The fittest character to be concerned with in business, is, that in which are united an inviolable integrity, founded upon rational principles of virtue and religion, a cool but determined temper, a friendly heart, a ready hand, long experience and extensive knowledge of the world; with a solid reputation of many years' standing, and easy circumstances.

[7] These statements may seem to require a little qualification. There are two sorts of busy men. One sort are busy, as the result of benevolent purpose. These are often among the best of mankind; and though always busy in carrying out their plans, they find time to perform a thousand little acts of goodness, notwithstanding.—It has, indeed, been sometimes said, that when a great public enterprise is about to be undertaken, which requires the aid of individual contributions, either of time or money, those who are most busy, and from whom we might naturally expect the least, often do the most. It is also said that men of business have the most leisure; and it sometimes seems to be true, where they methodize their plans properly. These maxims, however, apply with the most force to men devoted to a higher purpose than the worship of this world—men who live for God, and the good of his universe, generally.

There are also two sorts of rich men. Some men may have property in their hands to an immense amount, without possessing a worldly spirit. The rich man referred to above, is of another sort. He is the man who 'gets all he can, and keeps all he can get.' This is probably the gospel definition of the term, a rich man, who, it is said, can no more enter a world of spiritual enjoyment than a camel or a cable can go through 'the eye of a needle.'

SECTION XII. Of desiring the good opinion of others.

A young man is not far from ruin, when he can say, without blushing, I don't care what others think of me. To be insensible to public opinion, or to the estimation in which we are held by others, by no means indicates a good and generous spirit.

But to have a due regard to public opinion is one thing, and to make that opinion the principal rule of action, quite another. There is no greater weakness than that of letting our happiness depend too much upon the opinion of others. Other people lie under such disadvantages for coming at our true characters, and are so often misled by prejudice for or against us, that if our own conscience condemns us, their approbation can give us little consolation. On the other hand, if we are sure we acted from honest motives, and with a reference to proper ends, it is of little consequence if the world should happen to find fault. Mankind, for the most part, are so much governed by fancy, that what will win their hearts to-day, will disgust them to-morrow; and he who undertakes to please every body at all times, places, and circumstances, will never be in want of employment.

A wise man, when he hears of reflections made upon him, will consider whether they are just. If they are, he will correct the faults in question, with as much cheerfulness as if they had been suggested by his dearest friend.

I have sometimes thought that, in this view, enemies were the best of friends. Those who are merely friends in name, are often unwilling to tell us a great many things which it is of the highest importance that we should know. But our enemies, from spite, envy, or some other cause, mention them; and we ought on the whole to rejoice that they do, and to make the most of their remarks.

SECTION XIII. Intermeddling with the affairs of others.

There are some persons who never appear to be happy, if left to themselves and their own reflections. All their enjoyment seems to come from without; none from within. They are ever for having something to do with the affairs of others. Not a single petty quarrel can take place, in the neighborhood, but they suffer their feelings to be enlisted, and allow themselves to "take sides" with one of the parties. Those who possess such a disposition are among the most miserable of their race.

An old writer says that 'Every one should mind his own business; for he who is perpetually concerning himself about the good or ill fortune of others, will never be at rest.' And he says truly.

It is not denied that some men are professionally bound to attend to the concerns of others. But this is not the case supposed. The bulk of mankind will be happier, and do more for others, by letting them alone; at least by avoiding any of that sort of meddling which may be construed into officiousness.

Some of the worst meddlers in human society are those who have been denominated match-makers. A better name for them, however, would be match-breakers, for if they do not actually break more matches than they make, they usually cause a great deal of misery to those whom they are instrumental in bringing prematurely together.

Many people who, in other respects, pass for excellent, do not hesitate to take sides on almost all occasions, whether they know much about the real merits of the case or not. Others judge, at once, of every one of whom they hear any thing evil, and in the same premature manner.

All these and a thousand other kinds of 'meddling' do much evil. The tendency is to keep men like Ishmael, with their hands against every man, and every man's hands against theirs.

SECTION XIV. On Keeping Secrets.

It is sometimes said that in a good state of society there would be no necessity of keeping secrets, for no individual would have any thing to conceal. This may be true; but if so, society is far—very far—from being as perfect as it ought to be. At present we shall find no intelligent circle, except it were the society of the glorified above, which does not require occasional secrecy. But if there are secrets to be kept, somebody must keep them.

Some persons can hardly conceal a secret, if they would. They will promise readily enough; but the moment they gain possession of the fact, its importance rises in their estimation, till it occupies so much of their waking thoughts, that it will be almost certain, in some form or other, to escape them.

Others are not very anxious to conceal things which are entrusted to them. They may not wish to make mischief, exactly; but there is a sort of recklessness about them, that renders them very unsafe confidants.

Others again, when they promise, mean to perform. But no sooner do they possess the treasure committed to their charge, than they begin to grow forgetful of the manner of coming by it. And before they are aware, they reveal it.

There are not many then, whom it is safe to trust. These you will value as they do diamonds, in proportion to their scarcity.

But there are individuals who merit your highest confidence, if you can but find them. Husbands, where a union is founded as it ought to be, can usually trust their wives. This is one of the prominent advantages of matrimony. It gives us an opportunity of unbosoming our feelings and views and wishes not only with safety, but often with sympathy.

But confidence may sometimes be reposed, in other circumstances. Too much reserve makes us miserable. Perhaps it were better that we should suffer a little, now and then, than that we should never trust.

As an instance of the extent to which mankind can sometimes be confided in, and to show that celibacy, too, is not without this virtue, you will allow me to relate, briefly, an anecdote.

A certain husband and wife had difficulties. They both sought advice of a single gentleman, their family physician. For some time there was hope of an amicable adjustment of all grievances; but at length every effort proved vain, and an open quarrel ensued. But what was the surprise of each party to learn by accident, some time afterward, that both of them had sought counsel of the same individual, and yet he had not betrayed the trust.

In a few instances, too, secrets have been confided to husbands, without their communicating them to their wives; and the contrary. This was done, however, by particular request. It is a requisition which, for my own part, I should be very unwilling to make.

SECTION XV. Fear of Poverty.

The ingenious but sometimes fanciful Dr. Darwin, reckons the fear of poverty as a disease, and goes on to prescribe for it.

The truth is, there is not much real poverty in this country. Our very paupers are rich, for they usually have plenty of wholesome food, and comfortable clothing, and what could a Croesus, with all his riches, have more? Poverty exists much more in imagination than in reality. The shame of being thought poor, is a great and fatal weakness, to say the least. It depends, it is true, much upon the fashion.

So long as the phrase 'he is a good man,' means that the person spoken of is rich, we need not wonder that every one wishes to be thought richer than he is. When adulation is sure to follow wealth, and when contempt would be sure to follow many if they were not wealthy; when people are spoken of with deference, and even lauded to the skies because their riches are very great; when this is the case, I say, we need not wonder if men are ashamed to be thought poor. But this is one of the greatest dangers which young people have to encounter in setting out in life. It has brought thousands and hundreds of thousands to pecuniary ruin.

One of the most amiable features of good republican society is this; that men seldom boast of their riches, or disguise their poverty, but speak of both, as of any other matters that are proper for conversation. No man shuns another because he is poor; no man is preferred to another because he is rich. In hundreds and hundreds of instances have men in this country, not worth a shilling, been chosen by the people to take care of their rights and interests, in preference to men who ride in their carriages.

The shame of being thought poor leads to everlasting efforts to disguise one's poverty. The carriage—the domestics—the wine—the spirits—the decanters—the glass;—all the table apparatus, the horses, the dresses, the dinners, and the parties, must be kept up; not so much because he or she who keeps or gives them has any pleasure arising therefrom, as because not to keep and give them, would give rise to a suspicion of a want of means. And thus thousands upon thousands are yearly brought into a state of real poverty, merely by their great anxiety not to be thought poor. Look around you carefully, and see if this is not so.

In how many instances have you seen amiable and industrious families brought to ruin by nothing else but the fear they should be? Resolve, then, from the first, to set this false shame at defiance. When you have done that, effectually, you have laid the corner-stone of mental tranquillity.

There are thousands of families at this very moment, struggling to keep up appearances. They feel that it makes them miserable; but you can no more induce them to change their course, than you can put a stop to the miser's laying up gold.

Farmers accommodate themselves to their condition more easily than merchants, mechanics, and professional men. They live at a greater distance from their neighbors; they can change their style of living without being perceived; they can put away the decanter, change the china for something plain, and the world is none the wiser for it. But the mechanic, the doctor, the attorney, and the trader cannot make the change so quietly and unseen.

