THE EDUCATOR:
OR
HOURS WITH MY PUPILS.
BY MIRS. LINCOLN PHELPS.
AUTHOR OF " LINCOLN 8 BOTANY," AND A SERIES OF WORKS FOR SCHOOU%
ON BOTANY, NATURAL PHIILOSOPHY, OHEMISTRY, RTCO.,
" THE FIRESIDE FRIEND," " IDA NORMAN," ETO.
'ew  Porh:
A. S. BARNES & COMPANY.-.
1876. 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 186S, by
A. S. BARNES & CO.,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for
the Southern District of New Ycrk. 
TO
MRiS. EIMMA WIL LARD,
THE GUIDE OF MY EARLY YEARS, MY EDUCATOR, MY AFFECTIONATE
FRIEND AND BELOVED SISTER,
cinb i'z  umt is Mtil'at-eb:
LET US ENCOURAGE EACH OTHER IN OUR MUTUAL LABORS,
ADOPTING THE SENTIMENT OF THE POET:
"Fear not to cast
Thy bread upon the waters, sure at last
In joy to find it after many days.
The work be thine, the fruit thy children's part:
Choose to believe, not see; sight tempts the heart
From sober walking in true Gospel ways." *
ALMIRA LINCOLN PHELPS
ERTAW PLACE, Baltimore, Mfa ryad.
MarcA 28t&, 1859.
* Keble's Christian Year.
'_
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SYNOPSIS OF CONTENTS
Pa,e
Dedication to Mrs. Emma Willard-Sketch of the Author's Educational His tory-Troy Female Seminary-West Chester, Pa.-Rahway, N. J.-And
Patapsco Institute, Maryland.........................................  19
FIRST SERIES.
ADDRESS L.
Page
Sketch of Patapsco in the Autum  of 1841-Changes-Problem to be
wrought out in regard to the Education of Women-A new Home  Vicissitudes-Women of the North and South.......................  81
ADDRESS II.
Dignity of Character-Mistress and Servant-" Coming out "-A New Eng  land Family-Southern Housekeepers-Home Happiness-The Path of
Duty............................................................... 89
ADDRESS III.
Beauty without Discretion-Solomon's Choice-Discretion and Judgment
-Indiscretion-The True End of Knowledge........................... 52
ADDRESS IV.
Truth and Sincerity-The Flatterer-Things which the Lord hateth  Secret Sins........................................................... 61
*
ADDRESS V.
Christmas and New Year-Culture of the Social Affections-Christmas
Offerings-Pleasure not the Object of Life-Beauty not Material........ 69
ADDRESS VL
Pleasure and Duty-Something to Do-The Nativity-Importance of
Minutes........................................................ 79
ADDRESS VII.
Relation of the Present to the Future-What to Do Next —Abridging the
Period for Education.................................................. 87
-x 
CONTEN1TS.
ADDRESS VIIL
Pegs
Stability of Moral Principle-The Only Security for the Young in their
Intercourse with the World-Precept without Example-The Young
D6butante-Triais of a Belle-Education never Finished............... 98
ADDRESS IX
Change-The Acorn-The Infant-Development-Changes in the Physical
World................................................................. 102
ADDRESS X
A Model Character-Physical Exercises-Dress-Want of Fortune........ 109
ADDRESS XL
Wisdom-Self-Government-Want of Truthfulness-The Wisdom Class Piety................................................................ 116
ADDRESS XII.
Opening of a Summer Session-Literary Institutions-Moral Courage Faults-Remarks to Teachers-Relation between Teachers and Pupils.. 124
ADDRESS XIIL
The Drama of Life-Acting a Part in Life-Woman's Life-Accomplils
ments-Useful Knowledge-A Word to Teachers................... 1I"
ADDRESS XIV.
On the Close of a School-Session in Autumn-Sudden Intimacies-Xffect
of Personal Beauty-Those who make Home Happy-Example and Influ ence of Teachers................................................... 148
ADDRESS XV.
Temples Dedicated to Improvement-Allegorical-Educational Improve ment-Temple for the Study of Nature...............................  158
ADDRESS XVI.
Perfect Happiness not to be found on Earth-The Daughter at Home..... 161
ADDRESS XVIL
A Good Beginning-Living by a Plan-A Bad Plan of Living-Twigs and
YoungTrees........................................................... 165
ADDRESS XVIII.
Human Life, Its Beginning, its Progress, and its Close-Moral Agency Infant Life-The Young Girl sent from Home-The Young Lady re turned from School-A Good Wife-Close of Life...................... 1T
x 
ONTENT'rS.
ADDRESS XIX         pFage
Ilmes and Seasons-Changing Seasons-Changing Seasons of Life-Lite.  -
rary Taste-Season of Youth..........................................184
ADDRESS XX.
Our Garden and Gardeners-Blossoms in Sylvan Walks-Moral Culture English Schools as described by Dickens-English Writers on America Leadings of Providence............................................... 192
v     ADDRESS  XXI.
Relative Duties of Teachers and Pupils-Favoritism-Companionship What Others think of Us-Pupils Should not be confined to Text-Books Adaptation............................................................
ADDRESS XXII.
Progressive Improvement-Importance of First Impressions-Necessity of
Rules-High Calling of Educators-Passing Regrets................... 218
ADDRESS XXIIL
Study-The Thorough Scholar-The Superficial Scholar-Reviewing the
Past-When Pupils are not Patients................................. 222
ADDRESS XXIV.
For a Closing Session-Suggestive Meditations-New Associations-All
Right at Last......................................................... 280
ADDRESS XXV.
To the Graduating Class of 1849-Difficulties overcome in the Progress of
Education-Fitness to enter upon the Duties of Life-Parental Partiality
and Blindness-A Husband may see Faults-Children Observers of their
Parents-Girls entering Life deprived of a Mother's Care-Religion the
only Safeguard of WomanSocialists of France-Modern French Litera ture-Woman's Virtues preeminent in Private Life-Brought out by Afflic tion-The disembodied Spirit enters a New School..................... 286
SECOND SERIES.
ADDREhS I,
What Schools ought to be-And what Scholars ought to be-Domestic and
Religious Training-Superficial Knowledge-Improving Time-The Christ- 
lan Graces............................................... 249
ADDRESS II.
Letters-Duties to Parents-Letter from an Ungrateful Child-A Good Letter 25s
xi
ADDRESS XIX. 
CTCoTNTrTs.
ADDRESS III.
On the Character of Miss Mercer, the Teacher, Philanthropist, and Chlsttianpg
-Miss Mercer's Lo- e of Nature......................................265
ADDRESS IV.
Good Words and Works-Practical Duties-The Right Stopping-place-Sen timental Virtue........................................................ 2n
ADDRESS V.
To the Graduating Class of 1850-Going Away not i Return-Sadness of
Partings-The Largest Graduating Class-Children become Women-Mis sion of Woman-The Last Reward.................................... 2T79
ADDRESS VI.
Bad Advisers-The Tempter-The False Accuser-The Choice............ 281
ADDRESS  VII.
" Meditate upon these Things "-Effects of Meditation upon Character Shame of undeserved Praise........................................... 29
ADDRESS VIII.
To the Graduating Class of 1851-Human Life-Days of Peculiar Interest Influence upon Future Life-Peculiar Faults of the Female Character Christian Women-Sanctity of Home-Mary Johnson's Allegory of the
"Voyage of Life "-Her early Death-Fading of School Associations Their Revival in After Life-The Bond of National Union strengthened
by School Attachments....................................294
ADDRESS IX.
Books-Danger from Improper Books-Worthless Books-Moore and
Byron................................................................  801
ADDRESS X.
To the Graduating Class of 1852-Meeting as a Class for the Last Time Changes in the Class-The Graduates of Former Years-The Future of
the Class of 1852......................................... 809
ADDRESS XI.
Behavior at Home and Abroad-Try to Make Home Happy-The Young
Lady at Home-Conduct as a visitor-Conduct as a Traveller-Behavior
toward Gentlemen.................................................... 812
ADDRESS XII.
To the Graduating Class of 185-The Present Scene a Living Reality-Its
Import-Past Efforts-The Future-Parts in Life's Drama-How fitted for God's Providences-We do not choose our own Fortunes-Agitations in
Soeiety-Popular Delusions-Fanaticism-The Last Wish and Blessing.. 822
xii 
CONTENTS.
ADDRESS XIII.
Pags
Refiection-Thoughts-Words-Actions-Circumstances of Life........... 82?
ADDRESS XIV.
To the Graduating Class of 185-Eras in Life-Roman Custom of investing
with the Toga-Significance of the Diploma presented-Previous Training
required-New Privileges involve New Duties-Fading Flowers-A Spec tral Procession of Graduates of Past Years-Absent Daughters-Heavenly
Mansions........................................................... 884
ADDRESS  XV.
The Virtuous,Woman-A Bride-Apparel................................  888
ADDRESS XVI.
To the Graduates of 1855-The Future become the Present-Import of the
Scene-Joy and Sorrow blended in the Scenes of Life-Feelings must not
make us forget Duty-American Women-A Future Meeting............ 843
ADDRESS XVII.
Christian Profession-Those who make no Christian Profession-God's Pro vidences-The Holy Communion-Gathering at Table.................. 848
ADDRESS XVIII.
To the Graduates of 1856-The Pupils go to commence Life's Duties-The
&uthor resigns her Educational ChargeShe bids Adieu to her Last
Class of Graduates................................................. 856
Conclusion................................................862
xiii  
INTRODUCTION.
"HOURS WITH MY PUPILS I"  IIow do these words, as
they touch a spring in memory's casket, people my soli tary apartment with living forms! Bright young faces
appear before me, a mass of heads with raven locks or
flaxen curls, and the bloom of health upon the rounded
cheek. Their countenances are turned towards me in the
attitude of attention.  Such was the scene presented in
the weekly assemblages at the Patapsco Institute, where
for many years, I labored in my mission of educator.
The "Assembly," as those meetings were called, was held
in the chapel, and was considered an important occasion
by all the inmates of the establishment.
Of this institute, I will say to those of my readers to
whom its location and scenery may not have been familiar,
that it is situated on an elevated tableland overlooking
the Patapsco River.  Its massive granite buildings stand
alone in solitary grandeur, giving to the indwellers a
sense of elevation and upliftedness, which harmonizes with
the sublimity of the surrounding scenery.   The deep
recessed windows in the massive walls with the huge
chimneys, combine to give the impression of a Gothic
castle of the middle age.  Here passed fifteen years of my
xv
I 0 t - 
INTRODUCTION.
life, and under my watch and care, grew from small
beginnings, a large and flourishing institution, numbering
about one hundred and fifty inmates, including besides
pupils, various officers of the institution, teachers and
servants.   One mind directed all, and its labors were
crowned with success by Him who ordereth all events.
On the days of "assembly" the inmates of the entire
establishment were impressed with a sense that there
must be quiet; servants about the premises checked their
accustomed mirth, their laughter or singing, and if there
chanced to be one forgetful of the occasion, there was ever
some mentor at hand to put the finger on the lip and
point to the chapel, or to say, "hush, they are in assembly." These quiet hours with my pupils stand out in
bold relief as one of the distinguishing features of the
whole period of my life at Patapsco. As the bell struck
on Friday at four o'clock P.M., might have been seen pouring from the various parts of the building its many inmates, who were soon, under the eye of the presiding
teacher, seated in their proper places. Even the sable
handmaid of the Principal felt that she had all important
part to act, inasmuch as she was sure beforehand to
remind her mistress that it would soon be four o'clock;
and when the clock struck to bring forward from its place
the formidable book of Teachers' Reports, which with the
written Address she had seen in progress, she would
gravely carry to the chapel and place upon the desk,
going out with the solemnity of one who has fulfilled a
serious duty. The Principal having taken her seat, the
Vice-Principal or Presiding Teacher, amidst profound and
anxious silence, read the reports of the progress, con(duct, etc., of the pupils during the preceding week, after
xvi 
INTRODUCTION.
which the Principal read an Address, often interspersed
with extempore remarks. This volume will contain the
spirit of those addresses. The occasion naturally suggested the subjects discussed.   The mother (for the time
being) of nearly one hundred young girls, separated from
the busy scenes of the world, its follies and temptations,
and yet knowing that her daughters must soon become
actors in these scenes, could never be at loss what to
say. Her own large and varied experience of life, with
habits of reflection and observation, should have qualified
her to direct them wisely. The characters and conduct
of the women who were educated by her must be the test.
Yet we would object to those cases being taken as a
criterion where the pupil was but a short time under the
influence of the system of education pursued at Patapsco,
where the previous training had been defective, or where
the influences on leaving school were unfavorable. A few
years of a different training could not be expected entirely
to change early habits of thought, and subsequent worldly
temptations. Yet, in my declining years, I may indulge
the thought that there are wives and mothers, who, amidst
their duties, bless their early friend and preceptress for
teaching them how to act their part in life's changing
scene, giving them rules and principles to be applied
to those various occurrences which could only have been
foreseen by Almighty prescience. There are teachers,
too, who in their high and responsible duties, may refer to
her who, according to her best ability, taught them how
to teach, and inspired them with lofty ideas of the mission
to which they had devoted themselves. Are there not,
too, ladies walking in single blessedness, fancy free, who
can refer to impressions derived from my instructions,
Xvii 
INTRODUCTION.
that there might be a course of life, dignified and useful,
above the trivialities of fashion and folly, devoted to the
study of the true and beautiful, to the cultivation of the
mind and taste, and to the doing good to others, making
happy those who come within the charmed circle of their
influence? Such were the objects in view in the addresses
to my pupils, which will appear in the following pages.
xviii 
HISTORI CAL SKETOCH.
