me about tlieir trials and temptations ; and, whatever I may have said to them, my inward thought has been, " There is very little help that can be afforded you till your health is established." The foundation of all earthly happiness is physical health ; and yet men scarcely ever value it till they have lost it. Eemember, also, that too little sleep is almost as inevitably fatal as anything can be to your health and happiness. Suppose you do work very hard all day long, that is no reason why you should say, " I am not going to be a mere pack-horse ; and if I cannot have pleasure by day I will have it at niglit." You are tak- ing the very substance out of your body wlien you burn the lamp of pleasure till one or two o'clock at night. It may be that at certain seasons of the year you may, now and then, diminish the quantity of rest and sleep, and 204 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. still retain your health ; but for a young man to follow the excitations of pleasure continually is like burning many wicks in one lamp. He o^innot do it for any con- siderable length of time without destroying his consti- tution. There is nothing more inevitable than that the want of sleep undermines the body itself. As a general rule, eight hours of sleep are necessary for a young per- son. There is a difference, however, in the amount of sleep required by different persons of the same age. A nervous man does not usually need as much sleep as a phlegmatic man, for the reason that some men accom- plish more sleep in tlie same time than others. A nervous man will walk a mile quicker, will eat his meals quicker, will do everything quicker, and will there- fore sleep quicker than a phlegmatic man. Some men will do as much sleep-work in six hours as otlier men will in eight hours. Some, therefore, can do with less sleep than others ; but whatever may be the amount which experience teaches you that you need, that amount you should take. It may excite a smile when I say it, but it is nevertheless true, that it is a part of your religious duty to sleej^. A great many men have destroyed the usefulness of their lives through igno- rance of this indispensable law of recuperation. I may, without impropriety, speak of my own ex- perience in this matter. I attribute much of my power of endurance to the discreet direction of an experienced father, from whom I obtained, early in life, some right ideas respecting diet, exercise, and sleep. I have been accustomed, under constant taxation of public labor, that made excitement inevitable and continued, for more than twenty years, to divide each day into two days, sleeping a little near the mivldie of the day. PRACTICAL HINTS. 205 For more tlian twenty years, under constant taxation of public labor of a most exciting kind, I have main- tained health and good spirits by a conscientious and scrupulous observance of the laws of health, and in nothing have I been more careful than in securing sleep. God has made sleep to be a sponge by which to rub out fatigue. A man's roots are planted in night as in a soil, and out of it he comes every day with fresh growth and bloom. Diet and out-of-door exercise are also elements of healtli not to be neglected with impunity. There are many who have not their choice in this regard ; and I am truly sorry for those who are obliged, by the nature of their calling or the terms of their engagement, to forego exercise in the open air. It is a painful sight to see workingmen looking pale and emaciated, like plants that grow in the shade, without that robust- ness or that healthy hue that comes from work out of doors. I desire that there may be no notions of religion which shall lead men to think that there is any harm in robust, manly exercise, — in fencing, riding, boxing, rowing, rolling, or casting the javelin or quoit. These exercises, when prudently and properly indulged in, are beneficial. Whatever tends to give you a robust and developed physical system is in favor of virtue and against vice, other things being equal. All the passions that carry with them anxiety or care, anger, envy, jealousy, or fear, or any other of the malign feelings, are positively unliealthy. A man who lives in any of these lower feelings is living in a state in ^\'hic]i lie is all the time decreasing the vital con- 206 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. ditions of Ins body, and rendering himself more and more liable to be attacked by disease ; whereas a man who lives in courage and hope, up above all the lower passions, in a state of cheerful happiness, is, from the nature of his feelings, all the time repelling the assaults of disease. A man who is buoyant and happy has a strong chance for health. Add to this the wickedness of a demoralizing indulgence of the passions, which is always unhealthy, and I do not wonder that so many men break down ; I do not wonder that our streets are full of shambles where our young men are slaughtered in hecatombs, especially when they add to their other indulgences that of drinking beyond all bounds. It is strange to see how men will drain themselves of Adtality in the ways of vice. I only marvel that men live as long as they do. I wonder that they live a year, when sometimes they live five years ; I wonder that they live a month, wliere they live a year. If there were no reason in self-respect to lead us to check our appetites, there is a reason in health that should make a young man afraid as death of houses of dissipation and vice. You may think there is pleasure there, and so there is, just enough to scum over the cup of disease and death. The beginnings of the ways of vice may be pleasant, but the ends thereof are damnation. I pass, next, to speak of the care and culture of your minds ; and this part of my discourse relates especially to the young who are under employers, and are learning occupations that are not themselves directly intellectual. It is not a small thinf;^ for a man to be able to make his hands light by supplementing them with his head. The advantage which intelligence gives a man is very PRACTICAL HINTS. 207 great. It oftentimes increases one's mere physical ability full one half. Active thought, or quickness in the use of the mind, is very important in teaching us how to use our hands rightly in every possible relation and situation in life. The use of the head abridges the labor of the hands. There is no drudgery, there is no mechanical routine, there is no minuteness of function, that is not ad\antaged by education. If a man has nothing to do but to turn a grindstone, he had better be educated ; if a man has nothing to do but to stick pins on a paper, he had better be educated ; if he has to sweep the streets, he had better be educated. It makes no difference what you do, you wiU do it better if you are educated. An intelligent man knows how to bring knowledge to bear upon whatever he has to do. It is a mistake to suppose that a stupid man makes a better laborer than one who is intelligent. If I wanted a man to drain my farm, or merely to throw the dirt out from a ditch, I would not get a stupid drudge if I could help it. In times when armies have to pass through great hardships, it is the stupid soldiers that break down quickest; while the men of intelligence, who have mental resources, hold out longest. It is a common saying that blood will always tell in horses : I know that intelligence will tell in men. AMiatever your occupation may be, it is worth your while to be a man of thought and intellectual resources. It is worth your while to be educated thoroughly for any business. If you are a mechanic or tradesman, education is good enough for you, and you are good enough for it. Sometimes wonder is expressed that a man who has been throu^-h collefire, and who is there- 208 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEX. fore supposed to be educated, should bury himself in business. But why should he not ? Has not a mer- chant a right to be an educated man ? Do you suppose a man has no rioiit to an education unless he is coinfjc to be a doctor, a minister, a lawyer, or some kind of a public man ? I affirm the right of every man in the community to an education. A man should educate himself for his own sake, even if his education should benefit no one else in the world. Every man's educa- tion does, however, benefit others besides himself. There is no calling, except that of slave-catching, for Christian governments, that is not made better by brains. No matter what a man's work is, he is a better man for having had a thorough mind-drilling. If you are to be a farmer, go to college or to the academy, first. If you are to be a mechanic, and you have an opportunity of getting an education, get that first. If you mean to follow the lowest calling, — one of those callings termed " menial, " — do not be ignorant ; have knowledge. A man can do without luxuries and wealth and public honors, but not without knowledge. Poverty is not disreputable, but ignorance is. One of the things w^hich our age and which this land has to develop, is the compatibility of manual labor with real refinement and education. This is to be one of the problems of. the age. We must &how that knowledge is not the monopoly of professions, not the privilege of wealth, not the prerogative of leisure, but that knowledge and refinement belong to hard-working men as much as to any other class of men. And I hope to see the day wlien there will be educated day- laborers, educated mechanics, refined and educated PRACTICAL IILNTS. 209 farmers and ship-masters ; for we must carry out into practice our theory of men's equality, and of common worth in matters of education. We must endeavor to inspire every calling in life with an honest ambition for intelligence. There is no calling that will not he lifted up by it. AYhatever may be your business, then, make it a point to get from it, or in spite of it, a good education. Never whine over what you may suppose to be the loss of early opportunities. A great many men have good early opportunities who never improve them ; and many have lost their early opportunities without losing much. Every man may educate himself that wishes to. It is the will that makes the w^ay. Many a slave that wanted knowledge has listened while his master's children were saying their letters and putting them together to form easy w^ords, and thus caught the first elements of spelling ; and then, lying flat on his belly before the raked-up coals and embers, with a stolen book, has learned to read and write. If a man has such a thirst for knowledge as that, I do not care where you put him, he will become an educated man. Hugh Miller, the quarry man, became one of the most learned men in natural science in the Old World. Ptoger Sherman came up from a shoemaker's bench. A blacksmith may become a universal linguist. You can educate yourself. Where there is a will there is a way ; and in almost every business of life there is much which demands reading, study, and thinking. Every mechanic should make himself a respectable mathe- matician. He ought to understand the principles of his business: and if, v/hen- -he -has been em:ra']:ed in it 210 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. five or ten years, lie has never had the interest to search out such of those principles as are within liis reach, it is a sign that he is without laudable ambition. Every man who has to do with construction should have a knowledge of the philosophy of mechanics. A clerk in a dry-goods store has an encyclopaedia on his shelves. If he will trace back the fabrics to the countries from whence they came ; if he will learn of what materials they are composed, the climate of the country in which each grew, the nature of the soil in which each was produced, the kind of people by whom each article was wrought, the process by which it was made, the character of the machinery employed in its manufacture ; and will seek to answer the thousands of questions which are suggested to the mind by the color, the figure, etc., of the various articles by which he is surrounded, he will find that there is in any ordinary store of dry-goods more than a man could learn in a lifetime. If all the knowledge that would be required to trace out the facts relating to all the fabrics in Stewart's store were to be written, Appleton's bookstore would hardly hold the books that it would filL But if the clerk stands in the store with his hands behind him, thinking that his only business is to sell dry-goods, his goods will not be half so dry as he is. It is a shame for men to remain ignorant in the midst of provocatives to knowledge. There should be so strong a hunger for knowledge among men, that no provocatives would be required to induce them to obtain it. It is a disgrace for a man to be ignorant that has lived five years a freeman in a free community. If he comes under tlie bankrupt law and pleads stu- pidity, that is another thing. PEACTICAL HINTS. 211 Life itself, moreover, is an academy. There is some- thing to be learned from everybody, in every place, about everything. A man that has eyes and ears, and uses them, can go nowhere without finding himself a pupil and everybody a teacher. Conceit it is, a con- temptible satisfaction with your present state, a com- placent pride, that stagnates all your faculties, and leads you up and down the street, among all sorts of men, collecting nothing. Every ride in a car, every ^yalk in the street, every sail in a boat, every visit to the store, the shop, or the dwelling, should make you a richer man in knowledge. You should never return w^ithout some conscious increase of information. Eemember, too, in respect to this matter of education, that you are a citizen, and that you are bound to have that information which shall qualify you for an honest participation in public affairs. You are also bound to have a knowledge of current events, which no man can have who does not read the newspapers. News- papers are the schoolmasters of the common people. The newspaper is one of the things that we may felici- tate ourselves upon. That endless book, the news- paper, is our national glory. For example, how many of our young men and young women, now that Europe stands all ajar, wdien apparently new combinations are to take place upon a scale that is gigantic, such as may take place but once in tlie course of their lifetime, — how many young men and women are 2:)reparing them- selves to follow these events ? How many have taken down tlie atlas, and marked out the lines of France, of the Italian provinces, of the Austrian Empire, and of the Prussian Empire ? How many have drawn the 212 LECTUKES TO YOU^^G MEN. boundaries of Tuscany, acquainted themselves with the position of Turin, and traced the course of the Ticino ? How many know wliere Piedmont is located ? When I was a lad some ten years old, I had the priv- ileo'e of cjoinsr to school to a farmer's son, who was him- self a farmer and also a captain of the militia. I rec- ollect to have heard my father say of him, that he had studied military affairs in his quiet career so thoroughly, that probably there was not another man in the State of Connecticut that could detail so fully the history and philosophy of all the campaigns of Napoleon as he. This w^as a mere incidental remark made at the table, but it has had a great deal to do with my life. It opened to me the idea, though I did not know it then, that a workingman in humble circumstances might, by ordinary diligence, put himself in possession of information that should be world-wide. I can say, also, that in an early day my own mind was very much interested in the peninsular war be- tween the French and Spanish and English armies, in Spain. I was so interested in the events connected with that war, that I carefully read Napier's matchless history of it, — one of the noblest monuments of mili- tary history ever given to the world. I studied mi- nutely, with map in hand, that whole campaign. I never read a book in college, or during the whole course of my life, that did me half so much good as that liis- tory, though it was a matter but incidental to my pro- fession. Now, do not suppose that to obtain this information of current events in your own land, or u})on the broad theater of the world, will require a great deal of time PEACTICAL HINTS. 213 which you must withdraw from other things. Almost every man wastes as many live minutes and ten min- utes as he would require to give himself a good educa- tion. You throw away time enough to make you a wise man, both in book literature and current events. A volume read a little every morning wastes away most rapidly. A man that is much occupied, in the course of a year, Avould have leisure in the crevices of his time if he toolv the parings, the rinds of it ; if he took a little in the morning before others were up, and he might take a great deal then, if he got up when he ought to ; if he took a little before each meal and a little after each meal ; if he took a little on his way to his busi- ness and a little on his way back from his business ; if he took a little while riding in the cars and a little while crossing the ferries, — I say that even a much- occupied man would, in the course of one year, have leisure in these crevices of his time to make himself mas- ter of the history of his own country. It does not take a man a great while to read a book through, if he only keeps at it. A history of the institutions of the country, its laws and its polity ; a history of the principal nations of the world, their manners and their customs ; a history of the physical globe, its geology, its geograpliy, and its natural productions ; and some knowledge of the arts and of the fine arts, — may be had by every laboring man, every clerk, and every woman. There is no excuse for you if you, do not understand these things. You do not need to go to school, to a college, or to an academy to learn them. They are published in books, and the books are accessible. Somebody has got them. You 214 LECTUItES TO YOUNG MEN. need not advertise in the newspapers, asking for a man who will lend you an encyclopaedia. You can learn something eveiywhere. Everybody can tell you some- thing. Ask for knowledge, if you desire it. If you were hungry, I do not believe you would starve. I think you would ask for food before you would die. I think you would work for bread before you would perish. And you ought to be ten times as hungry for knowledge as for food for the body. Among the finest pictures in the Boston Athenaeum, and the finest part of the library of the Massachusetts Historical Collection, you will find those pictures and books which were collected and bound during the life- time, and donated at the death, of a man who spent his days in the active practice of a mechanical employment. He was a leather-dresser. He bought the best books and read them, and then secured for them the very best dress, — for a good book deserves a good dress, — and at his death he gave them to these public institutions ; and they are valuable beyond what they would bring in market as so much treasure. I never look at those books in the Massachusetts Historical Collection, and at those pictures in the Boston Athenaeum, without thinkiniy how much a mechanic can do. o Here was a man who ^^'as fond of art, and who built himself up in knowledge, nothwithstanding his business was that of a tanner. This business, however, even though there be a Scriptural precedent for it, is not an inviting one. The class of men engaged in that busi- ness now have no particular taste for the fine arts ; but the time has been when they had, and the time may come when they will have again. There is no business PRACTICAL HINTS. 