at times, had an influence over me; and when I compared myself with what I began to find out I ought to be, I was very unhappy. I was disappointed at finding that, at college, to be respectable, more labor was to be undergone than at school, and that those of the wild and dissipated only were admitted to clubs, who softened their faults by attention, generally, to their studies.

I had no such offset. I was nothing. I began to see the errors of my own education, and to regret them. With the strongest wish to be distinguished, I had not the power. Sysiphus like, I never could bring my resolutions to the sticking place, and every broken vow only weakened the force of my character.

In the same entry with myself, there were two young men, who made their books their pleasure. They had entered with a high standing, for they came from a school remarkable for the good habits of study of its pupils. They always came honorably prepared. They knew enough to make them wish to know more.

These young men were of infinite service to me, or wished to be. They were nearly of my own age, and saw the difficulty I had to contend with. They voluntarily assisted me in the most delicate manner, and endeavored to withdraw me from the influence of Tom Reine. I was in their room often, and they cautioned me of my danger. Would to heaven I had followed their advice!

I know them now. They are of moderate talents, but both rising fast in the world by the force of mere industry. One of them, more particularly my friend, is the most remarkable person I ever knew, for the strong determination of his character. I believe these young men studied fourteen hours a day, during the freshman year. Such labor, even upon Latin and Greek, will lay the foundation, in any good mind, for incalculable usefulness. A mind thus disciplined in its infancy, will never shrink from that toil, which, more than any thing else, makes men great at the bar.

Though I appreciated the character of these young men, and wished to imitate them, my acquaintance with them did little else than put off for a short time the result of my idleness. I was so indurated in sloth and frivolity, that from the most bitter reflections upon my own conduct, I could turn, upon the slightest temptation, with the most thoughtless inconsistency to my usual pastimes.

I have not here to describe many scenes of gross debauchery. Lis not the place for such. Drinking at taverns and shops is not the vice of L students; and it is too much trouble, and comes too unhandy, and youth is generally too indifferent to wine, to have it brought often enough to the rooms to create a habit. The old L- tavern tells a whole chapter upon the sobriety of the students. It is and ever has been, since I could recollect, a dirty place, the resort of horse-jockeys and grog-drinkers. A student is never seen there in the day time, and only at night, for the sake of a beef-steak or a broiled chicken. What few scenes of dissipation I can recollect, then, were managed in our rooms. Tobacco is the vice of students. To that, and the recklessness of youth, they are indebted for their wild spirits. Our nerves get shattered at college by the use of this weed and late hours; and after we get more broadly into the world, we are fit subjects for the inroad of grosser habits. But

as to eating, I think I have witnessed wonderful feats in that line of iudulgence. We had suppers sometimes-a pair of chickens to a man. Who could study or think of books under such a regimen ? How differently heaven dispenses the powers of gormandizing! One man eats his fill, without any inconvenience; another trembles for the consequences as he passes his spare diet to his mouth. The gastric juice of some men will corrode even iron, for they eat with impunity any thing, from a tough beef-steak to cold roast pork and hard boiled eggs, and these in any quantity; while the fancied dyspeptic dabbles with his dry toast and tea, cuts his meat into shreds, and then is half killed with the horrors of digestion. Such men must go to their meals as the thief to the gallows - only the last has the advantage, in having to suffer but once.

If you would choose a man of feats in eating, go to the walls of a college- look for a spare, tall young man, whose large bones hang together as if by wires. Let him have a hatchet-face, a long nose, skinny hands, large feet, very unusually long legs, which have supported him for about eighteen years. Set him down to a table of any thing, keep him in good humor, and make believe' to eat yourself. You shall see miracles! And then the best of the joke is, to see his ease of deportment after the mass is stowed. He is as thin as before. He grins in horrible delight, as his memory runs over his late feast. You may perhaps have some fears for your own bread and steaks: the passion is up; soothe him with a cigar, but do not be alone long, with such a man. Wellgo to tea with him- a college tea, of hot cakes and cold ham or beef, and you will see that the reservoir is empty, ready to be filled. But what is most remarkable, is, that this very Ajax will go to his room, and study six hours at a sitting, upon Greek or mathematics, after such feeding, and be up in the morning, going smiling to prayers.

