THE LIBRARY OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 NORTH CAROLINA 
 
 THE COLLECTION OF 
 NORTH CAROLINIANA 
 
 UK3 
 
 1833 
 
 Hill 
 
UNIVERSITY OF N.C. AT CHAPEL HILL 
 
 00036720487 
 
 This book must not 
 be taken from the 
 Library building. 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 
 University of North Carolina at Chapel Hil 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/addressdelivered01hill 
 
ADDRESS 
 
 DELIVERED AT CHAPEL. HILL, 
 
 TBE NORTH OAROLZNA 
 
 iifS3ffi5fw^a mw mm^^A'^^mm^ 
 
 ON Wli;DNESDAY, JUNE 36, 1833, 
 
 THE DAY BEFORE THE COMMENCEMENT OF THE UNIVERSITY. 
 
 JSlk^ jroSJElJ^ff ^. tm^JL, luSQ. 
 
 CHA.PEIi Hllili, 
 
 Printed by Isaac C. Patmt, -l, at the Harbinger Office. 
 
 ' 1833. 
 
^flr. President^ ^ 
 
 Gentlemen of the Institute^ 
 
 I propose to submit a few thoughts upon the importance of 
 a thorough Education, and upon the modes of discipline and instruc- 
 tion, which seem to me best adapted to that object. In our zeal for uni- 
 versal education, we have, I apprehend, withheld from this subject that 
 degree of attention which its importance may justly claim. We have 
 been less solicitous to learn how the youth of our country may be best 
 trained to virtue, and instructed in wisdom, than to ascertain by what 
 means the greatest number may be educated in the shortest time, and 
 at the least ex;:ense. In adjusting a system of general and gratuitous 
 instruction, the economy of time and money is certainly a considera* 
 tion not to be overlooked. But the parent who would secure for his 
 son the benefits of a complete education — who would have him care- 
 fully trained to virtue, and thoroughly imbued with learning, must be 
 content to forego his claims upon his time, and to afford him the means 
 of access to the best sources of knowledge. Nothing, indeed, is more 
 to be leprecated than the anxiety, so often manifested, to abridge the 
 period of instruction. It argues either an imperfect notion of what 
 constitutes an education, or an insufficient estimate of its value. Is 
 the time wasted which is devoted t-i the acquisition of knowledge? — 
 Could it be more profitably employed, whether we consider the good 
 of society, or the happiness of the individual, than in a course of in- 
 struction by which the mind is enriched with knowledge and trained 
 to habits of correct thinking and assiduous application, or in a course 
 of moral culture, by which the heart is improved — its affections che- 
 rished — its passsions disciplined — its waywardness restrained? Whence 
 ; then the anxiety to save time, as it is called? One would think that the 
 child is sent to school, not in search of wisdom, but in reluctant con- 
 formity to a usage of society which the parent does not entirely ap- 
 . prove, and yet wants firmness wholly to disregard; as the devotees of 
 pleasure frequent our medicinal springs, not to imbibe their healing 
 waters, but that they may not be excluded from the circles of fjisbion. 
 
One would think too, from the rapidity with which the pupil is some- 
 times hurried through a course of instruction — from the marvellous 
 short time in which a raw and ignorant boy becomes a ripe scholar 
 and accomplished gentleman, that some of our modern pedagogues had 
 discovered Mr. Shandy's "Northwest passage to the Int-^Hectual 
 World" — that they had found out that "Shorter way of going to work, 
 by which the soul furnishes itself with knowledge and instruction" — 
 in a word, that they had pursued his favourite system of education by j. 
 the "right use and application of the auxiliar} verbs," and that in this 
 way the fabrick of an education is built up like Alladin's palace in a 
 single night. The truth is, that ordinarily, in our country, too little 
 time is devoted to Education — hence the reproach to American Scho- 
 larship, not altogether undeserved. Hence the few distinguished scho- 
 lars, compared with the number of the nominally educated. A complete 
 or thorough education is the result and the reward only of long 
 and patient study, and of careful and judicious instruction. The devo- 
 tee of Science must drink daily at the springs of k lowledge — he can- 
 not imbibe inspiration at a single draught — the flame will not kindle 
 at the fountain of Dodona, by merely touching the waters. It will be 
 perceived that my estimate of a thorough education comprehends a 
 high degree of moral as well as intellectual cultivation. In this view 
 of the subject, I shall be led to notice some things in our systems of 
 school discipline which appear to me to require correction. Permit me 
 to say that these observations, the result neithei of long experience norv 
 of much reflection, challenge little deference. They are intended mere- 
 ly as suggestions, which offered with diffidence, should be received 
 with caution. An important defect, in most of our systems of school 
 discipline and instruction is, that they are with difficulty adjusted to 
 individual peculiarities of mind or character. The pupil is not unfre- ■., 
 quently sacrificed to the dogma of his preceptor, who, adhering rigid- 
 ly to some favourite scheme of education, refuses the sljg litest relaxa- 
 tion of his rule of discipline, or the least departure from his plan of 
 instruction. The doctrine of Helvetius, that all are born with the same 
 and equal capacities, tempers, and dispositions, would seem to be a fa- 
 vourite one with our modern teachers; for upon this metaphysical 
 absurdity, are most of our systems of education founded. The same 
 course of study is prescribed to each, the same rules of discipline en- 
 forced upon all, the same seed is sown, and the same tillage pursued * 
 upon every variety of soil. Boys of unequal capacities, and of minds 
 in different degrees matured, are put together in a class. The slow is 
 mat e to keep pace with the swifl, not indeed in ihe arquisition of know- 
 ledge, for though they together describe the same circle and arrive at 
 
