Habits and Amusements.
"Ponder the path of thy feet, and let all thy ways be established."—Prov. iv. 20.
here is not a youth present this evening, who will not acknowledge this to be sound and wholesome advice. Were you walking in a slippery, dangerous way, amid the darkness of midnight, you would give the strictest heed to the friendly precaution—"Ponder the path of thy feet. Be careful where you step. When you put your foot down, see to it, that it rests on something well-established—some rock, some spot of earth, that is firm and solid." This advice would be heeded, because of your consciousness that by stepping heedlessly, you would be in danger of stumbling into a pit, or falling over a precipice, where your limbs would be broken, or life destroyed. Simple discretion would bid you beware, under such circumstances. The youthful should fully realize that they are walking in a pathway, which to them is wholly untried and unknown. It is a road surrounded by many dangers, unseen by the careless traveller; where he is liable to be lured aside to ruin, by a thousand fascinations and temptations, and where multitudes possessing the best advantages, the highest talents, the brightest genius, the rarest gifts, have stumbled and fallen, to rise no more on earth. While pressing on ardently and thoughtlessly in this dangerous highway, apprehending no difficulty, and fearing no peril, a voice from on high calls to the young, and urges them to "Ponder the path of their feet, and to let all their ways—their footsteps—be established!" There is wisdom, prudence, goodness, in this exhortation.
Question the old man—the aged traveller—who has passed over this pathway of life, and is just ready to step up into the mysterious road of a higher existence. Ask him as to his experience—beseech him for advice. Looking back through the vista of his long and chequered way, of light and shadow, of joy and sorrow, he will exclaim—"O ye youthful! Give heed to the admonition of the wise man—'Ponder the path of thy feet, and let all thy ways be established.'"
The admonition of the text is important in reference to the Habits and Amusements of the youthful. We are all more or less the creatures of habit. Our ways, from earliest infancy, are more the result of the force of habit, than we are generally aware. The actions, words, and thoughts of men, form for themselves certain channels, in which they continually seek to flow, unless turned aside by a strong hand, and a painful effort.
Habits are formed insensibly. We are not aware of any moment when they are created; but the first consciousness of their being fixed upon us, is, when their great power is felt impelling us strongly to certain courses. A single deed does not create a habit. One thread of hemp forms not a rope. It contains but a very slight amount of strength. But when a large number of threads are laid and twisted together, they make the mighty cable, which, attached to the ship, enables lier to bid a proud defiance to the fierce gales and mountain billows of ocean. Thus the young are continually, yet unconsciously, spinning the threads of habit. Day by day the strands increase, and are twisted tighter together; until at length they become strong and unyielding cords, binding their possessor to customs and practices which fix his character and prospects for life.
It is of the greatest importance that the young should inquire faithfully into the nature of the habits they are forming. They should not fall into self-deception—a common error, on this subject. The love of indulgence should not be permitted to blind them to the legitimate consequences of careless habits. Let them look abroad on their fellow-beings, and critically study the tendencies and fruits of their habits. When they see one prosperous in life—one who is respected, confided in, and beloved by all—who leads a quiet, pleasant and peaceful life,—mark his habits, and strive to imitate them. They will bless them as well as him, if faithfully practised. And when they behold a man disliked and despised by his neighbors, especially by those who know him best—or one who has fallen into disgrace and ruin; who has, lost his character, his health, his happiness, and become an outcast and vagabond,—let them not fail to learn what his habits have been. Look at them carefully and critically. Ponder well the effect they have had upon him. And then strive to avoid them. Shun them as the poisonous viper whose sting is death. Let them wind not a single coil of their fatal chains around the free spirit of the young. The same appalling consequences will be visited on every youth who indulges them, that have fallen on those whose condition excites Loth pity and loathing in their breasts.