Different from him, is the little gentleman who comes to college with a taste adulterated at home, by sweet-meats and cakes, from his infancy. He cannot think of boarding in commons; he eats at a private table, but lives mostly in his room, upon oranges, candy, and gingerbread. Such little men are excellent at a supper of ducks. Chicken is too cheap and vulgar. To eat with appetite, they must be sure the dish is genteel.

But if you would see good sport, go to the room of some young freshman, who is more bent upon fun than style. He is preparing for a feast at ten o'clock at night. He is roasting his potatoes by a blazing fire, and a group of six or eight are watching the process, with rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes. By and by the table is set -his study table- the butter is unrolled from a sheet of paper - it was hooked from commons; perhaps the potatoes were hooked too. The salt is produced from his waistcoat pocket, and an old knife or two is found. Some eat with their fingers, and the knife passes round for the butter the salt is used with less ceremony.

'How devilish hot this is!' says one, who runs about the room, as if it would stop the pain.

Ha-ha-ha!' roar out the whole club of little potato eaters. They are all so happy, they can laugh at any thing.

'Fellows,' issues from the stuffed mouth of another, 'I shan't be taken up to-morrow, I guess; they say the lesson is as hard as the d-l.'

Some decide upon a 'miss,' some upon 'tick;' the lesson is soon forgotten, and the potatoes rapidly disappear.

Some one raps! All are pale as death. Suspensions, publics, privates, stare them in the face.

'Clear the table! under the bed, and rap grows louder. got the porter.'

The

there, in that closet!-hush!' Some creep the room is still as a mouse, in a moment. Who's there?' 'It's me.' Who's me?'

I've

The door is opened, the emissary for porter appears, loaded with two bottles of beer. The company emerge from their hiding places, joking each other for being afraid. By taking turns, they finish the liquor, all drinking out of one glass. Now the cigars are introduced, and here comes the tug of war. All would be smokers, but few knew

how. It is got through with, with difficulty to some by the loss of their supper; some retching and coughing. And thus ends the first attempt of a freshman, who would imitate the higher classes, in what, in college, is called a 'blow-out.'

CHAPTER VI.

Il n'y a que d'une sorte d'amour, mais il y'en a mille differentes copies.

LA ROCHEFAUCAULT

THE first term being ended, I returned home to a long vacation of seven weeks. My books were thrown aside, and I was glad to avoid the sight of them. It was the gayest part of the year in the city. I was received by all my father's acquaintance as a gentleman—a man— though a mere boy, then. I was invited to parties with my mother and sister, and treated with all the respect shown to any one. I drank wine with gentlemen, after dinner; frequented the theatre; had the command of my father's horses; made calls, and wore a starched shirt collar.

I was, however, in a measure charmed away from the enticements of a city life to a raw youth, by a fondness for music and an affection for my cousin. My sister kept me out of harm's way, frequently, by promising, if I would remain at home, to play for me as long as I wished her to; and my dear cousin sat by, and looked so much like an angel, that I was enticed by music and beauty away from folly and vice.

This cousin was really a beautiful girl; and though very much my senior, I felt for her the strongest attachment or reverence. She was twenty, and I a little more than fourteen. She was tall and well formed. She had a large dark eye, full of tenderness and sweetness-it was a majestic eye, too. She must have seen that I admired her. I was not conscious then that I evinced any extraordinary preference, but as memory carries me back, I can look upon myself as a fervent lover. My love was not expressed in words and gestures, but in looks and blushes. If I happened to touch her hand, it

thrilled through me; if I found any thing belonging to her, I took deep delight in looking at it, and kissing it. I was unconscious of time, in her presence. I do not believe, though I was familiar at that time with all the vices of young men, by hearsay, that I ever coupled a sensual thought with my admiration for my cousin. She seemed the purest, the most perfect being, in the world, partaking more of a heavenly than an earthly nature.

It is difficult, in all cases, for a young man to reconcile the ideas he entertains of his mistress with the grossness of our natural passions so we young men, (and it is very lucky, for the good of society and the institutions of domestic life,) help ourselves along in the delusion, that what we love, is not so much of earth as heaven. We never look at the subject in its true light, but follow the blind meteors of the fancy. If men had been metaphysical in love, knighterrantry never would have existed: we should have lost on this account some of the finest creations of the poet; and, indeed, if every thing were to be viewed in its true colors, we should become so matter-of-fact, that machinery would be the only object of interest.