THE educational labors of the author of this volume
commenced at an early age. After the decease of her
husband, Simeon Lincoln of Connecticut, she became connected with her sister, Mrs. Emma Willard, in the
Troy New York Female Seminary, of which institution
Mrs. Phelps was Acting Principal in 1830 and'31, during a visit of her sister to Europe.
On her marriage with the Hon. John Phelps, of Vermont, in 1831, she removed to that State, where, during
the seven following years, she prepared for publication
her "Female Student; or, Fireside Friend," " Caroline
Westerly; or, the Young Traveller," "Geology, Botany,
Natural Philosophy, and Chemistry, for Beginners," with
"Lectures on Natural Philosophy and Chemistry, and
Progressive Education, with a Mother's Journal." Severe
mental labor and close application, with consequent
sedentary habits, having seriously affected her health, a
change of climate and mode of life seemed desirable.
About this time, an invitation to Mrs. Phelps to organize
and preside over a seminary in West Chester, Pa., was
regarded favorably by her husband, as offering a desirable opportunity for the exercise of her educational tastes
and experience in a sphere where doing would be united
1.Q 
HISTORICAL SKETCH.
with thinking, and active duties surrounded by the young,
would take the place of solitary study and reflection.
The new seminary was opened in October, 1838,
under flattering auspices; but, while the public were
looking to its brilliant success, the Principal of the Educational Department (as Mrs. Phelps was called) saw the
elements of its dissolution in the hostility of some of the
trustees to religious instruction and worship; and finding
that no influence of hers-no success, however flattering,
could induce a change in their settled determination to
counteract, if they did not exclude, religious teaching,
she resolved to withdraw from her connection with this
institution; though it was not without sorrow of heart
that she left the warm-hearted girls who had come
together to be under her care, and the intelligent and
hospitable social circle of friends which had welcomed
her coming among them, and deeply regretted the cause
of her departure.
Undertaken with no regard to improvement, but as a
grand speculation, the West Chester Seminary contained
within its own organization the elements of decay. The
Girard College, with its no-religion, had been the great
model of some of its founders;-but without the Girard
funds to sustain the splendid but hollow fabric, it fell to
ruin. When too late, the stockholders and trustees
appointed a committee to wait on the late Principal of
the Educational Department, and offer to her the uncontrolled direction of the establishment; but she had
already made for herself and many attached pupils a
pleasant home in Rahway, N. J. Here she proposed
to complete the scholastic course of certain normal
pupils who had accompanied her from New England, and,
XX 
HISTORICAL SKETCH.
after seeing them established in their chosen profession, to
return to the home in Bratleborough, Vermont, to which
she had ever expected to retire. But the Lord had other
designs.
An invitation jointly from the bishop of the diocese of
Maryland, and the trustees of the Patapsco Female Institute, in 1841, induced Mr. and Mrs. Phelps to remove
from New Jersey to establish in Maryland a school for
Christian education.  They were  accompanied by most
of their teachers, with a large number of former pupils
from New England, Pennsylvania, and New Jersey.
We have given a brief sketch of the steps which, under
the guidance of God's providence, led the author to that
beloved spot, where, during her life's meridian, she enjoyed
her labors of love in the companionship of the young, the
beautiful, and the gifted. If all were not such as we
might have wished, there were none who had not some
redeeming traits of character. Removed from kindred,
and dependent on my care and affection, they were my
daughters. Was there not love between us? How often
does the beaming forth of some almost forgotten countenance remind me that nothing is lost-that no love which
has ever been felt can be blotted out of the heart's memory.
It was here that the spirit of my husband serenely
passed away from earth, like the calm sun-set of an October
evening, when the hills and forests which skirt the western
horizon of Patapsco are tinted with heavenly radiance.
And then, after some years had passed, another spirit
was called away.  She who might well serve for a model
of what woman should be-who was admired, loved, and
almost revered by those who saw her beautiful life, who
heard her sweet music on many instruments, and the
xxi 
HISTORICAL SKETCH.
touching tones of her voice; whose life was harmony,
uniting learning and accomplishments with piety and all
womanly virtues; she was suddenly called for-and, in a
moment, nothing was left but the empty shrine of the
departed spirit.
It was not in her home at Patapsco that this change
came. It was when travelling* with her invalid mother,
watching with anxiety the effect upon her of change of air
and scene after a protracted illness-it was then, that
God called her to himself, and doubtless with that ready
obedience which ever characterized her, her spirit responded, "Lord, here am I."
A few months after this affliction, the Author, yielding to
the pressure of sorrow, and the ever-present consciousness
of a support taken away, made arrangements for resigning the charge of the Patapsco Institute. Established
on the basis of Christian principles, and blessed with
Christian worship and ordinances, it had flourished and
taken firm root as a standard collegiate institution for the
daughters of the South.   That this religious culture
should be continued by her successor, was the first stipulation made by the Principal, and it is the testimony of her
experience, that no system of education not based upon
religion can be permanently successful.
* The death of Jane P. Lincoln, the eldest daughter of Mrs. Phelps, occurred
by the railroad calamity of August 29,1855, near Burlington, N.J.
xxii 
A FAREWELL TO VERMONT.
LAND of the Mountains Green* and rugged soil;Of cascades wild, of swiftly gliding streams;Of darkly waving pines, and stately firs;Of gloomy ravines, and romantic dells,;Of haunted glens, and sweetly smiling dales!
Land of my beauteous, mountain home, farewell I
Yet still I linger-for, to me, thou art
A land of beauty, picturesque, and rich
In native charms- land for Poet's dreams,
For patriot's visions, and for angel's thought
Methinks there's inspiration in the breeze
Reflected from yon mountain's pine-clad side,
Breathing aerial music to my soulThen dying'mid the groves, with cadence sweet.
Yet in these shades, where Poesy might dwell,
And Fiction weave her ever-varying web,
No magic lyre has struck; no fairy bands
Have issued forth to.charm the wond'ring world. -
* Vermont was originally called by the  renh Verd  Mont, or the Grem
Mountain State.
28
-..  
A FAREWELL TO VERMONT.
Is it that in my soul the chord is broke,
That once could harmonize with nature's charms,
And poesy, with youth, has passed away?
It is not this, methinks, but that fair Truth,
With her pure, steady light, has seemed more bright
Than Fiction's flickering torch, and gilded ray.
To study nature, and God's providence,
As manifest in these material things,
And having learn'd, t' impart to other minds
Knowledge so wond'rous, this, I've better deem'd
Than pencilling fantastic imagery.
There's poetry in science, when it leads
To gaze upon the rainbow's glorious arch,
To follow Echo to her grottos wild,
To trace the circling planets in their course,
And watch the bud first bursting into bloom.
Nature, I owe thee much;-if I have felt
Aught of the firm resolve, or wish sublime,
'Tis that I drank from thee the heavenly draught,
And gave thy moral image to the world.
And, oh ye venerable oaks!- whose shade
Embosoms the dear spot I now must leave,
Adieu, ye ancient friends! and may, sometimes,
Thy feather'd songsters thrill in pensive notes
Their sorrow for me, gone! I for dear to me
Their matin song and vesper hymn have been.
Sweet home, adieu! flowers that I've loved to tend,
Watching with care maternal for your bloom;
Others may cull your sweets, enjoy your charms,
May twine my woodbine o'er the trellis neat,
May guide the Lonicera's * spiral way,
* Trmpet honeys.l.
xxiv 
A FAREWELL TO VERMONT.
Or train the pensile Lycium's * graceful stalk.
Oh, ye have been my pride, ye twining race,
Who have so beautified and cheer'd my bow'rs
And I have fancied, as I've seen you climb,
'Twas gratitude that urged your upward way,
And gave luxuriant blossoms for my care.
E'en on the very verge of winter's frost,
Your bloom still lingers, as if fain ye would
Cheer nature's gloom, and soothe this parting hour.
My grateful flower, methinks I hear thee ask
Why thus I leave thee to a stranger's care;
Perchance, uncared for, trampled under foot
By the rude hind, as valueless and naught.
My honeysuckle sweet, list to my words:
Thou'rt a dear, docile plant, and pleasant'tis
To train thee in the way that thou should'st go.
But I must tell thee, there areflowers on earth
Created for far purer skies than these.
They are allied to thee in outward form,
Being made of earth and beautified by God
With shape and color, lovely to the eye.
But God to these sweet flowers has given
Immortal spirits to survive decay.
In yon fair sylvant land a garden blooms
Of those immortal plants, and fitting'tis
That skillful, patient hands should lend their aid
To train them for the ends which God ordains.
As step by step, thy upward way I've train'd,
So must I g-icdl then in their onward course
Up learning's height, and virtue's rugged way.Such labor calls me hence, but yet, methinks,
t Penn-sylvania or Penn's sylvan-la&
2
xxv
* Tea-vine. 
A FAREWELL TO VERMONT.
When frost of time shall settle on my brow,
And age asks respite from the cares of life,
Like Noah's wand'ring dove, my flowers, my birds,
My ancient trees, again I'll come to you.
Here stands my home, above the busy town,
Peeping through clustering oaks with col'mns white
And fair proportions. Quick the eye of taste,
Beholding from the bustling street below,
Pausesto mark its beauty, and admire
A scene so fair. Ionian portico, and verdant lawn,
Piazzas, gravel'd walks, and garden fair,
All, all, adieu! I may not linger more
Within these halls, sacred to studious thought,
To social converse, and the heart's repose.
But thou, my native stream!* I turn to thee,
As to an early friend;-what though thy wave
First met my view, where stands the Charter Oakt
(That patriotic tree of olden time),
And where sweet Sigourney now tunes her harp;What, though changing time my home has placed
In regions distant from that honored land,
For steady habits erst so much renown'd,
And strait-hair'd Puritans, a goodly race;
Yet nearer to thine own birth-place,t thou'rt still
My native stream; and onward mak'st thy way
Laving the soil, where, in their last repose,
* The Connecticut River.
t The hollow oak in which was concealed the Charter of Connecticut when
Sir Edmund Andross, commanded by James IT., went to Hartford, Conn., to
seize upon that instrument. N.B. —This hollow tree, of 1687, flourished in a
green old age, the pride of Connecticut, until 1857, when it was prostrated
by a violent wind.
$ The Connecticut River rises in the north part of Vermont.
xxvi 
A FAREWELL TO VERMONT.
My lov'd ones rest, father, and kindred near;
And dearer names, that memory garners up
'Mid her mysterious and spectral throng,
Shadows of youthful hope, and youthful love.
As theirs, I would that my last rest might be
Beside my native stream.
How oft, at pensive twilight, has my gaze,
Wandering beyond the cheerful village scene,
Sought yonder hill, whose monumental stones,
Their snowy whiteness blending with the skies,
Speak to the heart the vanity of earth.
It is a beauteous spot, fit place for rest,And such, methinks, the dreamless, quiet sleep
Which human care or woe shall ne'er disturb.
There, still, perchance, beside my native steam,
Beneath those sacred shades, I may repose.
Fain would I linger to survey the scene,
The lovely, variegated landscape round;*
The verdant hills where echo loves to dwell,
The mountains hoar, seen in the distance far;
And tributary waters, whose meand'ring course
Is marked by waving lines of silvery tint.
The village spires pointing towards the skies,
Mark where the voice of heavenly wisdom sounds.
Full many a dwelling peers upon my sight,
Where warm hearts cluster and kind thoughts abound,
And where, methinks, when I am far away,
My name will not be strange upon the ear,
Nor utter'd but in friendship's kindest tone.
* The tourist who has visited Brattleborough, Vermont, may have recognle
the scenes here described.
t The White Hills of New Hampshire.
xxvii 
A FAREWELL TO VERMONT.
Friends! in whose converse I had thought to pass
Life's future days, from you, time's restless wave,
Which late has thrown me midst your pleasant scenes,
Now bears me onward!
And thus, with me, this world has ever been,
Like rushing river, in its rapid course.
Fain would I, as the calm and placid lake,
Which never leaves its fond encircling shade,
Rest'mid these cheerful bowers and solemn groves;But God directs our pathway, and His will
Should be our guide. Then let me nerve my heart,
And tirn me from my dear, my mountain-home.
XXVlll
I 
ADD R ES S ES.
We  commence "HouRs WITH MY PUPILS" with Addresses of
the second year at Patapsco, those of the first year having been
seldom committed to writing; though the weekly assembly, with
its customary exercises, was from the first always held with unde
viating regularity. The extempore Addresses, or Talks to the
Pupils, were perhaps not less effective than written essays, though,
in the latter, it was intended to keep up attention by a colloquial
style and familiar manner.
I
xzbL 
* 
HOURS WITH MY PUPILS.
ADDRESS I.
SKETCH OF PATAPSCO IN THE AUTUMN OF 1841.
Changes-Problem to be wrought out in regard to the Education
of Women.
MY DEAR PUPILS:
ONE year has passed since we commenced our
labors in this place, with the view of establishing an Institution for the Christian education of girls, upon an
enlarged plan and liberal principles, giving to our sex cor.
responding advantages with those enjoyed by young men in
colleges. And yet we have endeavored to keep in view the
great difference in the future destiny of the two sexes, so
that we may not disturb the order and harmony of social
life, in attempting to turn the future woman from her
proper sphere of duty. We would not be instrumental in
educating masculine women, but we seek to enlighten,
refine and elevate the female mind and character.