215 SO derogatory that culture is not compatible with it. The trouble is, men do not want to know, or else they are lazy. Why should you, an apprentice or a clerk or a day- workman, not wish to see galleries of pictures as much as I or any other man ? I see that there is a great deal of enthusiasm about Church's picture, and I do not wonder at it. I am proud of the picture and of the man who painted it. But I go among some classes of people, and hear not one word about it. Xow, why should not a blacksmith, as well as any other man, say, " I have heard that there is a splendid picture on exhibition up town, and I am going to see it " ? Why should not a man who wields the broad-axe say, " I am going to see it"? Then there is the Academy of Design. I look, and those I see there are principally richly dressed people. I am not sorry to see persons in silk and satin and broadcloth there ; but I am sorry not to see there more clerks and workingmen. I am astonished that I do not see more there from among the fifty thousand clerks and the two hundred and fifty thousand laboring men in New York, when I remember that fifty cents will give a person permission to go there as much as he pleases during a whole season. The trouble is, they are hungry in the stomach and not in the head. People should be hungry with the eye and the ear as well as with the mouth. If all a man's necessaries of life go in at the port-hole of the stomach, it is a bad sign. A man's intelligence should be regarded by him as of more importance than the gratification of his physical desires. I long to see my countrymen universally intelligent. I long to see those 216 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. in the lower walks of life building themselves np in all true appetites and relishes and tastes. I love to see them aspiring after knowledge and refinement, and em- ploying the means required to obtain them. In this way, should you never become rich, you can afford to be poor. A woman who does not know anything can- not afford to live in an attic, and sew for five cents a shirt, half so well as one who is intelligent. A woman who has a soul that can appreciate God's blessings, that can read his secrets in nature, that can see his love for his creatures displayed in all his works, — she, if any- body, can bear that hardship. I pity the drudge that has no intelligence or refinement. If I see poor people that have cultivated minds, I say, " Thank God, they have so much, at least." There are none that stand hardship so well as those who are cultivated. If, hav- ing secured intelligence and refinement, you ever do become rich, you will not be dependent upon your wealth for happiness, and therefore you will not be in danger of the vulgar ostentation of crude riches. There are two things that delight my very soul. First, I delight to see a hard-working and honest laboring man, especially if he has some dirty calling like that, for instance, of a butcher, a tallow -cliandler, or a dealer in fish or oil, — I deliglit to see such a man get rich, by fair and open methods, and then go and build him a house in the best neighborhood in the place, and build it so that everybody says, " He has got a fine house, and it is in good taste too." It does me good, it makes me fat to the very marrow, to see him do that. And, next, when he prospers, I delight to see him, after he has built his house so as to adapt it to all PRACTICAL HINTS. 217 the purposes of a household, employ his wealth with such judicious taste, and manifest such an appreciation of thing's fine and beautiful, that it shall say to the world, with silent words louder than any vocalization, "A man may be a workiugnian and follow a menial calling, and yet carry Avithin him a noble soul and have a cultivated and refined nature." I like to see men that have been chrysalids break their covering and come out with all the beautiful colors of the butterfly. I have not half exhausted the interest I feel, nor said all that is proper to be uttered, in reference to the intel- ligence of those who are called to labor, yet I will not pursue this point further. In the last place, I must not fail to urge upon every one the importance of personal religion in his toil and strife of life. I urge it upon every man as a duty which lie owes to God. I urge it upon every man as a joy and comfort which he owes to himself. The sweetest life that a man can live is that which is keyed to love tow\ard God and love tow^ard man. I urge it upon the young especially as a safeguard and help in all parts of their life. I urge it, lastly, upon every man as a preparation for that great and solemn event Avhich bounds every man's life, and which cannot be far off from any man. I shall close this discourse by reading words which, though written three thousand years ago, come rolling down to us from the past without having lost one single particle of freshness, and whicli are just as true now as they have been at any intermediate age since they were first uttered : — " Trust in the Lord with all thine heart, and lean not 10 218 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways ac- knowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths. Be not wise in thine own eyes ; fear the Lord, and depart from evil. It shall be health to thy navel and marrow to thy bones. Honor the Lord with thy substance and with the first-fruits of all thy increase; so shall thy barns l)e filled with plenty, and thy presses shall burst out with new \Aane. My son, despise not the chasten- ing of the Lord, neither be weary of his correction ; for whom the Lord loveth he correcteth, even as a father the son in whom he delighteth. Happy is the man that findeth wisdom and the man that gettetli under- standing ; for the merchandise of it is better than the merchandise of silver, and the gain thereof than fine gold. She is more j)recious than rubies ; and all the things thou canst desire are not to be compared unto her. Length of days is in her right hand, and in her left hand riches and honor. Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace. She is a tree of life to them that lay hold upon her, and happy is every one that retaineth her." Amen and amen. /r:A .f- V<^^>C^'^'f^^^-^ IX. PROFANE SWEARING. **BUT ABOVE ALL THINGS, MY BRETHREN, SWEAR NOT, NEITHER BY HEAVEN, NEITHER BY THE EARTH, NEITHER BY ANY OTHER OATH : BUT LET YOUR YEA BE YEA, AND YOUR NAY, NAY, LEST YE FALL INTO CONDEMNATION." — JaS. V. 12. ^(s^^^^^HEEE is a great deal of difference between a judicial oath and profane swearing. Both ,^,^-:.^.,W of them are an appeal to higher powers. /^.y^^§^ Both of them, either directly or indirectly, imply a reference to the authority and the sanctity of God's judgment. Where, for some important end, men make affirmations and bind themselves to the truth of what they say by a solemn appeal to God ; where they do it in temperate moments and with reverence ; where they do it, not so much by the motion of their own feelings as by the administration of a tribunal, and under appointed forms ; and where they are in earnest in thus giving solemnity to their statements of truth, — not only do they not violate reverence nor mar the solemnity that should always attend the name of God, but they enliance these elements of veneration. On the other hand, when men without a purpose, on the most trivial occasions, in a manner worse than light, inspired by angry and violent feeling, bring out the 220 LECTUKES TO YOUNG MEX. name of God or of sacred things to be trodden under foot of their passions, they do great irreverence to God or to these sacred things, and therefore do themselves great harm. If an oath be administered by a civil magistrate, it does not lie under the condemnation of Scripture ; and yet, I am bound to say in passing, that the manner in which oaths are administered by civil magistrates in our courts of justice is such as to make it almost desir- able that they should be entirely dispensed with. It has become wellnigh a farce. These oaths have ceased to be consciously appeals to God. They are the emptiest formalities. They add very little to the sanctity of the statements that are made. A person who has conscience will state the truth under such circumstances without an oath ; and a person who is without conscience will not state it any more nearly under an oath. Profane swearing, however, is seldom an appeal for the confirmation of anything. It is an aimless and useless employment of the Divine name. It is generally accompanied with cursing. There is a difference be- tween cursing and swearing. Swearing is some mode of reference to the divine Being and divine things and sanctities ; w^hereas cursing is a solicitation of evil upon a fellows-man or some other object. When we consider that the best thoughts of men and their highest and noblest qualities are involved in their religion, in their conception of the divine Being, and of the place where he dwells, profane swearing can mean nothing less than the habit of using vulgarly and grossly tliose most sacred thoughts of the liuman mind. It would seem as though this were impossible. It PROFANE SWEARING. 221 would seem as though men could scarcely be brought to empty their minds of the very treasures, the best things which belong to humanity, that they might be trodden under foot; but so it is. There is no evil more widespread than that of pro- fane swearing. Physicians know that after our war, when our soldiers disbanded, they carried from their camps to their homes, in cities and villages and country places, many infectious disorders, and that for years the medical practitioner had largely to do with camp dis- eases, or variations of them. And there were many other mischiefs that went with the war. Among them was the more general outbreaking of profanity. It is stated by those who are to be believed, that it existed very largely in the armies and in the camj)s ; that men who had never sworn at home learned the bad trick in the army ; and that even members of the church, professedly Christian men, indulged themselves in this guilty luxury. And it seems to me that there has broken out, amonsr the young and among others, a greater license. I hope I am mistaken, but it has seemed to me as though there was more facility in the use of profane language, as thougli it had crept into circles where before it was principally disallowed, and as though lips indulged themselves in the milder forms of objurgation or im- precation that at other times had been clean of such impurity. I think, therefore, that it is not untimely for me to discuss before you the nature of profane swearing and the evils that accompany it. Men often answer, when they are reprehended, that swearing is a mere superficial habit ; that it is not really 222 LECTUEES TO YOUNG MEN. and seriously meant ; that the imprecations which they utter are all empty and shallow ; that they do not mean what they say. Sometimes they tell you that they could lay aside swearing without the least difficulty. At other times they tell you that it is a thing which they could not possibly cure themselves of. They in- sist that at any rate it is but a skin disease, and that a man may be a noble fellow, warm-hearted, robust, truth- telling, faithful to obligations, industrious, moral, and in the main a good son or father and neighbor, though he be addicted a little to swearing. The habit of swearing is a mere interjectional habit, men say. It is worth our while, therefore, to look a little into it, and see if it be so mild a fault. What, then, is the effect of swearing upon taste and the moral sensibilities ? It takes away from the highest themes their sanctity, and from the noblest names their grandeur. Irreverence for the best thoughts of man- kind, — can that be harmless ? Are men by nature or by practice so addicted to reverence that it can do them but little harm to lower the tone and intensity of it ? Are men so filled with a sense of the glories of the invisible, of the overruling powers, that it can do them no harm if you take away from them the sense of God, present with us ? Is it a light thing to have all our ideals debased ? Is it a light thing to have a man's noble and moral imaginations stained and daubed by his passions ? Is it a light matter so utterly to destroy veneration that there is none in the heaven iibove and none in all the universe that is so high but that a man can take His name as a football for his passions ? Is it a small thing to destroy men's reverence for those PROFANE SWEARING. 223 names, those personages that are of transcendent dignity and importance ? Is it a small thing so far as the per- son himself is concerned ? Try it on a more familiar plane. Is it of no impor- tance that the names of those whom you love are kept free from reproach and sacred ? Would you, that have spirit and are faithful to your friendships, permit men to soil the names of those who are nearest and dearest to you with foul epithets or with gross familiar- ity ? ^Yould you not stop them on the moment ? And why is it, but that men feel everywhere without reflec- tion, spontaneously, that friendship and the sense of delicacy and honor, as they inhere in the names of those who are dearly related to them, are marred and tar- nished when those names are abused ? Would you yourself be willing, would you dare, to use the names of your father and your mother so that there should perish from them the associations which you had of the dignities and sweetnesses of the household, — the mean- ings which make father and mother words of music to you, which sound in your memory and kindle up your ideals ? "Would you, in the outburst of your passions, damn your father and curse your mother, and roll these names round in the wallow and filth of earthly things ? Does not every man shrink from it as a thing monstrous and unnatural ? Would you, if your mother were passed away, swear by her name ? Would you curse by her memory ? Would you, with all ingenious combinations, point the edge of your affirmation by intense passions with your mother's name ? You know you would not. A very beast you would conceive yourself to be if you did. Would you, young man, proud of your sister, to 224 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. whom she is as a flower, — you who rejoice to hear her praises, — permit her name to be abused or tossed from lip to lip ? There is something generous in a brother's love, as well as something devoted in a sister's love ; and if you walked among your companions and they employed her name, so dear to you, so full of sweet- ness and delicacy, in such a way as to vulgarize it by familiarity, would there not be war between you and them, and would you not feel, " I cannot afford to have a name in which is treasured so much of my life hum- bled and degraded " ? Who that had passed from the state of the lover into the wedded relation would per- mit his wife's name to be shamefully debased, lowered, by being mouthed by men for vulgar purposes ? There is not a single one of the relationships of life, that could be used as profane men use the name of God, except by the most degraded of men. Now is this irreverential use of sacred names of no consequence ? Is objection to it a mere illusion ? Is not the practice, on the contrary, depressing and de- stroying? It is. When, therefore, men take those names which are above every other name, out of which come fatlur and mother, — the name of God the Creator, and of Jesus Christ the Saviour, and of the Holy Ghost the Enlightener, — and degrade them; when men bring down these august titles and employ them in their most familiar speech, in the indulgence of their passions, in their brutal wassails, — they are destroying the very bloom, the very sensibility, the very moral quality, of their nature. You say that it does not do you any hurt to swear. I say it does. You say that a man may be generous PROFANE SWEARING. 225 and truth-speaking, though he swear. I say that it is impossible for a man to sweep out of the heavens, as with a sponge, all the sacredness of God, and be as good a man as he was before. I say that it takes the temper out of a man's honor. I say that it essentially lowers a man's being, to be a profane swearer. You may think that it is a trifling vice, a foible ; but I say that it is an essential degradation, that it is a central sin, for a man to destroy his reverence for that which is noblest and best. At the very beginning, therefore, profane swearing, this irreverential use of divine names and divine thoughts, deteriorates a man's moral tone. It lowers him in fhe scale of being. There is another fact following this, which we should do well to measure and consider, namely, that while we are thus injuring our own selves, we are at the same time corrupting others, since swearing of necessity is public, since it is open, and falls upon the ears of those who are around about us, setting an example which will be peculiarly seductive to persons of a susceptible tem- perament, — to the imitative, the sympathetic, the heed- less, the uncultured. There are many vices which destroy men themselves, where they are, as it is said, " their own worst enemies." But while profane swearing, or an irreverential dealing with sacred themes, injures the man himself more or less, it also injures those who are associated with him. It takes away the purity and tlie beauty of sacred things to those who are not accustomed to it. The man who in the shop is not guarded in his conversa- tion, and who is perpetually pouring out violent oaths. 