Stimulating drink, which is a sort of criterion of the scale of living,—(or scale to the plan,)—a sort of key to the tune;—this is the thing to banish first of all, because all the rest follow; and in a short time, come down to their proper level.

Am I asked, what is a glass of wine? I answer, it is every thing. It creates a demand for all the other unnecessary expenses; it is injurious to health, and must be so. Every bottle of wine that is drank contains a portion of spirit, to say nothing of other drugs still more poisonous; and of all friends to the doctors, alcoholic drinks are the greatest. It is nearly the same, however, with strong tea and coffee. But what adds to the folly and wickedness of using these drinks, the parties themselves do not always drink them by choice; and hardly ever because they believe they are useful;—but from mere ostentation, or the fear of being thought either rigid or stingy. At this very moment, thousands of families daily use some half a dozen drinks, besides the best, because if they drank water only, they might not be regarded as genteel; or might be suspected of poverty. And thus they waste their property and their health.

Poverty frequently arises from the very virtues of the impoverished parties. Not so frequently, I admit, as from vice, folly, and indiscretion; but still very frequently. And as it is according to scripture not to 'despise the poor, because he is poor,' so we ought not to honor the rich merely because he is rich. The true way is to take a fair survey of the character of a man as exhibited in his conduct; and to respect him, or otherwise, according to a due estimate of that character.

Few countries exhibit more of those fatal terminations of life, called suicides, than this. Many of these unnatural crimes arise from an unreasonable estimate of the evils of poverty. Their victims, it is true, may be called insane; but their insanity almost always arises from the dread of poverty. Not, indeed, from the dread of the want of means for sustaining life, or even decent living; but from the dread of being thought or known to be poor;—from the dread of what is called falling in the scale of society.[8]

Viewed in its true light, what is there in poverty that can tempt a man to take away his own life? He is the same man that he was before; he has the same body and the same mind. Suppose he can foresee an alteration in his dress or his diet, should he kill himself on that account? Are these all the things that a man wishes to live for?

I do not deny that we ought to take care of our means, use them prudently and sparingly, and keep our expenses always within the limits of our income, be that what it may. One of the effectual means of doing this, is to purchase with ready money. On this point, I have already remarked at length, and will only repeat here the injunction of St. Paul; 'Owe no man any thing;' although the fashion of the whole world should be against you.

Should you regard the advice of this section, the counsels of the next will be of less consequence; for you will have removed one of the strongest inducements to speculation, as well as to overtrading.

[8] I should be sorry to be understood as affirming that a majority of suicidal acts are the result of intemperance;—by no means. My own opinion is, that if there be a single vice more fruitful of this horrid crime than any other, it is gross sensuality. The records of insane hospitals, even in this country will show, that this is not mere conjecture. As it happens, however, that the latter vice is usually accompanied by intemperance in eating and drinking, by gambling, &c., the blame is commonly thrown, not on the principal agent concerned in the crime, but on the accomplices.

SECTION XVI. On Speculation.

Young men are apt to be fond of speculation. This propensity is very early developed—first in the family—and afterwards at the school. By speculation, I mean the purchasing of something which you do not want for use, solely with a view to sell it again at a large profit; but on the sale of which there is a hazard.

When purchases of this sort are made with the person's own cash, they are not so unreasonable, but when they are made by one who is deeply indebted to his fellow beings, or with money borrowed for the purpose, it is not a whit better than gambling, let the practice be defended by whom it may: and has been in every country, especially in this, a fruitful source of poverty, misery, and suicide. Grant that this species of gambling has arisen from the facility of obtaining the fictitious means of making the purchase, still it is not the less necessary that I beseech you not to practise it, and if engaged in it already, to disentangle yourself as soon as you can. Your life, while thus engaged, is that of a gamester—call it by what smoother name you may. It is a life of constant anxiety, desire to overreach, and general gloom; enlivened now and then, by a gleam of hope or of success. Even that success is sure to lead to farther adventures; till at last, a thousand to one, that your fate is that of 'the pitcher to the well.'

The great temptation to this, as well as to every other species of gambling, is, the success of the few. As young men, who crowd to the army in search of rank and renown, never look into the ditch that holds their slaughtered companions, but have their eye constantly fixed on the commander-in-chief; and as each of them belongs to the same profession, and is sure to be conscious that he has equal merit, every one dreams himself the suitable successor of him who is surrounded with aides-de-camp, and who moves battalions and columns by his nod;—so with the rising generation of 'speculators.' They see those whom they suppose nature and good laws made to black shoes, or sweep chimneys or streets, rolling in carriages, or sitting in palaces, surrounded by servants or slaves; and they can see no earthly reason why they should not all do the same. They forget the thousands, and tens of thousands, who in making the attempt, have reduced themselves to beggary.

SECTION XVII. On Lawsuits.

In every situation in life, avoid the law. Man's nature must be changed, perhaps, before lawsuits will entirely cease; and yet it is in the power of most men to avoid them, in a considerable degree.

One excellent rule is, to have as little as possible to do with those who are fond of litigation; and who, upon every slight occasion, talk of an appeal to the law. This may be called a disease; and, like many other diseases, it is contagious. Besides, these persons, from their frequent litigations, contract a habit of using the technical terms of the courts, in which they take a pride, and are therefore, as companions, peculiarly disgusting to men of sense. To such beings a lawsuit is a luxury, instead of being regarded as a source of anxiety, and a real scourge. Such men are always of a quarrelsome disposition, and avail themselves of every opportunity to indulge in that which is mischievous to their neighbors.

In thousands of instances, men go to law for the indulgence of mere anger. The Germans are said to bring spite-actions against one another, and to harass their poorer neighbors from motives of pure revenge. But I hope this is a mistake; for I am unwilling to think so ill of that intelligent nation.

Before you decide to go to law, consider well the cost, for if you win your suit and are poorer than you were before, what do you gain by it? You only imbibe a little additional anger against your opponent; you injure him, but at the same time, injure yourself more. Better to put up with the loss of one dollar than of two; to which is to be added, all the loss of time, all the trouble, and all the mortification and anxiety attending a lawsuit. To set an attorney at work to worry and torment another man, and alarm his family as well as himself, while you are sitting quietly at home, is baseness. If a man owe you money which he cannot pay, why add to his distress, without even the chance of benefiting yourself? Thousands have injured themselves by resorting to the law, while very few, indeed, ever bettered their condition by it.

Nearly a million of dollars was once expended in England, during the progress of a single lawsuit. Those who brought the suit expended $444,000 to carry it through; and the opposite party was acquitted, and only sentenced to pay the cost of prosecution, amounting to $318,754. Another was sustained in court fifty years, at an enormous expense. In Meadville, in Pennsylvania, a petty law case occurred in which the damages recovered were only ten dollars, while the costs of court were one hundred. In one of the New England States, a lawsuit occurred, which could not have cost the parties less than $1,000 each; and yet after all this expense, they mutually agreed to take the matter out of court, and suffer it to end where it was. Probably it was the wisest course they could possibly have taken. It is also stated that a quarrel occurred between two persons in Middlebury, Vermont, a few years since, about six eggs, which was carried from one court to another, till it cost the parties $4,000.

I am well acquainted with a gentleman who was once engaged in a lawsuit, (than which none perhaps, was ever more just) where his claim was one to two thousand dollars; but it fell into such a train that a final decision could not have been expected in many months;—perhaps not in years. The gentleman was unwilling to be detained and perplexed with waiting for a trial, and he accordingly paid the whole amount of costs to that time, amounting to $150, went about his business, and believes, to this hour, that it was the wisest course he could have pursued.

A spirit of litigation often disturbs the peace of a whole neighborhood, perpetually, for several generations; and the hostile feeling thus engendered seems to be transmitted, like the color of the eyes or the hair, from father to son. Indeed it not unfrequently happens, that a lawsuit in a neighborhood, a society, or even a church, awakens feelings of discord, which never terminate, but at the death of the parties concerned.

How ought young men, then, to avoid, as they would a pestilence, this fiend-like spirit! How ought they to labor to settle all disputes—should disputes unfortunately arise,—without this tremendous resort! On the strength of much observation,—not experience, for I have been saved the pain of learning in that painful school, on this subject,—I do not hesitate to recommend the settlement of such difficulties by arbitration.

One thing however should be remembered. Would you dry up the river of discord, you must first exhaust the fountains and rills which form it. The moment you indulge one impassioned or angry feeling against your fellow being, you have taken a step in the high road which leads to litigation, war and murder. Thus it is, as I have already told you, that 'He that hateth his brother is a murderer.'