In youth, habits are much easier formed and corrected, than at a later period of life. If they are right now, preserve, strengthen and mature them. If they are wrong—if they have any dangerous influence or tendency—correct them immediately. Delay not the effort an hour. The earlier you make the attempt to remedy a bad habit, the easier it will be accomplished. Every day adds to its strength and vigor; until, if not conquered in due time, it will become a voracious monster, devouring everything good and excellent. It will make its victim a miserable, drivelling slave, to be continually lashed and scourged into the doing of its low and wretched promptings. Hence the importance of attending to the habits in early life, when they are easily controlled and corrected. If the young do not make themselves the masters of their passions, appetites, and habits, these will soon become their masters, and make them their tool and bond-men through all their days.
Usually at the age of thirty years, the moral habits become fixed for life. New ones are seldom formed after that age; and quite as seldom are old ones abandoned. There are exceptions to this rule; but in general, it holds good. If the habits are depraved and vicious at that age, there is little hope of amendment. But if they are correct—if they are characterized by virtue, goodness, and sobriety—there is a flattering prospect of a prosperous and peaceful life. Remember, the habits are not formed, nor can they be corrected, in a single week or month. It requires years to form them, and years will be necessary to correct them permanently, when they are wrong. Hence, in order to possess good habits at maturity, it is all-important to commence schooling the passions, curbing the appetites, and bringing the whole moral nature under complete control, early in youth. This work cannot be commenced too soon. The earlier the effort, the easier it can be accomplished. To straighten the tender twig, when it grows awry from the ground, is the easiest thing imaginable. A child can do it at the touch of its finger. But let the twig become a matured tree before the attempt is made, and it will baffle all the art of man to bring it to a symmetrical position. It must be uprooted from the very soil before this can be accomplished. It is not difficult to correct a bad habit when it commences forming. But wait until it has become fully developed, and it will require a long and painful exertion of every energy to correct it.
Permit me to enumerate a few of the more important habits, which the young should seek to cultivate.
First of all—the most important of all—and that, indeed, which underlies and gives coloring to all others—is the habit of TEMPERANCE. Surely it is needless for me, at this day, to dwell upon the evils of intemperance. It cannot be necessary to paint the bitter consequences—the destruction to property, health, reputation—the overthrow of the peace of families, the want and misery, to which its victims are frequently reduced. The disgrace, the wretchedness, the ruin, the useless and ignominious life, and the horrid death, which are so often caused by habits of intemperance, are seen, and known to all. No one attempts, no one thinks of denying them. The most interested dealer, or retailer in intoxicating drinks—the most confirmed inebriate—will acknowledge without hesitation, that intemperance is the direst evil that ever cursed a fallen race!! The deleterious consequences of other vices may sometimes be concealed for a season, from outward observation. Not so with intemperance. It writes its loathsome name, in legible characters, upon the very brow of its wretched victim. "I am a drunkard!" is as plainly to be read as though a printed label was posted there!
Need I warn—need I exhort—the young to avoid the habit of intemperance. Perhaps there is not a youth present, who is not ready to say, "To me this exhortation is needless. I have not the slightest expectation of becoming a drunkard!" Of course not. There never was a man who desired, or expected, to become a victim to intemperance. The great danger of this habit is, that it creeps stealthily and imperceptibly upon the unwary. It does its work gradually. The most besotted inebriate cannot tell you the day, nor the month, when he became a confirmed drunkard. It is in the nature of this habit, that those who expose themselves at all to its assaults, become its victims, while they are entirely unaware of it.
The only safeguard and security, against this scourge of man, is total abstinence from all intoxicating drinks!! Here is the true, the safe ground for the young. There is no other condition of entire security. No man who drinks, however sparingly, has assurance of a sober life. He needlessly, and foolishly, places himself in danger—turns his footsteps into the only path that can possibly lead to the drunkard's ruin and the drunkard's grave!