10* o 226 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. is essentially injuring his companions who work with him there. It is accounted very discreditable for a man to carry his diseases around obtrusively in the presence of other people. If a man who had a loathsome itch should go around in refined society, rubbing against men, women, children, cleanly and respectable persons, and should, when cautioned against the mischief that he was doing, say, " Yes, yes, yes, — a mere skin matter," and should go on conferring it upon other men, what would you think of him ? Young men, under the influence of their passions, infected with the disease of swearing, have gone about pouring out their billingsgate and profane oaths, deteri- orating not men's bodily conditions, but their moral purity, their imagination, taking star after star out of their heavens, and more and more breaking the power of the great invisible world, in which is man's true strength and treasure ; but can one do this, and stiU pretend to be a man ? If there were such a thing as a silent oath ; if there were such a thing as dry swearing; if a man swore Tinder his handkerchief, — there would be less to be rep- rehended ; but to go spewing out oaths along the street, on the deck, in the shop, where men do congregate, and to pollute their ears, making all that listen common sewers of the filth, conveying it away, is abominable. It is not a mere foible. It is a nastiness which ought to stamp every man as a vulgar fellow. You have no more right to swear in my ear than you have to insult my father and mother. This leads me to say, that while swearing is a perni- PROFANE SWEARING. 227 cious example to those who are susceptible, it oftentimes becomes excessive impoliteness and unkindness to those who are sensitive to the dignity and grandeur of the divine Being. It requires but very little culture to have regard for people's feelings. I will bring you men that live by pugilism who, where there is sickness and death, ex- hibit a sort of clumsy delicacy. No man would go into a house where there was death, and talk to those who were bereaved in the midst of their sorrow and anguish as he would talk to persons under ordinary circumstances. Men make allowance for such things. They regard the feelings of their fellows. But the swearer does not. He goes into the midst of those who are shocked and hurt by profane oaths, and swears re- gardless of their suffering. God is my Father, and when you take his name brutally upon your lips, you hurt me ; but you have no right to hurt me. You hurt me more than if you laid your hand on my person. You hurt me in my highest feelings. You hurt me where I am consciously striving to build up my true manhood. You throw your arrow high, and it strikes near the very heart. How men sometimes drop an oath in the presence of Christians on purpose to disturb their feelings ! As men stir up a beleaguered city, throwing in bombs, so swearers often throw oaths at Christian men to stir them up. Now, when I am living in the faith of God and of the Lord Jesus Christ, with a consciousness that it is by the death of the Saviour that I am spared ; when I have gathered around these names the sweetest 228 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. thoughts and the purest sanctities which are possible to the soul, and have dressed them ^Yith all that shall make them precious to my thought, my life, and my life to come, so that all I have is in them, and so that I can say, " Chief among ten thousand and altogether lovely is my Eedeemer," — who is he that profanes the sanctity of these emotions by indulging in my presence in vile and villainous oaths ? A man who swears, first damages his own moral sense, then misleads those about him, and then is guilty of cruel impoliteness to those to whom God's name is sweet and sacred. Swearing is a mean thing for a man to practice ; and, garnish it as you will, if you are a profane swearer you are a mean fellow. It is also a matter of dread insult to God, and there- fore a matter of gross impiety, a matter of guilt, and a matter of danger. There can be no excuse for it. There is no excuse for wickedness that is valid, but there are often many palliations. That is to say, many of the sins that men commit are in the line of animal obedience. When one commits the sin of intemperance, we know that there is a natural appetite along the line of which he may travel with perfect propriety. AVe know that intemperance in any direction is simply excess in right things ; and we may say that there is some justification in the temperament and constitution. Some have a love of drinking. Some have a fiery nerve which tempts them to drink. A man may be a glutton, but in becoming one he is in the line of the indulgence of normal passions. Lusts, even, may plead that they are but the unregulated exercise of great pas- sions which were implanted for wise purposes by the PROFANE SWEARING. 229 Creator in the constitution of man. But for profanity there is no such palliation. It does not belong to any great constitutional want. It is a perversion of all that is most sacred, highest, and most honorable. It is without the excuse of underlying temptation. There is no faculty of swearing implanted in the human mind. There is no natural tendency that way. It is w^anton, perverse, and without the excuse which attends many of the vices of human nature. r ''xj. am sorry to say that women swear. To what ex- tent the swearing of women prevails in society I do not undertake to say ; but that there are many who are cultured, and who stand in positions of some eminence, that swear, I do know. And that there is a certain tendency in that direction, I do know. AVhile I claim that in the upward scale woman has a right to be the equal of man in everything tjiat is true and pure and noble and good and virtuous, I do say, for the sake of the sanctity of the name of woman, that she has no right to seek an equality with man in the things that are vulgar and base and degrading. Woman enshrines, to our thought, that which is the sweetest, the purest, and the most attractive. In her we look for patience in goodness and for disinterested kindness ; in her we believe God has created a soul very fruitful in delica- cies and in all beauteous refinement. These qualities belong to the constitution of woman more essentially than to the rugged constitution of man. Man battles wdtli physical things, and has sturdier physical attain- ments. Woman is more in communion witli the in- visible, with sentiment, with worship, and with God. We are shocked, therefore, and shocked with good 230 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEX. reason and beyond measure, when we hear women take the name of the Lord Jesus Christ on their lips with irreverence. A woman swearing ! a wife ! a mother ! How dare she touch her child ! How dare she ask for a blessing of God ! It is a perversion of the sex. It is an outrage upon all who have re- vered the purity and dignity and nobleness of woman- hood. But there are many who say, " I swear without think- ing." How far down has a man gone, when you come to consider what profane swearing is, who can make such an excuse as this in justification of himself ? If a man says, " I am an honest man ; all my transactions in life have been scrupulously honest in the main, but on one occasion, when I was pressed to the uttermost, I did consent, though not without a struggle, to mis- appropriate funds," even for that he is condemned. But suppose a man should say, " Well, I did pervert trust funds, — that is so ; but really I did it without thinkim:^." When a man has got so that he does not know whether he is stealing or not, is he justifiable ? Suppose a man who is in the habit of going into all kinds of company, and using the most outrageously obscene language, should, on being complained of to the police and thrust out of doors, say, " Did I talk so ? I am getting so that I do not know when I am talking decently and when I am not." Would that be a proper excuse ? And yet, when men are checked and rebuked for profanity, they say, as if that were an excuse, " Really, we did it without thinking." Ah, then, have you sunk so low as that ? Children of Christian parents, taught to lift your PROFANE SWEARING. 231 faces when you scarcely knew what it meant, and say, " Our Father who art in heaven," and now blacken that name with oaths, and not know it ! Invoking from heaven the terrors of Divine justice which overhang the guilt of wicked men, and rearing up the ghastly forms of penalty from beneath ; doing it daily in conversation, and havinsj a conscience so insensitive and so wanting; in delicacy that you say, " I do it without thinking " ! I know you will agree with me that this is not a valid excuse for any man ; nay, it is self-condemnation. Men say, "Swearing is a bad habit, I admit; but I have insensibly fallen into it from the influence of com- pany, or rather from a want of reflection, and it has become so fastened on me that I cannot cure myself of it." I beg your pardon. No man can cure himself of a bad habit who does not want to ; but when you go into the house of God, when you go among Christian men, when you are where clergymen are present, you do not swear. If you begin to, you check yourself When you go into a waiting-room that is full of ladies, you do not swear. You can restrain yourself from swearing when there is a motive for it. You would be ashamed to swear in the presence of refined and cultivated women. If you say that you cannot remedy it, I say that you can ; for you do sometimes. You show that you can control yourself under such circumstances as I have mentioned ; and if you can under such circum- stances, then you can under other circumstances. What you lack is the will to do it. What you want is moral feeling. If you liad a sense of the enormity of the evil, if you saw ifc as it is, you could easily break it off. I do not say that men of violent passions are not some- ttI 232 LECTURES TO YOUNG xMEN. times provoked to the utterance of explosive interjec- tions ; but I say that the temptation to profane swear- ing can be restrained as easily as other more violent temptations. Here let me say that the whole crowd of coward's oaths come under the same general designation. They are not so injurious as profane oaths, but they lead to the same injuries. When a man says, "Darn it," he means " Damn it," though he does not want to say so. When a man says, "By Jupiter," he means "By the Highest, by the Supreme." These little coward's oaths are feeders to profane oaths. They lead a man along towards the worst kinds of swearing. They are, at any rate, disfigurements to good, pure conversation. They are warts on a man's language. They add nothing to what he says, but detract much from it. Therefore I say that these petty oaths, with which young persons' mouths are filled, are vain and foolish in this, that they prepare the way for those greater and more audacious forms of swearing of which I have been speaking. Men say, " I know that in a sense swearing is bad ; but then, some of the best of men that I ever knew in my life swear. General So-and-so, — he was the very soul of honor, and yet he would let oaths fly like bul- lets in battle. Admiral So-and-so used to swear occa- sionally." It was none the less one of the greatest of faults because these men had excellences. I have seen men who carried great wens on their cheek and neck, and yet their feet were sound, and they had good digestion, and their arms and hands were all right ; but I never saw anybody that undertook to get a wen on PROFANE SWEAKING. 233 him because he saw wens on other men who were all right in every other respect. Here is a lady of extreme beauty and delicacy of thought and sweetness of expression ; the very blue of heaven melts in her eye ; but she has a cancer on her breast. Is she any better for that ? People do not say, " That splendid creature has a cancer ; let us have one." Men do not usually reason in that way. It is only in respect to moral deformities that we ignore common-sense. Wickedness ignores common-sense all through. ISTot to protract this matter longer, let me make an appeal to you. Can the habit of insulting sacred things, — can the habit of doing violence to the highest obligations which a man can have, so that they are tar- nished and disfisjured and desrraded, — can the habit of perverting the name of God so that it does not mean purity nor truth nor honor nor sanctity nor morality nor love, and so' that it does not, like sweet music, draw us heavenward, but becomes, rather, a name that men associate with vulgar passions and coarse thoughts and base uses, — can such a habit as this be allowed ? Young man, will you ever swear again ? Yes ; take one oath more, and that not a profane one ! Xow, in tlie house of God, with uplifted heart and hands vow before God that with his help you will never soil your lips again with profanity. Many of you have been thinking about having more virtues. You have thought that you would reform ; but you have not known where to begin. Is not this a good place for a beginning ? You have been loose- lipped and foul-mouthed. Yow, first, " I will never 234 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. again take God's name in vain." And then join anotlier vow to that. Say, " I will never again be guilty of foul expressions. My lips shall be clean. I will never say anything that I would be ashamed to say in the presence of my mother or of my sister or of my wife, or that I would have been ashamed to say in her presence before she was my wife." Do you not think that the vow taken and registered, " I will swear no more, and I will utter no more vileness under any circumstances," would be a good vow to begin reforma- tion with ? Well, if you take these steps to break off the vice of profanity, why should you not make them simply the first steps of a more entire reformation ? Why stop on the threshold ? Is it not time that you should begin the higher manhood for which you were con- secrated in the cradle ? Many of you mean to be Christians. Why is it not the time to become Christians now ? Is not the tran- sition most noble, from swearing by the Lord Jesus Christ to lifting up holy hands and swearing fealty to him ? You who have abused the name of Jehovah and its associations, is it not time for you to come reverently and call on the name of Jehovah ? Is it not time for many of you, if you mean to live Chris- tian lives, to begin those lives ? And having begun to examine and correct your habits, do as the farmer does, who goes over his farm in the spring to look at his fences and repair them, putting on a rail where it has been thrown down, straightening up a post where it stands awry, replacing a board that has been broken down by the snow, and not stopping till the * PROFA^'E SWEARING. 235 whole work is thoroughly done^. "When you begin the work of reformation, do not stop with one single thing. Many persons begin to reform, and their refor- mation is good as far as it goes ; but they do not reform enough. That is as if a man should put one part of his fence up and leave the other down. Begin with this more obvious fault, because men see it, and therefore are more affected by it. Help one another by your example. Swear no more. Say no more foul and disalloAvable things. And begin to pray. Commence with the resolution that by the help of God you will allow no known duty to pass unfulfilled. Accept the Lord Jesus Christ as your charter and rule and law and by-law of life ; and begin, according to your best light, the Christian life. God will help you, — the God of your father. )V^ .ky X. VULGARITY. What shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world AND LOSE his OWN SOUL?" — Mark viii. 36. ^OW much worldly wisdom there is in the j«| heavenly Book ! " Wherewithal shall a young man cleanse his way ? " asks the Psalmist; and answers clearly enough, " By taking heed thereto, according to thy word." If a man will only follow that advice, he cannot go far astray. What ! in getting on in the world ? Yes ; for getting on in the world depends more on moral causes than men are apt to tliink. Every young man who starts out with fine oppor- tunities and high hopes, or with the energy of deter- mination fired high and the will to conquer success, looks forward to the time when he shall have amassed money, made himself a name, acquired influence, and raised himself above the vulgar herd of scrahblers in the dust below. Ah, but beware ! You may win all the success you dream of, and yet be as vulgar as the lowest. There is a danger here tliat young men need to be warned against, — a distinction not merely of words, but of things. Vulgarity is a fault which we readily see VULGARITY. 237 Avhen it stands out in all grossness, as in the indecent, the brutal, the purse-proud, the inocker of infirm per- sons, the cruel, — all these every one knows and admits to he vulgar. Wliy ? What is the essence of vulgarity ? These are extreme cases, but tliey involve principles which ai)ply also to others, less markedly but not less really vidgar. How then can we know wdiat w^ould be vulgar under certain circumstances ? For want of a safer guide, it is perliaps well enough to judge by custom; but a true man is one who is independent of all customs and rules, having risen so high th.at he can interpret what is right and noble and manly and refined, by his own intuition. It is very desirable that one should be able to carry into life with him an inward standard of wdiat is refined and noble, or wdiat is vulgar and ig- noble, w^hich he can apply to himself. And let this be it : — Whenever you act from your animal and passional nature — your lower faculties — under circumstances which require that you should act upon a liigher plane, you are acting wdth vulgarity. Apply this to the occupations and conditions of men in life. A man is not vulgar because his occupation is low ; and yet we are apt to speak of men in that way. To be sure, the term vulgar does not necessarily imply a moral reproach. We speak of "vulgar fractions," meaning merely common or ordinary fractions ; we speak of many things as being vulgar or common in a general way, w^ithout meaning to cast moral reproach upon them. But the vulgarity which implies boorish- ness, offensiveness to taste, lowness of mind, baseness. 238 LECTURES TO YOUXG MEN. or meanness, is a term too loosely applied by men to their fellows. For instance, there is an imjjression in society that many persons are to be called vulgar simply because they do not dress well, because they are obliged to labor for a living, because their occupation is itself very humble, menial even. It is therefore of impor- tance that we should discriminate as to words in such matters as these. A man's occupation is not vulgar simply because it is coarse, because it is low, or because it is unremu- nerative. A man's business is not vulgar if it be right in itself, though it serve the lowest and the poorest wants of society. If an occupation is pursued with integrity; if the man make it the medium through wdiich he shows himself truthful, faithful, honest, up- right ; if he carry into it the spirit of true manhood, — it is not vulgar. There is no occupation that is low or menial merely from the fact that it serves men's wants. It is quite possible for one to stand in relations of service, or even servitude, to his fellow-men, and yet not be menial. All subordinate positions are to be accepted in the providence of God, not as humbling us, even when we are obliged to go down from higher positions to them. And whatever occupation being useful to men is accepted in this spirit and is filled with fidelity and earnestness and true manliness, is a respectable one. It cannot be called vulgar, in the offensive sense of that term. It may be that a man's raiment is coarse. It ought to be so, to be adapted to coarse occupations. It may be that long continuance in humble pursuits renders a man's habits less refined and less brilliant. His con- VULGARITY. 