I have heard a father—for he hath the name of parent, though he little deserved it—gravely contend that there was no such thing as avoiding quarrels and lawsuits. He thought there was one thing, however, which might prevent them, which was to take the litigious individual and 'tar and feather' him without ceremony. How often is it true that mankind little know 'what manner of spirit they are of;' and to how many of us will this striking reproof of the Saviour apply!

Multitudes of men have been in active business during a long life, and yet avoided every thing in the shape of a lawsuit. 'What man has done, man may do;' in this respect, at the least.

SECTION XVIII. On Hard Dealing.

Few things are more common among business-doing men, than hard dealing; yet few things reflect more dishonor on a Christian community. It seems, in general, to be regarded as morally right,—in defiance of all rules, whether golden or not,—to get as 'good a bargain' in trade, as possible; and this is defended as unavoidable, on account of the state of society! But what produced this state of society? Was it not the spirit of avarice? What will change it for the better? Nothing but the renunciation of this spirit, and a willingness to sacrifice, in this respect, for the public welfare.

We are pagans in this matter, in spite of our professions. It would be profitable for us to take lessons on this subject from the Mohammedans. They never have, it is said, but one price for an article; and to ask the meanest shopkeeper to lower his price, is to insult him. Would this were the only point, in which the Christian community are destined yet to learn even from Mohammedans.

To ask one price and take another, or to offer one price and give another, besides being a loss of time, is highly dishonorable to the parties. It is, in fact, a species of lying; and it answers no one advantageous purpose, either to the buyer or seller. I hope that every young man will start in life with a resolution never to be hard in his dealings.

'It is an evil which will correct itself;' say those who wish to avail themselves of its present advantages a little longer. But when and where did a general evil correct itself? When or where was an erroneous practice permanently removed, except by a change of public sentiment? And what has ever produced a change in the public sentiment but the determination of individuals, or their combined action?

While on this topic, I will hazard the assertion—even at the risk of its being thought misplaced—that great effects are yet to be produced on public opinion, in this country, by associations of spirited and intelligent young men. I am not now speaking of associations for political purposes, though I am not sure that even these might not be usefully conducted; but of associations for mutual improvement, and for the correction and elevation of the public morals. The "Boston Young Men's Society," afford a specimen of what may be done in this way; and numerous associations of the kind have sprung up and are springing up in various parts of the country. Judiciously managed, they must inevitably do great good;—though it should not be forgotten that they may also be productive of immense evil.



CHAPTER III.

On Amusements and Indulgences.

SECTION I. On Gaming.

Even Voltaire asserts that 'every gambler is, has been, or will be a robber.' Few practices are more ancient, few more general, and few, if any, more pernicious than gaming. An English writer has ingeniously suggested that the Devil himself might have been the first player, and that he contrived the plan of introducing games among men, to afford them temporary amusement, and divert their attention from themselves. 'What numberless disciples,' he adds, 'of his sable majesty, might we not count in our own metropolis!'

Whether his satanic majesty has any very direct agency in this matter or not, one thing is certain;—gaming is opposed to the happiness of mankind, and ought, in every civilized country, to be suppressed by public opinion. By gaming, however, I here refer to those cases only in which property is at stake, to be won or lost. The subject of diversions will be considered in another place.

Gaming is an evil, because, in the first place, it is a practice which produces nothing. He who makes two blades of grass grow where but one grew before, has usually been admitted to be a public benefactor; for he is a producer. So is he who combines or arranges these productions in a useful manner,—I mean the mechanic, manufacturer, &c. He is equally a public benefactor, too, who produces mental or moral wealth, as well as physical. In gaming, it is true, property is shifted from one individual to another, and here and there one probably gains more than he loses; but nothing is actually made, or produced. If the whole human family were all skilful gamesters, and should play constantly for a year, there would not be a dollar more in the world at the end of the year, than there was at its commencement. On the contrary, is it not obvious that there would be much less, besides even an immense loss of time?[9]

But, secondly, gaming favors corruption of manners. It is difficult to trace the progress of the gamester's mind, from the time he commences his downward course, but we know too well the goal at which he is destined to arrive. There may be exceptions, but not many; generally speaking, every gamester, sooner or later travels the road to perdition, and often adds to his own wo, by dragging others along with him.

Thirdly, it discourages industry. He who is accustomed to receive large sums at once, which bear no sort of proportion to the labor by which they are obtained, will gradually come to regard the moderate but constant and certain rewards of industrious exertion as insipid. He is also in danger of falling into the habit of paying an undue regard to hazard or chance, and of becoming devoted to the doctrine of fatality.

As to the few who are skilful enough to gain more, on the whole, than they lose, scarcely one of them pays any regard to prudence or economy in his expenditures. What is thus lightly acquired, is lightly disposed of. Or if, in one instance in a thousand, it happens otherwise, the result is still unfavorable. It is but to make the miser still more a miser, and the covetous only the more so. Man is so constituted as to be unable to bear, with safety, a rapid accumulation of property. To the truth of this, all history attests, whether ancient or modern, sacred or profane.

The famous philosopher Locke, in his 'Thoughts on Education,' thus observes: 'It is certain, gaming leaves no satisfaction behind it to those who reflect when it is over; and it no way profits either body or mind. As to their estates, if it strike so deep as to concern them, it is a trade then, and not a recreation, wherein few thrive; and at best a thriving gamester has but a poor trade of it, who fills his pockets at the price of his reputation.'

In regard to the criminality of the practice, a late writer has the following striking remarks.

'As to gaming, it is always criminal, either in itself or in its tendency. The basis of it is covetousness; a desire to take from others something for which you have neither given, nor intend to give an equivalent. No gambler was ever yet a happy man, and few gamblers have escaped being positively miserable. Remember, too, that to game for nothing is still gaming; and naturally leads to gaming for something. It is sacrificing time, and that, too, for the worst of purposes.

'I have kept house for nearly forty years; I have reared a family; I have entertained as many friends as most people; and I never had cards, dice, a chess board, nor any implement of gaming under my roof. The hours that young men spend in this way, are hours murdered; precious hours that ought to be spent either in reading or in writing; or in rest; preparatory to the duties of the dawn.

'Though I do not agree with those base flatterers who declare the army to be the best school for statesmen, it is certainly a school in which we learn, experimentally, many useful lessons; and in this school I learned that men fond of gaming, are rarely, if ever, trust-worthy. I have known many a decent man rejected in the way of promotion, only because he was addicted to gaming. Men, in that state of life, cannot ruin themselves by gaming, for they possess no fortune, nor money; but the taste for gaming is always regarded as an indication of a radically bad disposition; and I can truly say that I never in my whole life—and it has been a long and eventful one—knew a man fond of gaming, who was not, in some way or other, unworthy of confidence. This vice creeps on by very slow degrees, till, at last, it becomes an ungovernable passion, swallowing up every good and kind feeling of the heart.'

For my own part I know not the names of cards; and could never take interest enough in card-playing to remember them. I have always wondered how sober and intelligent people, who have consciences, and believe the doctrine of accountability to God—how professing Christians even, as is the case in some parts of this country, can sit whole evenings at cards. Why, what notions have they of the value of time? Can they conceive of Him, whose example we are bound to follow, as engaged in this way? The thought should shock us! What a Herculean task Christianity has yet to accomplish!

The excess of this vice has caused even the overthrow of empires. It leads to conspiracies, and creates conspirators. Men overwhelmed with debt, are always ready to obey the orders of any bold chieftain who may attempt a decisive stroke, even against government itself. Catiline had very soon under his command an army of scoundrels. 'Every man,' says Sallust, 'who by his follies or losses at the gaming table had consumed the inheritance of his fathers, and all who were sufferers by such misery, were the friends of this perverse man.'

Perhaps this vice has nowhere been carried to greater excess than in France. There it has its administration, its chief, its stockholders, its officers, and its priests. It has its domestics, its pimps, its spies, its informers, its assassins, its bullies, its aiders, its abettors,—in fact, its scoundrels of every description; particularly its hireling swindlers, who are paid for decoying the unwary into this 'hell upon earth,' so odious to morality, and so destructive to virtue and Christianity.

In England, this vice has at all times been looked upon as one of pernicious consequence to the commonwealth, and has, therefore, long been prohibited. The money lost in this way, is even recoverable again by law. Some of the laws on this subject were enacted as early as the time of Queen Anne, and not a few of the penalties are very severe. Every species of gambling is strictly forbidden in the British army, and occasionally punished with great severity, by order of the commander in chief. These facts show the state of public opinion in that country, in regard to the evil tendency of this practice.