the goal at the same instant of time, yet the one "in running has de- 
 voured the way" the other has been urged, blindfold, round ihe cou se. 
 It is the object of an education^vvhich is to qualify thp pupil for future 
 usefuhiess, to make the preparatory course of discipline and instruc- 
 tion available to the end proposed. The teacher consulting the pu-- 
 pil's capacity and disposition, should adapt the plan of instruction to 
 the intellectual and moral dimensions of the learne?. The boy would 
 then be daily rehearsing to his teacher, the part he is destined to play 
 upon the great stage of life. It is not intended that regard should be 
 had to the boy's wishes, or the estimate he may have made of his own 
 abilities: that indeed would be to take counsel of caprice and vanity. It 
 would never do to address to the schoolboy the advice of Tranio to his 
 
 master: 
 
 The Vlathetnaticks and the Metaphysicks, 
 
 Fall to them, as you find your stomach serves, 
 
 No profit grows where is no pleasure ta'en. 
 
 In brief, Sir, study what you most aflfect. 
 Youth is just that period when we are least capable of estima- 
 ting the value of an education, and most impatient of the restraints 
 of discipline. A disinclination of the taste, or an inaptitude of the 
 genius, would be the frequent excuse for idleness, and the ready 
 apology for the total neglect of some useful branch of educa- 
 tion. A knowledge of all the subjects, usually taught in our 
 schools, is deemed essential to a complete education — it is not pro- 
 posed that any should be omitted or neglected. All that is intend- 
 ed to be urged, is that regard should be had to the admonitions of na- 
 ture — to the indications of the mind. When Cicero inquired of the 
 oracle what course of study he should pursue, the answer was, follow 
 nature? When the inclination of the mind, and the tendency of the ge- 
 nius are clearly discovered, they should be followed as a rich vein of 
 intellectual ore. When any particular talent is boldly developed, it 
 ought to be carefully cherished and sedulously cultivated. The teacher, 
 following the lead of nature, should be careful to incline the mind of 
 the pupil to those studies, to encourage in him those habits of thought, 
 and to pursue towards him that species of discipline and instruction 
 which will be the best preparation for success in that department of 
 human knowledge, in which his future labours promise the largest and 
 most useful results. It is not, however, so much to the course of stu- 
 dy, as to the government and discipline adopted in our scliools, that 
 your attention is solicited. It is respectfully suggested,' whether in 
 most of our primary schools, there be not a too frequefit appeal to 
 means, of a character too stimulating. Boys like men.lt'fs true, are , 
 acted on most readily through their passions — they are most easily ve- 
 
 L. 
 
