hopes of the country. Comparatively, a small number of them ever occupied respectable and conspicuous situations. In twentytwo years after leaving college, two thirds of that class were known to have died; and, of these, full one half died the victims of intemperance; of the survivors, some now living are known to be in the lowest state of degradation." Another individual has given the character and history of another class, which was graduated less than forty years since. "It was numerous, says he; "the influence was decidedly in favor of morality. Before leaving college, a large proportion came under the power of religious principle, in consequence of a general revival of religion. Twenty-five years after the time of graduation, only one quarter of the class had died; and, of the surviving three quarters, a large proportion were occupying stations of considerable usefulness."

These statements are highly instructive; and it would be well, if others, in imitation of these gentlemen, would furnish direct testimony of the same kind, in regard to the connexion between early moral and religious character, and subsequent success in the business of life. The entire subject of such a connexion is worth a careful investigation. No persons are so well qualified to furnish the requisite information, as the aged graduates of our colleges. The reason of this is plain. No persons are so well acquainted with the real characters of each other, as those who have been associated in the relation of classmates at our colleges, in the gay and fresh season of youth, when mankind are not accustomed to disguise their motives, feelings, intentions, and principles.*

* See an Address delivered by the Author before the Euphradian Society of the College of Charleston, October 3d, 1833; p. 21.

CHAPTER VI.

THE DUTY OF CULTIVATING A DELICATE SENSE OF HONOR.

EVERY man owes it to himself to cultivate a delicate sense of honor. This might have been included in the former division, as one of the personal virtues; but it is so frequently misunderstood, and withal so important, that I shall give it a distinct illustration.

When subjected to analysis, true honor is found to consist of the finest elements of feeling, of sentiment, and of action. It comprises delicacy of sentiment, manly spirit, and high courage, physical, and especially moral. The slightest touch of the base, the mean, the vulgar, and the false, is contamination and abomination in its sight. But I may well spare myself labor on this point, and avail myself of Cicero's analysis of honor (honestum), which, though made nearly two thousand years ago, still stands unrivalled. It is built, he says, on the superior nature and original excellence of man; no animal having the slightest pretensions to claim such excellence. Indeed, he considers it synonymous with personal excellence of the most exalted kind. One of its ingredients is, the enlarged acquisition of knowledge on the most valuable and difficult subjects of inquiry. Purity, sincerity, integrity, and truth enter largely into its composition. It comprises a desire of influence, greatness of mind, and elevation of feeling above the usual estimate, tide, and course of human affairs. Still it acknowledges obedience to all just and lawful authority, of whatever kind, when justly and rightfully exercised. It admits and respects the claims of all duties, domestic, social, and patriotic, in their fullest measure. The observance of order, consistency, decorum, grace, dignity, and the most perfect propriety in all our sayings and doings, are among the particulars of which it consists. It is not insensible, too, to a nice and exact perception of the beautiful, the grand, and the sublime, in nature, and in human sentiments, actions, and character. It shrinks

from the approach of every thing impure, unmanly, and unbecoming in feeling, sentiment, and action. Of all these particulars is honor made up, according to Cicero's analysis, the beau idéal of every excellence, and imperishable in its claims to universal regard. All the strict sects of ancient philosophers regarded it as the chief good (summum bonum), and the most considerable of them (the Stoics) regarded it as the only good. And it was by expanding this beau idéal of human excellence in all its details, § that the great Roman moralist produced the work, which has ever since continued to instruct the successive generations of mankind.

This fine sense of personal honor, then, this combination of the rarest excellences of character, cannot well be too highly prized, or too carefully cultivated. It is to be cultivated in connexion with the other personal virtues of which it is the crowning glory (if indeed it does not include all of them), and more especially in connexion with the graces of personal religion, from which, as their root, they all ought to grow.

