Object of study repeated.

Power of memory.

You will see, from what I have said, that the object of study is to discipline the mind in all its parts; to show it where to find tools, and how to use them. The exact amount of knowledge which is at any one time in the mind of the student, is not, and need not be, great. Like a good pump, you could soon exhaust it, were it not that it reaches an inexhaustible well beneath, and has all the apparatus for filling itself as fast as emptied. If the knowledge which he now possesses shall evaporate, it will, like the vapors which rise from the ocean, again return to the diligent student, by some other channels. It is thought by some, however, that no item of knowledge, and not a single idea which is once formed in the mind, can ever be lost. It may be forgotten to-day, but it will come again to the notice of the mind in the course of the unending progress which is yet to be made by the human soul. How important that the knowledge which we acquire, and the thoughts which occupy our minds, be such, that, come when they may, we shall recognize them as pleasant companions and worthy friends! The immortality of light which awaits the good, is to be one of thought, of review, and of selfcommunion; and the night of ages which shall settle down upon the wicked, will not be other than sleepless.

It is not an uncommon thing for the youth to feel,

Away from home.

Tediousness of the student's life.

as he is sent away from home, and confined down to books, that it is really a hard way to obtain an education. He thinks of the brooks, the groves, or the hills and ponds near his home, of his skates, his gun, or his fishing-tackle, or of the social circle around his father's fire-side, and sighs, that he must be exiled from all these, and shut up in his naked room, among strangers, and there must unceasingly pore over his books. It is not to be wondered at, that he feels so; but let him reflect, that this is the time to form habits, and to begin a course of mental discipline, which, in a few years, will raise him high in the esteem, the respect, and the honors, of his fellow-men. Every distinguished man has trodden the same path. There is no other road to knowledge, to improvement, to distinction. If the voice of experience could come to your ear, and if you could see the agony of heart which those feel, who once had your opportunities, but misimproved them, you would be astonished to see the real value of your situation. All who have passed through academic or collegiate life, know how very irksome that life is; and the reason is, it is so hard for the mind to be broken in, and subdued by the discipline of the situation it is like taking the halfgrown lion, and putting him in the iron cage, and then teaching him how to obey his master, and, of course, how to subdue himself. But this very discipline is

Conclusion.

the only thing which can bring the mind under proper subjection, and fit it to become obedient to yourself. I hope, in the chapters which are to follow, to mark out the road so plainly, that you will find it more and more pleasant to travel, and, at its end, feel that it has been a journey full of sweet recollections, and one of bright promise.

CHAPTER II.

HABITS.

THE whole character may be said to be comprehended in the term habits; so that it is not so far from being true, that "man is a bundle of habits." Suppose you were compelled to wear an iron collar about your neck through life, or a chain upon your ankle; would it not be a burden every day and hour of your existence? You rise in the morning a prisoner to your chain; you lie down at night, weary with the burden; and you groan the more deeply, as you reflect that there is no shaking it off. But even this would be no more intolerable to bear than many of the habits of men; nor would it be more difficult to be shaken off.

Habits are easily formed-especially such as are bad; and what to-day seems to be a small affair, will soon become fixed, and hold you with the strength of a cable. That same cable, you will recollect, is formed by spinning and twisting one thread at a time; but, when once completed, the proudest ship turns her head towards it, and acknowledges her subjection to its power.

Habits of some kind will be formed by every stu

Habits formed by all.

It ought to be so.

dent. He will have a particular course in which his time, his employments, his thoughts and feelings, will run. Good or bad, these habits soon become a part of himself, and a kind of second nature. Who does not know, that the old man, who has occupied a particular corner of the old fire-place in the old house for sixty years, may be rendered wretched by a change? Who has not read of the release of the aged prisoner of the Bastile, who entreated that he might again return to his gloomy dungeon, because his habits there formed, were so strong, that his nature threatened to sink under the attempt to break them up? You will probably find no man of forty, who has not habits which he laments, which mar his usefulness, but which are so interwoven with his very being, that he cannot break through them. At least he has not the courage to try. I am expecting you will form habits. Indeed, I wish you to do so. He must be a poor character, indeed, who lives so extempore as not to have habits of his own. But what I wish is, that you form those habits which are correct, and such as will every day and hour add to your happiness and usefulness. If a man were to be told that he must use the axe, which he now selects, through life, would he not be careful in selecting one of the right proportions and temper? If told that he must wear the same clothing through life, would he not be anxious as to the quality and kind? But these, in the