239 versation, as we should naturally sux)pose it would, may liover around the subjects with which he is most conversant, and follow the line of his own pursuits. But offensive vulgarity does not attach to external con- ditions. It belongs to internal moral states. Thou- sands of times we have seen, and we shall see in in- creasing numbers as intelligence spreads among the common people, that the noblest dispositions and the noblest powers may lie hid in common occupations. It is an act of vulgarity for a man to regard common work and plain workmen as vulgar. It is vulgar, because mean, not to be able to estimate manliness wherever we find it, and however rude its exterior may be. Wher- ever you find patience, fidelity, honor, kindness, truth, there you find respectability, though it be in the quarry, though it be in the colliery, though it may be in the lowest places of human industry. But wherever you find guises and pretenses and sweet insincerities and shuffling lies and all manner of unmanly glozings, there you find vulgarity, no matter how gorgeous the apparel and how gilded the apartment. Yet even in the lowest circumstances, if a man does not rise to the privilege of his condition, — if he shows himself careless of the fact that he is a child of immortality, — if he carries himself without a consciousness that he is a man, simply be- cause he is poor, and his occupation is poor and unre- munerative, — that is vulgar in him. All men are of God, and all men to God belong ; and all men have a right to the port and dignity of sons of God. Because one is in menial conditions of life, it does not become him to forget this, or to carry himself less royally than a king's son should. 240 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. The royal families of Europe are accustomed to send their children out to prepare them for their destiny. One goes into the army, and another into the navy. We have lately been entertaining the Duke Alexis. He is an officer of the imperial Russian navy ; but he is not less every inch an emperor's son in his own thought because he wears the garb of a seaman, or because he serves in the navy upon tlie sea. God's sons are scattered up and down throughout the earth ; and because he has put some liigher and some lower, and some lower still, it is not for tliem to forget that, whatever their places may be, however low may be their station, they are the sons of God. This sense of the nobility of character ; this consciousness of what man is, of Iiimself, by virtue of what he has in connec- tion with God ; this feeling that " A man 's a man for a' that," — ought to be strong in every heart. When a man is in low circumstances and coarse apparel, if he himself shrinks back and is ashamed of it, and apologizes, and seems to be annoyed, it unmans him and ruins him. He lacks self-respect, and therefore is vulgar. He is so, not because he is poor outwardly, but because he is poor inwardly. On the other hand, all compliance with wicked cus- toms in society, all prosperity founded upon the barter of moral princij^le, all respectability which we gain by an exchange of our moral sense for our worldly good, — all this is vulgar. For you cannot so dress up a viola- tion of moral principle as to make it other than vulgar. You cannot express a mean sentiment in such poetic VULGARITY. 241 and glowing language that it will not still be mean. You cannot, with flowing measures, with the music of numbers, or with the gorgeousness of rhetoric, express salacious thoughts and base desires and not have them infernal, any more than you can put manly and glowing and noble sentiments in language so simple and plain that they will not be respectable, — yea, royal. Wherefore, if it please God to call you to your life's duties in spheres that are externally humble, make it up inside. And, on the other hand, beware of feeling that your success in life depends upon your securing external position where you are obliged to do it by mere connivance, by the sacrifice of your own self- respect, by pretending to believe what you do not be- lieve, by pretending to be wliat you are not, by any of those sinister and indirect ways by "^vhich you put your higher nature underneath the feet of your lower nature. Your house may be large, your saloons may be gilded, but that does not make essential meanness no- ble. A man may stand at the top of society, and yet be at the bottom of it. As many and many a man wears grand apparel who is a culprit ; as many and many a man walks among the best, and carries the worst dis- position ; so a man may seem to be in society respecta- ble and reputable and excellent, and yet be vulgar, as God sees him. He who lives by mean dispositions and by mean thoughts and by base compliances and by es- sentially animal and low ways, cannot be so covered up and varnished with external prosperity that he is not essentially ^^llgar. This is true, also, in respect to all pleasures. I have said in your hearing that the spirit of Christianity is joy. 11 p 242 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. It looks toward joy. The production of joy requires suffering ; so that on its way toward its ideal it carries suffering with it : but the genius of Christianity is so to ripen and raise men that they shall be susceptible of perpetual enjoyment; so to harmonize them as to accord them with themselves. Therefore, by ^pleas- ure we do not imply illicitncss. All pleasures which do not imply degradation, grossness, animalism, are per- missible by religion. I bid you beware, however, of all pleasures that have become refined simply because their insignia are refined. Beware of supposing that pleasures are any less vulgar in silk and satin than tliey would be in sackcloth. There are many dens of infamy into which men go where they nuzzle in the mud. Other men, looking in and seeing them wallowing in animal- ism, are shocked at the vulgarity of such pleasure. It is shocking, it is vulgar ; and yet, straightway these more refined lookers-on will go to a bower of pleasure where the imagination and fancy and sense of beauty have been called in, and where everything is exquisite and gilded, to pursue precisely the same courses and to sacrifice to the same vulgar lust, to the same base pas- sions. It is not considered vulgar, because of the em- bellishments of the externality ; but the vulgarity lies in the thing itself, and not in its externals. Do you not suppose that he who lies most wittily, but lies, is vulgar, — just as vulgar as he that lies blunder- ingly and coarsely ? The vulgarity is in the meanness and wickedness of the lie itself, not in the style of its putting forth. From this, also, we see tliat vulgarity of language is not necessarily rudeness nor coarseness of expression, ^^;LGARITY. 243 because there are a great many honest souls who ex- press very noble sentiments rudely and coarsely ; but the feelmg or the sentiment redeems the language. A great heart, rising with the tide of a great experience, may be rough or unrefined, but it cannot be vulgar. On the other hand, no language can redeem a mean feeling or a mean experience. It is what language is used for, it is the contents of the language, that deter- mines whether it is vulgar or not. The honest, the pure, the true, though they be in a rough garb, speak right, substantially, whatever they speak, if they mean TvAit. Eefined languaoe sometimes carries a vuk-ar meaning which it does not quite like to express clearly ; it throws the shadow of an evil thought, and shrinks back from making plain the substance of that thought ; the language of much of our literature is full of fiery and pointed suggestions, rather than of expressed meanings ; — all this dexterous devil-language is vulgar. If Satan be clothed like an angel of light, and every feather in his wing be of silver or of gold, he is the Devil inside, notwithstanding. And no matter what poetry is, no matter what literature is, no matter how sweet the beautiful and rounded sentences are, — mat do they carry? — that is the question. Wliat is in them? "VMiat do they mean ? Wlience do they come ? '\\liere do they touch ? That is what determines their charac- ter. Xoble thoughts in noble language, of course, are best. Noble thoughts on noble errands, with noble conveyances, — these are noble indeed ; but beware of supposing that a thing is not ignominious and vulgar simply because it is polished, simply because in ex- pression it is refined. Learn to discriminate between 244 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. the vehicle and the thing conveyed. Even in a friendly- ship the cargo may be " contraband of war." In society there be many persons who are regarded as stupid and vulgar simply because they are non-com- plying. There may be a rigidity that is not wise. It is not necessary that honesty should be blunt, or that truth should be unpleasantly violent in expression. And yet, often men think that the quiet and simple adhesion of a man to manliness and sincerity in society marks, comparatively speaking, a low condition ; where- as those who have a pliant tongue and who are fertile of compliments, fuU of gilded insincerities, rich in sweet and pleasant speeches meaning nothing, making their way by smiles and favor for their own purposes, are often considered the masters of society. Their dex- terity, the flash of their imagination, their ten thousand deft and apt ways, make them attractive ; but, after all, their hearts may be as bitter as gall. They may be as full of selfishness and rancorous passions as it is possi- ble for a man to be. And not only no external beauty, but no dexterity can save them from the charge of vul- garity. To act from your lower nature instead of your higher is vulgar. To act as an animal while you are a man is vulgar. Always and everywhere you are bound to act with all the feelings and with all the carriage of a son of God. There is an opportunity in social life for studying this matter of vulgarity. All social enjoyments which sacrifice themselves to the animal are vulgar ; not on account of their being joyful, not because tliey are bois- terous, not because there is a little more or a little less VULGARITY. 245 of animal spirits, not because there is a little more or a little less noise. These things may be of some impor- tance, but not very much. It is where men go steadily down, as they drink, toward debauch, or as they sport in the direction of the lower passions and appetites, that they are accursed. They are vulgar. They are base. There is a great deal of vulgarity in society by reason of arrogance and pride, shown in the way that we treat those who are below us in mental gifts. A true man, whom God has enlightened and blessed with strength of mind any knowledge, becomes a benefactor to his kind. He is bound to be the father of tliose w'lio are less than he. He is to be their guide. He is to be their patron. He is to look upon those whom he regards his inferiors as in some sense his wards. He is to bestow kindness on them. He is the almoner of God's bounty to them. We are lent gifts that we may by means of them bless those who are around about us. And for a man to take these bestowals of God upon him, and with tliem to treat those who are below him with contempt and neglect, is vulgarity. There are a great many vulgar men wlio do not know that they are vulgar. There are a great many men who hold their heads hic^h, and who are without a^ con- sciousness that they ever did any injustice to their fellows, but who are in the highest degipe unjust. Why, their very shadow is an injustice ! 'Tlie curl of their lip is like the piercing of a sworcM^ They organize their unfriendliness. They are unfraternal towards those who are God's children as well as they are. A man who carries himself with this loftiness, and has no 246 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. sympathy for others, and does not care for those who are below him, and whose kindness is confined to those who belong to his own household, is a vulgar man. There is much vulgarity that is meanness in the treat- ment of those who are inferior in the relations of life. One man serves another, but he does not serve him altogether. No man should serve another so as to give up his own identity and personality and self-respect. The man who serves me is in many respects my benefactor. A man who can make me happier and better has an advantage over me. In love there is no pay but love. In a service of love there is no equivalent but a service of love. He who serves me is at once brought near to my level by the fact that God has put it into his power to be my helper. And if there is any man who, because he pays persons wages, because they serve his daily wants, because they work in his kitchen, in his shop, or on his farm, looks down upon them, and treats them as if they were underneath him, and is neglectful of them and unsympathetic toward them, he is essentially vulgar. It makes no difference what his other qualities are, he is vulgar in that direction. I am afraid we are all vulgar once in a while ! Neglect of the mutual deference which is due in society, and esj)ecially in the household, is the occasion of a great deal of vulgarity. Our children are emanci- pated early in American society. This neglect belongs to our time. It belono\s to our customs. It belon^-s to the stimulating developments wliicli bring people for- ward so soon in this land. It belongs also, I think, to a certain vagrancy which we derive from our no- tions of civil liberty. I think there is less respect paid VULGAEITY. 247 to old asre arnonc^ its than tliere used to be, and less than there is still in old countries. There is less def- erence paid by children to parents. I do not think children love their parents less, but certainly they do not honor them so much. If my observation serves me, there is not much honor in our conventional cus- toms. There is a lack of pohteness and kindness be- tween brothers and sisters in the household. There is a want of that honoring of men, and especially of those that are of the household of faith. There is a want of that love which the Scriptures enjoin. And the lack of these things is not simply being unmannered ; it is being vulgar, where no man can afford to be vulgar. A'VTien I see a young whipster treat with contempt or neglect an old man who is infirm and clad in a poor Q'arb, not offerino- to render him anv service, and not caring what becomes of him, I do not care who his father is, that boy is vulgar. When I see a young man in the street cars, and there comes in a poorly clad woman who has suffered, and ^^-lio seems to have been privileged to suffer, looking w^earily about for a seat, and I see him, young, vigorous, happy, respectable, bearing an honored name, sit still and let her stand, I say that he is vulgar. There are a thousand of these little observances of life which are supposed to be of not much importance, and which perhaps do weigh but little as compared with great heroic deeds ; but let me tell you that a life of heroism is made up of a multitude of minor things, and that no man is likely to be a hero who has not practiced himself in ten thousand little self-denials and duties. Heroisms are wrought out in men. They 248 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. never come extemporized for the occasion. Yon never see them except ^vhere they have been shaped and prepared. And all these little observances and cus- toms are as so many drops of blood that circulate in the household and move through the veins of society. I am sorry to see how much fraternal kindness has died out from the intercourse of men in the world. I am sorry to see how we meet men without a recog- nition, where "The Lord be with you," was the Oriental salutation. I am sorry to see how we go into a man's store as into a barn, and think no more of the man than of a brute, saying, " Have you this ? " or " Have you that ? " and taking it and going our way. I was impressed with the courtesy which I saw abroad on the part of those who stood to serve their customers, and as they came in bowed and interchanged some courtesy with them. How much better it would be if business among us was conducted more on the plan of courtesy and the interchange of kindly feelings than it now often is ! Scarcely any one who has much dealing with men, when his attention is directed to this matter, can help charging himself with vulgarity. It is not so much that your manners are coarse, as that you lack kindness, as that you lack the sentiment of honoring men, as that you lack deference and rev- erence. We often hear of the vulgarity of riches. There is much vulgarity connected with riches, although there is not a little also connected with poverty. Where riches are the sign of industry, frugality, skill, long AnjLGARITY. 249 patience ; where they carry with them the testimony of honesty and honor, — they are a thing which no man should be ashamed of. I am tired of hearing persons cast up reproaches to men simply because they are rich, as if they were of course to be bombarded. In this country there is comparatively little of riches amassed. Comparatively speaking, taking the country through, it may be said that no man amasses riches which stay with him who does not do it by the exer- cise of sterling qualities. It is not an easy thing for a man nowadays to become rich. It requires a great deal of forethought, power of control, application, good sense, and good judgment, long continued. It requires honesty and honor, and the confidence of men. These things amass wealth. I do not believe that riches are "better gained or better kept in any other way than through the instrumentality of the honest good qualities of manhood. Therefore I am one of those who love to see men grow rich, when I see that their riches are the expo- nents of good qualities. But when a man's wealth inspires conceit and arrogance and selfishness ; when a man, for no reason except that he is rich, is offensively arrogant, — then he is vulgar. "When riches, instead of making men longer armed and more open-handed, shut up their hand and shorten their arm, and make them very selfish and narrow, then their riches make them vulgar. Where riches inspire vanity, and a man is, as it is said, purse-proud, and through ostentation he brightens in men's approbation, as he supposes, but in reality darkens in their contempt, he is vulgar. You may live 11* 250 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. in a very humble liouse, and still be possessed of great riches, and still be honored of all men. Mr. Dowse, of Cambridge, never was ashamed to be a tanner and currier. I believe he never moved out of the humble cottage where he began his career. He never was ashamed of his skins. He amassed his prop- erty quietly, filled his house with books, and collected rare works of art, exercising superior taste in selection. And he lived in that town a gentleman and a true man. It is said that a portion of the students of the neighboring University insulted him very grossly on account of his trade, and that in consequence he with- held from the institution a munificent gift which it was his purpose to bestow upon it. One thing is certain, that the whole library, which he intended to leave to the University, was presented to the Boston Historical Society, with some property besides. Tlie men who insulted him were vulgar, although they were students of the University, and no matter if they were sons of the first families in the land. He who despises riches gained by honorable courses is vulgar ; but he who, having riches, however they may have been gained, is impertinent and domineering and conceited and unmanly, is vulgar. On the other hand, riches cannot cover up vulgarity. Men who are benefactors ; men who build up society ; men who carry streams of bounty into the towns or villages where they dwell, and make them blossom as gardens of the Lord ; men who associate their names with foundations that go on carrying with them bless- ings to the lowest generations ; men who think not so much of what money shall make them to be as of what VULGAPJTY. 