strained by fear, and incited by ambition; but tlie most obvious are "ot 
 always the best :>r safest means. Indeed, the great anger of th' im- 
 prudent use of these means, ari-^es from the fact that they are those 
 which are nearest at hand, and first present themselves. In all strong 
 governments, resort is top re.ulily had to strong measures. He wlo 
 can safely threaten, will seldom give himself the trouble to reason 
 with a delinquent, and he who has the power to punish will rarely 
 condescend to persuade. The pedagogue, within the narrow bounds 
 of his little d -minion, is' as absolute as the most potent monarch up in 
 earth. Hence the strong affinity which exists between the ferule, 
 and the right hand of the pedagogue, and hence the practice of that 
 species of palmistry so much in vogue in our schools. It may, with 
 y humility, be doubted whether the rod be that certain source of inspira- 
 tion which seems to be supposed unrivaled in the art of leaching the 
 interjections. Oh! Heu! and Proh! It may be questioned whether it 
 can boast equal efficacy, in imparting a knowledge of the other parts 
 of speech. Like the witch hazel, it does indeed indicate the hidden 
 formation, and like the rod of the prophet, the waters are sure to fol- 
 low when its blows descend; but the true spring of inspiration, the 
 Helicon of the mind, is beyond its divination. Let the pedagogue 
 quiet his alarm, and forbear his indignation, if he can. I shall inculcate 
 no treason against his authority; I am no foe to his "awful rule and 
 right supremacy." I would not, if I could, wrench his birchen sceptre 
 from his gripe. Admonished by my own sad experience, I would 
 merely intercede in behalf of my young friends, for its less frequent 
 and more discreet use. It may be, however, that my judgment is 
 blinded, in this matter, by my feelings. I admit a sort of conscious- 
 ness of certain early prejudices. This place has its associations, and 
 has not failed to revive certain reminiscences, not of the most agreea- 
 ble description. The very subject unavoidably renews the sad re- 
 membrance of those griefs, 
 
 "Cluaique ipse miserriina vidi, et quorum pars magna fui." 
 
 I would appeal too to the self-love of the instructer; I would admo- 
 a)ish him that by a too prodigal display of his power, he is creating 
 around him, a host of little enemies, who are not without the means of 
 mischief and annoyance. Ii is the glory of Socrates, that when con- 
 demned to die, his disciples crowded around him, eager to testify 
 their affection, prompt to deplore his misfortune and to soothe his 
 grief. It may be questioned, whether, should one of our modern 
 teachers be condemned to drink the hemlock, his disciples would make 
 as forward a display of their sympathies; the revengeful urchins would 
 
I doubt, be apt to applaud the justice of his sentence, and consider the 
 infusion of hemlock, a fair return for the unmerciful doses of birch 
 or chinquepin, administered to tliemselves. One of the worst effects 
 of corporal punishments is, that it has a tendency to estrange the pu- 
 pil from his master. Too much severity chills afiection and repels 
 confidence: The boy soon learns to hate, what he has been taught to 
 fearj the dread ofpunishment prompts him to seek impunity, in the 
 concealment of his delinquencies; he gradually loses the amiable in- 
 genuousness proper to his years. His frank spirit catches the taint 
 of hypocrisy, and his open brow is covered with a frightful mask of 
 falsehood and deceit. He who has early learned to practice the arts of 
 deception, and to draw a veil over his motives and his conduct, can 
 scarcely be expected, in after life, to illustrate the virtues of truth and 
 canf'our. Whether the character may not be permanently debased, 
 by accustoming the mind to the influence of so base a motive as fear, 
 and whether it be prudent to familiarize it with a mode of punish- 
 ment, which, in all well regulated communities, is appropriated to 
 the most odious offences, and the infliction of which is followed by so- 
 cial degradation, are questions which invite the earnest enquiry and 
 ougbi to engage the anxious reflection, of all those to whose care is 
 committed the education of youth. If corporal punishment must be 
 retained as a part of school discipline, it should at least be regarded as 
 a dangerous remedy, to which resort should be had, only in extreme 
 cases; it should be reserved as th^ penalty for moral delinquencies, as ' 
 the correction for vices, of a character incorrigible by other means. 
 
 It is further suggested, whether some motive to exertion might not 
 be substituted, of a character less equivocal, and of a tendency less 
 dangerous, than the spirit of emulation, or rather, whether appeals to 
 this spirit are not made loo frequently, and with too little caution.— 
 The teacher who seeks to awaken this spirit in his pupil, runs the risk 
 of rousing passions, in close alliance with it, and of the very worst 
 character — such as envy, hatred, and the spirit of detraction. A spi- 
 rit of rivalry, in a long course of competition, is apt to be aggravated 
 into a feeling of hostility, and the opponent comes, at length, to be 
 regarded as aa enemy. He, whose example we are bid to emulate, 
 who is often exhibited in injurious contrast to ourselves, whose merit 
 is made the reproach of our unworthiness, whose success frustrates our 
 hopes, and disappoints our ambition — he, in a word, who impresses 
 us with the painful sense of inferiority, will, unless we are watchful 
 of our motives, and keep a guard upon our passions, become an object 
 of envy, and a subject of detraction. Hurt vanity, and raorMfied self- 
 love, will prompt the disingenuous wish to lessen the merit we have 
 