Drink the first drop that can intoxicate, and your feet stand at the very brink of the ocean of intemperance. Its briny waters are composed of human tears. Its winds, the sighs of those made poor and wretched by the inebriation of husbands, fathers, sons. Its billows, ever tossing, are overhung with black and lowering clouds, and illuminated only by the lightning's vivid flash, while hoarse thunders reverberate over the wide and desolate waste. Engulphed in this dreary ocean, the wretched drunkard is buffeted hither and thither, at the mercy of its angry waves—now dashed on jagged rocks, bruised and bleeding—then engulphed in raging whirlpools to suffocating depths—anon, like a worthless weed, cast high into the darkened heavens by the wild water-spout, only to fall again into the surging deep, to be tossed to and fro on waters which cannot rest! Rash youth! Would you launch away on this sea of death? Quaff of the intoxicating bowl, and soon its hungry waves will be around you. Would you avoid a fate so direful? Seal your lips to the first drop, and the drear prospect will sink forever from your vision!
Young men who would guard themselves against the baleful habit of intemperance, should shun all resorts where intoxicating drinks are vended. They should avoid throwing themselves in the way of temptation. "Lead us not into temptation," should be the constant prayer of the young. When by any combination of circumstances, they find themselves in the company of those who quaff of the poisoned bowl, whether in public or private, they should exercise a manly pride in firmly refusing to participate in their potations. This is a legitimate and commendable pride, of which the young cannot have too much. Let them place themselves on the high rock of principle, and their feet will not slide in the trying hour.
"Oh! water for me! bright water for me,
And wine for the tremulous debauchee!
It cooleth the brow, it cooleth the brain,
It maketh the faint one strong again!
It comes o'er the sense like a breeze from the sea,
All freshness, like infant purity.
Oh! water, bright water, for me, for me!
Give wine, give wine, to the debauchee."
"The young man walks in the midst of temptations to appetite, the improper indulgence of which is in danger of proving his ruin. Health, longevity, and virtue depend on his resisting these temptations. The providence of God is no more responsible, because a man of improper indulgence becomes subject to disease, than for picking his pockets. For a young man to injure his health, is to waste his patrimony and destroy his capacity for virtuous deeds.
"If young men imagine that the gratification of appetite is the great source of enjoyment, they will find this in the highest degree with industry and temperance. The epicure, who seeks it in a dinner which costs five dollars, will find less enjoyment of appetite than the laborer who dines on a shilling. If the devotee to appetite desires its high gratification, he must not send for buffalo tongues and champagne, but climb a mountain or swing an axe. Let a young man pursue temperance, sobriety, and industry, and he may retain his vigor till three score years and ten, with his cup of enjoyment full, and depart painlessly; as the candle burns out in its socket, he will expire."[2]
Horace Mann.
Next to Temperance in importance, I would rank the habit of INDUSTRY. We were evidently made for active occupation. Every joint, sinew, and muscle plainly shows this. A young person who is an idler, a drone, is a pest in society. He is ready to engage in mischief, and to fall into vice, with but little resistance. It is an old saying, that "an idle brain is the devil's workshop." Those who are not actively employed in something useful, will be very likely to fall into evil practices. Industry is one of the best safeguards against the inroads of vice. The young, whatever may be their condition, or however abundantly they may believe their future wants already provided for, should actively engage in some honorable occupation or profession—in something that will benefit mankind. They should be fired with the high and noble ambition of making the world better for their living in it. Who can wish to pass a blank existence? Yet this is the life of every idler, poor or rich. Be stirring in anything which is useful—anything which will make others happy. Then you will not have lived in vain. Behold how a good man can devote his life to labors for the benefit of others. Would you partake of the immortal fame of a Howard? Imitate, to the extent of your ability, the example of industrious benevolence he has placed before the world.
"From realm to realm, with cross or crescent crowned,
Where'er mankind and misery are found,
O'er burning sands, deep waves, or wilds of snow,
Mild Howard journeying seeks the house of woe.
Down many a winding step to dungeons dank,
Where anguish wails aloud and fetters clank,
To caves bestrewed with many a mouldering bone,
And cells whose echoes only learn to groan;
Where no kind bars a whispering friend disclose,
No sunbeam enters, and no zephyr blows;—
He treads, inemulous of fame or wealth,
Profuse of toil and prodigal of health;
Leads stern-eyed Justice to the dark domains,
If not to sever, to relax his chains;
Gives to her babes the self-devoted wife,
To her fond husband liberty and life,—
Onward he mores! disease and death retire;
And murmuring demons hate him and admire."