251 they shall be able to create by money for their country and for their kind, — these are noble men. A multitude of faults and failiugs do not detract from the grandeur of such natures. He who lives in the lower part of his disposition lives habitually in vulgarities. He who lives in pride and selfishness and envy and jealousy ; lie who makes these the in- strument of his daily life ; he who purveys by them, and attacks or defends himself by them ; he who makes the most use of the lower passions and propensities of his disposition, — is vulgar. But he who dwells in noble generosities — in faith and hope and love and royal thoughts — is noble. There is a great deal of religious vulgarity. If I were to put out upon my house the sign, " The only refined Family on this Street," I should not exactly have the good-will of every other family. If I should declare that I was the most gentlemanly man in our ward, be- cause I had received the gift of refinement in a straight Ime clear back to the days of the Apostles, it would not help me one single whit, not even if I should historically prove it. If I were to strut before my fellow-men in any way by self-assertion and by assuming superiority over them, I should be set down at once as vulvar ; and I should be vulgar. You cannot do that in business. You cannot do it in social life. Eeligion is the only place where you can do it, and be respectable. Sects with feathers that never grew in them, with peacocks' tails and all sorts of tinsel-work on them, are forever setting forth their own merits and declaring their own excellences, and de- nouncin;:^ those who are different from them. But that 2o2 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. which would turn a gentleman out of society cannot make a priest or a minister admirable. A man who enormously overpraises liimself and depreciates others is vulgar ; and any religion which lacks justice and humility and moderation is vulgar. There is a great deal of vulgarity, not m religion itself, but in the prac- tice of it among men. Eeligion " suffereth long and is kind " ; it " envieth not " ; it " vaunteth not itself " ; it " is not puffed up " ; it " doth not behave itself unseem- ly " ; it " seeketh not its own " ; it " is not easily pro- voked"; it "thinketh no evil"; it "rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth"; it"beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things." But the vulgar pretentiousness of sects, their arrogance and pugnacity, their irritations, their disavowings and depreciations and cordial hatings one of another, — these are odious before God as they are delightful before the Devil. Before one enters, therefore, upon any such ways as these, it might be well for him to ask whether such vulgarity is inspired of the Holy Ghost; whether it has example or precedent or approval either in the spirit or letter of the New Testament. Speaking of religion and religious vulgarity, let me ask whether religion is not a thing personal, of neces- sity ; whether it does not mean the practice of the noblest manhood, — such a manhood as Christ was the pattern of; whether it is not the supreme idea of the New Testament that a man should be fashioned, not by the elements of his lower manhood, but by those glorious elements which went to make the Son of God the Saviour of the world ; whether, when we ask peo- VULGARITY. 253 pie to become Christians, or preach the duty of a relig- ious life, we are asking them to be anything other than that which is noble. And if true manhood is religion ; if a more glorious moral sense, if an illuminated imagi- nation, if a heart full of gentleness and faith, if that which si)rings from the better part of a man's nature and draws him in love toward God and angels and his fellow-men, if a more royal pattern of life than any- thing which prevails in the world, is religion, — then let me ask you. Is not the absence of religion vulgarity ? Is it not baseness ? Can a man fall below his own ideal, can a man contentedly live below what he recog- nizes as the truest manhood, can a man habitually per- mit and tolerate and encourage that which is beneath what he knows to be his true development, and not charge himself with moral vulgarity ? My friends, we have come to the end of another year ; and may it not be an exercise of profit, and one full of wisdom, for you to review, in lines of meditation, the way in which you have lived during the past twelve months ? AYhat company have you kept ? How have you lived in your household, in your business, in your pleasures, in your relations to the State, and in religion ? Think back. Probe your conduct. Ask yourself, " Have I lived vulgarly ? " Ask yourself, " Have I, on the whole, during tlie year that is past, used the selfish, the vain, the proud, the worldly part of my nature most, or the higher part ? " Ask yourself, " Have I been in association and sympathy with that which is divine, or with that which is human and animal ? Have I leaned toward the higher or the lower side of manhood ? " Look forward into the year that is to come. Have 254 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEx^. you no aspiration ? Do you pierce the year with no new hopes ? Have you no path that you lay for the days that are to come ? Do you propose to move on with the same indifference that you have manifested hitherto ? Would it not be worth your while, as the year dies out, to set over against you an ideal of another year, to be builded, as the city of God is builded, of precious stones ? " ^Yha.t sliall it x^rofit a man if he shall gain the whole world and lose his own soul ? " Can it be possible that you should go on for the year to come perfectly indifferent of the course and career of sin to which you are giving yourself ? Is it possible that during the year to come you shall take of the bounties of God, — the light of the sun, the glory of the summer, the fruit of the field, the joy of the house- hold, — merely to minister to a body which refuses any allegiance to him and refuses to serve him ? Can you, for the year to come, know of that love of Christ which glows, like the sun, for every nation on the globe, — can you know of that declaration of Divine beneficence and mercy which hangs over your head, and have no thought and no heart-beat of gratitude ? Can it be possible that you shall live for the year to come within the sound of the joys that belong to the heavenly sphere, knowing that they are not far from you, and despise or neglect them all ? Is it becoming ? Is it manly ? Is it honorable ? Is it right ? Or, taking it even on a lower ground, is it sensible ? Or, taking it still lower, is it your interest ? I appeal to you, not through your pride, nor through any form of ignoble \^"LGAEITY. 2 00 excitement. I appeal to your manliness, to your honor, to your conscience. I appeal to all that which is best and truest and noblest in you. Is it right for you to live upon the love of God, as you are living, and give him not one thouoht of love in return ? Is it ridit for o o you to be the bay into which rivers do empty, and give nothing back, — not even so much as a thin vapor ? Is it right for you to live, and to be surrounded and swept down the course of time by the sweet winds of God's bounty, and you requite him with no thought or service ? To live a Christian life is to live honorably ; but to live a sinful life is to live vulgarly, meanly, contempt- ibly. And I beseech you to remember that awful threat which is pronounced against those who despise Christ and dishonor God by disobedience, of whom it is said that they shall one day rise to shame and everlast- ing contempt. ■■■ -^-- -17); XI. HAPPINESS. 'And he said unto them, Take heed, and bewake of covet- ousNESs [of greediness] : for a man's life consisteth not in the abundance of the things "WHICH HE PossEssETH." — Luke xii. 15. '0 say that one should live for his own greatest happiness is to have a right or a wrong impression, according to what is meant. If you take it in a very narrow and ordinary sense, there can be no greater wrong pro- nounced. If you take it in a large sense, it is the assertion of a very important trutli. If by "seeking our greatest happiness " we mean present self-indul- gence, pungent physical pleasures, low forms of enjoy- ment, partial, earthly, without the element of reflection, without continuity, without spiritual harmony, — then to seek happiness as the chief end of our existence is a very foolish, a very base, and a very wicked thing. Pleasure, used in a strict sense, signifies the gratifica- tion of the senses in some way ; and to live for pleasure in that sense is indeed base. But if one regards hap- piness as the product of the right action of his whole nature ; if the truest happiness implies the development, the education, of the social and the spiritual, as well HAPPIXESS. 257 as the physical elements of our being ; if it includes benevolence, and takes on the here and the hereafter as well ; if, in other words, our conception of happiness is one which requires the development of our entire nature for time and for eternity, — then to say that a man should seek his own greatest happiness is to declare a good and a noble thing. It is right to live for one's greatest happiness if he have a true inter- pretation of what that is. Xot only is it right, but it is a duty. Men may be said to be set up in business in this world. The business of happiness is the pursuit to which they are called. Every faculty, acting normally, has an appropriate remuneration. All right action has peace, or refreshment, or a low degree of satisfaction ; or, mounting still higher, pleasure, activity, happiness, and sometimes even ecstasy. The ordinary forms of satisfaction, however, are the most likely to endure, and are the most wholesome. But the business of life is so to live that, your nature being active, there shall be a response in appropriate degrees of satisfaction, that being the test and evidence of right action and of a right condition. Since, then, we are set up in business in this world for the production of the greatest possible amount of happiness and for the creation of the noblest character, it becomes a matter of transcendent importance how we are getting along, how we are prospering, in that business. It is a matter of no small moment to examine critically what are the ways of doing business in this trade of happiness. It behooves us to inquire what are some of the elements on which a true and enduring and 258 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. harmonious liappiiiess depends. A few of these I will point out. I. Good -pliysical health, and such comfort as is implied by that term, are fundamental elements of happiness. Not that men who are morally developed may not triumph over their condition, and maintain a certain satisfaction and peace, even though they be sick ; yet, taking men as a whole, it is evident that the Divine Providence intended health to be the substratum of happiness. The buoyancy and the resiliency of a high physical state of health are them- selves no small satisfaction ; and they underlie, for the most part, all other happiness. For although, as I have said, men may, in spite of bodily infirmities, maintain mental happiness, the cases are comparatively excep- tional. There is a heroism in it. It is not common. There are few who are equal to it. And he who sacri- fices health sacrifices the foundation on which he is to build everything else. We require health. It is a duty to preserve it. A man is not always sinful for having ill-health, because he may inherit constitutional liabili- ties to it. The sins of the parent are often visited on the children. The drunkard perpetuates his perverted taste, and the leprous man his leprosy, far down into the future. Men who are corrupters not only suffer themselves from their corruption, but entail suffer- ing upon their posterity. One may therefore inherit disease without fault of his own. A man may be blind or deaf or infirm or imbecile, and not be to blame. But where sickness is the result of one's own carelessness, or of his excessive indulgence, or of his disobedience to natural laws which are within his HAPPINESS. 259 purview and knowledge, he is sinful. It is not only men's interest, if they are aiming at happiness, but it is their duty, to lay a broad foundation of health. The old idea that men should mortify and crucify the flesh, that they should by fastings and flagellations and watchings reduce the vigor of the body, as if the spiritual life would be in proportion to the diminution of the physical health, was long ago exploded, and has gone to the moles and bats, from whence it came. He, therefore, who in youth is squandering his blood and his stock of stamina, he who in the fever-beats of youth is burning up in a year or two that which should be the light of fifty years, is destroying himself in the very acorn or germ. II. Happiness, according to the laws of nature and of God, inheres in voluntary and pleasurable activities ; and activity increases happiness in proportion as it is diffusive. No man can be so happy as he who is en- gaged in a regular business that tasks the greatest part of his mind. I had almost said that it is the teem ideal of happiness for a man to be so busy that he does not know whether he is or is not happy ; that he has not time to think about himself at all. The man who rises early in the morning, joyful and happy, with an appe- tite for business as well as for breakfast ; who has a love for his work, and runs eagerly to it as a child to its play ; who finds himself refreslied by it in every part of his day, and rests after it as from a wholesome and delightful fatigue, — has one great and very essential element of happiness. How much do you suppose the stupid and slow-moving turtles know of happiness, who lazily crawl out of the slimy pool on a sunny day and 260 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. lie unstirring for hours together ? They enjoy as much as turtles can enjoy. But how much is that? So the grunting swine, lying in the corner of his pen, where the sun shines full on him, sleeping through the clay, has his satisfaction. He is as happy as he is capable of being ; but how happy can a pig be ? Men who are of a phlegmatic temperament, and who live in absolute indolence, are measurably happy. Their ideal of hap- piness consists in being released from care and activity, and they experience a low degree of enjoyment; but how much happiness can belong to such a mood as they must necessarily be in ? They are in a state which is essentially torpid, and which has no resiliency. If the tow is corded and strained tight, and then struck, it gives forth a tone ; but if you strike the uncorded tow as it lies in a heap, you get no sound from it. The nerves of some men are, as it were, in a flaccid condi- tion, and they have no power to vibrate or respond to the touch. The human mind is in its best condition for producing enjoyment when it is intensely active. If occupation is congenial, it is all the better ; but even if it is not congenial, it is better than inactivity, for in- activity is a condition out of which comes all manner of dissatisfactions. Those who have, as a part of their heau ideal, the making of a fortune, the accumulation of an abundance which shall enable them by and by to do nothing, are building a fool's paradise, which they will not enjoy even if they ever get it. III. Variety, versatility, and ever-freshly changing employment require that every part of the mind should be productive in order to the fullest happiness. Man is made very largely. Wlien he was laid out, he was HAPPIXESS. 261 not laid out as a garden with one bed and one sort of flowers. God meant that there should be in the garden of the human soul a great many beds and a great many kinds of flowers. There are some thirty or forty indi- vidual faculties in the human make-up, and the fullest enjoyment requires the consentaneous activity of them all. But to put on foot such a general cerebral energy as that would involve, would be exhausting. There- fore the action of men's minds changes, and in turn every part of them, if they are normally active, should be exercised between sleep and sleep. Each day there should be something of everything. If one half of the branches of a tree bear fruit and the other half are barren, it is a poor tree. A tree that bears every other year is better than none ; but it is only half as good as one that bears every year. A musical instrument only every other string of which emits sound, when struck, — what is that ? Even Beethoven coidd not bring out a symphony on an instru- ment where every other note was omitted. The human soul is a complex thing. One part works into another, and stimulates it or rests on it. There is an order and arrangement in the human mind by which, if men re- tain the full possession of every part of their interior selves, and exert every part in succession, or consen- taneously, they touch true happiness, and happiness of the larf^est kind and the most endurinc^. There is great sublimity in this ideal manhood, and in the largeness of the conception which enters into the actual creative idea. "We see it in some persons ; but it seems to me that the great majority of men do not attempt to cultivate much of themselves. A few acres 262 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. around the house are tilled, but the outlying estate beyond that is almost untouched. AVhat are men's resources for happiness in the aver- age of cases ? Well, pretty good health and reasonable comfort in eating aiid drinking and sleeping. And these are not to be despised. Good sleep is one luxury. A good appetite is another. Good digestion is another, and the mother of a great many others. They are all right. And what is there besides these ? A low form of social good-nature. They are cheery, they greet each other heartily, and they are reasonably happy. They experience a mild form of enjoyment from this source. What else is there ? Well, they think that they are on the way to some degree of suc- cess in business, and they live on a little." What else ? Once in a while they go to a party and " spree it" a little. They have a cataract of pleasure all at once. What else ? Well, that is about all, unless they go to meet- ing and get converted and have a good time. This is a process which yields a distinct spiritual luxury. They mount up suddenly into coruscations of feeling that burn bright and quick, and go out and leave nothing behind. That is about all there is when you come to count up what most men have. What would you think if, when a man had played on some great organ Yankee Doodle and three or four waltzes, he could play nothing else ? What would you think if he knew those little whistling tunes and only those ? The organ has the power of coming into sympathy with God's thunder, and into sweet harmony with all the birds that sing through the air in spring. It has the power of representing, as it were, the breath HAPPINESS. 