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 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 
 
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 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 
 
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7 
 SOLD ONLY BY AGENTS. 
 
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 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." 
 
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 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- 
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 religious tone •, a Household Department ; choice Poems ; Household Stories ; 
 and Chat for the Little Ones. 
 
Because, Fifthhj, Every subscriber is presented with 
 
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 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 
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 "NEUTRAL GROUND." 
 
 The size (ll^j X 21'^ inches) makes it a very large picture, and it is an admira- 
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 delicate, attractive, and beautiful work of art in itself. 
 
 One Tear's Subscription (including uBTTzoMnieii Pictures) .... S3.00 
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 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 
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 ^?^ 
 
 
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. 
 
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 sent ; and on single copies to England it is /ojtr cents-. 
 
 J. B. FORD & CO., Publishers, 
 
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