To young women industry is equally essential and commendable. An idle woman is a poor and worthless thing. For what does she imagine she was created? Of what service is she to the world? In what respect would not the world be as well without her? A do-nothing young lady is most assuredly pitied and despised by those whose good opinion she is most anxious to secure.
It is not enough that a young woman can play skilfully, sing delightfully, dance gracefully, dress fashionably, and has an abundant flow of "small talk." The world looks beyond these outward ornaments, and asks—Has she a good heart and gentle disposition? Is she affectionate and forbearing? Can she rule her temper and control her tongue? Does she respect and obey her parents? Has she a well-cultivated and well-stored mind? Is she industrious, prudent, economical? Is she able and willing to engage in household duties? Accomplishments are not to be overlooked. But the qualities above enumerated are essential, indispensable, to the character of a good daughter and a useful wife.
"ACTION! That's the word. The great world itself throbs with life. Action, untiring harmony pervades the Universe of God. The Creative Power has so ordained it. The physical formation of the world, and all therein, forbids inactivity. The vast machinery must move, or the whole cease to exist. Man was never designed to be a drone. Had he lived pure in the first Paradise, he could not have been idle. Sick or well, in cold or heat, day or night, he machine moves on, the heart, like a steam-engine, throbs away, and faithfully pumps its crimson currents unceasingly to every part of the animal frame. Action is one of the first elements of health and happiness. The mind will stagnate and engender moral miasma, as much as the pool never stirred by a tide or swept by the winds.
"God has written action on the Heavens. Silent, but ceaseless, the worlds that gleam out upon us, keep on their course. Every orb follows the track marked out for it. The Ocean rolls and heaves. The spring gushes out from the hill-side and dances from rock to rock, and the brook hums and murmurs its melody as it goes. Upon the meadow, the springing grass tells of the process that annually clothes the turf with wealth and beauty. The leaves put out, rustle in the winds, and fall to their rest, while others follow. The fierce, fiery energy of the lightning writes the truth upon the scudding clouds. The formless waves that in the atmosphere ripple and dash against the cheek, tell of a restless ocean around us, a medium of health and sound. From the world that rolls, to the summer flies that float on the air and glance in the sun, the truth is proclaimed that all is activity. Man cannot be idle—should not."[3]
T.W. Brown.
"One of the most mischievous phrases in which a rotten Morality, a radically false and vicious Public Sentiment, disguise themselves, is that which characterizes certain individuals as destitute of financial capacity. A 'kind, amiable, generous, good sort of man,' (so runs the varnish,) 'but utterly unqualified for the management of his own finances'—'a mere child in everything relating to money,' &c. &c.—meaning that with an income of $500 a year, he persisted in spending $1000; or with an income of from $2000 to $3000, he regularly spent from $5000 to $8000, according to his ability to run in debt, or the credulity of others in trusting him.
"The victims of this immorality—debtor as well as creditor—are entitled to more faithful dealing at the hands of those not directly affected by the misdemeanors of the former. It is the duty of the community to rebuke and repress these pernicious glosses, making the truth heard and felt, that inordinate expenditure is knavery and crime. No man has a moral right thus to lavish on his own appetites, money which he has not earned, and does not really need. If public opinion were sound on this subject—if a man living beyond his means, when his means were commensurate with his real needs, were subjected to the reprehension he deserves—the evil would be instantly checked, and ultimately eradicated.
"The world is full of people who can't imagine why they don't prosper like their neighbors, when the real obstacle is not in the banks nor tariffs, in bad public policy nor hard times, but in their own extravagance and heedless ostentation. The young mechanic or clerk marries and takes a house, which he proceeds to furnish twice as expensively as he can afford; and then his wife, instead of taking hold to help him earn a livelihood by doing her own work, must have a hired servant to help her spend his limited earnings. Ten years afterward, you will find him struggling on under a double load of debts and children, wondering why the luck was always against him, while his friends regret his unhappy destitution of financial ability. Had they, from the first, been frank and honest, he need not have been so unlucky.