You will not, therefore, expect in this place to hear
much upon the rights of woman, while her d?Tties will
81
8 8 - 
h1ouRS WITH MY PUPILS.
claim most of our attention; and your course of education will be directed to fit you to become useful rather
than brilliant, patient rather than presuming.
One year has passed rapidly away, since most of us
came hither as strangers. We have seen great changes
in the appearance of our home, both within and abroad;
and the wilderness has literally been made to blossom as
the rose. Some of you, brought to my care from distant
regions, accompanied me hither, other pupils joined us
here, and so we began to live together and to make a new
home; strangers to each other, with different habits of
thinking and acting, with much to learn, and something
to forget.
But we will look back through memory's stereoscope to
the entrance into this place of those who came from a
distant region, to commence anew the work of education.
In October of 1841, a weary company of travellers were
climbing the steep ascent which leads to our granite edifice, that, like some feudal castle of the Rhine, overlooks
the surrounding country.   The hectic flush of decay had
passed over the landscape, and from the old forest trees
upon the hill-side and the mountains, the autumnal blasts
were strewing the withered leaves upon the ground, preparatory to their returning again to their native earth.
An equinoctial storm which had met the travellers on
their journey, still lingered in the horizon, and the dark
heavy clouds seemed to weep as if in harmony with the
scene. The pathway up the hill was tangled with briars,
32 
A NEW 0HomE.
and rough with broken fragments of rock; and around
the mansion were heaps of unremoved stones, which had
been left there on the erection of the building.   In front
of our classic portico, at the base of the massive granite
steps, a drove of ill-favored swine were rooting up the
ground, their gutteral exclamations little resembling the
dulcet notes of the piano or harp, with which our halls
now resound. No welcome of friends awaited the travellers as they entered their new home; gloomy and desolate
seemed its spacious apartments.
But the sky was once more serene, the beauties of the
scenery gradually unfolded themselves, every poilt of
view showed some new object of interest, and the uninterrupted prospect of the heavens, as seen from this great
observatory, gave to the mind new elevation and expano
sion.   Nowhere does the Indian-summer appear more
delightful than in this picturesque region.
After a few weeks of great labor and effort, the Instif
tute was prepared for the reception of pupils.   But often
did the unbelieving doubt arise in my mind, will parents
come hither with their daughters? I recalled my first
impressions of the wildness of the scenery, of the seclusion
of the place, and "How hard it was to climb, etc.,??
But if I had doubts I did not express them, and when
any one said to me, "If you succeed here," I would
reject any supposition, and say, "we will succeed."
There was work done by faithful laborers, without on
t    h     e      grounds, and in th e  interior, to render the abode plea                              2*
Oa 
HIIOURS WITH MY PUPILS.
sant and comfortable. Load after load of furniture found
its way into the house, which at length began to look like
a home. And so I trust those of you who were with us
last year have found it, as well as a literary institution
where the mind has received its due share of attention.
The new Patapsco Institute opened encouragingly;
travelling from afar were seen pupils,-from Canada and
the southern States, from the Atlantic and the Mississippi, and even the Cherokee nation; they met hereand here they have.lived together as a band of sisters
under the care of their common parents. Most of them
are now before me, ready to welcome with kind greetihg
the new sisters who have joined them in this beginning of
a new school year.
But unexpected events have prevented the return of
some. Among these the first who came hither to welcome
the founders of the new Institute was a widowed mother,
bringing her two lovely daughters.    She was enthusiastic in the cause of the education of woman, and ready to
make sacrifices to promote the improvement of her daughters. Her enlightened and judicious opinions, so earnestly
expressed, were highly encouraging in respect to the success of the undertaking.    Superior to narrow views, and
highly appreciating intellectual efforts and zeal in a good
cause, Mrs. I-'s companionship was of no small value
to her, who was deeply sensible of the many obstacles to
be overcome in the accomplishment of her objects. She
34 
VICISSITUDES.
was a woman of feeble frame and delicate heath, the sole
parent of a large family, but her comprehensive and farseeing mind looked beyond present scenes, and she perseveringly followed out for herself that course which her
judgment had decided on.  With  no pretensions  to
being a literary woman,  Mrs., was  far more, and
better; sensible, wise and pious, she was one to
strengthen and uphold a cause in which she embarked.
And the daughters of this mother were obedient to rules,
studious and diligent, simple in dress, and conscientious
in morals and religion. How does a mother's character
appear in the dress, deportment and mind of a daughter.
In the midst of plans for the proper training of her
children, this excellent mother was removed to another
world; the orphans must journey on in life, no longer
watched and guarded by her care. The places which the
two elder daughters last year occupied with us, are now
filled by others-they must remain at their lonely home,
the stay and support of younger children.
On the same day that Mrs.           first brought her
daughters here, a young gentleman from Pennsylvania
came with his sister. The personal beauty and manly
bearing of the youth were striking-the sister went home
before the close of the school year, to be present at the
marriage of this brother, but in the midst of the festivities which followed, a fatal accident rendered a young
bride a widow, and the home of your associate and friend
has become "the house of mourning."
35 
SIouRS WITH mIY PUPILS.
And far off in the distant Cherokee nation, there is the
sound of mourning for a young man taken away in the
bloom of life, and amidst prospects of usefulness among
the people of his tribe.  Educated at Princeton, young
Mr. R. had returned to his nation prepared to vindicate
their rights, and to exert himself to improve their condi tion. A few short months have passed since he visited
his sisters here-he expressed great delight that they
were enjoying advantages for education, and his determi nation to induce the " Head men" of his country to send
their daughters to Patapsco. We see, to-day, his sisters in
garments of mourning, and in a far distant region in the
West there is a new grave over which bereaved parents
weep.
Again, one of your number, by a mother's decease, is
called home to be the consoler of her father, and the
directress of his house. Such are some of the changes in
the families of those who last year were here assembled.
And what changes may this year witness?
We have, my dear pupils, brought forward these instances, to show you the uncertainty of every situation in
this life. While some of you are repining, perchance, that
you are to be kept longer at school, the decree may
have gone forth that shall suddenly remove you from
this place; you may be taken from life, or fortune may
change, and your parents be no longer able to meet the
expenses of your education.  How ought you, then, to
improve the advantages here enjoyed, and to lay up in
36 
WOMEN OF TIIB NORTH AND SOUTH.
store wisdom to guide you, if left to yourselves. Seek to
do your duty to your friends who sent you here, to yourselves, and to the Institution, by improving to the utmost
of your power all the means put into your hands for your
own benefit.
There are those who love knowledge, who thirst for it,
and who would gladly make great efforts to gain the opportunities which you enjoy. The factory girls of New
England often study hard in hours allotted to rest, and
not unfrequently make greqt proficiency in literary pursuits. In some parts of our country, especially in New
England, the daughters of those who might be called
independent in circumstances, often assist in educating
themselves, by teaching a portion of the time, and thus
strengthening their minds, while they aid their parents.
Should there be less zeal for education among the daughters of the South?  They are not less gifted in intellect,
nor less aspiring in their ambition to attain excellence,
The state of society among them is, indeed, somewhat dif.
ferent; woman is considered more helpless. There is a
cause for this that will have its influence-the misfortune
of being waited upon by those who have nothing else to
do. But it is this very helplessness -that we would urge
you to cast aside. There is a problem to be wrought out,
and you, my daughters from the South, are called upon
to assist in its solution.  It is the use of education to
woman in rendering her better fitted for her duties, and
more efficient in their discharge. Enlightened in intellect,
37 
HHouRs WITH MY PUPILS.
cultivated in morals, and firm in religious principles, may
American women comprehend the high destiny of their
country, and whether of the North or the South, may
they use their powerful influence to hold fast the ties
of union-Sisters of one country, may they never cease to
cherish the sisterly bond, nor to do all in their power to
soften asperities of sectional feeling which may hereafter
rise up among their fathers, brothers, and husbands.
Nov., 1842.
NOTE.
Such was the advice given in 1842;-but women on both
sides had their share in sundering the Union-may they now
seek to re-unite the country by meek resignation on the part of
the conquered, and by a generous and noble sympathy from
those who have the means and the opportunity to be magnaminous.
1868.
38 
ADDRESS II.
DIG N ITY OF C H A R A CTER.
THE word dignity is by most persons falsely appreciated; it is supposed to relate to that which is grand and
lofty, and associated with the characters and actions of
those who occupy superior stations in society. If we
consider dignity as the opposite of meanness, we must admit, that while the latter quality is often found among
the rich and elevated in station, the former may be seen
in the humblest condition-in life.
In what, then, does dignity consist? When we behold
one occupying an elevated position, surrounded by accompaniments which suggest ideas of refinement and authority, we naturally associate with these circumstances, dignity and elevation of mind. Yet, experience of the
world shows, that meanness of spirit may exist in the individual thus surrounded by external grandeur; and that
on familiar acquaintance, the character of those occupying high stations may appear mean and undignified; while
we often feel respect for the poor and lowly whom we
see above mean actions, whose thoughts are noble, though
their circumstances are humble.
89 
HouRs WITH  MY PUPILS.
Approach yonder proud mansion, enter its spacious
halls, survey its costly furniture, its works of art, its
hoards of rich plate, bespeaking family antiquity and
honors. In a tasteful boudoir, reclining on a luxurious
couch, and clad in costly robes, is the mistress of the man sion; from her infancy she has been the pampered child
of fortune, she has been taught no lessons of self-denial,
she has never felt want, and knows no sympathy for the
distresses of others.  Accustomed to command with imperial sway the menials who are taught to obey her slightest wish, her own passions have grown with her growth,
and strengthened with her strength. Of self-control or
self-denial she knows nothing. Material wants and
schemes for self-gratification occupy her thoughts; something to pamper the appetite, some new fashion of dress,
some new party of pleasure, some new excitement in,
which she may forget the real worthlessness of her existence; these may be the desires which occupy her mind;
while "envy, hatred and malice," are indulged by her
without compunction or remorse. Does this woman in all
her luxurious surroundings and grandeur of position, exhibit true dignity in her character and conduct?
In the mud-plastered cottage near the great house, is
the servant, whose birth may have been contemporaneous
with that of her haughty mistress, whose commands even
in childhood she was taught to obey with patient and
uncomplaining submission, to tremble at her frown, to go
and come at her bidding, to be by turns the sport and
40 
]1ISTRESS6 AND SERVANT.
plaything of her gayer moments, or the victim of her
temper and passion.
Day after day, the menial has gone on, striving, though
in vain, to satisfy the demands upon her skill, labor and
self-devotion, attaching herself with warm affection to one
who showed no mercy to her; gentle, uncomplaining, she
has submitted to her fate, and striven to perform her
duty.  Through the long vista of life she sees no amelioration of her lot; but she hears, perhaps from one
ignorant as herself, of a friend in heaven who sitteth at
the right hand of God making intercession for her, that
when her toils are over, she may be received into mansions of everlasting peace; she sees through the light of
the Gospel, so clear that the most ignorant are enlightened by its beams, that beyond this vale of tears, there is
a land where the weary are at rest, and the wicked cease
from troubling. The blessed hopes of everlasting life
and peace spring up in her benighted soul; she loves that
Saviour who gave himself for her, and piety gives her
new resolution to go on, from day to day, laborious and
patient, looking for glorious rewards hereafter.
Who would say that there is not in the character of
this poor menial, more true dignity than in that of her
selfish, worldly and unscrupulous mistress? May such of
you as in your future lives will have control over fellow
beings whose happiness in God's providence is  made
dependent on your kindness, sometimes think of the pictures here presented; and may you never be excelled by
41 
HflouRs WI'rlT MY PUPILS.
them in dignity and true nobility of character. Show
to them that you, too, can sacrifice your own inclinations,
and that you are willing to do it out of regard to their
comforts and feelings;-be not surpassed by them in selfcommand, or in generosity of spirit.
It is not to be denied, however humiliating may be the
admission, that many women live with little regard to
true dignity-that their estimate as to what constitutes
this is low, and entirely at variance with the Scripture
definition of a good woman. If they think of beauty, it
is not the beauty of holiness; if they hunger and thirst,
it is not for righteousness; they do not regard "wisdom
as more precious than rubies," or consider it as "an ornament of grace to the head;" they forget that "favor is
deceitful and beauty vain," and that praise belongeth
only "to the woman that feareth the Lord."  Vanity
leads many of our sex into fearful snares; and the love
of pleasure and admiration tempt them to stray in
forbidden  paths.    False notions of life often fill the
minds of.young girls about to leave school. The expressions  "coming  out into society," "finished education," "entering life," etc., seem to mean something,
though what this something is, cannot always be easily
defined.
The "coming out" of a young lady, or her being permitted to partake freely of fashionable dissipation, is but
a poor beginning for a life of duty, trials and cares. It
would be far better if, for the foolish notions which too
42 
'C'OMING OUT."
often fill the heads of young girls, could be substituted
more just and rational ideas of life. It is true that some
parents, with ill-judged kindness make the period of a
daughter's leaving school an era of extravagance and
dissipation, and instead of seeking to develop good principles and confirm the habits of industry, order and selfrestraint which the faithful educator has so carefully
labored to cultivate, they seem in haste to change all;
and before the daughter shall be called upon to encounter the realities of life, to suffer her to become dazzled
with the false glare of pleasure, and rendered unfit for the
scenes of duty and trial which await her.