Men of immense wealth have, in some instances, entered gambling houses, and in the short space of an hour have found themselves reduced to absolute beggary. 'Such men often lose not only what their purses or their bankers can supply, but houses, lands, equipage, jewels; in fine, every thing of which they call themselves masters, even to their very clothes; then perhaps a pistol terminates their mortal career.'

Fifteen hours a day are devoted by many infatuated persons in some countries to this unhappy practice. In the middle of the day, while the wife directs with prudence and economy the administration of her husband's house, he abandons himself to become the prey of rapacious midnight and mid-day robbers. The result is, that he contracts debts, is stripped of his property, and his wife and children are sent to the alms-house, whilst he, perhaps, perishes in a prison.

My life has been chiefly spent in a situation where comparatively little of this vice prevails. Yet, I have known one individual who divided his time between hunting and gaming. About four days in the week were regularly devoted to the latter practice. From breakfast to dinner, from dinner to tea, from tea to nine o'clock, this was his regular employment, and was pursued incessantly. The man was about seventy years of age. He did not play for very large sums, it is true; seldom more than five to twenty dollars; and it was his uniform practice to retire precisely at nine o'clock, and without supper.

Generally, however, the night is more especially devoted to this employment. I have occasionally been at public houses, or on board vessels where a company was playing, and have known many hundreds of dollars lost in a single night. In one instance, the most horrid midnight oaths and blasphemy were indulged. Besides, there is an almost direct connection between the gambling table and brothel; and the one is seldom long unaccompanied by the other.

Scarcely less obvious and direct is the connection between this vice and intemperance. If the drunkard is not always a gamester, the gamester is almost without exception intemperate. There is for the most part a union of the three—horrible as the alliance may be—I mean gambling, intemperance, and debauchery.

There is even a species of intoxication attendant on gambling. Rede, in speaking of one form of this vice which prevails in Europe, says; 'It is, in fact, a PROMPT MURDERER; irregular as all other games of hazard—rapid as lightning in its movements—its strokes succeed each other with an activity that redoubles the ardor of the player's blood, and often deprives him of the advantage of reflection. In fact, a man after half an hour's play, who for the whole night may not have taken any thing stronger than water, has all the appearance of drunkenness.' And who has not seen the flushed cheek and the red eye, produced simply by the excitement of an ordinary gaming table?

It is an additional proof of the evil of gaming that every person devoted to it, feels it to be an evil. Why then does he not refrain? Because he has sold himself a slave to the deadly habit, as effectually as the drunkard to his cups.

Burgh, in his Dignity of Human Nature, sums up the evils of this practice in a single paragraph:

'Gaming is an amusement wholly unworthy of rational beings, having neither the pretence of exercising the body, of exerting ingenuity, or of giving any natural pleasure, and owing its entertainment wholly to an unnatural and vitiated taste;—the cause of infinite loss of time, of enormous destruction of money, of irritating the passions, of stirring up avarice, of innumerable sneaking tricks and frauds, of encouraging idleness, of disgusting people against their proper employments, and of sinking and debasing all that is truly great and valuable in the mind.'

Let me warn you, then, my young readers,—nay, more, let me urge you never to enter this dreadful road. Shun it as you would the road to destruction. Take not the first step,—the moment you do, all may be lost. Say not that you can command yourselves, and can stop when you approach the confines of danger. So thousands have thought as sincerely as yourselves—and yet they fell. 'The probabilities that we shall fall where so many have fallen,' says Dr. Dwight, 'are millions to one; and the contrary opinion is only the dream of lunacy.'

When you are inclined to think yourselves safe, consider the multitudes who once felt themselves equally so, have been corrupted, distressed, and ruined by gaming, both for this world, and that which is to come. Think how many families have been plunged by it in beggary, and overwhelmed by it in vice. Think how many persons have become liars at the gaming table; how many perjured; how many drunkards; how many blasphemers; how many suicides. 'If Europe,' said Montesquieu, 'is to be ruined, it will be ruined by gaming.' If the United States are to be ruined, gaming in some of its forms will be a very efficient agent in accomplishing the work.

Some of the most common games practised in this country, are cards, dice, billiards, shooting matches, and last, though not least, lotteries. Horse-racing and cockfighting are still in use in some parts of the United States, though less so than formerly. In addition to the general remarks already made, I now proceed to notice a few of the particular forms of this vice.

1. CARDS, DICE, AND BILLIARDS.

The foregoing remarks will be applicable to each of these three modes of gambling. But in regard to cards, there seems to be something peculiarly enticing. It is on this account that youth are required to be doubly cautious on this point. So bewitching were cards and dice regarded in England, that penalties were laid on those who should be found playing with them, as early as the reign of George II. Card playing, however, still prevails in Europe, and to a considerable extent in the United States. There is a very common impression abroad, that the mere playing at cards is in itself innocent: that the danger consists in the tendency to excess; and against excess most people imagine themselves sufficiently secure. But as 'the best throw at dice, is to throw them away,' so the best move with cards would be, to commit them to the flames.

2. SHOOTING MATCHES.

This is a disgraceful practice, which was formerly in extensive use in these States at particular seasons, especially on the day preceding the annual Thanksgiving. I am sorry to say, that there are places where it prevails, even now. Numbers who have nothing better to do, collect together, near some tavern or grog-shop, for the sole purpose of trying their skill at shooting fowls. Tied to a stake at a short distance, a poor innocent and helpless fowl is set as a mark to furnish sport for idle men and boys.

Could the creature be put out of its misery by the first discharge of the musket, the evil would not appear so great. But this is seldom the case. Several discharges are usually made, and between each, a running, shouting and jumping of the company takes place, not unfrequently mingled with oaths and curses.

The object of this infernal torture being at length despatched, and suspended on the muzzle of the gun as a trophy of victory, a rush is made to the bar or counter, and brandy and rum, accompanied by lewd stories, and perhaps quarrelling and drunkenness, often close the scene.

It rarely fails that a number of children are assembled on such occasions, who listen with high glee to the conversation, whether in the field or at the inn. If it be the grossest profaneness, or the coarsest obscenity, they will sometimes pride themselves in imitating it, thinking it to be manly; and in a like spirit will partake of the glass, and thus commence the drunkard's career.—This practice is conducted somewhat differently in different places, but not essentially so.

It is much to the credit of the citizens of many parts of New England that their good sense will not, any longer, tolerate a practice so brutal, and scarcely exceeded in this respect by the cockfights in other parts of the country. As a substitute for this practice a circle is drawn on a board or post, of a certain size, and he who can hit within the circle, gains the fowl. This is still a species of gaming, but is divested of much of the ferocity and brutality of the former.

3. HORSERACING AND COCKFIGHTING.

It is only in particular sections of the United States that public opinion tolerates these practices extensively. A horserace, in New England, is a very rare occurrence. A cockfight, few among us have ever witnessed. Wherever the cruel disposition to indulge in seeing animals fight together is allowed, it is equally degrading to human nature with that fondness which is manifested in other countries for witnessing a bull fight. It is indeed the same disposition, only existing in a smaller degree in the former case than in the latter.

Montaigne thinks it a reflection upon human nature itself that few people take delight in seeing beasts caress and play together, while almost every one is pleased to see them lacerate and worry one another.

Should your lot be cast in a region where any of these inhuman practices prevail, let it be your constant and firm endeavor, not merely to keep aloof from them yourselves, but to prevail on all those over whom God may have given you influence, to avoid them likewise. To enable you to face the public opinion when a point of importance is at stake, it will be useful to consult carefully the first chapter of this work.

I am sorry to have it in my power to state that in the year 1833 there was a bull fight four miles southward of Philadelphia. It was attended by about 1500 persons; mostly of the very lowest classes from the city. It was marked by many of the same evils which attend these cruel sports in other countries, and by the same reckless disregard of mercy towards the poor brutes who suffered in the conflict. It is to be hoped, however, for the honor of human nature, that the good sense of the community will not permit this detestable custom to prevail.

[9] Every man who enjoys the privileges of civilized society, owes it to that society to earn as much as he can; or, in other words, improve every minute of his time. He who loses an hour, or a minute, is the price of that hour debtor to the community. Moreover, it is a debt which he can never repay.

SECTION II. On Lotteries.

Lotteries are a species of gambling; differing from other kinds only in being tolerated either by the law of the land, or by that of public opinion. The proofs of this assertion are innumerable. Not only young men, but even married women have, in some instances, become so addicted to ticket buying, as to ruin themselves and their families.