 
s 
 
 in vain essayed to equal. These effects of a vicious system of educa- 
 tion, frequentlv betray themselves even in youth, the period of can- 
 did sentiment and generous feeling; and the young bosom which should 
 be taught to throb only with virtuous emotion, becomes the theatre 
 of contending passions. In after-life, when as the objects of competi- 
 tion are of greater value, the eagerness of desire is increased, and the 
 pang of disappointment more keenly felt, they assume an aspect of 
 darker malignity, and a form more disgustingly hateful. They some- 
 times mingle in the strife for noble objects, and characters of other- 
 wise exalted worth, are degraded by the littleness of envy and the 
 meanness of jealousy. 
 
 There is another error, which, though not so general as to be fairly 
 considered inherent in our systems of school discipline, is yet suffi- 
 ciently common to deserve notice and reprehension. It consists in a 
 misrepresentation of the objects and purposes of education, and may 
 be defined to be the suggestion to the learner of a false motive to ex- 
 ertion. The eminences of fame, the heights of power, the applause 
 of contemporaries, and the plaudits of posterity, whatever can flatter 
 vanity or awaken ambition, is presented to the notice of the pupil, and 
 proposed to him as the certain reward of industry and assiduity. — 
 There cannot be a more pernicious error. Its effects upon the cha- 
 racter of the individual and upon society, are indeed, deplorable. 
 The youth, so soon as he becomes capable of observation and reflec- 
 tion, detects the fallacy of the hopes with which his mind has been fill- 
 ed; he discovers that the rewards which have been proposed as cer- 
 tain, are impossible; that the objects at which he has been taught to 
 aim, must remain forever beyond his reach, Hope dies within him, 
 and his exertions relax. Upon the failure of one motive, a more cor- 
 rect but less stimulating one may fail to reanimate his courage. If the 
 delusion be sustained until he has completed his collegiate course, so 
 soon as he enters upon the great stage of life, it is sure to be dispelled. 
 He then discovers that fame must, from the nature of things, be the lot 
 of a very few, and that his must be the fate of the predecessors of Aga- 
 memnon — 
 
 Vixere fortes ante Agamemnona, 
 Multi; sed omnes illacrymabiles 
 Urgentur ignotique Icnga 
 Nocte." 
 
 He yields to the feeling of despondency, which succeeds the excitation 
 of hope, and refusing to attempt even that which he has the ability to 
 accomplish, finds in retirement obscurity indeed, but ni>t contentment: 
 0«-, worse still, losing the motive of a lofty ambition, abandoning the 
 
 ^ 
 
9 
 
 pursuit of those hifrlier objects whirl) arc seldom sougjit, becaube they 
 Gail never he won but bv ho;iouraI)le inea'-s, and icn loiiii; accustomed 
 to ihe hiirh excitement of stimulating motives, to iicknf)vvlcdge the in- 
 fluence of more moderate hopes, tie becomes an unprincipled dema- 
 ^o^ue; a restless intriguer for petty power and ephemeral distinction; 
 the parasite of power, the flatterer of the people, the pander to preju- 
 dice, the advocate of error, acknowledi^ing no princi|)le but expedicsn- 
 cy, no feeling but selfishnesss ! A political cameleon, changing his 
 complexion with the clianging hue of the linit-s. Behold him a Law- 
 giver, illustrating by the vacillations of his unpiincipied policy, the 
 description which the poet gives us of one of the worst characters of 
 antiquity, 
 
 Vendidit hie auro, patriam, dominum quo 
 
 Imposuit, fixit leges pretio, atque refixit. — Virg. B. 6. 621. 
 
 serving no other purpose than to indicate the caprices of power or 
 the eccentricities of popular whim. If you would not, that these sad 
 effects disclose themselves in the man, deal fairly by the boy. Sug- 
 gest to hitn no false motive, let there be no misrepresentation of the 
 purposes, no exaggeration of the advantages of education, let him be 
 told all the good that knowledge rightly used will accomplish for him; 
 that by enlarging his mind and extending his views, it will increase his 
 capacities for happiness, and multiply to him the sources of innocent 
 enjoyment, that education, though it be auxiliary to the acquisition of 
 power and fame, is not proposed as a certain means of becoming pow- 
 erful and distinguished, but that habits of industry, correct principles, 
 and upright conduct, will certainly be rewarded in after life, by use- 
 fulness, respectability, and happiness. If, indeed, the preceptor dis- 
 covers in t.ie mind of his pupil those rare qualities which afford a fair 
 promise of future eminence, and if the youth feel within himself, the 
 stirring of that divine 'afflatus,' without which, Cicero tells us, no 
 man can be great, let him 
 
 "Take the instant way 
 
 For Honour travels in a strait so narrow 
 
 Where one but goes abreasi; keep then the path; 
 • For Emulation hath a thousand sons, 
 
 That one by one pursue: If he give way, 
 
 Or hedge aside from the direct forth right, 
 
 Like to an entered tide, they all rush by, 
 
 And leave him hindmost." Troi <J« Cressidc. 
 