263 of flowers and the thoughts of the angels that sang on Christmas mm^ning; and what would you think of a man if he sat down to a grand organ, that is so attuned to harmony, and could only play two or three little fiddling tunes ? But what organ did the hand of man ever build with such diapason as God put into the human soul, where there are notes of possible manhood which run as high as imagination and faith and hope can soar ? What other instrument has such pipes as those which belong to the soul of man ? And what do men bring out of that grand instrument which is in them ? What tunes, what melodies, what anthems, what symphonies, is it capable of producing ! and yet how poor are the pro- ducts of it in the soul of the average man ! Look upon men who are seeking pleasure. I con- demn them, not because they seek pleasure, but because they seek it in such ways, — in ways so mean and penurious ; and because, though they seek it in such ways, they think themselves to be happy. How few are there who, if one source of enjoyment in them is stopped, have another to fall back upon ! A man's business goes heavily ; it grows worse and worse, and finally it crumbles to pieces and leaves him in the Eed Sea of bankruptcy. His business was about all there was of him. And now that that is gone he is restless, he is uneasy, he is unhappy ; he has no Avarm social life, full of checkered lights and all manner of enjoyment and cheer and consolation, in which he can take refuge. He has no fine tastes ; so that though he is bankrupt, thougli he has been ejected from house and home, though all his pictures are gone, and though his 264 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. musical instruments are taken away from liim, he still finds pictures which the morning paints, and which are painted in the sky at evening, where God has been the artist, and still finds music in the air such as no in- strument fashioned by human skill can produce. The man who has his understanding oj)en, and who lives in the full possession of his faculties, has resources which no selfish nature can touch and no human decree can rub out. And yet, how many men do we find who, when they go into old age and retire from active busi- ness, are exactly like a man who has carried with him all his days a knife with a hundred blades, but has only opened one, and that the big blade ! He has worked and worked with that all the time ; and now that he has got to be an old man he thinks that he will try some other blade. But he cannot open it. It has never been opened, and it is rusted in the joint. Or, if he succeeds in forcing it open, he cannot do anything with it. It never has been used, and it is not fit for use. He tries another. That, too, is rusted and spoiled. All of them are ruined except one or two which he has been accustomed to use, and they are so worn down that they are pretty much gone. They have no good cutting edge. Therefore he is not much better off than he would be if he had no knife. There are many business men who have very little intellectual resource, very little resource in taste, and very little in social life. They have been brought up to do a few things, and they have derived all their hap- ])iness from a few sources. And when those sources fail they have nothing else to turn to. Here is the soul of m'an, with ranks and gradations HAPPINESS. 265 of faculties, with cliamber after chamber filled with wondrous powers; but they are inert and iinused. There is no life in them. They are not applied to any worthy object. Nothing is more common than to see men who have been successful in narrow lines thrown out of the channels where their success has been achieved, and left without any resources for happiness. Their activities have been partial, and for the most part of a basilar kind ; but the indispensable condition of happiness is that every part of a man's nature shall be made active. Education, then, looking at it in this large way, is not simply preparing a man with a good edge to do business with. We often hear people talk about the fitness of their children for certain things. " George does not seem calculated to fall into very active ways ; he is quiet, and perhaps a little stupid. I think he will make a s^ood minister. We will send him to collesje. But Edward is active, energetic ; every edge cuts with him. I think he had better be a merchant. We will make a merchant of him." But are you not going to send him to college ? " no. He is going to be a merchant. You would not send a merchant to col- lege, would you ? " Why not ? AVhat is an education for ? Is it simply an investment in business, or is it an investment in manhood ? Do you educate your children simply that they may succeed in a certain profession, or that they may succeed in themselves, — in what they are ? I say that education means a true manhood all through ; and if I had the means to do it, I would educate my boy if he was going to be a black- smith, or if he was going before the mast as a common 12 2G6 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. sailor. In other words, I would develop in liim all of liimself that God gave him. What education means is to give a man the full use of all his powers. To stuff a man is not to educate him, any more than stuffing a trunk with books is educating that trunk. A man is educated who has learned what he is, and knows how to use himself, and how to bring out of himself that which belongs to manhood here and hereafter. Every man should be educated, and every woman should be edu- cated, no matter where they are, — only mark this : that while their external relations may require certain edu- cations, their own nature requires all the more educa- tion if they cannot make merchandise of it. Those are the most neglected in their education who need education most. If those who are in the busy whirl of practical life, and who are prosperous, can get along without it, they who are so circumstanced that they cannot be active, and who are not blessed with outward prosperity, cannot get along without it. Those who are poor and retired, and have no other stimulus, ought to have large mental resources. Their eyes should be open in every direction, that they may compensate themselves for the want of external endow- ments. I plead for education, not because it is the liighway to prosperity in law or in medicine or in the pulpit or in political life or in science, but because it means manhood. All parts of the mind waked up, made productive, made sensitive to the touch of God, are the source of real joy. When, therefore, I say that a condition of happiness is variety, versatility, and pro- ductiveness in every part of a man's nature, I plead for education in this large sense as the indispensable con- HAPPINESS. 267 dition of a continuing, complex, and perpetuated hap- piness. It is worth our while to think for a moment as to the productiveness in pleasure of the different parts of the soul. All of them are more or less productive of pleasure. I do not say that there is no pleasure in lower forms of indulgence. A glutton has pleasure, or he would not be a glutton. It would be absurd to say that there is an effect without a cause. Tliere is a pleasure in getting drunk, I suppose. There is a pleasure which the miser feels. There is a pleasure which the envious man feels. There is rejoicing in iniquity. "Wrong-doing confers a certain sort of pleas- ure. Every part of the nature of man has its own mode of pleasure. It is not necessary to the exaltation of morality, it is not necessary to the making of religion attractive, to undertake to say that nobody can be happy unless he is a religious man. That is not true. A great many religious men are not happy, and a great many irreligious men are happy. To say that a man can enjoy more in a religious life than he can in a lower life is to say the truth, altliough it is not everybody that finds it out. My impression is that, in a general way, that part of our nature which comes in contact with the physical, and controls it, has the most sudden and the most sharp exhilaration of pleasure, but the briefest. The flavor passes from the tongue, and is gone. All physical pleasures are momentary, however intense they may be, and there is very little memory of them. And although these very pleasures are real, they are shallow and unstable. They are inadequate, and do not cling 268 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. to US. They do not fill the mind with associations which afterwards revisit it, as the higher forms of pleasure do. Next to these, men think, are the better forms of social intercourse. These certainly are higher elements of pleasure than those which we have just been con- sidering, — higher in this regard, that each particular emotion, though milder, has greater continuity. Social pleasures bring self-respect ; they bring out a sense of kindness and benevolence ; they diffuse a higher in- fluence through the mind than mere physical pleasures do. They develop a new atmosphere in us, so that, although they may not be so intense as physical pleas- ures, they are more conducive to enjoyment. The flavor may not be so pungent, but the sum of the happiness which we derive from them is very much greater. ♦ Men may be too greedy of pleasure, just as they may be too greedy of interest. I have heard capitalists say that seven per cent good sound legal interest is in the long run the only safe interest to take, and that men who insist on taking ten or fifteen per cent take it at risks which the average experiences of business men show to be unwise. However that may be in money matters (for that is a realm in which my judgment is very imperfect), it is certainly so in the traffic of the soul. If you take too high an interest, you will be bankrupt. The man who wants to make more pleasure in any part than rightfully belongs to it, the man who will not take low interest and have it paid continuously and promptly, is very foolish. The interchange of ten thousand little feelings, the by-play, the internal play, HAPPINESS. . 269 the external play, of social life, — all these are far more fruitful of happiness than intense physical pleasure, which is merely transient. If you count along the line of these minute enjoyments, how much is the sum of them ! How much they minister to self-respect, as well as to happiness ! Then we come to a still higher form of pleasures, — those derived from semi-moral faculties, — where we become executive, creative, and fashion things in life, exercising power and skill, and that for kind and benevolent purposes. A peculiar sensation of pleasure proceeds from this source. "VYhere there is develoj)ment and activity of the higher range of faculties for noble purposes, it is as if an angel touched us. There is more joy in a sinple hour of such activity than there is in days of the lower forms of delight. But a man does not touch his supremest happiness until he is thoroughly spiritualized, until he inhabits the whole higher range of his being, — that part of the soul which came from God, and touches God again, and which receives the immediate inspiration of the Holy Ghost, by which every other part of his nature is held in control and warmed and illumined. In that higher range the pleasure is ecstatic, not boisterous ; not de- monstrative, not taking on the forms that l^ash and emit sparks, but peaceful, inward, unutterable thoughts of the highest possibilities in life. Connected with this last form of pleasure there is no after pain. It is wine whicli one may drink to tlie very bottom. It brings neither intoxication at the present nor pang afterwards. The highest joy lies in tlie plenary inspiration of the highest feelings of the soul. 270 LECTUKES TO YOUNG MEN. And there is this additional thing : that, while the bottom never commands the top, the top commands the intermediate and the bottom, all througli. A man who lives in a true spiritual union with God, and wlio has developed every part of himself, has a perfect right to all that iies below him of animal enjoyments and social pleasures. And these enjoyments and pleasures are nobler and better to him because he views them in the light of his higher feelings. Do you suppose the gourmand who, sitting alone, his eyes standing out with fatness, gulps his food, enjoys it as much as that child of mercy enjoys hers ? She who has gone on foot with the army, ministering to the wounded and the sick, and spending her very life in the service of others, worn out with fatigue, and sitting down in the corner, at last, where the sun may warm her attenuated form, as she eats the hard-tack and the plainest meat, perhaps half cooked, to supply her neces- sity, — do you not suppose that that morsel tastes as sweet to her as the delicacies of tlie glutton do to him ? I believe it does. And if she afterward, in a moment of leisure, is brought to a banquet, do you suppose the fact that she lives in the higher realm of benevolence prevents lier enjoying that banquet ? Do you suppose that her elevation takes away from her pleasure when such rarer physical deliglits are multiplied around about her. I think that a godly man's food tastes as good to him as a sinner's does to him, and sometimes a great deal better. It is supposed that when we live in our higher life we abandon the lower life. No. We use it better. We take it in harmony with all our higher instincts. HAPPIXESS. 271 I remark, still further, that not only are the lower forms of pleasure more evanescent than the higher forms, but that, while they are strong at the beginning of life, they decrease in power to the end ; whereas the pleasures which we derive from the upper part of the mind, while they are the smallest at the beginning of life, continually increase all the way through. Tlie wedge is reversed. Animal, physical pleasures begin large and attractive, but run tapering to an edge, and die out by the time one becomes reasonably old. AVhen the health begins to fail, and the eye begins to grow dim, and the ear is heavy of hearing, and the foot is weary of moving, and the muscles are softening, and the nerves do not know any more how to vibrate and flash fire as once they did, — then it is that these pleasures abandon a man. As one grows old he finds that physical pleasures forsake him ; and if his only dependence for happiness has been upon these, his after-life is poor and miserable. But he who does not sacrifice higher physical pleasures to low sensuous pleasures has sources of enjoyment which go on with him to the end of life; so that' if friends forsake him, and his property is gone, and heart and flesh fail, and the eye is blind, and the ear is deaf, and he stands on the edge of the grave, brighter than ever is the light of faith. Then hope illumines the whole horizon. Theji love cheers. The man who has lived in the fear of God, and in the love of the Lord Jesus Christ, and with the inspiration of the Holy Ghost, finds the beginnings of this life happy, and learns tliat his hap- piness increases and deepens as it rolls on, until at last it is like the Amazon where it mingles with the ocean. 272 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. Higher pleasures, which at first do not look promising, are harmonious and continuous ; and in the end grow sweeter and richer, and are never so great as at the very end, where most we need them. In view of these illustrations and reasonings, I re- mark, first, that the legitimate activity to which we are called in the providence of God, in securing a livelihood and in maintaining our households and our relations in society, is not to be looked upon as burdensome or as a misfortune. We are not to regard those persons as being the most happy who have the least to do. iSTeither are we to suppose that those only are on their way to happiness who are obliged to work for their livelihood. But every man should be active, as the indispensable condition of present hap- piness ; and every man's happiness should be of such a sort that it shall produce happiness again by and by. Work is not a curse. Drudgery is. Enforced work, work that does not carry the heart with it, work un- illumined by the mind, work with the hand w^ithout any connection with the head, — that is a curse. But true work is God's bounty and blessing; and every man should be active, because to bring out the faculties in activity by work is the very road to happiness. I think that, ordinarily speaking, men are not so happy outside of their business as they are inside of it. That is good. It is right. As a general thing, men who take a day here and a day there and go out after hap- piness do not find it. It may be a rest, or it may be a satisfaction, mucli depending upon the nature of it ; but in a great deal of that which men seek with large ex- penditure of money and stamina and health, they are HAPPINESS. 