From the fact that efforts have lately been made in several of the most influential States in the Union to suppress them, it might seem unnecessary, at first view, to mention this subject. But although the letter of the law may oppose them, there is a portion of our citizens who will continue to buy tickets clandestinely; and consequently somebody will continue to sell them in the same manner. Penalties will not suppress them at once. It will be many years before the evil can be wholly eradicated. The flood does not cease at the moment when the windows of heaven are closed, but continues, for some time, its ravages. It is necessary, therefore, that the young should guard themselves against the temptations which they hold out.

It may be said that important works, such as monuments, and churches, have been completed by means of lotteries. I know it is so. But the profits which arise from the sale of tickets are a tax upon the community, and generally upon the poorer classes: or rather they are a species of swindling. That good is sometimes done with these ill-gotten gains, is admitted; but money procured in any other unlawful, immoral, or criminal way, could be applied to build bridges, roads, churches, &c. Would the advantages thus secured, however, justify an unlawful means of securing them? Does the end sanctify the means?

It is said, too, that individuals, as well as associations, have been, in a few instances, greatly aided by prizes in lotteries. Some bankrupts have paid their debts, like honest men, with them. This they might do with stolen money. But cases of even this kind, are rare. The far greater part of the money drawn in the form of prizes in lotteries, only makes its possessor more avaricious, covetous, or oppressive than before. Money obtained in this manner commonly ruins mind, body, or estate; sometimes all three.

Lottery schemes have been issued in the single State of New York, in twelve years, to the amount of $37,000,000. If other States have engaged in the business, in the same proportion to their population, the sum of all the schemes issued in the United States within that time has been $240,000,000. A sum sufficient to maintain in comfort, if not affluence, the entire population of some of the smaller States for more than thirty years.

Now what has been gained by all this? It is indeed true, that the discount on this sum, amounting to $36,000,000, has been expended in paying a set of men for one species of labor. If we suppose their average salary to have been $500, no less than 6,000 clerks, managers, &c., may have obtained by this means, a support during the last twelve years. But what have the 6,000 men produced all this while? Has not their whole time been spent in receiving small sums (from five to fifty dollars) from individuals, putting them together, as it were, in a heap, and afterwards distributing a part of it in sums, with a few exceptions, equally small?—Have they added one dollar, or even one cent to the original stock? I have already admitted, that he who makes two blades of grass grow where only one grew before, is a benefactor to his country; but these men have not done so much as that.

A few draw prizes, it has been admitted. Some of that few make a good use of them. But the vast majority are injured. They either become less active and industrious, or more parsimonious and miserly; and not a few become prodigals or bankrupts at once. In any of these events, they are of course unfitted for the essential purposes of human existence. It is not given to humanity to bear a sudden acquisition of wealth. The best of men are endangered by it. As in knowledge, so in the present case, what is gained by hard digging is usually retained; and what is gained easily usually goes quickly. There is this difference, however, that the moral character is usually lost with the one, but not always with the other.

These are a part of the evils connected with lotteries. To compute their sum total would be impossible. The immense waste of money and time (and time is money) by those persons who are in the habit of buying tickets, to say nothing of the cigars smoked, the spirits, wine, and ale drank, the suppers eaten, and the money lost at cards, while lounging about lottery offices, although even this constitutes but a part of the waste, is absolutely incalculable. The suffering of wives, and children, and parents, and brothers, and sisters, together with that loss of health, and temper, and reputation, which is either directly or indirectly connected, would swell the sum to an amount sufficient to alarm every one, who intends to be an honest, industrious, and respectable citizen.

It is yours, my young friends, to put a stop to this tremendous evil. It is your duty, and it should be your pleasure, to give that tone to the public sentiment, without which, in governments like this, written laws are powerless.

Do not say that the influence of one person cannot effect much. Remember that the power of example is almost omnipotent. In debating whether you may not venture to buy one more ticket, remember that if you do so, you adopt a course which, if taken by every other individual in the United States (and who out of thirteen millions has not the same right as yourself?) would give abundant support to the whole lottery system, with all its horrors. And could you in that case remain guiltless? Can the fountains of such a sickly stream be pure? You would not surely condemn the waters of a mighty river while you were one of a company engaged in filling the springs and rills that unite to form it. Remember that just in proportion as you contribute, by your example, to discourage this species of gambling, just in the same proportion will you contribute to stay the progress of a tremendous scourge, and to enforce the execution of good and salutary laws.

With this pernicious practice, I have always been decidedly at war. I believe the system to be wholly wrong, and that those who countenance it, in any way whatever, are wholly inexcusable.

SECTION III. On Theatres.

Much is said by the friends of theatres about what they might be; and not a few persons indulge the hope that the theatre may yet be made a school of morality. But my business at present is with it as it is, and as it has hitherto been. The reader will be more benefited by existing facts than sanguine anticipations, or visionary predictions.

A German medical writer calculates that one in 150 of those who frequently attend theatres become diseased and die, from the impurity of the atmosphere. The reason is, that respiration contaminates the air; and where large assemblies are collected in close rooms, the air is corrupted much more rapidly than many are aware. Lavoisier, the French chemist, states, that in a theatre, from the commencement to the end of the play, the oxygen or vital air is diminished in the proportion of from 27 to 21, or nearly one fourth; and consequently is in the same proportion less fit for respiration, than it was before. This is probably the general truth; but the number of persons present, and the amount of space, must determine, in a great measure, the rapidity with which the air is corrupted. The pit is the most unhealthy part of a play-house, because the carbonic acid which is formed by respiration is heavier than atmospheric air, and accumulates near the floor.

It is painful to look round on a gay audience of 1500 persons, and consider that ten of this number will die in consequence of breathing the bad air of the room so frequently, and so long. But I believe this estimate is quite within bounds.

There are however other results to be dreaded. The practice of going out of a heated, as well as an impure atmosphere late in the evening, and often without sufficient clothing, exposes the individual to cold, rheumatism, pleurisy, and fever. Many a young lady,—and, I fear, not a few young gentlemen,—get the consumption by taking colds in this manner.

Not only the health of the body, but the mind and morals, too, are often injured. Dr. Griscom, of New York, in a report on the causes of vice and crime in that city, made a few years since, says; 'Among the causes of vicious excitement in our city, none appear to be so powerful in their nature as theatrical amusements. The number of boys and young men who have become determined thieves, in order to procure the means of introduction to the theatres and circuses, would appal the feelings of every virtuous mind, could the whole truth be laid open before them.

'In the case of the feebler sex, the result is still worse. A relish for the amusements of the theatre, without the means of indulgence, becomes too often a motive for listening to the first suggestion of the seducer, and thus prepares the unfortunate captive of sensuality for the haunts of infamy, and a total destitution of all that is valuable in the mind and character of woman.'

The following fact is worthy of being considered by the friends and patrons of theatres. During the progress of one of the most ferocious revolutions which ever shocked the face of heaven, theatres, in Paris alone, multiplied from six to twenty-five. Now one of two conclusions follow from this: Either the spirit of the times produced the institutions, or the institutions cherished the spirit of the times; and this will certainly prove that they are either the parents of vice or the offspring of it.

The philosopher Plato assures us, that 'plays raise the passions, and prevent the use of them; and of course are dangerous to morality.'

'The seeing of Comedies,' says Aristotle, 'ought to be forbidden to young people, till age and discipline have made them proof against debauchery.'

Tacitus says, 'The German women were guarded against danger, and preserved their purity by having no play-houses among them.'

Even Ovid represents theatrical amusements as a grand source of corruption, and he advised Augustus to suppress them.

The infidel philosopher Rousseau, declared himself to be of opinion, that the theatre is, in all cases, a school of vice. Though he had himself written for the stage, yet, when it was proposed to establish a theatre in the city of Geneva, he wrote against the project with zeal and great force, and expressed the opinion that every friend of pure morals ought to oppose it.

Sir John Hawkins, in his life of Johnson, observes:—'Although it is said of plays that they teach morality, and of the stage that it is the mirror of human life, these assertions are mere declamation, and have no foundation in truth or experience. On the contrary, a play-house, and the regions about it, are the very hot-beds of vice.'

Archbishop Tillotson, after some pointed and forcible reasoning against it, pronounces the play-house to be 'the devil's chapel,' 'a nursery of licentiousness and vice,' and 'a recreation which ought not to be allowed among a civilized, much less a Christian people.'