"Poor girl," they may say, "she has been long confined to school, she ought now to be indulged; the
troubles of life will come fast enough;" and so she is
permitted to destroy her health by dissipation, to lose
her innocent simplicity in the search for adventure, and
to acquire a fondness for excitement, which will render
the quiet scenes of practical life dull and monotonous.
Surely this is ill-judged kindness on the part of the
parent. The idea that in "coming out," a young lady
must have admirers, and that the greater their numbers
the greater her triumph, naturally leads her into folly and
flirtations. In her haste to secure beaux she perhaps
loses a worthy and devoted admirer, who becoming disgusted with her frivolity and apparent heartlessness,
leaves her for one less brilliant, but more worthy of his
affection.
43 
HHOURS WITH MY PUPILS.
Those of you who are expecting soon to complete your
school education and who earnestly desire to do right,
are ready to ask, "What ought I, as a young lady, entering society, to do?" Accustomed as you have been
to regard my counsels and warnings, and hoping my advice may be remembered when you have entered life's
busy scenes, I will look into the future, aiding you as far
as my experience may go, in discriminating the path of
duty before you.
When you cease to be school-girls, your situations and
occupations will, of course, be different from what they
were in vacations, when you were at home preparing for
a return to school.  I would ask you, if it is a time for you
to plunge into amusements when life opens before you, and
you should begin-in earnest to act your part in its varied
scenes?
Resolve seriously to set yourselves about living according to some method. Consider what you can do, what
you ought to do; and what your friends wish you to do.
Observe the cares of your mother, if you enjoy the blessing of such a parent, and begin to share them with her.
If she should be feeble, tenderly regard her weaknesses
of body or mind; comfort her heart by your sympathy, and sustain her by your prudence and stability of
character. Look over the household arrangements; you
have perhaps in your school-days been ambitious to keep
your small room with taste and neatness; apply your industry and skill to putting in order the different apart —
44 
A  NEW ENGLAND FAMILY.
ments of the house, observingthe arrangement of furniture, and looking into domestic operations.
In New England young ladies of education and refinement often take the charge of parlors, and sometimes
assist their mothers in doing all the household work.
The many factories in the eastern section of our country,
offer employment of an easy and profitable kind, so that
few females are willing to engage  in domestic service
when they can get better wages in factories, and live
independently as boarders to be waited upon.  Thus it
happens that those who could hire servants are often
obliged to do their own work; to look after their own
houses and to prepare the family meals.
But you should see how these things are managed? for
I could not otherwise make you comprehend the neatness,
comfort, and order which are often seen to prevail in those
families in the eastern States, where the mothers and
daughters do the household work.
Early on Monday morning all are up; the mother, perhaps, engages in preparing the breakfast, while the daughters commence the family's washing for the week. They
have, of course, all been careful not to make unnecessary
washing. Everything is life and activity-the cheerful
voice of singing from within, mingles with the matin songs
of the birds without. On this day, a simple dinner is
provided, which requires little time in preparation, but
for which labor gives a keen relish. Before the devotee
of fashion has arisen from her disturbed and restless
45 
HOURS WITH MY PUPILS.
couch, the industrious mother and daughters have finished
their washing-clothes, white as the driven snow, are
hanging upon the lines, and the kitchen and wash room
floors are nicely washed. Everything is put in place;
our matron and her blooming daughters are dressed for
company, and very likely either receive some good neighbor, or go out and take tea sociably with a friend. And
such teas I The snow-white tablecloth, the biscuit or rolls
scarcely less white, the honey in its rich comb, the delicious butter made by fair hands which are perhaps no less
skillful toplay upon the piano than to perform domestic
labor; the cake of several kinds, the nice preserves, and
the exquisite tea;-this tea not put into a tea-pot musty
through neglect, nor decocted with water below the boiling
point; but made exactly right by the mistress of the
house, who esteems herself responsible for her housekeep
ing, and ranks neatness, care, and economy among her
chief duties.
While you listen to my description, you think perhaps
of a vulgar mother and coarse-looking, unrefined daughters;-would that I could take you by clairvoyance to
some one of the intellectual and agreeable families in New
England, where is realized the picture I have drawn of a
home of comfort and plenty.
In homes where there are no daughters, or they are sent
abroad for education, a young girl as domestic assistant
is often received into the family, and in many respects
treated as a member of the same. She is sent to the
46 
SOUTHERN HOUSEKEEPERS.
public school until she has obtained a good comnmor
English education, rendering in the meantime most useful services to her kind benefactors.   She becomes an
intelligent and useful woman, and perhaps marries the son
of a neighboring farmer; and in a home of her own, practises those lessons of industry and frugality to which she
has been trained. But this may be rather a picture of
past times than of the present. The great influx of emigrants in every part of our country renders it more easy to
obtain domestic servants, and Bridgets and Noras, with
their strong hands and red, brawny arms, are relieving
their more delicate mistresses of the burdens they formerly so cheerfully, bore. Whether this is in reality
increasing the happiness of society, is doubtful. The
feeble, sickly women of our country, drooping and nervous
for want of exercise, would indicate the negative.
Most of you, young ladies from the southern States are
not under the necessity of performing household labor. It
would be a mistaken kindness in you to do the labor, and
let the menials live in idleness. But yet it is well for you to
know what labor is, that you can feel sympathy for them;
besides, your servant may be sick, and humanity may
require of you to relieve her from duty, even if you should
take upon yourself the burden of her labor. Though not
called upon, in general, to servile labor, you are not
excused from a life of usefulness. No family can be well
ordered, or even comfortable, where the care, as well as
the labor, is thrown upon servants.  I would hope that
47
I 
I-IOURS WITH MY PUPILS.
you have here learned to respect the virtues of industry
and neatness, and with your other accomplishments, have
acquired habits of order and system, which in future life
will be more important to you than the merely ornamen tal branches of education.
To woman it belongs to soothe the couch of sickness,
to minister to the wants of declining age, to diffuse
around the fireside an air of cheerfulness and comfort, to
watch over the wants of a household, and to arrange and
control in the little empire of home. First, as daughters
you should learn to minister to your parents, to anticipate
their wishes, to study their happiness, even though it call
for the sacrifice of your own enjoyments. This picture
may be far different from the one in your fancy, where
gay parties with all the excitements of a life of pleasure
occupy the foreground. But how absurd for any rational
mind to consider the mere accidental circumstances of
life as its business or employment. It was said by Hannah More, one of the greatest and best of women of the
past generation, that, "from the manner in which girls
were brought up, one would suppose that life was a perpetual holiday, and that the great object was to bring
them up to shine in its amusements and sports."
Accomplishments should be valued chiefly for their influence in rendering the domestic circle more cheerful and
refined; most young ladies seem to consider them as
only intended to gain for them the homage of admiration in society. The idea of merely entertaining their
48 
IHoME HIAPPINESS.
parents, brothers or sisters with their accomplishments
would seem unreasonable; a loss of time and trouble; a
very dull affair. How false, how destructive to the happiness of domestic life are such low views of educa
tion.
You disregard the happiness of your parents when you
fail to do your duty. They are distressed not so much on
their own account, as that you act unworthily; they perceive in you a low standard of character, a mean selfishness, which would seek your own gratification at the expense of others; an exacting spirit which is never satisfied
with indulgence, and which ever cries, give, give, caring
little for the giver, but eager for the gifts.  May you all
be led to consider whether you do not too often give your
best friends reason to think you are more anxious for the
favors you receive from them than to contribute to their
happiness, or to render yourselves worthy recipients of
their kindness.
Pay attention to all your words and actions at home
and abroad.  Lavater says: "Actions, looks, words, step.s,
form the alphabet by which you may spell characters."
In your intercourse with society, strive to show yourselves prudent, considerate and intelligent. It is expected
of those who have had superior advantages of education,
that they will exhibit the fruits of a cultivated mind.
When you go into society, you may not be au fait in all
matters of etiquette, and in the current language of the
3
49 
HIOURS WITHil MY PUPILS.
day. But there is to those who are wearied with the tri.
fling and folly of fashionable life, a charm in an unsophis ticated mind.
You can, at least, be intelligent listeners if you do not
know exactly what to say on all subjects, and can show
by your manner that you have mind enough to receive in formation, when you meet with those who can impart it.
One great advantage of some of your studies, especially
mathematics, logic, etc., is to teach you the manner of
learning, of investigating subjects. You must enter upon
life feeling that you are only prepared to begin to learn
its duties and its customs. So far from considering that
you know everything, you must think you have yet almost
everything to learn. With a just sense of your own defi ciencies you will appear unassuming and amiable, and behave with more true dignity than the proud, self-conceited
woman, who in her own estimate of herself looks down
upon others far her superiors in knowledge and worth of
character.,
The subject on which I address you might well occupy
a volume. Dignity of character implies correct and proper conduct in all the circumstances of life.  We  might
apply our remarks to the different situations in which
you may be placed in your future lives, to the relations
of daughter and sister, wife and mother, mistress of a
household, a member of the Church of Christ and of society at large. But our limits forbid this extension of the
sly' 
THE PATH OF DUTY.
subject; you must pursue it yourselves; you must make
it your own study to learn the path of duty. By following
this course, you will not fail to exhibit in your lif and
conduct, true dignity of character, and the rich fruits of a
liberal and Christian education.
1842.
51
0 
ADDRESS III.
BEAUTY WITHOUT DISCRETION.
"As a jewel of gold in a swine's snout, so is a fair woman without discretion."-Paov. xi. 22.
IN the figurative language of the Bible we have the
annunciation of a truth to which I would, at this time,
call your attention. You, my daughters, are to be fair
women. May you not be of those who in lacking dis cretion, render beauty a disgrace rather than an appropriate ornament to a casket enshrining a rich jewel
within. Beauty by attracting observation renders the
want of discretion the more striking.
But let us consider the metaphor we have selected
from the "Book of Wisdom." The picture presented is
that of a swine, the most disgusting, and the least
respectable (if I may so say) of all animals, wallowing
in the mire, herding with others as gross as himself, and
yet wearing in his unseemly snout a rich jewel.
A fair woman without discretion is the object to which
this image is compared. We will consider the application
of the simile, and in pursuance of this object will inquire
what is meant by discretion, the lack of which reduces
52 
SOLOMON'S CHOICE.
a beautiful woman to a level with a brutish swine made
ridiculous by an ornament, in itself, valuable. But the
jewel in the swine's snout does not render him other
than he is by nature and habit; it does not take from
him those characteristics which degrade him to the
lowest rank among the brutes. The contrast between
that which is in itself beautiful and lovely with the
disgusting object to which it is attached, draws our
attention, and what we might without such contrast
have passed by unnoticed excites our disgust or con
tempt.
The author of the memorable sentence chosen for our
motto is Solomon; a man of the most polished manners,
the most thorough acquaintance with the human heart,
and especially the female character, of any individual with
whom the page of history has made us acquainted.
When God appeared unto Solomon soon after he had
ascended the throne of his father David and directed him
to ask whatever he would have, and it sheuld be given to
him, the young king of Israel, acknowledging with
gratitude the goodness of God as shown towards his
father, with filial regard to his memory asked only that
the promise made to him by God might be fulfilled in the
prosperity of the kingdom; and that he might have
wisdom and knowledge to discharge the duties of his
high station. God was pleased with this request, and
said to Solomon, "because this was in thy heart, and
thou hast not asked riches, wealth, or honor, wisdom and
knowledge is granted unto thee, and I will give thee
53 
Hous wrIH MY PUPILS.
riches, wealth and honor, such as none of the kings have
had that have been before thee, neither shall any that
come after thee have the like."
Solomon had remembered the words of his father, who
in the sight of all Israel and the congregation of the
Lord, and in the audience of God, had commanded him to
obey the voice of God, and to serve him with a perfect
heart and a willing mind, saying, "the Lord searcheth all
hearts, and understandeth all thoughts; if thou seek him,
he will be found of thee, but if thou forsake him, he will
cast thee off forever."
The reign of Solomon was brilliant and magnificent, his
court was filled by ladies of surpassing beauty and accomplishments; even the great queen of Sheba "came from
far" to hear his wisdom and to see the grandeur of his
court. We cannot, therefore, say that Solomon had not
an opportunity of estimating the comparative value of
beauty and discretion, nor suppose that in his day there
were not some beautiful but indiscreet women, whose
actions contrasted with their looks suggested to him the
image of the jewel of gold in a swine's snout.
The word discretion is; sometimes used as synonymous
with judgment and prudence-they are qualities nearly
related, inasmuch as they express the various modes
of practical wisdom which regulate the conduct  of individuals in the affairs of life.  Judgment is the more
comprehensive term, as it distinguishes between what is
right or wrong, in general.  Judgment pronounces on
general principles, discretion on particular actions; the
54 
DISCRETION ANLD JUDGMENT.
latter may therefore be regarded as the offspring of the
former. Considered critically, we find a difference in the
meaning of the terms. A judge may decide upon cases
of law or equity with sound judgment, and yet he may
act with indiscretion in his own private affairs. Judgment requires knowledge and experience; discretion requires reflection and consideration.   Prudence is often
used in relation to property, as a prudent person may be
understood to be one who lives within his income, or the
expression may denote one who is careful in respect to his
conduct.   Discretion takes a wide  survey of circum
stances, it looks to the moral fitness of things as well as
to the consequences which may result from particular actions; considers their real propriety and fitness as well
as the advantages which may result from  them.   Pr.
dence is rather a negative virtue; it prevents a person
from exposing himself to danger or harm; discretion enables one to do what is right. Still, the words discreet,
judicious, and prudent, are often applied to the same class
of actions; but we perceive on a close analysis a difference in their signification.