My cousin was Catholic. I attended her to church, and as we knelt before the imposing ceremonies of the service, I would sometimes steal a glance at her face. She was a devout believer in her religion, and gave up herself to its passionate idolatry. Good God! what emotions possessed me, as I caught the inspiration of her countenance! I could have knelt at her feet, and worshipped her. The organ, with its hollow thunders, swept over the soul, and lifted it to rapturous emotions. Oh, what would I give for the feelings of those hours back again! I know I was a fool, but I felt in the sincerity of childhood. I was bending in the adoration of the fanatic. I was only physically excited by love, and music, and grand ceremonies — but it was bliss. Now, as I review these scenes, and look about upon the emptiness of this earth to me, I seem to have descended from heaven to hell to have lost and not gained by the comings of experience.

In the whole course of my life, visions or glimpses of what is good have constantly been presented to my mind, only to make me feel how far I am from what I should be. I have the double misery, too, of knowing all the causes which conspired to give uneasiness to my mind, and instability to my conduct. I had no strong anchors; I had no processes of thought in my mind; I was left open to impressions, but I could not seize upon them, to any good purpose. Every thing was vague and unsettled. Religion, love, music, fame, all passions, came and went, and left no trace. Each for the moment filled my attention to the utmost stretch; the fancy of the moment vanished, and left me vacant and empty.

It is not so with the young man who has been trained to think and understand his work. A science is to him a castle a fortification to the citadel of the intellect. It retains good stores for a siege; it keeps back invaders; it systematizes what comes new into the head, and causes it to partake of the general order and arrangement the head is under. It gives a tone and character to our cogitations; we then have something to compare our thoughts with them to, as a test.

for

- to refer

But who can have a science without a taste for it? And who can have a taste for that which he does not understand, in abstruse studies? The mind of an undisciplined youth, who is open to good impressions from the circumstances of his birth, his situation, is like a rich, uncultivated field, surrounded by gardens; the winds of heaven scatter the seeds of good fruits over it, as society gives impressions; the showers place them in the earth, as our senses receive ideas. They come up in beauty to the light, but being neglected, and choked, and trodden down, by grosser feelings, as the brute tramples over the flower-bed, we lose what, with proper care, might have been made so useful and so beautiful.

Thompson told us a truth, years ago, in education, when he said, 'Just as the twig is bent, the tree's inclined.' We acknowledge it in theory, but we neglect it in practice. Every one, who thinks at all upon the subject of education, who understands the origin of character, and feels the effect of circumstances upon himself, knows that we too much overlook this truth in the education of the young. It is impossible to regulate entirely the impressions of children, for thousands occur whose influence is felt, though we receive them unconsciously; but strong and overpowering habits of thought should be inculcated, to do away the wrong notions we are necessarily exposed to imbibe.

I can point to thousands of my countrymen, born to the highest earthly hopes, whose lives have been wasted, whose health has been destroyed, who, while they lasted, spent bitter, bitter hours, and died young; whose bent was given in infancy; whose blood was stagnated by hothouse culture and indulgence, and who have seen and felt, as the lamp of life was going out, that with the highest capacity for doing good, they have done wrong by a kind of fatalism.

What mind can suffer more than such minds suffer? The prisoner chained to the wheel, is happy in comparison with that man who is chained to habits of vicious indulgence; who is constantly looking down the dizzy height over which he is about to be plunged, in hopeless ruin, for time and eternity.

During this vacation, an incident occurred which has been very influential upon my life. My father married a second wife. The cruelty and injustice of step-mothers is an old story to childhood. Mothers themselves, as if for self-protection, and with the jealousy of woman's heart, implant the hate of step-mothers in the hearts of their children; not often intentionally, and as a regular lesson, for people rarely expect to die and leave their children; but this sentiment falls in occasional remarks about their neigbors; in gossip parties, where ladies meet to canvass the claims of some unfortunate woman who has settled herself, and escaped an irrevocable old maidism, by accepting the station of wife to an old widower, with a large family of children. It is one of those involuntary feelings, which show themselves unawares to ourselves: at any rate, I record the fact, which is common enough, that children are prepared to dislike step-mothers. No matter how the substitute pure be may - no matter how affectionate and kind children cannot help viewing her as intruding upon their rights. If property is at stake, she lessens their share; if they loved their mothers much, if their memories be sacred in the heart,