Bishop Collier solemnly declared, that he was persuaded that 'nothing had done more to debauch the age in which he lived, than the stage poets and the play-house.'

Sir Matthew Hale, having in early life experienced the pernicious effects of attending the theatre, resolved, when he came to London, never to see a play again, and to this resolution he adhered through life.

Burgh says; 'What does it avail that the piece itself be unexceptionable, if it is to be interlarded with lewd songs or dances, and tagged at the conclusion with a ludicrous and beastly farce? I cannot therefore, in conscience, give youth any other advice than to avoid such diversions as cannot be indulged without the utmost danger of perverting their taste, and corrupting their morals.'

Dr. Johnson's testimony on this subject is nearly as pointed as that of Archbishop Tillotson; and Lord Kaimes speaks with much emphasis of the 'poisonous influence,' of theatres.

Their evil tendency is seldom better illustrated than by the following anecdote, from an individual in New York, on whose statements we may place the fullest reliance.

'F. B. a young man of about twenty-two, called on the writer in the fall of 1831 for employment. He was a journeyman printer; was recently from Kentucky; and owing to his want of employment, as he said, was entirely destitute, not only of the comforts, but the necessaries of life. I immediately procured him a respectable boarding house, gave him employment, and rendered his situation as comfortable as my limited means would permit.

'He had not been with me long, before he expressed a desire to go to the theatre. Some great actor was to perform on a certain night, and he was very anxious to see him. I warned him of the consequences, and told him, my own experience and observation had convinced me that it was a very dangerous place for young men to visit. But my warning did no good. He neglected his business, and went. I reproved him gently, but retained him in my employment. He continued to go, notwithstanding all my remonstrances to the contrary. At length my business suffered so much from his neglecting to attend to it as he ought, that I was under the necessity of discharging him in self-defence. He got temporary employment in different offices of the city, where the same fault was found with him. Immediately after, he accepted a situation of bar-keeper in a porter house or tavern attached to the theatre. His situation he did not hold long—from what cause, I know not.

'He again applied to me for work; but as his habits were not reformed, I did not think it prudent to employ him, although I said or did nothing to injure him in the estimation of others. Disappointed in procuring employment in a business to which he had served a regular apprenticeship, being pennyless, and seeing no bright prospect for the future, he enlisted as a common soldier in the United States' service.

'He had not been in his new vocation long, before he was called upon, with other troops, to defend our citizens from the attacks of the Indians. But when the troops had nearly reached their place of destination, that 'invisible scourge,' the cholera, made its appearance among them. Desertion was the consequence, and among others who fled, was the subject of this article.

'He returned to New York—made application at several different offices for employment, without success. In a few days news came that he had been detected in pilfering goods from the house of his landlord. A warrant was immediately issued for him—he was seized, taken to the police office—convicted, and sentenced to six months' hard labor in the penitentiary. His name being published in the newspapers, in connection with those of other convicts—was immediately recognised by the officer under whom he had enlisted.—This officer proceeds to the city—claims the prisoner—and it is at length agreed that he shall return to the United States' service, where he shall, for the first six months, be compelled to roll sand as a punishment for desertion, serve out the five years for which he had enlisted, and then be given up to the city authorities, to suffer for the crime of pilfering.

'It is thus that we see a young man, of good natural abilities, scarcely twenty-three years of age, compelled to lose six of the most valuable years of his life, besides ruining a fair reputation, and bringing disgrace upon his parents and friends, from the apparently harmless desire of seeing dramatic performances. Ought not this to be a warning to others, who are travelling on, imperceptibly in the same road to ruin?'

* * * * *

Theatres are of ancient date. One built of wood, in the time of Cicero and Caesar, would contain 80,000 persons. The first stone theatre in Rome, was built by Pompey, and would contain 40,000. There are one or two in Europe, at the present time, that will accommodate 4,000 or 5,000.

In England, until 1660, public opinion did not permit females to perform in theatres, but the parts were performed by boys.

If theatres have a reforming tendency, this result might have been expected in France, where they have so long been popular and flourishing. In 1807, there were in France 166 theatres, and 3968 performers. In 1832 there were in Paris alone 17, which could accommodate 21,000 persons. But we do not find that they reformed the Parisians; and it is reasonable to expect they never will.

Let young men remember, that in this, as well as in many other things, there is only one point of security, viz. total abstinence.

SECTION IV. Use of Tobacco.

1. SMOKING.

Smoking has every where, in Europe and America, become a tremendous evil; and if we except Holland and Germany, nowhere more so than in this country. Indeed we are already fast treading in the steps of those countries, and the following vivid description of the miseries which this filthy practice entails on the Germans will soon be quite applicable to the people of the United States, unless we can induce the rising generation to turn the current of public opinion against it.

'This plague, like the Egyptian plague of frogs, is felt every where, and in every thing. It poisons the streets, the clubs, and the coffee-houses;—furniture, clothes, equipage, persons, are redolent of the abomination. It makes even the dulness of the newspapers doubly narcotic: every eatable and drinkable, all that can be seen, felt, heard or understood, is saturated with tobacco;—the very air we breathe is but a conveyance for this poison into the lungs; and every man, woman, and child, rapidly acquires the complexion of a boiled chicken. From the hour of their waking, if nine-tenths of their population can be said to awake at all, to the hour of their lying down, the pipe is never out of their mouths. One mighty fumigation reigns, and human nature is smoked dry by tens of thousands of square miles. The German physiologists compute, that of 20 deaths, between eighteen and thirty-five years, 10 originate in the waste of the constitution by smoking.'

This is indeed a horrid picture; but when it is considered that the best estimates which can be made concur in showing that tobacco, to the amount of $16,000,000, is consumed in the United States annually, and that by far the greater part of this is in smoking cigars, there is certainly room for gloomy apprehensions. What though we do not use the dirty pipe of the Dutch and Germans? If we only use the tobacco, the mischief is effectually accomplished. Perhaps it were even better that we should lay out a part of our money for pipes, than to spend the whole for tobacco.

Smoking is indecent, filthy, and rude, and to many individuals highly offensive. When first introduced into Europe, in the 16th century, its use was prohibited under very severe penalties, which in some countries amounted even to cutting off the nose. And how much better is the practice of voluntarily burning up our noses, by making a chimney of them? I am happy, however, in being able to state, that this unpardonable practice is now abandoned in many of the fashionable societies in Europe.

There is one remarkable fact to be observed in speaking on this subject. No parent ever teaches his child the use of tobacco, or even encourages it, except by his example. Thus the smoker virtually condemns himself in the very 'thing which he alloweth.' It is not precisely so in the case of spirits; for many parents directly encourage the use of that.

Tobacco is one of the most powerful poisons in nature. Even the physician, some of whose medicines are so active that a few grains, or a few drops, will destroy life at once, finds tobacco too powerful for his use; and in those cases where it is most clearly required, only makes it a last resort. Its daily use, in any form, deranges, and sometimes destroys the stomach and nerves, produces weakness, low spirits, dyspepsy, vertigo, and many other complaints. These are its more immediate effects.

Its remoter effects are scarcely less dreadful. It dries the mouth and nostrils, and probably the brain; benumbs the senses of smell and taste, impairs the hearing, and ultimately the eye-sight. Germany, a smoking nation, is at the same time, a spectacled nation. More than all this; it dries the blood; creates thirst and loss of appetite; and in this and other ways, often lays the foundation of intemperance. In fact, not a few persons are made drunkards by this very means. Dr. Rush has a long chapter on this subject in one of his volumes, which is well worth your attention. In addition to all this, it has often been observed that in fevers and other diseases, medicines never operate well in constitutions which have been accustomed to the use of tobacco.

Of the expense which the use of it involves, I have already spoken. Of the $16,000,000 thus expended, $9,000,000 are supposed to be for smoking Spanish cigars; $6,500,000 for smoking American tobacco, and for chewing it; and $500,000 for snuff.

Although many people of real intelligence become addicted to this practice, as is the case especially among the learned in Germany, yet it cannot be denied that in general, those individuals and nations whose mental powers are the weakest, are (in proportion to their means of acquiring it) most enslaved to it. To be convinced of the truth of this remark, we have only to open our eyes to facts as they exist around us.

All ignorant and savage nations indulge in extraordinary stimulants, (and tobacco among the rest,) whenever they have the means of obtaining them; and in proportion to their degradation. Thus it is with the native tribes of North America; thus with the natives of Africa, Asia, and New Holland; thus with the Cretins and Gypsies. Zimmerman says, that the latter 'suspended their predatory excursions, and on an appointed evening in every week, assemble to enjoy their guilty spoils in the fumes of strong waters and tobacco.' Here they are represented as indulging in idle tales about the character and conduct of those around them; a statement which can very easily be believed by those who have watched the effects produced by the fumes of stimulating beverages much more 'respectable' than spirits or tobacco smoke.

