stranger to the way, and though conscious that "Gay are the flowers without a thorn, Hope weaves her wild enchanting song, That all shall be like this." But notwithstanding the captivating visions of the imagination, and the sweet whisperings of hope, you well know that your way will be beset by many, many dangers. Appearances are often very deceitful. "Poisonous berries frequently look tempting to the appetite—ice, when it sometimes seems sound, if ventured upon, will break, and let him who is daring into the waters—and the wise man says, that 'wine, when it giveth its color in the cup, at the last biteth like a serpent, and stingeth like an adder.""" The rose grows in close proximity to the thorn, and beneath the fairest flowers, sometimes nestle the poisonous reptile and the envenomed scorpion. Permit not, then, the beauty in which your fancy paints the future, to lull you into false security in respect to the dangers which that future conceals, or to the necessity of guarding yourselves against them. It rather becomes your safety and interest, as well as duty, to seek diligently for all the instruction and knowledge which can throw light upon your way, in the intricate and uneven windings of earthly existence. Are additional inducements necessary, to cause you to listen to counsel and admonition? Look abroad into the world. Here is an individual who enjoys the respect and confidence of community. The aged venerate him, and "the young rise up and call him blessed." He has no enemies—all are his friends—all speak well of him, all confide in him. How has he obtained this universal esteem ?—how has he ascended this eminence of respect? You anticipate the reply. In seeking for happiness, he consulted the experience of those who had travelled before him—he studied the history of his race, and marked where others had failed, that he might avoid their errors—he listened patiently to words of advice, and in this way, found the true path and faithfully pursued it, and is now enjoying the prosperity and peace to which it conducts. But another picture presents itself for our contemplation. There is a man whose condition is directly the reverse. He is shunned and despised by all around him. Not because he is poor; but because his poverty has been caused by profligacy and vice. The good avoid him as a moving pestilence—the virtuous point to him as a warning to their children of the sad effects of iniquity—and even his vicious companions are ashamed of him. Follow him in his miserable career. He mingles with the refuse, the outcasts of society; for they alone will become his associates—he becomes familiar with the alms-house, the penitentiary, and finally ends his days in ignominy upon the gallows! Is it not important to inquire into the cause of the disparity between the condition of this man, and of the other, whom we noticed? How did he become involved in so much infamy and wretchedness? Was it his own choice ?—did he desire and seek degradation and ruin? No. In the outset of life, his desires were as those of the youth who is now perusing these lines. He wished to enjoy himself through life, precisely as you do. He intended to take the best measures to accomplish this desire, as is now undoubtedly your determi nation—and he no more foresaw or expected that he should end his days in infamy, the object of scorn and disgust, than are such thoughts now dwelling in your mind. But, alas! he selected the wrong path! He deemed himself very wise— he knew much better than others in more advanced life, where and how he could obtain true enjoyment—he desired no light or instruction 'upon this subject—he turned an ear deaf as the adder's, to all the counsel, the advice and admonition of parents, relatives, friends—and with headstrong and willing blindness, strided on in that way which eventually involved him in the vortex of disgrace and ruin! Do you desire your condition to become like his? No—No--say one and all! And yet it amounts almost to a certainty, that such, or similar, will be your condition, if you imitate his example in the commencement of life. But that example, I trust, you have no desire to follow; but rather are more wisely inclined to obtain all the information in your power, on those subjects connected intimately with your welfare and happiness. Hearken, then, to one who, though comparatively not far advanced in years, yet may be considered past the most dangerous period of youth— one who has mixed not a little with the world— tasted of its sweets and its bitter—been a learner in the school of experience, and as usual, paid dearly for some of the knowledge which he has thus obtained—and who, not having yet, by rea son of age, lost the vivid impressions thus enstamped upon his mind, is enabled more readily to appreciate the peculiarities of your situation, and to realize to a good degree, the nature of the dangers around you. I would speak to you as a brother—I would warn, advise, and counsel, as one deeply interested in your welfare and prosperity. I have no wish to deprive you of a single enjoyment, that is proper for you, as intellectual and moral beings--and surely, as wise youth, you can desire to participate in none other. I shall make no efforts to frighten you into compliance with the advice imparted; but shall appeal exclusively to your reason, your good sense, to convince you of the propriety of doing that which will enhance your respectability and true happiness, and of avoiding those things which will involve you in disgrace and wretchedness—that if possible, I may benefit those whom I address. In carrying my design into execution, I shall first address both sexes indiscriminately, upon those subjects in which it may be supposed they are mutually interested. In the next place, my remarks will be confined exclusively to those topics which pertain to young men. And lastly, the young ladies will be addressed. |