 To discipline the mind, and f<rm the character of such a youth, is at 
 once a most interesting and responsible duty. The preceptor should 
 be careful to incline his heart to virtue, and to direct his ambition to 
 
 2 
 
lO 
 
 proper objects; to lay the foundation of the future greatness of Iiis 
 pupil in generous sentiments and sound principles; the young aspirant 
 shf'ukl be persuaded, that if he would be remembered, after the laurel 
 has faded from his brow, and the brow itself become cold; if he would 
 have the sound of his fame heard by future ages and the plaudits of 
 his cotemporaries caught and repeated by succeeding generations, he 
 must consent to forego the indulgence of passion, and learn to resist 
 the seductions of vice and the allurements of pleasure. He must be 
 taught to distinguish between notoriety and fame, and be constantly 
 reminded that the only access to the temple of Fame is through that 
 of Honour. Men are forgotten, not because the inscription is erased 
 from the monument — but because they have not deserved to be re- 
 membered, — because they have formed a false estimate of the quali- 
 ties ol true greatness. They listen to flattery, and call it praise; 
 they sacrifice to vanity and think they worship fame; they think ra- 
 ther of what will procure applause, than of what will deserve it. — 
 They regulate their conduct by their immediate interests, or by the 
 wishes, the passions or the prejudices of their cotemporaries, and 
 without reference to the standard, by which posterity will judge it. 
 He, who would weave around his brow an unfading chaplet, who 
 would surround his name with the halo of true glory, must be taught 
 rnodcration, self-command, reverence nf God, love of his fellow-men. 
 He must learn to distinguish between that which is just, and that which 
 is merely expedient, — he must be accustomed to scrutinize his mo- 
 tives and his actions, and to judge them by the invariable standard of 
 right. If he be taught this in youth, in alter life, he will rare- 
 ly be betrayed by false motives, into wrong actions; he will sel- 
 dom do wrong, from a wish always to do right, — he wall avail him- 
 self of every opportunity to do good, and avoid every temptation to 
 do evil, — he will have courage to act, where action will be useful and 
 prudence to forbear, when action would be mischievous, — and thus, 
 he will deserve praise not only for what he does, but for what he for- 
 bears to do. He need not trust to win an epitaph — his actions will 
 be his records; each b nefit he confers upon his kind, will be a monu- 
 ment to his glory. Posterity will cherish his fame, because he is a 
 benefactor to posterity; it will recount his story, because it teaches 
 golden lessons of wisdom, and affords a glorious example, to imitate, 
 and a safe light to follow. 
 
 Ill what way, it may be asked, is the instructor to counteract the se-* 
 ductions of pleasure, or to overcome the love of ease, and the vis in- 
 ertia (if indolence, if he can neither compel the fears, nor incite the 
 ambition of his pupil? It is certainly much easier to detect defects. 
 
 ^ 
 
11 
 
 ihan to provide their remedies, to repudiate a system than to originate 
 a plan. 
 