The quantity which is used in civilized nations is almost incredibly great. England alone imported, in 1829, 22,400,000 lbs. of unmanufactured tobacco. There is no narcotic plant—not even the tea plant—in such extensive use, unless it is the betel of India and the adjoining countries. This is the leaf of a climbing plant resembling ivy, but of the pepper tribe. The people of the east chew it so incessantly, and in such quantities, that their lips become quite red, and their teeth black—showing that it has affected their whole systems. They carry it about them in boxes, and offer it to each other in compliment, as the Europeans do snuff; and it is considered uncivil and unkind to refuse to accept and chew it. This is done by the women as well as by the men. Were we disposed, we might draw from this fact many important lessons on our own favored stimulants.

In view of the great and growing evil of smoking, the practical question arises; 'What shall be done?' The answer is—Render it unfashionable and disreputable. Do you ask, 'How is this to be accomplished?' Why, how has alcohol been rendered unpopular? Do you still say, 'One person alone cannot effect much?' But so might any person have said a few years ago, in regard to spirits. Individuals must commence the work of reformation in the one case, as well as in the other; and success will then be equally certain.

2. CHEWING.

Many of the remarks already made apply with as much force to the use of tobacco in every form, as to the mere habit of smoking. But I have a few additional thoughts on chewing this plant.

There are never wanting excuses for any thing which we feel strongly inclined to do. Thus a thousand little frivolous pleas are used for chewing tobacco. One man of reputed good sense told me that his tobacco probably cost him nothing, for if he did not use it, he 'should be apt to spend as much worth of time in picking and eating summer fruits, as would pay for it.' Now I do not like the practice of eating even summer fruits between meals; but they are made to be eaten moderately, no doubt; and if people will not eat them with their food, it is generally a less evil to eat them between meals, than not at all. But the truth is, tobacco chewers never relish these things at any time.

The only plea for chewing this noxious plant, which is entitled to a serious consideration is, that it tends to preserve the teeth. This is the strong hold of tobacco chewers—not, generally, when they commence the practice, but as soon as they find themselves slaves to it.

Now the truth appears to be this:

1. 'When a tooth is decayed in such a manner as to leave the nerve exposed, there is no doubt that the powerful stimulus of tobacco must greatly diminish its sensibility. But there are very many other substances, less poisonous, whose occasional application would accomplish the same result, and without deadening, at the same time, the sensibilities of the whole system, as tobacco does.

2. The person who chews tobacco, generally puts a piece in his mouth immediately after eating. This is immediately moved from place to place, and not only performs, in some measure, the offices of a brush and toothpick, but produces a sudden flow of saliva; and in consequence of both of these causes combined, the teeth are effectually cleansed; and cleanliness is undoubtedly one of the most effectual preventives of decay in teeth yet known. Yet there are far better means of cleansing the mouth and teeth after eating than by means of tobacco.

If there be any other known reasons why tobacco should preserve teeth, I am ignorant of them. There are then no arguments of any weight for using it; while there are a multitude of very strong reasons against it. I might add them, in this place, but it appears to me unnecessary.

3. TAKING SNUFF.

I have seen many individuals who would not, on any account whatever, use spirits, or chew tobacco; but who would not hesitate to dry up their nasal membranes, injure their speech, induce catarrhal affections, and besmear their face, clothes, books, &c. with snuff. This, however common, appears to me ridiculous. Almost all the serious evils which result from smoking and chewing, follow the practice of snuffing powdered tobacco into the nose. Even Chesterfield opposes it, when after characterizing all use of tobacco or snuff, in any form, as both vulgar and filthy, he adds: 'Besides, snuff-takers are generally very dull and shallow people, and have recourse to it merely as a fillip to the brain; by all means, therefore, avoid the filthy custom.' This censure, though rather severe, is equally applicable to smoking and chewing.

Naturalists say there is one species of maggot fly that mistakes the odor of some kinds of snuff for that of putrid substances, and deposits its eggs in it. In warm weather therefore, it must be dangerous to take snuff which has been exposed to these insects; for the eggs sometimes hatch in two hours, and the most tremendous consequences might follow. And it is not impossible that some of the most painful diseases to which the human race are liable, may have been occasionally produced by this or a similar cause. The 'tic douloureux' is an example.

A very common disease in sheep is known to be produced by worms in cavities which communicate with the nose. Only a little acquaintance with the human structure would show that there are a number of cavities in the bones of the face and head, some of which will hold half an ounce each, which communicate with the nose, and into which substances received into this organ occasionally fall, but cannot escape as easily as they enter.

SECTION V. Useful Recreations.

The young, I shall be told, must and will have their recreations; and if they are to be denied every species of gaming, what shall they do? 'You would not, surely, have them spend their leisure hours in gratifying the senses; in eating, drinking, and licentiousness.'

By no means. Recreations they must have; active recreation, too, in the open air. Some of the most appropriate are playing ball, quoits, ninepins, and other athletic exercises; but in no case for money, or any similar consideration. Skating is a good exercise in its proper season, if followed with great caution. Dancing, for those who sit much, such as pupils in school, tailors and shoemakers, would be an appropriate exercise, if it were not perpetually abused. By assembling in large crowds, continuing it late at evening, and then sallying out in a perspiration, into the cold or damp night air, a thousand times more mischief has been done, than all the benefit which it has afforded would balance. It were greatly to be wished that this exercise might be regulated by those rules which human experience has indicated, instead of being subject to the whim and caprice of fashion. It is a great pity an exercise so valuable to the sedentary, and especially those who sit much, of both sexes, should be so managed as to injure half the world, and excite against it the prejudices of the other half.

I have said that the young must have recreations, and generally in the open air. The reason why they should usually be conducted in the open air, is, that their ordinary occupations too frequently confine them within doors, and of course in an atmosphere more or less vitiated. Farmers, gardeners, rope makers, and persons whose occupations are of an active nature, do not need out-of-door sports at all. Their recreations should be by the fire side. Not with cards or dice, nor in the company of those whose company is not worth having. But the book, the newspaper, conversation, or the lyceum, will be the appropriate recreations for these classes, and will be found in the highest degree satisfactory. For the evening, the lyceum is particularly adapted, because laboring young men are often too much fatigued at night, to think, closely; and the lyceum, or conversation, will be more agreeable, and not less useful. But the family circle may of itself constitute a lyceum, and the book or the newspaper may be made the subject of discussion. I have known the heads of families in one neighborhood greatly improved, and the whole neighborhood derive an impulse, from the practice of meeting one evening in the week, to read the news together, and converse on the more interesting intelligence of the day.

Some strongly recommend 'the sports of the field,' and talk with enthusiasm of 'hunting, coursing, fishing;' and of 'dogs and horses.' But these are no recreations for me. True they are healthy to the body; but not to the morals. This I say confidently, although some of my readers may smile, and call it an affectation of sensibility. Yet with Cowper,

'I would not enter on my list of friends The man who needlessly sets foot upon a worm.'

If the leading objects of field sports were to procure sustenance, I would not say a word. But the very term sports, implies something different. And shall we sport with life—even that of the inferior animals? That which we cannot give, shall we presumptuously dare to take away, and as our only apology say, 'Am I not in sport?'

Besides, other amusements equally healthy, and if we are accustomed to them, equally pleasant, and much more rational, can be substituted. What they are, I have mentioned, at least in part. How a sensible man, and especially a Christian, can hunt or fish, when he would not do it, were it not for the pleasure he enjoys in the cruelty it involves;—how, above all, a wise father can recommend it to his children, or to others, I am utterly unable to conceive!



CHAPTER IV.

Improvement of the Mind.

SECTION I. Habit of Observation.

'Your eyes open, your thoughts close, will go safe through the world,' is a maxim which some have laid down; but it savors rather too much of selfishness. 'You may learn from others all you can, but you are to give them as little opportunity as possible for learning from you,' seems to be the language, properly interpreted. Suppose every one took the advice, and endeavored to keep his thoughts close, for fear he should either be misunderstood, or thought wanting in wisdom; what would become of the pleasures of conversation? Yet these make up a very considerable item of the happiness of human life.