273 not half so happy as they are in their regular and normal pursuits, because these pursuits keep up a gentle activity of the whole mind, and they have their remuneration, and enjoy it more from day to day. When they go out on purpose for pleasure, it is exces- sive, exciting, disturbing, and amounts often 1:0 dissi- pation. Eelaxation and recreation men must have, or wear out ; but the real enjoyment of life to an active man is in his activity. Again, men should provide something for old age to do. They should so educate themselves to be active that, when they come to the end of their life, they shall still find that they have aptitudes and occupations to keep the mind agoing. For the moment we cease to have activity we cease to have life. Kow and then we find the aged living with no responsibility and no care, and yet with a certain degree of happiness ; but ten times oftener we find that if a man who has been very happy and very healthy and vigorous, on coming to be sixty-five years of age, drops off business, and goes to live with one of his children, in a year or two everybody says, " How he has failed ! " and at last he sickens and dies ; while if he had maintained regular and normal care and respon- sibility in business, he would have lasted ten or fifteen years longer, and been useful withal. Stopping work is bad business for old people. A man ought to have some provision for old age. A part of the business of life is to get ready to be wise ; and if you have only two or three things that you can enjoy, and they are things which time and decay may remove from you, what are you going to do in old age ? Suppose a man builds his whole life on the enjoyment 12* R 274 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. wliicli comes from amassing wealth, what will he do when the time comes that he cannot amass any more ? The whole pleasure of his life has been derived from that; and when that stojDS, the fountain from which his happiness has proceeded is sealed up to him. He has created a necessity which cannot be supplied in his old age, and the consequence is that that old age will be miserable to him. But a man who has culti- vated every part of his being, every faculty of his nature, may retire from business, and yet have sources from which he can derive satisfaction. The book yet speaks to him. He has commerce with men who are gone, and the best parts of them. "The spirits of just men made perfect " are good books. Where a man in old age has buoyancy, activity of mind, acute sensibility, knowledge, and culture, you cannot deprive him of enjoyment. If you stop up one resource, he resorts to another. If you cut that off, he takes another. He is vital in every part. He is full of manhood. Age does not pall his taste. It is a glorious thing to see a man walking full-freighted with activity up to the very gate of death, and, knocking, find that it is the gate of heaven. Men who secure riches or power by the sacrifice of manhood, spending themselves by piecemeal, do that than which nothing could be more foolish. What if a man should collect musical instruments, and should, every time he found a new and a fine one, pay for it by subtracting something from his power of hearing, so that when he had filled his house with these exquisite musical instruments he was stone deaf, — what good would they do him ? HAPPINESS. 275 Suppose a man should buy the best paintings of the old masters, and the choicest pieces of the new artists, to fill his gallery, and should give one ray of eyesight for every new picture, so that when he had finished his collection he was as blind as a bat, — what good would these pictures do him ? Suppose a man should buy provision, and heap his barn full, and fill his stalls with fine steeds and cattle, and fill his bins with grain, and should pay for these numerous treasures by giving up one part after auotlier of his house, so that wlien he got his barn w^ell stored he should have no house to live in, — how much would he enjoy the abundance of his winter's provisions ? And yet, are not men doing that which is as foolish as this would be ? Are they not paying for money by sacrificing their conscience ? Many of them are saying, " It is not possible for us to prosper in business if we stop to meddle with taste. "VYe cannot now attend to sentimentality. In the conflicts of life and in the rivalries of business, if men are going to succeed they must push right ahead, and not stand for trifles." For success, do not men pay their sensibility ? do they not pay their household enjoy- ments ? do they not pay wholesome pleasures ? And when they have at last attained success, have they not given up the best part of their being, and are they not utterly unfitted to enjoy that success ? " A man's life consisteth not in tlie abundance of the things which he possesseth." Look at the excuse of tlie man spoken of by our Master in the parable, who said, — " What shall I do, because I have not room where to bestow my fruits?" 276 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. It is as if, in modern parlance, a man slioulcl say, " How shall I invest my money ? Which are the safest stocks ? Where shall I put my capital ? What shall I do with my accumulating interest ? " And he said, This will I do : I will pull down my barns and build greater ; and there will I bestow all my fruits and my goods." And now see how the fool talks : — "And I will say to my soul: Soul, thou hast much goods laid up for many years ; take thine ease, eat, drink, and be merry." Do you suppose that these things are soul-food ? Is wealth the proper sustenance for the spirit ? What a fantasy of folly was this ! Can one's manhood be built np merely by the possession of treasure ? When men have acquired money they instantly begin to feel that it is inadequate. Their restlessness is not satis- fied. Much as it is, they call for more, and more, and more; but it does not bring the gratification which they want. They feel the need of men's sympathy and confidence. Oftentimes you will find men who have been penu- rious all their lives, and who have amassed a fortune, attempting to buy respect in their old age. Sometimes they do it by making their will, and letting it be known what they are going to do. That is an exquisite piece of trickery. Where a man wants to keep his money, and also wants to have the credit of giving it away, he holds on to it, and lets it be known that he is going to give $250,000 for benevolent purposes, — $ 10,000 here, $ 20,000 there, $ 50,000 somewhere else, and so on. There are many men who are going to be very generous when they die. Dead men are always gener- HAPPINESS. 277 Oils. They keep their money while they live, and only give it away when they no longer own it. When men are surrounded by all that earth can give them, — by position, by circumstance, by plenary physical blessings, — how, after all, do they long for more ! How piteous it is to see them ! J^othing on earth seems to me more piteous than the crying out of the soul for something better than this lower w^orld can give. A child, drawn away from its home into a g}^psy camp, cries for its father and mother, but by kindness and soothing it is hushed and quieted down. And yet it sobs in its sleep. And when it wakes up it cries for its parents again. It is quieted again, but still it is heart-sick and homesick for its father and mother. So man's soul cries out in the midst of wealth and outward comforts, and is not satisfied, and longs and pines, and does not know what ails it. No man's soul can rest until it touches God's soul. No man can be happy until he is made happy by the disclosure of the royalty of the Divine nature. Once more, let me say that if you suppose that Christianity, rightly viewed and interpreted, is offended at lower happiness, you are greatly mistaken. You must have Christianity from top to bottom. It does not prevent our being happy. It does not make us miserable. It may sometimes be necessary for our joy to be turned into sadness. But in order that you may be happy, put down rebellion in yourself. Compel those lusts and appetites which are usurping the place of your noblest nature to submit. Put the yoke on them. And if it makes them suffer, that is their look- 278 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. out. For the sake of joy, for the sake of full and en- during happiness, subordinate your whole life to the counsel of God, and fill the soul with education, with development, with power. Let no one part of it carry you wrong and take possession of your whole life. Let there be no dividing. Let that which belongs to the spirit be filled with spirituality, that which belongs to life be filled with life, that which belongs to domestic work be filled with domestic work, that which belongs to the earth be filled with the earth. Let all parts be cultivated and devoted to their proper uses, and all con- secrated to the joyful service of God. It is not enough for a man to build a ship so that it looks beautiful as it stands on the stocks. What though a man build his vessel so trim and graceful that all admire it, if when she comes to be launched she is not fit for the sea, if she cannot stand stormy weather, if she is a slow sailer and a poor carrier, if she is liable to foun- der on the voyage ? A ship, however pretty she may be, is not good for anything unless she can battle with the deep. That is the place to test her. All her fine lines and grace and beauty are of no account if she fails there. It makes no difference how splendidly you build so far as this world is concerned, your life is a failure unless you build so that you can go out into the great future on the eternal sea of life. We are to live on. We are not to live again, but we are to live without break. Death is not an end. It is a new impulse. We are discharged out of this life, where we have been like arrows in a quiver. Death is a bow which sends us shooting far beyond this earthly expe- rience into another and a higher life. Woe be to that HAPPINESS. 279 man who is rich for this world and bankrupt for the other. Woe be to that man who so lives here that he will have nothing hereafter. Woe be to that man who when he dies leaves everything behind him for whicli he has spent all the energies of his life. Woe be to that man who so uses this world that it makes him useless for the world to come. Heart-life, soul-life, hope, joy, and love are true riches. Such riches a man will carry through the grave with him. jSTo man can take his house nor his merchandise nor his ships with him when he dies. A man's books, his fame, his political influence, his physical enjoyment, his granary, his farm, his team, his loaded w\ain, — these things stop on this side of the grave. The gate of death is not big enough to let them through. Kobody carries his body through the grave. " W^e brought nothing into this life, and we can carry nothing out of it," it is said. That is true of tlie physical ; but 0, we can carry something out ! We receive life as a spark, and we can make it glow like a beacon light ; and that w^e can carry with us when we go. Faith and hope kindled and exercised, — these we can carry out. Love to God and love to our fellow- beings, — that we can carry out. The best parts of ourselves we can carry out. When the farmer goes into his field in the autumn to harvest his grain, he takes the head of the wdieat. That is wliat he cares for. It matters little to him if the straw and the chaff go to the ground again. Tn taking the wheat he takes that for which these things were provided. He takes the ripe kernel, and leaves behind the straw and the chaff, which were simply designed to serve as wrappers 280 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. for the growing and ripening grain. The ripe grain, — that we carry out. See to it, then, that you so live that when the death- signal comes it shall come to you as a call from the New Jerusalem. Go not out as men who run before the scourge. Go not out, as in the morning the reluc- tant field-hands are driven forth, — slaves to their tasks. Go out with your bosom filled with sheaves, as the reapers go from the field to their home, singing and rejoicing on the way. Go mourned here and longed for there. Go with the impulse of eternal joy in you, because you love and are beloved. THE END Cambridge : Electrotyped and Printed by Welch, Bigelow, & Co. SOME GOOD BOOKS. FOK SALE BY ALL BOOKSELLERS, OR MAILED, POST-PAID, TO ANY ADDRESS, ON RECEIPT OF THE PRICE, BY THE PUBLISHERS. J. B. FOED AXD C0MPA:^Y, No. 27 Park Place, New York. BEECHER'S SERMONS : First, Second, Third, Fourth, Fifth, and Sixth Series. From phonographic reports by T. J. Ellinwood, for fifteen jears Mr. Beecher's special reporter. Uniformly bound in dark brown English cloth. Single volumes, each complete, price, I:p2.50 ; full set of six volumes for SH-dO. Bound in half morocco, Sj; 5 per vol. Of the first volume the Advance, of Chicago, said : — " The volume is a handsome one, and is prefaced with the best portrait of Mr. Beecher we have ever seen. The sermons are twenty-seven in number, the regular Sumlay morning discourses of six months, and are a wonderful testimony, not only to the real goodness of heart of the great Plymouth preacher, but to the fertility of re- source, industry of thought, and rare abdity which can keep liis regular ministi-ationa to such a height of average excellence." . . . . "These corrected sermons of perhaps the greatest of living preachers, — a man whose heart is as warm and cathohc as his abilities are great, and whose sennons combine fidelity and Scriptural truth, great power, glorious imagination, fervid rhetoric, and vigorous reasoning, with intense human sympathy and robust common sense." — British Quarterly Review. Each succeeding volume contains, also, six montlis' sermons (from 450 to 500 pp.) issued in style uniform with the First Series. The Second Series contains a fine interior view of Plymouth Church. The other volumes are not illustrated. LECTURE-ROOM TALKS. A series of Familiar Discourses, on Themes of Christian Experience. By Henrt Ward Beecher. Phono- graphically reported by T. J. ELLDfwooD ; with Steel Portrait. 12mo, extra cloth. Price, S 1.75. "J. B. Ford & Co., who are now printers and publishers to the Beecher familv, have collected in a handsome volume the Lecture-Boom Talkx of the Brot-klyn preacher, held in the weekly praycr-meoting of the Plymouth Church. There is a great deal uf humorous talk mingled with much that is serious and the subjects dis- cussed are of the most varied kind. It is a channing hoo\i. — Springjie'ld (,Mass.) Republican. MY WIFE AND I ; or, Harry Henderson's History. A Novel. By IIarrikt Beecher Stowe. "illustrated by II. L. Stephens. 47i pages ; extra cloth, stamped cover, $ 1.75. This novel is the success of the year. It has been selling very rapidly ever since its publication. Kverybudy is readin^r it. '• Alwavs bright, piquant, and onterfainm!i, with nn occasional touch of tenderness, strong because subtle, keen in sarcasm, full of wom.inly logic directed against un- womanly tendencies, Mrs. .<^towc hob achieved an unbounded success in this her latest efiovtJ" — Boston Journal. MATERNITY : A Popular Treatise for Wives and Mothers. Hy T. S. Vekdi, A. M., M. D., of Washington, D. C. II:indsouiely printed ou tiue paper, bevellt'd boards, extra English clotli. 12uio. 450 pp. I'rice, !ri2.25. Fvurtk KdUiun. " The author deserves j^'reat credit for his labor, and the book merits an extensive circulation."— U. S. Medical and Surgical Journal (Chicago). " There are few intelligent mothers who will not be benerited by reading and licep- ing by them lor frecjuent counsel a volume so rich in valuable suggestions. With its tab es, prescriptions, and indices at the end, this book ought to do much good." — Ileartli and Home. " We hail the appearance of this work with true pleasure. It is dictated by a pure and liberal spirit, and will be a real boon to many a young mother." — American Mtd- ical Observer {Detroit). THE CHILDREN'S WEEK : Seven Stories for Seven Days. By R. W. llAYMOND. 16mo. Nine full page illustrations by H. L. Stephens and Miss M. L. Uallock. Price, extra cloth, itj; 1.25 j cloth, full gilt, $ 1.50. " '! he book is bright enough to please any people of culture, and yet so simple that children will wt Iconic it with glee. i\lr. Kaymond's tales have won great popularity by their wit, delicate fancy, and, withal, admirable good sense. Ihe illustrations — all new and made for the book — are jjarticularly apt and pleasmg, showing forth the comical clement of the book ana its pure and beautiful sentimcni." — Bujjalo {JV, V.) Commercial Advertiser. THE OVERTURE OF ANGELS. By Henry Ward Beecher. Illustrated by Uarry 1'enn. lliimo, tinted paper, extra cloth, gilt, i'rice, $ 2.00. This exquisite gift book is an excerpt from Mr. Beecher"'s great work, the " Life of Jesus the Christ." It is a series of pictures, in the author's happiest style, of the Angelic Appearances, giving a beautiful and characteristically interesting treatment of all the events recorded in the Gospels as occurring about the period of the na- tivity of our Lord. " The f.tylc, the sentiment, and faithfulness to the spirit of the Biblical record with which the narrative is treated are characteristic of its author, and will commend it to many readers, to whom its elegance of form will give it an additional attraction." — Worcester (Mass.) Spy. " A perfect fragment." — New York World. OUR SEVEN CHURCHES : Eight Lectures by THOMAS K. Beecher. 16mo. Paper, 60 cents •, extra cloth, %1 ; cloth, gilt, $ 1.25. " The eight lectures comprised in this volume are conceived in a spirit of broad liberality as refrct-hing as it is rare. Ihey evince, in the most gratifying manner pos- sible, how easy it is to find something good in one's neighbors or opponents, or even enemies, if one tries faithfully to do so, instead of making an effort to discover a fault or a weakness. The volume is one which should have, as it undoubtedly will, a wide circulation." — Detroit Free Press. MINES, MILLS, AND FURNACES of the Precious Metals of the United States. Being a complete Exposition of the General Methods em- ployed in the great Mining Industries of America, including a Review of the present Condition and Prospectsof the Mines throughout the Interior and Paciiic States. By Bossiter W. IIaymond, Ph. I)., United States Connnissioner of Mining Statistics, President American Inst. Mining Engineers, Editor of the EiiffineeritifT and jyitmnir Jonriial, author of " The Mines of the West," " Amer- ican Mines and Mining." etc., etc. 1vol. 8vo. 566 pages. Illustrated with engravings of machines and processes. Extra cloth, $ 3.50. " The author is thorough in his subject, and has already published a work on our mines wlilch commanded universal approval by its clearness of statement and breadth of views." — yl/6aw»/ {N. K) Argus. " His scientific ability, his practical knowledge of mines and mining, his unerring judgment, and, finally, th*- enthnsia';m with which he enters upon his work, all cora- lline to fit him fur his position, and none could bring to it a greater degree of upright- ness and fairness." — Denver ( Col.) News. PRINCIPLES OF DOMESTIC SCIENCE : As applied to the Duties anil Pleasures of Home. 15y Catharine E. Beecher aud IIakriet BiiECHER c>TO\VE. A cuiupHct, Timo volume ot 39U padres ; profusely illus- trated ; well priuted, and bound in neat and substantial style. Price, S 2.00. Prepared with a view to assist in training young women for the distinctive duties which inevitably come upon them in household life, this volume has been made with especial relcreuce to the duties, cares, and pleasures o( tl^c family, as being the place where, whatever tne political developments of the future, woman, from her very uature of body and of spirit, will find her most engrossing occupation. It is full of interest for all iutehig' ut girls and young women. S^^ The work has been heartily indorsed and adopted by the directors of many of the leading t Colleges and Seminaries for young women as a text-book, both for study and reading. HISTORY OF THE STATE OF NEW YORK. From the date of the Discovery and Settlements on Manhattan Island to the Present Time. A Text-Book for High Schools, Academies, and Colleges. B) S. S. Ran- dall, Superintendent of Public Education in New York City. 12mo vol , 393 pages. Illustrated. Price, 01.75 The author, for many years intimately connected with the management of our Public Schools, nas written with aj\.tl hiiinrledgc if what teas ne lieri, and the result is a clear, compendious, and admirable digest of all the important events in the life of New York State down to the year 1871. " This work contains so much valuable infomiation that it should bo found in evcty bouse in the State as a volume of reference. Its value for use in educational insti- tutions is of a very high character." — .A or^/ie?72 Budget, Troy {,N. Y.). l^]f^ Officially adopted by the Boards of Education in the cities of New York, Broolclyn, and Jersey City for use in the Public Schools, and also extensively used in Private Schools throughout the State, both as a text-book and alternate reader. AY PREPARATION. H. W. BEECHER'3 V/ORKS. Uniform edition. This is a set of books long Peeded in the trade. It will include "Norwood," "Lectures to Y'oung Men," " I^yes and Ears,"' "Summer iu the Soul,"' the early "Star Papers,"' a new edition of " l.ccture-Itoom Talks,'" and other works, embracing eonie which are now out of print, and for which there is constant call. The first volumes issued in this new edition of Mr. Beecher 's minor works are YALE LECTURES ON PREACHING, Price, extra cloth, S 1-25 •, half calf, S 2. 