 It might be sufficient to remark, that the extinction of the passions, 
 against the encouragement of whicii I have ventured (o protest, ueed 
 not be apprehended. Their aid will not be vvithheld from the instruc- 
 tor: Boys will continue to be influenced bv the fear of shaT»e, and to 
 be incited by the spirit of rivalry, though direct appeals to these passions 
 be forborne. Without intending to propose a plan of discipline, I may 
 venture to remark, that if the teacher would be more of the assistant 
 and less of the taskmaster, more ready to advise and less prompt to 
 punish, his labours would in the end, be more profitable to the pupil 
 and less irksome to himself. If he would be more with the student, 
 while engaged in preparing his lesson, the recitation would be less fre- 
 quently an exhibition of ignorance on the one part and a trial t)f tem- 
 per on the otiier. A boy of generous mind enters upon the pursuit 
 of knowledge, with an eagerness of hope, and an avidity of desire, 
 which, if carefully cherished, will constitute a sufficient motive to ex- 
 ertion. But this "vivida vis animi" is frequently palsied in the very 
 outset. Difficulties, the nature of \^hich the boy cannot comprehend, 
 and the means oC surmounting which, he does not perceive, present 
 themselves at every step of his career. To his affrighted fancy, 'Hills 
 peep o'er Hills, and Alps on Alps arise:' His courage fails and hope 
 dies within him. How different would be the result, if the teacher 
 would place liimself at the side of the pupil, and become his guide and 
 companion, pointing him the way, aiding him in his difficulties, ani- 
 mating his hopes and reviving his courage. "Whatever," says John- 
 son, "enlarges hope exalts courage," let the teacher then cherish in 
 his pupil the hope of success; let him be careful to inspire him with 
 the sentiment of the competitors i;i the Trjan games. 
 "Possunt, quia, posse, vidciitur." 
 Let him be reminded, that if the toil be great, the reward is sure; 
 that though the Hill of science, like the mountain of Black-stones in 
 the Arabian Tales, presents a rugged aspect and is ascended by an ob- 
 scure path, yet upon its summit, are the fruit tree and the fountain and 
 beyond, a scene of fairy enchantment opens upon the charmed and 
 delighted eye. The rewards of assiduity, it is true, are too distant, to 
 exert a very p werful influence upon the conduct of a youth of ea- 
 ger hopes and impatient desires, who demands immediate results and 
 longs to taste the fruit of the tree of knowledge. The faculties must 
 be subjected to those severe exercises, which can alone give them 
 strength and har iihood. But this preparatory course of mental dis- 
 cipline, though necessarily irksome, may yet be relieved of much of 
 
It 
 
 its dryness. A teacher of well-iiiformefl miirl, of cultivated tas'e and 
 Jively ffenius, tiiay impart a degr e of aniinaiion and interest, to the 
 dullest school exercise. Let the day's lesson be made the subject of 
 an oral lecture, — Let the teacher illustrate the author's idea, point out 
 to the pupil the justness of the thought, the beauty of the style, the 
 aptitude of the simile, explain the ;illn->i(m; comment on the senti- 
 ment, enforce the moral; and the youth, who has toiled to asccitain 
 the iDeaninjr of words, dud to discover their g vcrnment and relation 
 to each other, will acknowledge, that his day's labour has been a- 
 bundantly rewarded. He will be sensible, that he has made an acq d- 
 silion to his little stock of knowledge. His mind will exult in the 
 new light, which has been shed upon it. His exertions will no lon- 
 ger be the reluctant, because unrevvar<led labour of the slave, but re- 
 semble rather the eager and animated industry of him, who discovers 
 amid the barren earth, which his spade turn«; up, the sinning particles 
 of a precious ore. The whole difference consists in teaching words, 
 "ivith or without reference to the thoughts they eiibody. Let the 
 course of instruction be altered — let it not be forgotten that the pupil 
 is a being of fancy and feeling, and let it be the care of the teacher to 
 inflame the one and interest the other. If the day's lesson aflords a 
 striking image, a sound moral, or a noble sentiment, le, him be re- 
 quired to give to the passage, a written translation, or it may be to 
 turn it into English verse, to rcake it the therne if a conq osition or 
 the subject of a paraplirase. He will tiius have obtained a right of 
 property in the thought, and to the notion of propc-rty, the desire of 
 acquisition will succeed. His studies will no longer be regardtd as 
 a forced exercise, but as a pursuit of pleasure, an i he who has turned 
 with disgust from the pages of the ancient poets and orators, as the 
 prescribed subjects of odious task, will consult them with eagcrHess, 
 as a means of instruction and a source of gratification. Our school 
 reading of the classics is too limited, and the knowledge we acquire of 
 them too imperfect to Inspire us with a love of, or a taste fo? classical 
 literature. Who of us is not ready to confess that he is indebted to 
 Dryden and Pope for his earliest relish for Virgil and Homer, and for 
 his first perception of the beauties of those authors. By the present 
 mode of instruction in the classicks, the pupil is deprived of one of 
 the great benefits of education, — the inn(jcent pleasiire to be derived 
 froin the cultivation of the taste, and a perusal of the best authors of 
 antiquity. It is true he has access to the treasures of English litera- 
 ture, but an acquaintance with the ancient is essential to a thorough 
 knowledge and a perfect relish for the beauties of the modern classicks. 
 This knowledge and this taste are means of gratification which we 
 
13 
 
 iiiay be said to hold indppend<nily of the vicissitudes of fortune. 
 Tiiey oi)Pn to us a source of iunoreit pirasure, tn which we have ac- 
 cess at all times and unde>- all cir;Mimstances. 
 