Why is it that beauty in our sex is so seldom united
with discretion, and that so many beautiful women are
like the swine with a jewel of gold in his snout? The
little girl who is handsome is flattered from her cradlemamma's visitors exclaim, "Oh, what a sweet child I
what bright sparkling eyes, what a beautiful complexion,
what fine hair and how prettily it curls I" One says,
she will be very handsome when she grows to be a
55 
HOURS WITH MY PUPILS.
young lady;" another, "she will make many hearts ache."
The gentlemen tell the child that she must be their little
wife, and that they are already in love with her beauty.
She is thus made vain and loses the simplicity of childhood.
She thinks that beauty is all she needs to make her be loved; she practises airs and graces before the glass, and
becomes silly in her actions, and affected in her manners.
She is unwilling to learn to be useful because she thinks
she is made to be looked at and admired. When she
goes into company she supposes every one is looking at
her, and fancies she has an important part to sustain;
every curl therefore must be adjusted, every dimple in
motion, and every gesture bespeak that she is a beauty.
A handsome little girl thus spoiled, may be compared to
a pig with a jewel in his snout; and she is in a fair way
of being like the swine through lack of discretion, when
she becomes a fair woman.
From childhood we must not expect too much. Indeed,
the term, "to arrive at years of discretion," implies that
a certain degree of maturity is necessary, in order to
acquire this virtue. A child may however show, as
the bud indicates the flower, a cast of character which
leads us to foretell the future woman. Vanity, selfconceit, and imprudence, may be seen in children as
well as in those who are older. It becomes of great
importance that the guardians of the young should begin
early the work of education, carefully observing unfavorable developments, and seeking to counteract them. The
period in which indiscretion in girls appears most strik
56 
INDISCRETION.o
ing, is that when they begin to think of the society of the
other sex, and of forming intimacies with their own.
How often do such intimacies lead them into great imprudence and folly. Family secrets are revealed to the
beloved friend-every foolish thought of their own hearts
is unfolded, and advice of the most improper kind is given,
received, and acted upon. But indiscretion in respect to
the other sex is often fatal to reputation and peace of
mind.  There are degrees of folly and guilt in this-there
are silly attempts to gain attention, actions intended to be
artful, but which deceive no one. In her eagerness to
gain admiration, the indiscreet woman often defeats her
own objects; for nothing sooner disgusts a man of any
refinement than forwardness or indiscretion in a woman.
But, again, if a girl affect reserve and extreme modesty,
the artifice is seen through, and she receives no credit
even for the virtues she may possess. There may be
indiscreet looks, looks that encourage the unprincipled
to make advances which true female delicacy and correct
principles would indignantly frown upon.
Indiscretion  may  exist  in words.   Feelings  whicli
should be governed and suppressed may be allowed to
appear, and conversation indulged in which would lead
to unfavorable inferences respecting a young lady's
delicacy and principles. Habits of trifling and flirtation are indiscreet.   There are some young women so
lost to dignity and sound morality, as to pride themselves on being called flirts: did they know how they
really appear to persons of- sense, they would blush
3*
57 
HIOURS WITH MY PUPILS.
for their conduct; they would- see that their beauty-if
beauty they possess-is but. the jewel of gold in the
swine's snout.
Young women should early acquire a contempt for
flattery, and a real dislike of flatterers.  They should
seek to be able to converse with gentlemen without the
flutter of spirits, which results  from thoughts of broken
hearts, or the desire of admiration.  Modesty and sim
plicity are far more  charming  than personal beauty,
which soon fades; and which, even in its greatest brilliancy, soon ceases to attract where intelligence and dis
cretion are wanting.
When a man of observation goes into society, he soon
sees who are the discreet women, and which are those
that the sacred writer compares to a swine with a jewel
in his nose.
There is a beautiful girl standing amidst an admiring
group-you- listen to her words, they are silly and un
meaning; her actions are bold, almost indelicate; you
observe the free air with which she is addressed by the
young men who gather round her; and as you gaze,
the words of inspiration suggest themselves to your mind,
" as a jewel of gold in a swine's snout, so is a fair woman
without discretion."   You  turn  disgusted away-you
walk in another direction;-and here, apart from the
crowd, you meet a pair sauntering in solitary shades,
apparently forgetful of the crowd around them.  You
might hope here to find a discreet female, but when you
hear her listening to sentiments of a dangerous tendency;
58 
THE TRUE END OF KNOWLEDGE.
such as allusions to the pleasures of friendship, unalloyed
by the cautions of narrow souls or cold-hearted beings;
you hear her consent to hold a correspondence of friendship with him who laughs at the restraints of discretion,
and you again think of the jewel in the swine's snout.
Dinah, the daughter of Jacob, was indiscreet in going
out to visit the daughters of the land, when her father
was sojourning among an idolatrous people. Her indiscretiou resulted in her own ruin, and brought great ca
lamities upon her family-involving her brothers in guilt,
and her father in sorrow. Let the talents of a female be
what they may, without discretion, they, too, are like the
jewel in the swine's snout. Of what avail is it to have
a penetrating mind which can search into the philosophy
of nature, explore the mysteries of cause and effect, or
explain the relations of matter and mind, if one does not
learn to apply her knowledge to her  own conduct, to
keep out out of danger, and to direct her own ways with
discretion. We should know the geography of our own
hearts, the mechanical powers of our own judgments, and
be able to analyze our own weaknesses.
It is indeed the true end of knowledge to gain discretion, so that we may act according to the dignity of our
nature, and that beauty, if it exist, may not disgrace the
possessor by being united with qualities which belong
rather to swinish natures than to rational and intellectual
beings.
An imprudent girl can scarcely be expected to make a
discreet woman-and when we consider the evils which
59 
tOUPRs WITH MY PUPmS.
are brought upon the world by mothers who bring up
their children without discretion, by wives whose indiscreet conduct causes gloom and contention to hover over
the family circle, and by women who give to society a
wrong tone and impulse, can we but perceive the importance of the young being early taught to govern by discretion, their looks, words, and actions?
To quote from another, "There are many more shining
qualities than discretion, but there are none so useful.
It is this which gives value to all the rest, which sets
them at work, and turns them to the advantage of the
person who is possessed of them. Without it, learning
is pedantry, and wit impertinence —nay, virtue itself
often looks like weakness. Discretion is like an agent of
providence, to guide and direct us in the affairs of human
l'fe."
December, 1842.
60 
ADDRESS IV.
TRUTH AND SINCE RITY.
"She whose honest freeness will make it her virtue to speak
what she thinks, will make it her necessity to think what is good."
-Marstan.
THE essential virtues of a good and estimable character
are truth and sincerity. As counterfeit coin or bank notes
are without any real worth, so are all affected graces
and assumed goodness destitute of any claim to our regard. He who counterfeits money is severely punished
by the laws of the land; the artful and hypocritical are
justly chastised by the contempt of the good, and avoided by them, as the honest business-man would shun such as
traffic in counterfeit money. But most persons wish to
appear good and amiable in the eyes of others. How
shall this be accomplished? The answer is plain; let all
strive to render themselves such as they would be esteemed; to be in reality what they would air  to be, and
then there would be no temptation to deceive, or put on
the semblance of virtue.  Shakspeare makes Hamlet say,
with honest indignation,  "I know not seems;" happy
those who are free from all hypocrisy and disguise, all
seeming to be what in reality they are not.
el 
HOURS WITH MY PuPas.
There is much in the conventional forms of society
which leads to deceit, and should be guarded against.
One can be civil and polite without expressing warmth of
feeling when it does not exist; it is not necessary to
profess delight in meeting persons for whom we do not
feel any particular interest; or to urge such to visit us, or
to correspond with us. Are there no young ladies who
meet others with enthusiastic professions of regard, and
part from them as if they could not endure a separation,
when in reality, they can join in a sneer against those
intimate friends? and do they never use the very confidence reposed in them against the unsuspecting and incautious? Would that such evidences of duplicity were
not but too common even among those whose youth should
be a pledge for artlessness and sincerity!  The educator,
like the physican, must examine cases as they are; unfavorable symptoms cannot be overlooked if we would do our
duty to our patients-or our pupils, and, morally speaking,
the latter are too often found affected by maladies which
require firm and judicious moral treatment.
It is well for the young to resolve to practise what is
right, without too much anxiety to please others. The
boundaries between right and wrong are often obscure.
Thus it is right that we should strive to render ourselves
agreeable to others, to say and do that which will make
them satisfied with themselves and with us, as far as we
can do so without being insincere; but there are some
who cannot be happy unless they are flattered; praise is
the incense which their hearts crave, and unless this is
62 
THE FLATTER.
constantly offered, they are restless and dissatisfied; but
the appetite for praise grows on what it feeds, and can
never be satisfied. If we have a friend, then, who is not
happy unless flattered, it is -our duty to withhold the
poison, and to seek by a sincere and honest treatment to
bring her back to a more healthful state of mind.  For
a time we may be the less agreeable to her; it may be
that a lasting prejudice will spring up against us on account of our sincerity, but if so, we should be  satisfied
that we have done our duty.
Flattery among school-girls is too common a vice. If
one desires the love of another, she too often commences
by studying her weak points; and in how many are these
self-love, fondness for admiration, and an eager desire for
preeminence.  If the young girl is vain of beauty, the
flatterer tells her of her personal attractions, what she
has heard such a one say of her eyes, her features, her
complexion, or her form.  -If she is proud of family con
nections, or fortune, the flattery is of a different kind.
The  flatterer  talks of  distinguished:persons  and the
advantages of good family, wonders how such and such
ones should presume to place themselves on an equality
with those who are entitled to excldtsiveness, intimates that
she is determined to associate with none but those who
have certain claims to family distinction; all this, of
course, feeds the vanity of-her who is thus sought out by
one who is so very particular as to her society.,
Again, another young lady who has no pretensions to
beauty and makes none as to family or fortune, fancies
63 
Hou~s WITH MY PUPILS.
herself highly gifted in intellect; she likes to be told of
her talents, and is inclined to love those who praise them,
or who report the praises of others.
What a sad picture is that of one rational and responsible being, for selfish purposes, acting  on the  bad
propensities of another, where lying, insincerity and flattery are seen ministering to disgusting vanity or pride I
If you desire true friendship, seek out a virtuous and
sensible person, and let your intercourse be marked with
honest sincerity. Despise that regard which must be
purchased by a sacrifice of truth, or the ministering to
the follies and weaknesses of another. One who is truly
worthy and noble should avoid a flatterer whose selfish
designs may be easily penetrated. When we hear unpleas.
ant truths, we should reflect that those who utter them
can have in this no motive but our own good-unless,
indeed, we have reason to believe that they desire to
humiliate us in our own eyes, or to render us unhappy; in
which case, we cannot consider them as our friends
but the poet says:
--   "Your defects to know
Make use of every friend and every foe."
It is one of the most sacred duties of friendship,
though often a painful one, to point out faults to a
beloved friend; and when you have an associate whom
you believe to be your friend though not afraid to speak
the truth however disagreeable it may be to you to hear
it, you cannot too highly value her friendship.
.64 
TIINGS WHICH THE LORD LATETH.
In the book of Wisdom, we find many passages which
point out the danger of flattery, the wickedness of
hypocrisy and lying.
"A hypocrite with his mouth destroyeth his neighbor."
"My son, if sinners entice thee, consent thou not."
"Surely in vain the net is spread in the sight of any
bird."
Among the six things which are enumerated as those
which the Lord hateth, and which are an abomination to
Him, are, "A heart that deviseth wicked imaginations.
A false witness that speaketh lies, and him that soweth
discord among his brethren."
"The opening of my lips shall be of right things, and wickedness
is an abomination to my lips."
' Reprove not a scorner lest he hate thee; rebuke a wise man
and he will love thee."
"The wicked worketh a deceitful work."
"He that speaketh truth sheweth forth righteousness, but a false
witness deceit."
"The lip of truth shall be established forever, but a lying
tongue is but for a moment."
"Lying lips are an abomination to the Lord, ~ut they that deal
truly are his delight."
"He that walketh with wise men shall be wise, but a companion
of fools shall be destroyed."
"A faithful witness will not lie, but a false witness will utter
lies."
"Go from the presence of a foolish man, when thou perceivest
not in him the lips of knowledge."
"Whose hand is covered by deceit."
"Open rebuke is better than secret love."
65 
HOURS WITH MY PUPILS.
"Faithful are the words of a friend, but the kisses of an enemy
are deceitful."
"He that blesseth his friend with a loud voice, it shall be counted
a curse to him."
We might go on multiplying examples of a similar
nature, but these may suffice to show how the Almighty
regards flattery and deceit.
Even little girls are sometimes deceitful, and flatter
others for their own selfish purposes. But a deceitful child
is an unnatural being.  What can be expected of such a
one when she becomes older, and is surrounded by the
temptations of the world I
Flattery is not the only form of insincerity and falsehood.   Those who have a lying spirit are constantly
tempted to deceit.  In the most trifling things they pervert the truth-they appear not to know what truth is.