25 ; and a new edition of LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN, including Beveral new lectures never before pubUshed, a new Introduction by the author, etc, etc. These will shortly be followed by "STAR PAPERS," including much new matter added to the original book. A FKESH BOOK BY GRACE GREENWOOD. NEW LIFE IN NEW LANDS. Racy, sparkling, readable, full of wit and keen observation, it gives a series of brilliant pen pictures along the great route from the Mississippi to the Pacific. 4 A BRILLIANT SUCCESS. 20,000 IN SIX MONTHS ! RAPID AND CONTINUED SALES ! ! 500 Vol-ames in One AGENTS WANTED FOR THE Library of Poetry and Song, BEING Choice Selections from the Best Poets, ENGLISH, SCOTCH, IRISH, AND AMERICAN, INCLUDING TRANS- LATIONS FROM THE GERMAN, SPANISH, etc. WITH AN INTRODUCTION By WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT, Under whose careful Supervision the Work ivas Compiled. In one Superb Large Octavo Volume of over 800 pages, well printed, on Fine Paper, and Illustrated with an admirable Portrait on Steel of Mr. Bryant, together with twenty-six Autographic Fac-Similes on Wood of Celebrated Poets, besides other choice Full-page Engravings, by the best Artists. The handsomest and cheapest subscription book extant. A Library of over 500 Volumes in one book, whose contents, of no ephemeral nature or interest, Avill never grow old or stale. It can be, and will be, read and re- read with pleasure as long as its leaves hold together. This book has been prepared with the aim of gathering into a single volume the largest practicable compilation of the best Poems of the English language, making it as nearly as possible the choicest and most complete general collection of Poetry yet published. THE "LIBRARY OF POETRY AND SONG" Is a volume destined to become one of the most popular books ever printed. It is truly a people's book. Its contents would cost hundreds of dollars in the books whence they are gleaned, English and American ; and, indeed, although one possessed the volumes, the reading of such vast numbers of pages would be a labor not readily undertaken by most people, even those who appreciate poetry. The New York Times, A journal well known the country over for high literary excellence and correct taste, says : — " This verj' handsome volume differs from all collections of ' elegant extracts,' par- lor books, and the like, which we have seen, in bein;,' arranged according to an intel- ligible and comprehensive plan, in containing selections which nearly cover the entire historical period over which EngU^h poeiry extends, and in embracing matter suited to everv conceivable taste and every variety of feeling and culture. We know of no Si niUar~ collection in the English lauguarje ichich, in copiousness andfedcity of selection and ananrjement, can at all compare with it Ihe volume is a model of typographical clearness." The Albany Evening Journal, One of the oldest papers and highest hterary standards in the country, says : — " It is undoubtedly ' the choicest and most complete general collection of poetry j'ct published.' It will be deemed sufticien-. proof of the judicious character of the selec- tions, and of their excellence, that ' every poem has taken its place in the book only after passing the cultured criticism of 5lr. William Cullen Biyant,' whose portrait constitutes the fitting fnmtisjiiece of the volume. The work could have no higher indorsement. :\Ir. liryanl's Introductiun to the volume isamost biautiful and critical essay on ])(iets and jmetry, trom the days of 'the father of English i)uetry ' to the present time Su olhfr selection ire knoir if is as varied and cumplete as this: and it nmst lind its way into every library and" household where poetry is read and appreciated." This book, supplying a real public need in an admirable manner, has constantly sold so fast that the publishers have had trouble to keep up their stock. It has won an instant and permanent popularity. Terms liberal. Agents all like it, and buyers are more than pleased with it. ^yM^ Send for Circular and Terms to J. B. FOPvD «fe CO., Publishers, 27 Park Place, New York. BRANCH OFFICES : Boston, 11 Bromfield Street ; Chicago, 75 West Washington Street •, San Francisco, 339 Kearney Street. 6 A HOUSEHOLD BOOK. NINE UNABRIDGED, WORLD-RENOWNED VOLUMES IN ONE. AGENTS WANTED FOR THE Library of Famous Fiction, EMBRACING THE Nine Standard Masterpieces of Imaginative Literature (unabridged), WITH AN INTRODUCTION By HARRIET BEECHER STOWE. BEAUTIFULLY ILLUSTRATED With 34 Full-page Engravings ; executed "by the best Artists in England and America ; with an Illuminated Title-Page, Biographical Notice of each Author, etc., — in one Elegant Large Octavo Volume of nearly 1,100 pages, brilliantly printed on fine paper, handsomely and substantially bound. In their pre?ent venture, the publishers congratulate themselves that the matter offered has been endorsed by the approval of the entire reading world for many generations. The remarkable success attending their Librainj of Poetry and Snug, put forth under the auspices of tliat greatest American poet, William Cullex Bryant, naturally suggested tlie idea of a corresponding Library of Famous Fiction, to be guaranteed and set before the public by the mo«t popular American writer of fiction known to this day, — Mrs. Harriet Beecuer Stowe. Thus have been com- bined the nine great masterpieces of imaginative prose, embodying in a single convenient volume those Famous Fictions which have been admired and loved always, everywhere, and by all classes. Their number is not large ; their names rise spontaneously, and by common con- sent, in every mind : Pilo-rim'S Progress; Robinson Crusoe ; The Vicar of Wakefield ; OuUiver^s Trarels (revi.*ed) ; Paulavd Virginia; Picciola ; FJiznbetli, or the Exiles of Siberia; Undin' ; Vi.thrk ; and a SelccVon of Taies from the Arabian Mghts'' Kn- t rtainm nis. As Mas. Stowe says in her Introduction, " not a single one could be spared from this group, in gathering those volumes of fiction which the world, without dissent, has made classic.^'' ^^ Sold only by Subscription througli our Agents. .^^^^ TEK3IS LIBEllAIi. Send for full description and business circulars, to J. B. FORD & CO., Publishers, ti7 Park Place, New York. BRAXCIT OrnCES : Boston, 11 Bromfield Street j Chicago, 75 West Washington Street ; San Francisco, 339 Kearney Street. 7 SOLD ONLY BY AGENTS. A BOOK FOH EVEHYBOGYI 10,000 Per MositU. The instantaneous success of this book is not sti^ange, although it is having unprecedented sales. THE LIFE OF JESUS THE CHRIST, BY HENRY WAUD BEECHER. From the Boston (Mass.) Traveller. " This work has a deeper purpose to serve than that of mere ornament. It is the product of a life of thought and loving labor in study of the character and life of Jesus, and a remarkably successful career of presenting it to the popular mind in the min- istn,^ of the pulpit. " The demand for this book will be great among the searchers afrer knowledge, and it will be a standard for Christian homes and libraries. It is destined to exert a tre- mendous influence, not only m this day and generation, but in all time." By the Rev. Joseph P. Tliompson, L.I. I>., from an article in The Independent. " That which first impresses one in IVIr. Beecher's book is the maturity of the work, both in its conception and in its execution. If any have expected to find in it rhe- torical fancies s'ruck out at cxtemporan"Ous heat, declamatory statements — ' the s|iontaneities of all his individual personal life ' —projected from some fusing centre «'f philosophy within, but not welded into logical consistency, they have yet to know jSIr. Beecher through this l)Ook, as working by method upon a well-ordered scheme of thought, and with a deep philosophic purpose toward one gnat, ovennasteiing conception. He has neither tliruwn oti' his random tlmuglits nm- strung together his best thoughts ; but has brouglit all Iiis powers, in llic iiKiturity of their strength, in the richness of their experience, and the largeness of their (levtlopment, to produce a work that may fitly represent the labors and the results of his life." More Ag:oiits Wanted. Intelligent men and women may obtain lucrative employmGnt by taking an agency. Full descriptive Circtilars mailed free. Very liberal terms to Canvassers. Apply to J. B. FORD & CO., 27 Park Place, New York; 11 Bromfield S!t.. Boston, Mass.; 75 "West AVashington St., Chicajjo, 111. ; 339 Kearney St., San Fran- cisco, Cal. THE CHRISTIAN UNION IS AN UNSECTAKIAN RELIGIOUS WEEKLY. HENRY WARD BEECHER, Editor. This journal has had a very remarkable success, in two years at- taining a circulation surpassing that of any other religious weekly in the world. WHY IS IT? Because, First, Henry Ward Beeciier is its Editor, and his Editorials, Star Papers, and occasional Literary Reviews and Lecture-Room Talks are sought for by thousands, while the auxiliary editorial labor is in the hands of cultivated journalists ; the COJSTTRIBUTORS being representadve men and women of JiLL Denominations. Because, Secondly, ITS FORM, twenty-four pages, large quarto, SECURELY PASTED AT THE BACK AND CUT AT THE EDGES, is SO Convenient for read- ing, binding, and preservation, as to be a great and special merit in its favor. Because, Thirdly, It is called " the most Interesting Religions Paper published,''' being quoted from by the press of the entire country more exten- sively than any other. The critical J^ation (N. Y.) says it is " Not only the ablest and best, but also, as we suppose, the most popular of American religious periodicals. At all events it is safe to predict that it will soon have, if it has not already, greater influence than any other religious paper in the country." Because, Fourthly, It has something for every Member of the Iloiise- hold : admirable contributed and editorial articles, discussing all timely topics j fresh information on unhackneyed subjects; reliable news of the Church and the world ; Jlarkct and Financial Reports ; an AgricuUural Department ; ex- cerpts of Public Opinion from the press ; careful Book Reviews, with Educa- tional, Literary, Musical, and Art Notes ; much matter of a high .and pure religious tone •, a Household Department ; choice Poems ; Household Stories ; and Chat for the Little Ones. Because, Fifthhj, Every subscriber is presented with TWO SUPERB OIL CHROMOS, "WIDE AWAKE" and "FAST ASLEEP," A fair, — no cheap colored prints, but splendid copies of Oil Paintings, by an eminent English artist. The selling price of the pair is (!< 10) Ten Dollars, at which price thousands have been sold iu America, and still are selling aud will be sold by the picture trade generally. Or, if any should prefer it, the subscriber will be presented with our new, large, and EXaiJISITE OLEOGRAPH, from a charming painting by Lobricuox (one of tlie most brilliant artists of the Parisian school), entitled "NEUTRAL GROUND." The size (ll^j X 21'^ inches) makes it a very large picture, and it is an admira- ble and artistic centre-piece for " Wide Awake " and " Fast Asleep," or a most delicate, attractive, and beautiful work of art in itself. One Tear's Subscription (including uBTTzoMnieii Pictures) .... S3.00 Do. do. (including Pio+ures mounted ; the Chromos on card- board, or the Oleograph on canvas, sized, varnisheJ, and ready for framing) 3.25 Two do. do. (including all the Pictures, sized, varnished, etc.) . 5.50 The CnRisTiAN' Uxiov and PLVMOCTn PcLPrr mailed for one year to one address (including Chromos as above) for 8 5.00 or 5.25 ^^^ In all ca.se.'J, ten centft extra must be sent to defray the cost of wrapping and mailing the pictures to the subscriber's addre.'^s. ..^^fl ii^' Canvassers allowed liberal Commissions. An old agent who knows says : " I have never presented anything for sale that met with the approval nf the entire reading community as nearly as does IIinry Ward BF.F.criER's CHRISTIAN UNION. Sorry I did not work for it sooner. Think it the best buainedsfur canvanaers ever offered by any firm, to my knowledge." J. B. FORD & CO., Publishers, 37 Park Place, New York City. BRANCH OFFICES: Boston. 11 Bromfield Street i Chicago, 75 West Washington Street ; San Francisco, 339 Kearney Street. , ^?^ PLYMOUTH PULPIT Is a weekly pamphlet Publication of Sermons preached by HENRY WARD BEECHER, Printed from Mr. T. J Ellinwood's careful, verbatim phonographic reports, taken down from the speaker's lips This issue is the only regularly authorized edition of them, the one indorsed by Mr. Beechkr's approval as correct, and sanctioned by his authority. It is well printed on good papei-, in book form ; it is ^vitab'e fur bimliitcr aid preservation, and it is cheap, within the reach of ail. The publishers have also responded to the demand for a continued insertion of the Prayers before and after tiie Sermon, as among the most spiritually profitable of Mr. Beecher's ministra- tions. Besides this, the Scriptural lesson and hymns sung (Plymouth Collection) are indicated, thus making a complete record of one service of Plymouth Church fur each Sunday. CRITICAL OPINIONS. BRITISH. AMERICAN. " Thev are magnificent discourses. I " Wc certainly find in these sermons a have often taken occasion to say that great deal which we can conscientiously Eeecher is the greatest preacher that ever commend, and that amply justilies tlie appeared in the world; this judgment is exalted position which their autlior holds most soljcrly considered and mo.stdeliber- among American preachers. They are atelv pronounced; his brilliant fancy, his worthy of great praise for the freshness, O'.-ep knowledge of human nature, his af- vigor, an t earmstness of their style; for fiuent language, and tlu' many-sidedness the beauty and oftentimes surprising apt- ofhis noble mind, conspire to place him at ness of thiir illustrations; for the large the head of all Christian speakers."— amount of consolatory and stimulating Hex. Dr. Parkgr, in The Pulpit Analyst thought embodied in them, and for the (Article " Ad Clkrum "). force and skill with which religious con- siderations are made to bear upon the " These corrected Sermons of perhaps most common transactions of life." — Bib- the greatest of living preachers, — a man liotheca Sacra, Andover, Mass. hd'alfihUeTare g^eaPan^d whosTse?monl " I'^ ^^^^ «f ability and eloquence he c^mb ne fldehtv trscrlotura tm ^^ scarcely a rival, while in the magnet- ^r^;rgit?is Siaiffion! K& ?s r,^^^iUsrTfit'n""?tbs"oS?>' s oric, and vigorous reasoning, with intense »Xd No nreacher of me nresent a-e ^^ ^B^Q^a^tX^i^r^"'' IxS^es'^^o ^"dfand JotS? a^.'^Sen'ce! bcn»e. jjiuti/K^darterli/Keview. ^j^,, j^^ reaches a class that ordinary " They are without equal among the pub- preachers fail to touch." — Philadelphia lished sermons of the day. Everywhere Inquirer. v.e find ourselves in the hands of a man of Mr. Beecher " by his genius, and with- liigh and noble impulses, of thorough fear- out any direct ef!'ort, has more influence b'ssness. of broad and generous sympa- upon the, ministerial profession than all thies, who has consecrated all his wealth the iheological seminaries combined. The of intelligence and heart to the service of discourses are rich in all that makes re- preaching the Gospel."— Z,i7e/'ar// World, ligious hterature valuable." — 67/ (ca(70 Lonaon. Evening Journal. "Vol. I., No. 1, of Plymouth Pulpit was issued September 26, 18G8 Each Folnme contains twenty six numbers, being one sermon each week for six months. This gives annually two volumes of vearlijfue hundred pages each. See Table of Subjects on pages 10 and 11. TERMS. — Single numbers, ten cents. Yearly Subscription price, $3.00. Half yearly, $ 1.75. Subscriptions may begin with any number. Back numbers tupplied CLUB RATES — five copies fot $ 12.00. THE ClIKlSTl.^N UNMON, together with the two charming French Oil Chromos, " WiDK Awake" and "Fast Asleep," (*3.00), and PLYMOUTH PULPIT (ijia.OO), will be sent to ONE ADDRESS for $5.00. Postage on Plymouth Pulpit to subscribers in the United States is twenty cents p<T year, payable quarterly, in advance, at the Post-Office to which the pamphlet is sent ; and on single copies to England it is /ojtr cents-. J. B. FORD & CO., Publishers, 87 Park Place, New York. ^^: RETURN CIRCULATION DEPARTMENT TO^^- 202 Main Library LOAN PERIOD 1 HOME USE 2 3 4 5 6 ALL BOOKS MAY BE RECALLED AFTER 7 DAYS 1 -month loans may be renewed by calling 642-3405 6-month loans may be recharged by bringing books to Circulation Desk Renewals and recharges may be made 4 days prior to due date DUE AS STAMPED BELOW i^cinnQ^ 30 r. \^ FEB^yl^^^ \^» ^ S^ HftRl22W» UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, BERKELEY FORM NO. DD6, 40m, 3/78 BERKELEY, CA 94720 General Library University of California "lerkeley T. U.VENTUES Sunday SchoolBookseller No. 62 Court Street BROr>KI.YN, N. Y. wt-"- '•'" ^- ..-;-:.-^- m { ■.' K " H^ ^l^^H pi; ; Ik i 1 i i iJHfiSl ji [ 1 1 ' ' jumn JM • "n " n -TM-rVrVr«#♦fl♦***^i■t^1V';TT— *."