 "Hffc studia adolescentiam alimt, serectutcni oblectant, secundas res 
 ornaiu, adversis solatium el nprAi^ium praebfnt; deleci^iit domi; non 
 impediunt foris, pernoctaiit nobiscum, peregiinantur, rusticantur." 
 
 Cicero. ' 
 What we now make the eleprmt amusement or the instructive exer- 
 cise of our vacant hours, nay hereafter constitute a solace for our age 
 and a refuge of our "isfortunes; when all other sources of enjoyment 
 fail us, wlien the mind instructed hy disappointment detects the soph-, 
 istry of hope, and the heart wounded in its affection? refuses to yield to 
 the solicitations of friendship, or the blandishments of love; the devo- 
 tion to letters will emain; and in the indulgence of this passion of the 
 mind in the cultivation of the taste, and in the pursuit of knowledge, 
 in the fictions of poetry and the truths of pinlosophy, we may find 
 that pleasure and consolation, elsewhere sought in vain. Nor should 
 we be unmindful that there is an old age of the mind as of the body, 
 against which it is the part of prudence to provide, that there is a pe- 
 riod of mental imbecilii)' as of C(jrporeal decay, when the wavering- 
 attention and the trembling hand alike refuse their ministry, — when the 
 darkened eye gathers no light lo guide or illumine, and the deafened 
 ear conveys no sound to admonish or instruct. In a word, that 
 there is a i)eriod, when th mind deserted by its corporeal allies the 
 senses, is cast upcnitsown resources, and without the power of fur- 
 ther acquisition must feed upun its collected stores or perish. In this 
 season of intellectual night, when no light is let in upon the mind 
 from without, the trcasm-ed thought, the recollected fact, the golden 
 lesson of vxisdom early learned and carefully treasured, like those 
 gems whic'i disclose their lustre in the dark, will difl\ise a cheerful 
 light through the mind, and dispel its gloom. These, it is true, are 
 considerations n^t likely to have muc.'i influence upon the young; we 
 can scarcely persuade ourselves to think of the future, with any provi- 
 dent foresight to its wants. While we are conscious of unimpaired 
 faculties, of undiminished capacities for pleasure, we can with difficul- 
 ty realise that the period approaches when we must cease to be 
 young. We look forwaid to old age as to a cold and inevitable, but 
 as we flatter ourselves, a distant season, which is to come upon us in- 
 deed, but not until we have passed a spring of exulting hope and 
 exhausted the rich fruits of a glorious summer and a mellow autumn. 
 But this dark period, which is seen by us as afar off", is even now a't 
 hand. 
 
14 
 
 Lo! whilo we give the unregarJed hour, 
 
 To wine ;ui(j revelry, in pleasures' bovver; 
 
 The noiseless foot of time steals swiftly by 
 
 And e're we dream of manhood, age is nigh. 
 Gifford Fam. Serv. 
 I willingly quit a subject, with regard to which 1 am every momeut 
 liable to be betrayed by ignorance into error, and in discupsing which 
 before such an audience, I commit the fully of him, who ventured to 
 discourse of ar, in the presence of Hannibal. I am aware of having 
 trespassed already loo far upo.. your patience, but as I may be expect- 
 ed to say something on the subject of general education, and as I would 
 not willingly by silence, on an occasion like this, expose myself lo 
 the suspicion of bei g averse to the eflorts which are making to pro- 
 mote a universal diffusion of the benefits of education, 1 must ask your 
 indulgence a few moiiients longer He indeed, who docs not partici- 
 pate in the hopes excited by the ardent zeal every where manifested 
 by the enlightened lovers of mankind, to meliorate the condition and 
 to elevate the character of man, and who feels no wish to aid in so glo- 
 rious an enterprise, is far behind the spirit of the age and there is indeed 
 much to encourage our hopes and animate our exertions, — whetlier we 
 consider the chances of success, or the results, which are to reward il. 
 The atte tion of the wise and good is every-where directed, with un- 
 ceasing interest to this great object. These unremitting exertions are 
 rapidly conci iating the fiivour and quickening the zeal of Ihe public in 
 its behalf, — while the political changes, which have occurrrd or are 
 in progress, in many parts of the world, afford to the philanthiopist, 
 the assured and pleasing hope of its ultimate accomplishment. Our 
 own country presents the fairest field for tho successful trial of this 
 great experiment. The political institutions of most other countries 
 oppose an obstacle lo its success, which is not encountered here. Un- 
 der most of the political systems of ancient institution, there is sup- 
 posed to exist an adversary interest, between the few, who exercise 
 power and the many who are its subjects. Knowledge is power and 
 the timidity or jealousy of ihe ruler, has suggested the selfish policy 
 of keeping the subject in ignorance; every avenue lo kncnviedge is 
 carefully closed against him, and science can dart into his uiind only 
 an occasional and broken beam, through some forgotten or unguarded 
 aperture. Under such governments, the maxim is, that knowledge is 
 not for the poor. Here, to deny to the citizen the right to be in triict- 
 ed, to refuse to him the light of knowledge, would be deemed an act of 
 scarce less wickedness and follj' than loshut him out from the glorious 
 light of Heaven. Here, no stale policy, no supposed goverm.f nlal ne- 
 cessity oppose themselves lo the education of the people. On the 
 