But we meet with many encouraging examples of those
who have reformed in respect to these habits. The influence
of education is often powerful in accomplishing such reformation. Every one who perceives in herself a tendency to
falsehood, whether in the way of flattery, slander, or for
any selfish or evil purpose, should betake herself to serious
self-examination; she should say in her heart, "Thou,
0 God, seest me," and reflect, that though she may deceive men," God is not mocked," but discerns "the most
secret thoughts and intents of the heart."
How solemn the thought that the All-seeing Eye is
ever upon us-that there is not a word on our tongue
but God knoweth it altogether. We are the temples of 
SECRET SINS.
the Holy Spirit, and should not pollute them by deceit or
guilt, or any other sin.
Each one of you knows what are your secret sins; may
you strive earnestly to be delivered from them, not trusting in your own strength, but in His might, who can save
you from the enemy of your soul. How earnestly should
you all join in the supplication in our school litany, that
"God will have mercy upox us; that he will deliver us
from all the dangers that beset us-from evil and mischief, from vanity and lies, from the temptations of the
world, the flesh, and the devil: from hypocrisy and corrupt examples. That God will bless us, keep us from
evil, lead us unto all truth, and bring us to everlasting
life."
Short is the period allotted to you to prepare for eternity. How often do you hear of near and dear friends
called away by death-none are spared-the little infant,
the playful child, the blooming youth, the strong man,
the mother in the bosom of her family, the old and greyheaded, all-all become the prey of the destroyer. Yet
we go on from day to day, engaged in our worldly pursuits; we see death around us, but we feel secure; we
are as anxious about the things of this life as if this were
our everlasting home.
And yet we are as passing strangers and pilgrims
through a world of trials and temptations. The homes
which await us beyond the grave will be mansions of
happiness or woe, as we prepare ourselves here for them.
God has declared that in heaven " there shall in no wise
67 
[O'UR S WITH MY PUPILS.
enter anything that defileth, neither whatsoever worketh
abomination, or maketh a lie;" but they are blessed
"who do his commandments, that they may have a right
to the tree of life."
68 
ADDRESS V.
CHRISrMAS AND NEW YEAR.
THE return of the season of festivals which has just
passed by, brings with it feelings as various as there
are conditions or states of human life.  To the child it
suggests images of pleasure and mirth; but often to the
minds of those more advanced in life, arise thoughts of
departed friends, and of disappointed hopes.
Scarcely have the fading glories of autumn become
lost in the desolation of winter, and nature yielded herself wholly to the influence of the season of ice and frosts,
when we begin to realize that we are verging towards
the ancient, and sacred festival of Christmas. So rapidly
has time passed since the last return of this season, that
we can scarcely believe another year has fled.  On Christmas day, it is customary in most churches to have religious services, and to administer the Holy Sacrament of
the Lord's Supper to the piously disposed. This seems
the proper mode of observing the anniversary of our
Saviour's birth, that the heart comforted by a sense of
the goodness and mercy of God, may thereby gain fresh
courage for the trials and the toils of life.
When  nature is blooming  and attractive we love to
0 
HOURS WITH MY PUPILS.
be abroad, and watch the changes that diversify the
scenery-the flower-bud as it swells upon the stalk and
unfolds into a fair blossom; the foliage in spring gradually
changing from a light green to a richer shade, and then,
as touched by the fingers of the declining year, exhibiting
those gorgeous hues which like the hectic flush on the
cheek indicate decay and death.   When, the flowers
have become fruits, and the fruits are fully ripened and
garnered for the use of man, then comes the season of
contemplation,-of reflection, and of moral -culture.-  We
are not tempted to rove abroad by balmy air, murmuring  brooks, sweet  flowers, or warbling  birds.   Our
thoughts naturally- tr  inards,*- and the state of our
own hearts becomes an object of reflection. We are led
to-gather around  the Aisdes -d to think what  treasures of affection and friendship may be ours to fill up the
void caused by the absence of those enjoyments which
external nature had:w bountifully spread before us in her
gay and fruitful seasons.
The beginning of the winter season is a favorable time
for the young student. His thoughts not tempted to
stray abroad by external attractions, are -more easily
collected and concentrated.   The moaning winds as they
sweep by his casement, seem to admonish him  of the
shortness of life, and that he is bound to cultivate those
high intellectual powers.which assimilate him to angelic
natures. He resolves that he will devote himself more
than he has yet done, to the work of his own improvement, — so that  when called to account  for the use he
70 
CULTUBE OF THE SOCIAL ADEMONS.
has made of his talents, he may not like the unprof
table  servant  be  found  to have  "hid  them  in- a
napkin."
But mental efforts are for a'time superseded by the
social and religious claims Of Christmas and the New Year.High and noble as is our intellectual nature it must
acknowledge in other powers of our souls a superior
rank. Satan was high in intellect, and- so have been
thousands who have given their souls to him.  There is
the greater condemnation to such as know their Master's
will, and do it not.                   -
The social affections need culture as Well as the intellec
tual faculties, and we may so neglect them that they
cease to have an influence over our hearts, or to contri bute to our enjoyment.  And how much to be pitied is
that lone being who neither-loves nor is beloved I  What
avails it how high he hmiay soar:in the regions of lofty
contemplation  or fervid  imagination, how  deeply his
mind may be imbued with ancient lore, how intimate
may be his communion with the spirits of philosophers of
past ages, or how great may be his delight to wander
alone down the stream of history and hold converse
with the shades of departed heroes and statesmen I  He
may indeed enjoy a temporary gratification while forgetting what, and where he is;-but the mind becomes
wearied with its flights, and the straining of  the mental
eye to look after the dim shadows of the past; with its
efforts to investigate the truths of science, or attempts
to search into the depths of philosophy; -or to penetrate
7i 
HOURS WITH MY PUPILS.
the designs and secret motives of the Almighty;-the
restless wing of thought droops, and man finds himself
on the humble earth surrounded by objects as lowly as
bimself-is he not greatly to be pitied if here he finds
no friend, no companion, to whom he may impart his
feelings and from whom he may expect sympathy and
affection I He cannot call from their sleep of ages the
philosophers and heroes with whom he has delighted to
wander in the pages of history, and for whose sake he may
have neglected companions who once courted his scoiety
and friendship. Alone, he feels how sad is man without
sympathy, and without affection. We may be pleased to
spend some time in a gallery of portraits; we may admire
the skill of the painters, and interest ourselves in the
characters successively brought before us; but when we
have ceased to look and admire, we turn to the friends
who are beside us, and one look of affection, one word of
kindness, or one simple loving act, strikes a chord within
the soul drawing forth deeper and sweeter tones than
art, science, or philosophy can produce.
The returns of Christmas and New Year, these social
and religious festivals, have a happy influence in reviving
those affections which are often chilled by the world with out, and smothered by selfishness within.  Children love
Christmas and New Year's day, because they are then
more especially remembered, and made to feel by the
gifts and attentions of the season, that they are beloved.
But children who love these days merely for the sake of
gifts, are selfish indeed; and it is to be feared that too
72 
CHRISTM&AS OERINGS.
many think more of the presents they receive, than they
do of the affection which offers them. We should value a
kind look or word dictated by love, more than the most
costly offering without affection; and if those who have
nothing else to give, offer their good wishes with the
sincerity and warmth of friendship, such as are capable
of sympathy will respond to their greetings from the
depths of their hearts.
While Christmas calls on all who have friends to manifest for them a kind remembrance-if they are near, to
seek their society, if distant, to send some token of their
love-it most especially reminds mankind of Him, who
gave Himiself for them. On this day we celebrate the
birth of Christ. To Him, therefore, should our thoughts
ascend in thanksgiving and adoration.  We  should, if
opportunity presents, go to the Holy Communion, where
the professed followers of the Redeemer meet to comply
with His dying request: "Do this in remembrance of
me."   It is here that the Christian gathers new strength
to encounter the spiritual enemies who would draw him
away from God. Here he not only presents himself, but,
in his supplications, all who are near and dear to him.
He intercedes with his Saviour that they, too, may enjoy
that "bread of life which came down from heaven," and
be fitted for a better and happier world by the toils and
trials of this.
Going from the worship of God and the communion of
the church, the sincere Christian will feel a renewed love
for his fellow-beings, those for whom Christ died, and who)
4
73 
I-IOUR$ WITH MY PUPILS.
are loved by Him. A feeling of benevolence, of holy
serenity, and of trust in God's mercy and goodness, goes
with the pious Christain as he returns from the sanctuary
to mingle in the social circle. The merry laugh of childhood, the innocent gaiety of the young, their harmless
sports, their songs, and their dances, are not, in his view,
opposed to any of the requirements of religion; whose
great command it is to "love your neighbor as yourself,"
to "do unto others as you would they should do to
you," and which declares that "love is the fulfilling of
the law.'? The same religion says, "let all anger, and
malice, and revenge, be put away from you."   Everything, therefore, which tends to promote love and kindness, and to repel malice and anger, is sanctioned by religion, and we need have no fear that we are acting contrary to its dictates when we indulge in innocent enjoyments which tend to sweeten life, and to dispel from it
that gloomy acerbity by which the heart of man is too
often possessed.
We have remarked that the Christian may indulge in
innocent amusements.   The question arises as to what
may be considered innocent. On this subject there are
various opinions; and because amusements in themselves
innocent have been perverted, many Christians condemn
all as sinful. We would observe that our conduct in this,
as in many other cases, should be governed by circumstances. If we were likely to grieve Christian friends by
doing that which we consider innocent, we should, nevertheless, from regard to their feelings, refrain from the
74 
PLEASURE Nor TEM OBJECT oF LIF.
act, since it would not be sinful to abstain from joining in
the amusement.
There are, however, imprudences into which the young
are liable to fall when they give way to the social and mirthful feelings-they are then often thrown off their guard,
and do that which they afterwards regret.
After the season of holidays, you are now again to
pursue your studies, and to engage in a regular routine of
duties. There may be among you some who would wish
that holidays might last forever. There are young persons who love pleasure better than duty; to whom the
desire of improvement is unknown.  Unhappy they whose
minds are incapable of noble aspiratiohs, who are
ignorant of the pure and tranquil enjoyment connected
with intellectual cultivation, and the consciousness of
moral excellence. We would call upon such to look
to their mental diseases, to forsake the follies which
confine them to the low condition in which they have
hitherto been contented to rest. We will draw two
pictures-pictures  made  with words, but  which  you
can see with your mind's eye, as if delineated on canvas.   Let us look at the young person who  considers
plasure as the chief good: her outward aspect evinces
her tastes-for the intellect and the heart are read in the
expression of the countenance. The vacant look, the
meaningless smile, the withdrawal from the glance of others
as though unwilling to have the perverted heart and
the empty void of mind exposed to the view of penetrating  observation;  the indifference with which i
75 
HOURS WITH MY PUPILS.
struction is received; the evident wandering of the
thoughts as seen in the expression of the eye; the
listless, dreamy manner which says, louder than words
could do, "Would that this lesson," "this address," or
"this sermon were over."   She who  loves  pleasure
more than moral excellence, thinks not what is best for
her, but what she likes to do. Let us pause a moment,
and consider to what will all this tend. Think of your
unpardonable neglect of past advantages-that a little
space remains to you in the which to repair your past
errors, before launching forth upon the sea of life, where
you will need habits of self-control, power over your
inclinations, and the knowledge and accomplishments you
have now an opportunity of acquiring.  Can you not
shake off the lethargy in which your soul has been bound,
and spurn the trivialities which choke the nobler sentiments of your nature.  Say to yourselves, "Old things
with me shall pass away, and all shall be new. "I will be
cha'ed "-resolve this, be firm to your purpose, and your
work is done; you have bought your own freedom from
that worst of all slavery, the thralldom of the mind. You
may yet be able to take your place among the good,
the noble-minded, the candidates for a glorious and happy
immortality.
Let us turn to the brighter picture.-We see a young
person whose object is to do right, to improve all her faculties as due to the author of her existence, and to the earthly
parents whose hopes are centered in her. She lives day
by day in the full consciousness of her great responsi
76 
BEAUTY NOT MATERIAL.
bility as a rational, immortal being. She listens attentively to instruction, her eye kindles as her mind receives
light. The sparkling of intellect is vivid and apparent
as is the flame upon the hearthstone; but how infinitely
more sublime is the beaming forth of mind than material
light I She whom we picture to you may not be beautiful, as some count beauty; she may be plain in features,
her complexion destitute of the rosy tint or alabaster
whiteness; her eye may not be dazzling black, or "softly,
beautifully blue "-but when the light of the soul
illumines her countenance, beams forth from her eye and
plays over her features, how infinitely superior the
charm to that of mere material beauty I The dolls that you
left at home in your nurseries had sparkling eyes, regular
features, and beautiful white and red complexions; they
were very pretty, you liked to look at them, and to fancy
that you loved them, and that they loved you; but as
you grew older, they ceased to interest you. You felt for
them no affection, you did not esteem or respect them;
but you do not now despise your dolls, they were only
effigies, incapable of moral agency, not like yourselves,
accountable beings, and to be blamed or approved according to bad or good conduct.