But, in the order of divine Providence, the best things and the best principles are productive of the very worst consequences, when they are misunderstood, perverted, or otherwise abused. This is preeminently the case with honor. Misunderstood and perverted, this quality, so enchanting, so delighful, and so valuable, changes its nature and becomes false honor, — quick, jealous, selfish, vindictive, knowing no law, human or divine, and in its wrath not sparing even the companion of its youth and the friend of its bosom, but seeking vengeance on its victim in a practice (duelling), which has been truly called the relic of a barbarous age, an excrescence, which has fastened itself on the system of modern manners, and, entrenched in public opinion, has defied the efforts of legislatures, of courts of justice, of courts of honor, and of extensive associations of patriotic individuals, themselves (par excellence) honorable men, combined for the explicit purpose of employing their influence and their

*"Quibus ex rebus conflatum et efficitur id, quod quærimus, honestum," says Cicero, De Officiis, Lib. I. c. 4. Idem, c. 2, note; Pearce's edition.

t Ibid.

§ Particularly in Book I.

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example to bring it into disrepute. It is no proof of courage; many a man has been driven to the field of honor, falsely so called, for want of courage to refuse. A refusal to sanction this practice by resorting to it, is no proof of cowardice, for not a few have refused to resort to it, who have not refused to meet death at the cannon's mouth; to whom fear, in the way of their duty, was a feeling unknown; who have dared to do right, be the consequences what they might, who have respected the law of God and the law of their country more than an irresponsible public opinion, - who have feared nothing but what was base, mean, and false, who have embraced the sentiment of the greatest of our dramatic poets, when he says,

"I dare do all that may become a man ;

Who dares do more, is none."

It was a practice equally unknown to the manly Romans, those high-spirited conquerors of the world; and to the polished Greeks, those originators of the arts and sciences, in which they have been the instructers of all succeeding nations.

Such, as I have illustrated it, is the genuine meaning of honor; such was the understanding of antiquity; such is the analysis of Cicero ; a combination of the highest personal excellences, to which human nature can, under the best culture, attain.

CHAPTER VII.

THE DUTY OF GUARDING OURSELVES AGAINST PREJUDICES, ANTIPATHIES, &c.

Ir is a personal duty to guard ourselves against prejudices, antipathies, and prepossessions, which will lead us astray from the path of duty, truth, and even an enlightened self-interest. Prejudice, prepossession, bias, aversion, antipathy, are all terms expressive of an habitual state of feeling, that is, passion, under various shades, modifications, and degrees. The effect of them all is, to disturb the reason, to cloud and darken the understanding, and to pervert the conscience. Consequently, the evidence

by which our opinions, sentiments, and conduct ought to be governed, is greatly obscured, and makes but slight impression. They all imply something wrong in our habits, education, ways of thinking, or usual state of feeling. In their more intense degrees, they are unquestionably criminal, frequently they are highly so. Many of them are contracted very early in life; but all of them are injurious, and it is our duty to divest ourselves of them as far as possible.

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"In such a state of society," says Dugald Stewart, "as that in which we live, the prejudices of a moral, political, and religious nature, which we imbibe in early life, are so various, and, at the same time, so intimately blended with the belief we entertain of the most sacred and important truths, that a great part of the life of a philosopher must necessarily be devoted, not so much to the acquisition of new knowledge, as to unlearn the errors, to which he had been taught to give an implicit assent, before the dawn of reason and reflection. And, unless he submit in this manner to bring all his opinions to the test of a severe examination, his ingenuity and his learning, instead of enlightening the world, will only enable him to give an additional currency, and an additional authority, to established errors. To attempt such a struggle against early prejudices, is, indeed, the professed aim of all philosophers; but how few are to be found, who have force of mind sufficient for accomplishing their object; and who, in freeing themselves from one set of errors, do not allow themselves to be carried away with another? To succeed in it completely, Lord Bacon seems to have thought to be more than can well be expected from human frailty."* If then we are responsible for our opinions, sentiments, feelings, and conduct; if it is important for us to have the conscience unperverted, the reason undisturbed, and the understanding unclouded ; — it is a high personal duty to guard ourselves against these classes and modifications of our feelings, and, as far as possible, to divest ourselves of their influence.

But the subject admits of a more particular illustration. The old man is dissatisfied with every thing around him, seizes every