15 
 
 cpnhary, under a government of popular institution, of which the peo- 
 ple are not onlv the authors, but as to uniny imimrtanl functions, the 
 agents, "it is essential that public opinion shoukl be enlightened." — 
 Accordingly we find the views of the statesman, in accordance with 
 the wishes of the Philanthropist. The policy <'f the one recommonds 
 what the benevolence of the other has suggested. The one |)erceives, 
 in the geneial dili'usion of the blessings of educaiion, the best security 
 for the happiness of the citizen, the other, the surest guarantee for the 
 stability of the govern. nent. 
 
 This subject is also full of interest to the lover of science: It fills his 
 mind with the most shining hopes; he beholds, in the promised deve- 
 lopement and the consequent con'*entration of the intellectual power 
 of mankind, the mighty instrument, by which Philosophy is to achieve 
 new wonders. When we reflect on all that mind has accomplished, 
 on the secrets it has revealed, on the truths it has discovered; when 
 we think of all it has achieved in science, in philosophy, in ihe arts, in 
 every department of human knowledt;e, and uhen we remember that 
 the energies of the power which has accomplished so much, are unim- 
 paired, that a comparatively small amount of that power has been ex- 
 erted in the production of these results, we find much to embolden 
 hope and animate exertion. When too, we reflect that we must still 
 be far from the limit of human knowledge, that there are many things 
 in heaven and earth not dreamt of in our philosophy, that nature has 
 secrets not yet revealed, precious truths as yet undiscovered, that she 
 has haunts to which she has never been pursued, unexplored recesses 
 where treasures of knowledge are hid; — when we call to mind, that 
 of the books of the Sybil, we have seen but three; and that of the vast 
 volume which Nature opens before us, many leaves remain to be read; 
 the mind is filled with bold thoughts and ardent hopes! If so much 
 i has been accomplished by a divided power, what might not have been 
 1 achieved, by the universal mind, exerted under more favourable circum- 
 ; stances. But a more practical enquiry suggests itself: Over the past 
 I we can exercise no control, but upon the future we may exert an in- 
 I fluence. When so much remains to be done, what may not we and 
 I our posterity accomplish, if acting upon the a^lmitted truth, that the 
 \ magnitude of the result is in proportion to the power employed, we 
 ; are careful to developeall the resources of the human mind, and array 
 all the intellectual strengtli of mankind? Is it presumptuous to predict 
 that we may greatly enlarge the boundaries of human knowledge? Our 
 J predecessors are our pioneers in science, we easily advance to the 
 position, to which thev have opened the way; we begin our search after 
 truth, at the point where their discouerics terminate, Avith the princi- 
 
 1 truth, a 
 
16 
 
 plea they established as our auxiliaries, and the lights they kindled as 
 our guides. Wh> can doubt that Philosophy is destined to achieve 
 new triumphs, that she is to discover new and mighty truths? Of the 
 nature of these truths, we must be ignm-ant. but of their existence we 
 cannot doubt. We know that there is immense space beyond the ho- 
 rizon which bounds our sight, \nd we know too that as we ;ippr tach 
 this apparent limit of liuman vision, it retires, never indeed en- 
 larging its circle, but adopting at each remove, a new centre and ci- 
 cumscribing a new portion of space. As we proceed, new prospects 
 open before us, and new objects are presented for our observation. So 
 as we advance in knowledge, truths always existent, but hitherto un- 
 seen, will pour theii lighi into the mind, as from time to time, tlie radi- 
 ance of some ne'v star reaches us, after a fliixht of ages, and looking 
 op, we behold a new glory kindled in the heavens. 
 
 iFtnf«. 
 
1