There is a fearful weight of responsibility resting upon
each of you, whether you are willing to acknowledge it
or not; whether you choose to keep it out of your
thoughts or not, it is the same-your youth will soon pass
away. Days will come, should your lives be prolonged,
in which you will be called on to care for others, to set
77 
HoUoRs WITH MY PUPILS.
good examples to those who may be connected with, or
dependent on you; and then, how soon will come the
decline of life, and old age I Then all that remains to
render you interesting and valuable to others, will be the
fragrance of virtue and piety; and all that can give you
light for the future, will be the hope of happiness in the
world to come founded on a well-spent life.
May these solemn truths inspire you all with ardor to
begin anew your journey of life; to do better than you
have yet done. May those who have been careless of
duty and regardless of instruction, begin in earnest to
search after true wisdom, and may those who have felt
feeble desires after that holiness, without which none can
see the Lord, be stimulated to renewed efforts.
A New Year has come-we have lived to greet its arrival. Where shall we be, and under what circumstances,
at its close I A startling question I Yaried scenes of
trouble lie before us, this is certain, for it is the inevitable doom of man.
- "Lord, so teach us to number our days that we may
apply our hearts unto wisdom."
Close of 1843, and commencement of a New Year.
78 
ADDRESS VI.
PLEASURE AND DUTY.
WE are again assembled, my dear pupils, after a short
suspension of duty; and you have already resumed your
accustomed occupations. Pleasure has resigned her sway,
and duty, less attractive but more honest and sincere, has
taken the helm.
Pleasure and duty I how opposite sound these words to
the ears of the young, and how different are the emotions
with which they regard the one and the other. Most of
you have doubtless read the beautiful allegory from the
pen of Mrs. Barbauld, where a young girl is accosted by
two personages, the one representing Pleasure wreathed
with flowers, and radiant with smiles; the other, of a
serious aspect, and presenting no attractions. Pleasure,
in silvery tones, tells of the delights she will give; but
Duty uses no flattery, she acknowledges that her path is
not strewn with flowers, but she tells the fair girl of mansions of rest and peace to which this straight and narrow
way conducts. The child hesitates, for Pleasure is bright
and beautiful, fascinating and enticing; while Duty is
stern and unattractive, so inelegant and unfashionable
that the heart revolts from her acquaintance. Both hold
f9 
HOURS WITH MY PUPILS.
out their hands to the young girl. Pleasure's sweet and
inviting smile wins her heart, and she is about to follow
her-when a sudden gust of wind blowing aside the
beautiful robe of Pleasure, torn and filthy rags appear
beneath: as she tries to conceal them by drawing around
her the folds of drapery, the mask with which her
features were disguised, falls off, and discloses a haggard
and disgusting aspect, marked with the deep furrows of
evil passions. The child shudders, draws back her hand,
and turns to Duty. For the first time, she now perceives
a pleasant smile irradiate her countenance, as she draws
closer to her side, and embraces her, and in her companionship in the journey of life, she obtains that which the
devotees of Pleasure seek in vain-peace and happiness.
Yes, even in sorrow and affliction, she who loves and
follows duty, enjoys that sweet peace "which, as the
world giveth not, neither can it take away."
Yet it is well, sometimes, to relax from the calls of
duty, and try how happy we may be with nothing to do,
but to enjoy. The change at first is pleasant; our spirits
are exhilarated, and our hearts beat with a quickened
pulse; but we soon weary of doing nothing. The young
do not care to sleep always, though no matin bell call them
to duty; nor can they eat always, though every dainty
be spread before them.  We begin to feel, after an inter.
val of indulgence, that we must exert ourselves even to
be happy; we must do something even to secure pleasure.
Is it not, then, wise that the efforts which the constitution of our minds impels us to make, should be directed to
80 
SOMTHING TO DO.
something useful? Thus, while we are obeying a law of
our being, which obliges us to be active, we are doing
good here, and laying up treasures in heaven
You have all, I doubt not, in some degree, shared the
feelings of one of your teachers, Miss, who accompanied me in my late journey to R; perhaps it was
almost the first time in her life that she commenced an
undertaking which had not some immediate duty connected with it; and it was so with this, in one sense,
since it was in obedience to the dictates of affection for
her young friend, just settled in domestic life, that she
made the visit. She was going to see, in her own home,
one to whom she was devotedly attached, and to meet
with others from whom she had received particular marks
of esteem. For a day or two, she was no longer the
impersonation of serious, sincere and laborious duty, but
joyous and almost gay.   She ran about the pleasant
apartments of her happy young friend, delighted with,
and enjoying all.  "How pleasant," said she, "if we
could always stay here I" After a few days, our friend
says again: "It is tiresome to do nothing but visit and
see company."
I cannot suppose that you, who are younger, less
habituated to be active in well doing, and who have left
your homes and their dear inmates to return to school,
did not feel regret at leaving them; but yet, I am sure,
were the appeal made to your own consciences, you would
say that you are, in reality, most truly happy when you
are'doing what seems to be your duty.
4*
81 
HOURS WITH MY PUPILS.
Since we last met, we have passed another anniversary
of the birth of our Saviour. Eighteen hundred and
forty-three years have passed since Jesus of Nazareth
was born in a stable, in the obscure town of Bethlehem,
in the Roman province of Judea.
Far in the eastern, Asiatic country, the tradition had
spread among the Gentiles, or heathens, that a remark able personage was to appear on the earth, about that
period. The Jewish scriptures, though not received by
those nations, had, yet, disseminated among them many
religious truths; and the prophecies respecting Christ
seem to have been better understood by the magi, or philosophers of the East, than even by the Jewish rabbins,
or doctors of divinity. While, therefore, the Jews werereposing in their indifference as to the fulfillment of the
prophecies respecting a Saviour, the eastern magi, who
were also astrologers or observers of the heavens, being
surprised by the appearance of an uncommon celestial
body, followed its direction until they came to the city of
Jerusalem.  They then inquired: "Where is he, who is
born King of the Jews, for we, in the East, have seen his
star, and are come to worship him."  King Herod, a bad
and ambitious man, was much troubled at this, and collecting the doctors of divinity, or chief priests and
scribes, he demanded of them, where, according to the
Scriptures, Christ should be born?  The answer was:
"In Bethlehem of Judea."  Herod was much troubled at
these things, and pretending that he himself wished to
worship the infant Saviour, desired that the magi would
82 
THE NATIVITY.
go and search, and when they had found him, send him
word. The star went before, and guided them until it
stood over the place where the young child was. At
this, they rejoiced greatly, and withheld by no infidel
scruples, they fell down and worshipped him; after which,
according to eastern customs in offering homage to a
sovereign, they presented rich gifts, "gold, frankincense,
and myrrh." A glorious light from heaven appeared also
to some shepherds of Judea, who were watching their
flocks by night; and while they were wondering and
afraid, the angel of the Lord appeared unto them, and
said: "Fear not, oh, shepherds I for behold I bring you
good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people; for
unto you is born this day a Saviour, which is Christ the
Lord; and this shall be a sign unto you, ye shall find the
babe wrapped in swaddling bands, lying in a manger."
And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the
heavenly host, praising God, and saying: "Glory to God
in the highest, peace on earth, and good will towards
men I"
Having seen this glorious vision, and heard the chorus
of the angels, the shepherds hastened to go and see the
wonderful babe of Bethlehem; and they returned, "gloririfying and praising God for all the things that they had
heard and seen as it was told unto them." Well might
Mary ponder these things in her heart, and regard herself as highly favored among women, though, instead of a
luxurious chamber, she lodged in a stable, and the cradle
for her babe was but a manger, "where horned oxen fed."
83 
HouRSs WTITH MY PUPILS.
Shall we not, with the magi, the shepherds, and the
host of angels, come to offer our gifts to the Saviour of
the world? He requires of us no costly offerings, but a
"broken and contrite heart he will not despise." He
asks only our love, gratitude, and devotion, for the salva tion he has procured for us. He has purchased our
redemption with his own blood; he offers us pardon for
our sins, and that peace which he left with his disciples
he offers us those mansions in heaven which he went
to prepare for us; he only asks that we will go to him
for the charter of our freedom from sin and death. He
stands with open arms; will we not go to him, will we
not accept his offer of mercy and salvation!
Since our separation, we have all parted with a friend
who has been with us, daily, since the commencement of
the past year; who has seen us, by turns, happy and
dejected; and who, though he has seen us disappointed,
has, every day, whispered of something better on the morrow. Though we may have been indifferent to this
friend, and often wished him gone, still we could not bid
farewell without emotion. We know that he has kept a
strict account of what we have been doing; and his
tablets are now registered at that tribunal before which
we are to all appear in judgment.
The year 1843 is this friend, now passed into eternity, to give evidence either for or against us. Have
we well treated its successive portions of time, its
365  days;-have the twenty-four hours of each day no
record against us, of trifling actions, idle words, and evil
84 
IMPORTANCE OF MINUTES.
thoughts? Even one little minute may rise up against
some of us, and say: "I heard you, as I was passing,
speaking words to blast the name and character of
another; the blush upon your cheek proclaimed that you
were conscious of the falsehood you uttered, and a dark
spot which I saw as I looked through the window of your
heart, betrayed the stain of envy upon it." Another
minute may say: "As I was passing, I saw you, at the
hour of devotion, bending low at the name of Jesus. I
was happy, for I thought my testimony would be in your
favor; but I saw cold unbelief in your heart, and passed on
to give my account." Still, another minute proclaims its
message: "I saw  you bending in prayer; your lips
murmured the name of God, and all around you supposed you worshipped him; but it was all hypocrisy,
God was not in your thoughts; at His bar you must
answer for such profanation."
And are minutes, then, able by their testimony to fix
our everlasting destiny.? Alas! of what may not even
one passing minute have to accuse man I  1,440 of these
winged messengers to eternity, look in upon us in one
day; 535,600 of these witnesses, either for or against us,
have passed on to the bar of God since the last year
dawned upon us. New minutes are now coming to take
their rapid observation of our thoughts, words, and
actions; let us make friends of them as they pass, so that
the coming year may depart freighted with friendly messengers to the throne of our final Judge.
W'ith respect to earthly happiness, it is vain to disguise
85 
HIouP. WITHI MY PUPILS.
the fact that we have not much to expect; we should not,
therefore, be too anxious to know our future fate. The
pages of time, as they are successively unrolled, must present to all human beings some dark passages, and in many
cases there may be little light to relieve the picture.
But if we raise our eyes, we may see in heaven a star
of hope; let us follow its guidance, and we shall be led
to those regions of eternal happiness, " which eye hath
not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered into the
heart of man to conceive."
JANUARY, 1844.
86 
ADDRESS VII.
RELATION OF THE PRESENT TO THE FUTURE.
How little do we realize, as day after day speeds on
and finds us in one place, that the period will come when
all around us will be changed; when familiar faces will
be no more seen; and that many loved ones now with us
will become as strangers, travelling far distant from us
in life's pilgrimage. They may be called from earth without
our being near to bid farewell, or to cheer with our sympathies and prayers the fleeting spirit in its fearful journey to eternity I
If such thoughts sometimes occurred to the young as
they mingle with their school companions, how differently
would they, often, conduct towards them. If the pupil
realized the separation from a teacher, and that the
time would come when the voice of that faithful and
anxious friend would be no more heard, and when that
countenance would be lost forever, how differently might
her instructions and admonitions be received I
But we cannot live in the future. It is the law of our
nature to feel as if to-morrow would be as this day.
Thus in sorrow and adversity, we despond of relief; and
in prosperity, we think not of evil days to come. Still,
ST 
HOURS WrrE Mr  PmUPA6.
there are principles implanted in our hearts, which lead
us to make use of the present, in reference to the future.
Reflection and reason are ever ready to suggest the importance of making preparations for the changes which
we know await us, and the more the character is under
their influence, the more will be the effort to act in refer
ence to a future which may seem distant, but which, if we
live, will surely come, and come, quickly, too. The schoolgirl is tempted by her love of ease and present enjoyment to pass lightly over the duties assigned her. She is
more pleased to talk and amuse herself with her young companions than to study. Habits of industry and order, of
self-restraint, and of untiring diligence are not agreeable
to her inclinations; present gratifications invite, and the
future the uiwertain fututre has little influence.  The one
is here, the otherfar off;-is it strange that the young are
carried away by temptations, and yield themselves up
to the alluring present?
But the future, the iexorable future, comes, and demands
"what hast thou laid up for me? Thou knowest that
time was given thee to prepare for me. So I come to
demand an account of thy stewardship;-where are the
talents that thou hast received?"
How solemn this inquiry I yet there is no getting away
from it.  The future will come, in some way.  The grave
itself cannot avert its claims, but in those dread regions
which lie beyond, the question will come from the judgment-seat of God, "What preparation hast thou made
for the eternity on which thou hast entered?" Will the
88 
WHAT TO DO NEXT.
answer, "I could not school my heart to the love of
religion, I could not incline myself to follow the footsteps
and commands of Jesus "-will this answer be sufficient at
the bar of God? "Inasmnch as ye did it not," ye shall be
condemned.