"Through every grade of society this vice of inordinate expenditure insinuates itself. The single man 'hired out' in the country at ten to fifteen dollars per month, who contrives to dissolve his year's earnings in frolics and fine clothes; the clerk who has three to five hundred dollars a year, and melts down twenty to fifty of it into liquor and cigars, are paralleled by the young merchant who fills a spacious house with costly furniture, gives dinners, and drives a fast horse, on the strength of the profits he expects to realize when his goods are all sold and his notes all paid. Let a man have a genius for spending, and whether his income is a dollar a day or a dollar a minute, it is equally certain to prove inadequate. If dining, wining, and party-giving won't help him through with it, building, gaming, and speculation will be sure to. The bottomless pocket will never fill, no matter how bounteous the stream pouring into it. The man who (being single) does not save money on six dollars a week, will not be apt to on sixty; and he who does not lay up something in his first year of independent exertion, will be pretty likely to wear a poor man's hair into his grave.
"No man who has the natural use of his faculties and his muscles, has any right to tax others with the cost of his support, as this class of non-financial gentlemen habitually do. It is their common mistake to fancy that if a debt is only paid at last, the obligation of the debtor is fulfilled; but the fact is not so. A man who sells his property for another's promise to pay next week or next month, and is compelled to wear out a pair of boots in running after his due, which he finally gets after a year or two, is never really paid. Very often, he has lost half the face of his demand, by not having the money when he needed it, beside the cost and vexation of running after it. There is just one way to pay an obligation in full, and that is to pay it when due. He who keeps up a running fight with bills and loans through life, is continually living on other men's means, is a serious burden and a detriment to those who deal with him, although his estate should finally pay every dollar of his legal obligations.
"Inordinate expenditure is the cause of a great share of the crime and consequent misery which devastate the world. The clerk who spends more than he earns, is fast qualifying himself for a gambler and a thief; the trader or mechanic who overruns his income, is very certain to become in time a trickster and a cheat. Wherever you see a man spending faster than he earns, there look out for villainy to be developed, though it be the farthest thing possible from his present thought.
"When the world shall have become wiser, and its standard of morality more lofty, it will perceive and affirm that profuse expenditure, even by one who can pecuniarily afford it, is pernicious and unjustifiable—that a man, however wealthy, has no right to lavish on his own appetites, his tastes, or his ostentation, that which might have raised hundreds from destitution and despair to comfort and usefulness. But that is an improvement in public sentiment which must be waited for, while the other is more ready and obvious.
"The meanness, the dishonesty, the iniquity, of squandering thousands unearned, and keeping others out of money that is justly theirs, have rarely been urged and enforced as they should be. They need but to be considered and understood, to be universally loathed and detested."[4]
Horace Greeley.
Nearly allied with the Habits of the young, are their Amusements. That the youthful should be allowed a reasonable degree of recreation, is universally admitted. The laws of health demand relaxation from the labors and cares of life. The body, the mind, constantly strained to the highest exertion, without repose, and something to cheer, refreshen, and re-invigorate it, will speedily fall into disease and death. The very word recreation—(re-creation)—indicates that to a degree, proper amusement has the power to revive the wearied energies, supply afresh the springs of life, and give a renewed elasticity and endurance to all the capacities of our nature.
Yet there is no subject surrounded with greater difficulties, than the amusements of the youthful. There is no amusement, however harmless and proper in its nature, but what can be carried to such excess, as to inflict deep injury. It is while searching for recreations, that the youthful meet the most dangerous temptations, and fall into the most vicious practices. How important that they should make this a matter of mature reflection and acute discrimination. Pleasure we all desire. It is sought for by every human being. But it is essential to distinguish between true pleasure, which we can enjoy with real benefit, and false pleasure, which deceives, demoralizes, and destroys. The poet truly describes the nature of this distinction, when he says,
"Pleasure, or wrong, or rightly understood,
Our greatest evil, or our greatest good!"