I have sometimes thought with Dr. Rush, that taciturnity, though often regarded as a mark of wisdom, is rather the effect of a 'want of ideas.' The doctor mentions the taciturnity of the American Indians as a case in point. Even in civilized company, he believes that with one or two exceptions, an indisposition to join in conversation 'in nine cases out of ten, is a mark of stupidity,' and presently adds; 'Ideas, whether acquired from books or by reflection, produce a plethora in the mind, which can only be relieved by depletion from the pen or tongue.'

'Keep your eyes open,' however, is judicious advice. How many who have the eyes of their body open, keep the eyes of the soul perpetually shut up. 'Seeing, they see not.' Such persons, on arriving at the age of three or four score, may lay claim to superior wisdom on account of superior age, but their claims ought not to be admitted. A person who has the eyes both of his mind and body open, will derive more wisdom from one year's experience, than those who neglect to observe for themselves, from ten. Thus at thirty, with ten years acquaintance with men, manners and things, a person may be wiser than another at three times thirty, with seven times ten years of what he calls experience. Sound practical wisdom, cannot, it is true, be rapidly acquired any where but in the school of experience, but the world abounds with men who are old enough to be wise, and yet are very ignorant. Let it be your fixed resolution not to belong to this class.

But in order to have the mental eyes open, the external eyes should be active. We should, as a general rule, see what is going on around us. There are indeed seasons, occurring in the school or the closet, when abstraction is desirable; but speaking generally, we should 'keep our eyes open.'

It is hence easy to see why some men who are accounted learned, are yet in common life very great fools. Is it not because their eyes have been shut to every thing but books, and schools, and colleges, and universities?

The late Dr. Dwight was an eminent instance of keeping up an acquaintance both with books, and the world in which he lived and acted. In his walks, or wherever he happened to be, nothing could escape his eye. 'Not a bird could fly up,' says one of his students, 'but he observed it.' And he endeavored to establish the same habit of observation in others. Riding in a chaise, one day, with a student of his, who was apt to be abstracted from surrounding things, he suddenly exclaimed, almost indignant at his indifference, 'S—— keep your eyes open!' The lesson was not lost. It made a deep impression on the mind of the student. Though by no means distinguished in his class, he has outstripped many, if not the most of them, in actual and practical usefulness; and to this hour, he attributes much of his success to the foregoing circumstance.

There is a pedantry in these things, however, which is not only fulsome, but tends to defeat our very purpose. It is not quite sufficient that we merely bestow a passing glance on objects, they must strike deep. If they do not, they had better not have been seen at all; since the habit of 'seeing not,' while we appear to 'see,' has been all the while strengthening.

It cannot be denied that a person who shall take the advice I have given, may, with a portion of his fellow men, gain less credit than if he adopted a different course. There is a certain surgeon, in one of the New England States, who has acquired much popularity by reading as he travels along. Seldom or never, say his admirers, is he seen in his carriage without a book in his hand, or at his side. But such popularity is usually of a mushroom character. There may be pressing occasions which render it the duty of a surgeon to consult his books, while in his carriage; but these occasions can never be of frequent occurrence. It is far better that he should be reading lessons from the great and open volume of nature.

Nor does it add, in any degree, to the just respect due to the wisdom of either of the Plinys, that the elder 'never travelled without a book and a portable writing desk by his side,' and that the younger read upon all occasions, whether riding, walking, or sitting.' I cannot doubt that, wise as they were in books and philosophy, they would have secured a much greater fund of practical wisdom, had they left their books and writing desks at home, and 'kept their eyes open' to surrounding objects.

There is another thing mentioned of Pliny the elder, which is equally objectionable. It is said that a person read to him during his meals. I have given my views on this point in Chapter I.

SECTION II. Rules for Conversation.

The bee has the art of extracting honey from every flower which contains it, even from some which are not a little nauseous or poisonous. It has also been said that the conversation of every individual, whatever may be the condition of his mind or circumstances, may be made a means of improvement. How happy would it be, then, if man possessed the skill of the bee, and knew how to extract the good, and reject the bad or useless!

Something on this subject is, indeed, known. There are rules, by the observance of which we may derive much valuable information from the conversation of those among whom we live, even though it should relate to the most ordinary subjects and concerns. And not only so, we may often devise means to change the conversation, either directly, by gradually introducing other topics of discourse, or indirectly, by patient attempts to enlarge and improve and elevate the minds of our associates.

Every individual has excellences; and almost every person, however ignorant, has thought upon some one subject more than many,—perhaps most—others. Some excel in the knowledge of husbandry, some in gardening, some in mechanics, or manufactures, some in mathematics, and so on. In all your conversation, then, it will be well to ascertain as nearly as you can wherein the skill and excellence of an individual lies, and put him upon his favorite subject. Nor is this difficult. Every one will, of his own accord, fall to talking on his favorite topic, if you will follow, and not attempt to lead him.

Except in a few rare cases, every one wishes to be the hero of the circle where he is conversing. If, therefore, you seek to improve in the greatest possible degree, from the conversation of those among whom you may be thrown, you will suffer a companion to take his own course, and 'out of the abundance of his heart,' let his 'mouth speak.' By this means you may easily collect the worth and excellence of every one you meet with; and be able to put it together for your own use upon future occasions.

The common objections to the views here presented, are, that they encourage dissimulation. But this does not appear to me to be the fact. In suffering a person, for the space of a single conversation, to be the hero of the circle, we do not of necessity concede his superiority generally; we only help him to be useful to the company. It often happens that you are thrown among persons whom you cannot benefit by becoming the hero of the circle yourself, for they will not listen to you; and perhaps will not understand your terms, if they do. If, however, there appear to be others in the company whose object, like your own, is improvement, you might expose yourself to the just charge of being selfish, should you refuse to converse upon your own favorite topics in your turn; and thus to let the good deed go round.

Never interrupt another, but hear him out. You will understand him the better for it, and be able to give him the better answer. If you only give him an opportunity, he may say something which you have not yet heard, or explain what you did not fully understand, or even mention something which you did not expect.

There are individuals with whom you may occasionally come in contact, from whose conversation you will hardly derive much benefit at all. Such are those who use wanton, or obscene, or profane language. For, besides the almost utter hopelessness of deriving any benefit from such persons, and the pain you must inevitably suffer in hearing them, you put your own reputation at hazard. 'A man is known by the company he keeps;' take care therefore how you frequent the company of the swearer or the sensualist. Avoid, too, the known liar, for similar reasons.

If you speak in company, it is not only modest but wise to speak late; for by this means, you will be able to render your conversation more acceptable, and to weigh beforehand the importance of what you utter; and you will be less likely to violate the good old rule, 'think twice before you speak once.' Let your words be as few as will express the sense which you wish to convey, especially when strangers or men of much greater experience than yourself are present; and above all, be careful that what you say be strictly true.

Do not suffer your feelings to betray you into too great earnestness, or vehemence; and never be overbearing. Avoid triumphing over an antagonist, even though you might reasonably do so. You gain nothing. On the contrary, you often confirm him in his erroneous opinions. At least, you prejudice him against yourself. Zimmerman insists that we should suffer an antagonist to get the victory over us occasionally, in order to raise his respect for himself. All finesse of this kind, however, as Christians, I think it better to avoid.

SECTION III. On Books, and Study.

It may excite some surprise that books, and study, do not occupy a more conspicuous place in this work. There are several reasons for this circumstance. The first is, a wish to counteract the prevailing tendency to make too much of books as a means of forming character. The second is, because the choice of these depends more upon parents and teachers than upon the individual himself; and if they have neglected to lay the foundation of a desire for mental improvement, there is less probability that any advice I may give on this subject will be serviceable, than on most others.

And yet, no young man, at any age, ought to despair of establishing such habits of body and mind as he believes would contribute to his usefulness. He hates the sight of a book perhaps; but what then? This prejudice may, in a measure, be removed. Not at once, it is true, but gradually. Not by compelling himself to read or study against his inclination; for little will be accomplished when it goes 'against the grain.' But there are means better and more effective than these; some of which I will now proceed to point out.

Let him attach himself to some respectable lyceum or debating society. Most young men are willing to attend a lyceum, occasionally; and thanks to the spirit of the times and those who have zealously labored to produce the present state of things, these institutions every where abound. Let him now and then take part in a discussion, if it be, at first, only to say a few words. The moment he can awaken an interest in almost any subject whatever, that moment he will, of necessity, seek for information in regard to it. He will seek it, not only in conversation, but in newspapers. These, if well selected, will in their turn refer him to books of travels. Gradually he will find histories, if not written in too dry a manner, sources of delight. Thus he will proceed, step by step, till he finds himself quite attached to reading of various descriptions.