inefficient and powerless of human beings; but, let the warwhoop sound, or a deer go bounding past his wigwam, and he is instantly as full of fire, strength, and endurance, as a warhorse. All his slumbering energies have aroused themselves. He feels the force of an adequate purpose. A man's love is his life; and here we see its illustration. The very life's love of the Indian, is war and the chase. In the pursuit of them, every energy of body and mind is brought into activity. But when the tomahawk is buried, or he comes home from his hunting-grounds, he sinks into apparent imbecility. 4. The Indian is a mere savage, and the instincts of his nature are his prompters. But civilized man stands far above him, and is, or ought to be, actuated by reason, and not by instinet. His rational intelligence should give him the force of an adequate purpose; and this it will give him, if he but call in its aid. 5. Activity is the result of some end or affection of the mind. Where no purpose is in the mind, there is indolence; but where there is an end in view, of sufficient importance, all the powers of the mind come into spontaneous activity. Now, will any young man say that there are not objects for him to attain, of sufficient importance to awaken him from his habits of indolence? We know there is not one, who does not, at times, feel the necessity of concentrating every energy he possesses, for the accomplishment of some end. But the evil is, the thoughts are not kept steadily fixed, but are allowed to wander off, or retire, in mere idle musings; and thence comes indolence; for if there is no fixed purpose, there will be no activity. 6. The first thing to be done, in the correction of this habit, is, deliberately to resolve upon doing something worthy of an effort. Let the object in view be worth attaining, and let there be an end in the mind beyond its mere attainment, - an end of actual utility. In determining the object of pursuit, a good question for any one to ask himself, is, "In what am I deficient?" There will doubtless be answers enough to this question, to awaken all a man's energies, and invigorate his efforts. The next question ought to be, "What will be most useful for me to do?" When this question is settled, let him resolve steadily to prosecute his purpose, and in so doing, his success will be highly probable. 7. Most of us sleep too much. From six and a half, to seven hours' sleep, in the twenty-four, are said, by physicians, to be all that a healthy man requires. To a young man, who has acquired the habit of indulging himself in morning slothfulness, it will be something of a trial, to rise at five o'clock, in both winter and summer; but the self-denial practiced in doing this, will be so fully repaid, in a short time, that we are sure no one, who has waked up to the responsibility of his position, and the incalculable benefits that must result from efforts, such as he is making, will sink down again into disgraceful indolence. 8. It is no hardship to rise early; it only requires an effort at first; and when one is fairly awake, and begins to drink in the pure morning air, and to feel a refreshing sense of new life and vigor, he rejoices that he is not lost in dullness, or leaden insensibility. The heavy torpor, that we find so hard to overcome in the morning, and which we rest in as a pleasant sensation, is misery, compared to the sense of life that runs through every nerve of body and mind, after pure, cold water has touched the face, and the lungs have expanded with the fresh and invigorating morning air. 9. But next to indolence, with which all are more or less affected, comes want of order, which, in some, is a constitutional defect, and in others, the result of education, or, more correctly speaking, the want of education. But it is never too late to correct this defect, and the quicker a young man the better. As nothing great can be accomplished without industry and an earnest purpose, so nothing great can be accomplished with any good degree of success, without order. The one is indispensable to the other, and they go hand in hand, as co-workers in the young man's success and elevation. LESSON LXXXIII. THE CURE FOR MELANCHOLY.-C. WILCOX. 1. Wouldst thou from sorrow find a sweet relief? Breathes freely its perfumes throughout the ambient air. Wake, ere the earth-born charms unnerve thee quite, Do something do it soon with all thy might; -- An angel's wing would droop if long at rest, And God himself, inactive, were no longer blest. 3. Some high or humble enterprise of good Contemplate, till it shall possess thy mind, Become thy study, pastime, rest, and food, And kindle in thy heart a flame refined; Pray heaven with firmness thy whole soul to bind With thoughts all fixed, and feelings purely kind, 4. No good of worth sublime will Heaven permit That 'mid gay thousands, with the suns and showers Of half a century, grows alone before it flowers. 5. Has immortality of name been given To them that idly worship hills and groves, To measure worlds, and follow where each moves? 6. Beware lest thou, from sloth, that would appear But lowliness of mind, with joy proclaim Thy want of worth,— a charge thou couldst not hear Or pride indignant; then be thine the blame, Or let all soon forget that thou didst e'er exist. 7. Rouse to some work of high and holy love, And thou an angel's happiness shalt know,— Shall deck thy grave with amaranthine flowers, LESSON LXXXIV. SALADIN, MALEK ADHEL, AND ATTENDANT.- ANON. Attendant. A stranger craves admittance to your highness. Saladin. Whence comes he? Atten. That I know not. Enveloped in a vestment of strange form, Sal. Whom? Atten. Thy royal brother. Sal. Bring him instantly. [Exit Attendant.] To dissipate my anger. He shall die! [Enter Attendant and Malek Adhel.] Sal. Leave us together. [Exit Attendant.] [Aside.] I should know that form. Now summon all thy fortitude, my soul, Nor, though thy blood cry for him, spare the guilty. |