One of the first things requisite to be understood is, that in order to enjoy any amusement, a previous preparation is necessary. That preparation is to be obtained by useful occupation. It is only by contrast that we can enjoy anything.—Without weariness, we can know nothing of rest. Without first enduring hunger and thirst, we cannot experience the satisfaction of partaking of food and drink. In like manner, it is only by faithful and industrious application to business of some kind—it is only by occupying the mind in useful employment—that we can draw any satisfaction from recreation. Without this preparation, all amusement loses its charm. Were the young to engage in one unceasing round of pastimes, from day to day, with no time or thought devoted to useful occupation, recreation would soon be divested of its attractions, and become insipid and painfully laborious. To be beneficial, amusements should be virtuous in their tendencies, healthful in their influence on the body, and of brief duration.
Among the many pastimes to which the young resort for amusement, card-playing often fills a prominent place. This is a general, and in some circles, a fashionable practice; but it is objectionable and injurious in all its influences, and in every possible point of view. Nothing good or instructive, nothing elevating or commendable, in any sense, can come from it. All its fruits must necessarily be evil.
It is a senseless occupation. Nothing can be more unmeaning and fruitless, among all the employments to which a rational mind can devote its attention. It affords no useful exercise of the intellect—no food for profitable thought—no power to call into activity the higher and better capacities. It is true, I suppose, there is some degree of cunning and skill to be displayed in managing the cards. But what high intellectual, or moral capacity is brought into exercise by a game so trivial? It excludes interesting and instructive interchanges of sentiment; on topics of any degree of importance; and substitutes talk of a frivolous and meaningless character. To a spectator, the conversation of a card-table, is of the most uninteresting and childish description.
There are, however, more serious objections than these. Card-playing has a tendency of the most dangerous description, especially to the youthful. Let a young man become expert in this game, and fond of engaging in it, and who does not see he is liable to become that most mean and despicable of all living creatures—a GAMBLER. Confident of his own skill as a card-player, how long would he hesitate to engage in a game for a small sum? He has seen older ones playing—perhaps his own parents—and he can discover no great harm in doing the same thing even if it is for a stake of a few shillings. From playing for small sums, the steps are very easy which lead to large amounts. And in due time, the young man becomes a gambler, from no other cause than that he acquired a love for card-playing, when he engaged in it only as an amusement.
Parents have a responsibility resting on them in this respect, of which they should not lose sight. They cannot be surprised that their children imitate their examples. With all the dangerous associations and tendencies of card-playing, would they have their children acquire a passion for it? What wise parent can make such a choice for his son? Ah, how many a young man has become a gamester, a black-leg, an inmate of the prison cell, because, in the home of his childhood, he acquired a love of the card-table. He but imitated the practice of parents, whose duty it was to set him a better example, and was led to the path of ruin!
If, from its influences, card-playing, even for amusement, is improper for gentlemen, I conceive it much more so for ladies. A woman—and more especially a young woman—seems entirely out of place at a card-table. The associations are so masculine—they bring to mind so much of the cut-and-shuffle trickery, vulgarity and profanity—so many of the words and phrases of that hell, the gaming-table—that for a lady to indulge in them, appears entirely opposed to that modesty and refinement, which are so becoming the female character. I trust all young ladies of discretion will shun the card-table. I am confident every woman, who possesses a proper sense of the dignity and delicacy which form the highest attractions of the female character, will avoid a practice which is made an instrument of the most despicable uses, and to which the most vile and abandoned constantly resort.
"Daughters of those who, long ago,
Dared the dark storm and angry sea,
And walked the desert way of woe,
And pain, and trouble to be free!
"Oh, be like them! like them endure,
And bow beneath affliction's rod;
Like them be watchful, high and pure—
In all things seek the smile of God."
The same caution I have uttered in regard to card-playing, I would apply to all games of hazard and chance. The young should never indulge in them, even for amusement. Although they may be able to see no harm in them as recreations, yet the influences they exert, and the associations into which they lead, cannot but exert a deleterious influence. They can do no good. They may lead to the most dire results!
Another amusement in which the youthful frequently engage, is Dancing. This is the most fascinating of pastimes. And it might be made the most proper, healthful, and invigorating. In the simple act of dancing—of moving the body in unison with strains of music—there can be no harm. It is a custom which has been practised in all ages, and among all nations, both civilized and barbarous. The very lambs in the green and sunny meadow, and the cattle on a thousand hills, in many a fantastic game, exult and rejoice in the blessings a kind Providence bestows upon them. It is one of Nature's methods of attesting the consciousness of enjoyment.
Dancing, when viewed in the light of a pleasant bodily exercise, is undoubtedly healthy and beneficial. It is peculiarly so to females, and those whose occupation and habits are of a sedentary character. When properly engaged in, it strengthens the limbs, developes the chest, enlarges the lungs, and invigorates the whole system.
But this pastime is greatly abused, and is so perverted as to have become one of the most serious evils. In this view, it is subject to severe and well-grounded censure. As dancing is usually conducted in modern times, it has proved one of the greatest evils into which the youthful have fallen. The routs and balls to which the young resort, as generally managed, cannot be too severely condemned. The late hours to which they are prolonged—the rich and unhealthy pastry partaken of in abundance—the intoxicating drinks passed around, or conveniently found in the side-room, or at the bar—the thoughtless manner of dressing, exposing to cold and damp, and so confining the lungs, that when, by reason of exercise, they need the most room for expansion, they have the least, thus sowing the seeds of speedy disease and early death—the long-continued excitement and over-fatigue—the improper company which often assembles on such occasions—these all combine to make such assemblages a source of injury in all their influences and consequences. They should be discountenanced by every parent and well-wisher of public good. The young of both sexes, who have any just regard for their morals—and their health, should avoid these routs, and balls, and cotillion parties. Their tendency, in every respect, is evil in the extreme.
Dancing among children [unreadable] their pastimes—or by young people, at private parties, or social gatherings, engaged in temperately, and for a brief period, with proper precautions in regard to health, cannot, be objectionable. In this, as in most other amusements, it is the excess, the abuse, that causes the injury.
In urging these considerations on the young, I would not seek to deprive them of any amusement suited to their age and circumstances. Youth is the season of joyousness—of light-hearted pleasure, and budding hope. I would not overshadow one ray of its bright and beautiful sunshine—nor check one throb of its innocent pleasure. The shadows, the cares, and burthens of life, will come upon them full early enough, at the latest. In the spring-time of their days—the delicious, romantic morning of their being—they can experience some of the sweetest hours of their earthly existence. Nor would I rob them of that which God and nature designed them to enjoy. But I would have them seek for innocent amusements—for recreations and enjoyments, of a pure and elevated character. None other can make them truly happy. All things sinful in their nature, or demoralizing in their tendency, are unmitigated evils, destructive in their consequences. However attractive they may appear to the inexperienced, in the form of amusements, yet in the end, they will "bite as a serpent, and sting as an adder."
There is no necessity that the young should resort to that which is low and vicious to find amusement. A thousand means of recreation surround them, of the most harmless character. The enjoyments of the paternal roof—the social party, where the young engage in sprightly conversation, or innocent pastimes—the friendly call—the perusal of interesting and instructive books—the scanning of the journals of the day, by which they can look out upon the shifting scene of the busy, restless world—the summer morning walk, to behold the opening beauties of the glorious day, and listen to the singing of the birds, the lowing of the flocks and herds, the murmuring of the streamlet, nature's early anthem of praise to God—or the evening ramble, to watch the flowers as they open their fragrant leaves to be bathed in sweet distilling dews—to gaze upon the golden sunset, making the fleecy clouds to blush with a crimson glow, as the king of day bids them "good night;" or to behold the stars, as one by one they come forth to their appointed stations, bestudding the whole heavens with crystal coronets.—These, O youth! and countless other fountains, are open for you, from which the sweetest and purest enjoyments can be obtained. Seek for amusement—for pleasure—in these directions, and the cup which you press to your lips shall be one of unmixed happiness!
"While some in folly's pleasures roll,
And court the joys that hurt the soul,
Be mine that silent, calm repast,
A conscience peaceful to the last."