From the first dawnings of reason, to the last day of
life, we should keep the futurc steadily in view.  The situation next before us, or for which we seem, at present,
destined, should engage our attention; and our effort
should be to prepare for it. The daughter at school
should study how she may best conduce to the happiness
and comfort of her parents, and that of the family
circle-he should consider what defect there may be
in her character, disposition, and habits, which would
annoy, or in any way affect, unpleasantly, that circle
which she will soon join, and which she should desire
to enliven and  make  glad.   Those who  are looking
forward to become instructors and guides of others,
should consider the many qualities of heart, the principles and habits, as well as the intellectual attainments,
which will be required in that responsible relation. All
should inquire and learn, as far as possible, what preparation will be suitable for the journey of life before them;
and inasmuch as they know not the paths by which they
may be led, the companions who will journey with them,
the moral climates, whether warm with affection or cold
with distrust or dislike, through which they may pass,
they should lay up everything which may become necessary
or useful, so far as they have the opportunity to make ac
89 
HOURS8 WITH MY PUPILS.
quisitions. In one part of the journey of life, habits,
qualifications of heart and intellect may be called into
exercise, which, in another stage, may seem scarcely
needed; while under other circumstances, new virtues or
attainments may be necessary, to comfort, success, or respectability.  Edution is designed to furnish the young
with a rich variety of resources, which may be available
in the various conditions of this uncertain life.
A wife protected by a fond and indulgent husband
who has the means of supplying her not only with the
comforts, but the elegances of life, has little need for
those sterner and more masculine qualities, which would
be necessary under a change of circumstances. Should
she become a widow, charged with business responsibilities, obliged perhaps to appeal to the laws, in order
to maintain her own rights and the rights of her
children, exposed to impositions, and frauds which would
take from her family all their means of support, she would
then require firmness of purpose and decision of character, in order to keep together the fortune bequeathed to her
and her fatherless children; or, if fortune be wanting, she
would require industry and ability to labor for their support. Is it not, then, desirable that a woman shall possess
some qualifications for business, a head to calculate, and
judgment to discriminate?
Education, while bestowing feminine accomplishments,
cultivating the graces of mind and person, and fitting the
young lady for polite and elegant society and to be an interesting and lovely companion, should also strengthen
90 
ABRIDGING TE  PERIOD FOR EDUCATION.   91
the character of the future woman, so that she may be
capable of acting any part in life which the Providence
of God may assign her. In connection with these reflections, I would, my dear pupils, call your attention to the
importance of your prolonging the period of your school
education, when the circumstances and kindness of your
parents, or your own resources, enable you to do so. Unfortunately for the welfare and intelligence of future
women, young girls are often anxious to abridge even the
short time allotted for school education. The love of
change, the idea of pleasures to be derived from society,
or a fondness for home, are strong inducements acting
upon the mind and influencing it to decide against a continuance in school, when parental indulgence leaves the
choice to the pupil herself. But think of the future; not
the few months, or the one or two years immediately
before you, for in these you might not feel the want of
the advantages you would sacrifice; but think of future
life, and of the calls it may involve of rich stores of
knowledge, which may be applied to varying circumstances; and think how important that your characters
shall have acquired some strength and solidity before engaging in those scenes of life, where temptations and trials
too often prove fatal to happiness, if not to reputation
and virtue.
When the proper period comes for the termination of
your academic life, you have then to begin a new set of
duties, to put in practice lessons you have been learningyou will commence a new school-and may you go on 
HOURS WITH MY PUPILS.
improving while life shall last, fitting yourselves for a
never-ending state of happiness, and for the society of
pure and elevated intelligences in a higher sphere of existence.
1848.
92 
ADDRESS VIII.
STABILITY OF MORAL PRINCIPLE THE ONLY SECURITY FOR
THE YOUNG IN THEIR INTERCOURSE WITH THE WORLD.
IN addressing my pupils it is proper that present scenes
and duties should often furnish the themes of discourse;
but these must not be permitted to occupy our chief attention; we should sometimes look forward to the future,
that we may keep in view the great object of forming
your character for the coming duties of life, that we may
best learn the precautions which should be taken against
the dangers and temptations of the world, and what
securities can be furnished for the right fulfillment of duties.
The great mistake of the young, and too often of those
who are intrusted with their education, is that of entertaining false views of the qualifications to act, well, a part
in the complex, and ever-changing scenes of life.
What are these qualifications? Notwithstanding all
the importance that may be attached by your parents
and teachers to the learning of schools, or knowledge of
books and of things, and to the possession of certain
accomplishments, yet none of these is the first and
great requisite for a faithful discharge of the duties of
life;-this is princple, correct, firm, moral principle,
based on religion and having the love and fear of
96 
IHOURS WITH MY PUPILS.
God for its end and aim.  "The fear of the Lord is the
beginning of wisdom." Those who have not this fear,
have not begun to be wise, however great their other
attainments may be.
There are few parents who do not begin early to
teach their children their obligations to love and fear
God;  but such is the imperfection, the sinfulness of
human nature, that the pious lessons of parents are often
counteracted by examples in direct variance with their
own instructions. A parent, perhaps, requires a child to
learn the ten commandments, and to repeat them as
the  solemn requirements of  God.   The  child  learns
first that he shall not have any God before the Lord,
Jehovah; but he sees his parents making a god of riches,
of fashion, or of worldly honor, and as example is more
powerful than precept, he is led away from the strict application of the words; and seeing the very first commandment set at naught by those to whom he looks up
for direction, he is not surprised at observing the whole
decalogue disregarded and disobeyed.
Even the most pious and conscientious parents often
fail in their duty of practising what they teach, and
thus become stumbling-blocks to their children, instead of
lights to guide them in the path of virtue and holiness.
If it be so with parents who are striving "to live an
uncorrupt life," "to speak truth from the heart,'" and
"do the thing which is right," how must it be with those
who think little of duty, and who are engrossed wholly
with the cares and projects of a worldly career?  
94 
PRECEPT WITHOUT EXAMPLE.
It is not, then, strange that children with sinful hearts
and propensities to evil, witnessing the little regard to
principles of truth and virtue in those around them, should
increase in years without growing in grace and in the
knowledge of God. The circumstances by which they
are surrounded are calculated to obscure in their minds the
pure light of truth, and to gild with a false lustre much
which is worthless when unaccompanied with the sub stantial elements of virtue.
You are urged on in your studies, and think, perhaps,
that the great point is, to become good scholars; that in
order to appear respectable in life, you must acquire
knowledge, and be familiar with such accomplishments as
are common to well-educated and refined ladies. Educational institutions that send out the best scholars, usually
gain  most  celebrity, while  little popularity  may  be
attached to a school on account of its influence in rendering its pupils moral, virtuous, and pious. How unfortunate that parents, in general, so greatly err, as to the true
and permanent interests of their children! Teachers who
are influenced by worldly motives only, will, of course,
devote their chief efforts to what their interests prompts;
and perhaps urged by the necessities of their condition to
cater to a corrupt popular estimate, they pass by the
great essentials of education, and devote themselves
wholly to what will yield them the greatest amount of
present applause and profit. The attainments of a pupil
in various branches of literature, or in elegant accomplishments, may be striking, and elicit admiration, but
95 
IIOUURS WITH MY PUPILS.
improvement in her disposition and principles is not
discovered at once; this is to be unfolded in the varying
scenes and circumstances of future life. To know, in after
years, of one who was a pupil here, that she is a goo(s
and useful woman, filling with dignity and fidelity the
duties of her station-this will be a reward for the cares
and toils of education: may this indeed be mine as
respects those who are now before me.
The excellent Hannah More remarked, that from seeing
the manner in which girls were educated, one would
think that life was a succession of holidays, and that the
great object was to fit them for the games, shows, and
amusements with which it was to be occupied. But let
us look at life as it is, not as the wild imagination of the
young may paint in glowing hues which fade into
sombre shades before the touch of truth and reality.
According to the customs of fashionable society, a young
girl on leaving school is "brought out," or "finished," as
by the common absurd phraseology. She is a young lady,
passed from the bud to the blossom; and she must now
forget much that she has been learning, and learn new
lessons in the school of the world. She considers herself a
candidate for admiration, and expects the homage of
flattery; a feverish anxiety for attention in society naturally takes possession of her mind, she becomes one
among the giddy crowd who throng the temple of pleasure, and on the altar of their idols, fashion and vanity,
offer the sacrifice of health and of their heart's best
affections.  The debutante having looked forward with
96 
THE YOUNG DEBUTANT$.
eagerness to her introduction to society, very naturally
imagines that others partake of her own feelings, and
that such an important event must cause a great sensation in the world-or at least in her own circle, which
she imagines to be the first and most important in the
world. She scans her own appearance with anxious
care; regards with scrutinizing looks her complexion,
features and form; her mode of walking, standing, sitting,
and dancing are subjects of deep concern to herself and
perhaps her parents. The latter, perhaps, blindly overlooking the realities of life, which it would seem experience might have taught them, regard with undue interest
their daughter's entree into society, and the impressions
which her coming out may produce. In all this anxiety
to discern external attractions, and fears lest they may
be counterbalanced by defects, is there no concern for the
soul, no inspection of the heart, no dread of evil passions
taking root there, and deformities which may offend the
eye of the all-seeing God? Such questions addressed to
worldly parents and unreflecting daughters, might be met
with a smile of contempt; as if the wisdom of this world
were enough, and to be scrupulous in respect to the
means of gaining its favor or its pleasures, were to throw
away the real, seen, and known advantages, for imaginary,
or, at least, far distant benefits.   The devotees of the
world, however they may profess to believe, are practical
atheists, denying by their conduct that there is a God
who watches over the actions of men, and who will judge
them not only for the deeds done in the body, but for the
5
97 
HouRs WITH MY PUPILS.
thoughts and intents of the heart. Let us trace the
young debutante through her flowery path of pleasure for
a season or two, to satisfy ourselves whether her expecta.
tions even for this period are answered.
We know full well that nothing is more illusive than
the idea of the great interest which the world takes in
the affairs of a particular individual, and that one, a
young girl, with merely youth and youthful attractions to
recommend her to notice. For the want of something
better to talk about in fashionable circles, the appearance of a new candidate for admiration may be made a
subject of conversation; but will she receive unqualified
praise? If beautiful, she may be condemned as vain; if
graceful, as affected in manners; if frank and ingenuous,
she will likely be called imprudent; and if cautious, artful. If, to be agreeable to the many, she talk on common-place topics, she may pass for one who has a shallow
intellect; if she introduce into fashionable circles, literary or religious subjects, she will probably be shunned as
pedantic or bigoted.   If she should have admirers, she
will be called a flirt; if she should have none, she will be
pitied for her supposed disappointment and mortification.
If the young lady who has anticipated so much from her
introduction into the world of fashion, or what is called
society, possess sensibility and principle she will soon
perceive that there is a competition going on there, in its
nature calculated to chill the better feelings of the soul;
that under the mask of affected benevolence, and desire of
promoting mutual happiness by bringing to the commor
98 
TRIALS OF A BELLE.
stock, pleasure and enjoyment, are concealed frightful
passions, "envy, hatred, and malice, and all uncharitable
ness," from which we daily pray to be delivered.  After
the labor of - so many years, such great expense of time
and money to gain accomplishments  that may  secure
triumph and admiration, after the toil and anxiety of
preparing the person for the public, the young lady perhaps finds herself receiving far less attention than some
one whom she regards as her inferior; innocent, that
one may be, of any intentional wrong to her, but mortification will naturally give rise to jealousy, which begets hared.
Allowing, however, that our young lady is decidedly
the bdelle of a short season or two, that she has had a triumphant entree into the highest circle, is regarded as the
brightest star in the constellation of fashion, can we sup
pose that even for that brief period she is happy? If
she possess penetration, she will see how heartless and
vain are the homage and admiration of those, who, like
the butterfly flit from flower to flower, selfishly seeking
pleasure and amusement, wholly indifferent as to the
effects of their heartless attention upon the future happi-n
ness of those whom they may choose to flatter. For it
must be remembered that in the world of fashion and
folly, are seldom found men of true sensibility and scrupulous morals. The game that is there going on, forbids
such from becoming initiated in the mysteries of " high
life," where weak principles are tested by the artful
and designing, where fortune attracts, and where modest
.99
,,. e. 
HoUsR WITH MY  PUPILS.
merit, unaccompanied by wealth or some prestige which is
an equivalent for wealth, can find no place. We will sup.
pose our young lady has become quite accustomed to fashionable life; she has gained her place among its votaries
-but what has she not lost I Late hours, imprudence in
dress, exposure to the impure atmosphere of gaslights
and crowded assemblies, and the dainties of luxurious
banquets, at length undermine her health. The freshness of youth has faded, her spirits are no longer buoyant; she has grasped the thorn, but the rose has withered.
And the warmth of affection, the simplicity of heart and
the conscientiousness of principle which were seen in the
school-girl, are they, too, lost I We fear so, and yet they
may have only been blighted; a timely escape from the
ways of folly, and a return to healthful influences, may
revive the affections, and rouse the conscience.
In that career, so deleterious both to the physical and
moral nature, the aspirant for fashionable distinction
before becoming a victim to the world, may be early
arrested by the voice of conscience and withdraw herself
from evil influences, while she has yet the power of
regaining in some degree what she has lost;-before she
shall have suffered the chagrin of being considered passee,
neglected by the world for which she has sacrificed
herself. Hiow pitiable the woman of the world, whose
seared heart and vitiated taste render her incapable of
enjoyments which spring from intellectual pursuits, or
the exercise of the affections I If single, she will be
forlorn and neglected; if a wife and mother, how much
i.
,   *..,... 
100 
EDUCATION NEVER FINISHED.
to be commiserated are those who are dependent for
happiness or virtue on her faithfulness or conscientious
ness.
And now, my dear pupils, do any of you think you
would ever wish to encounter all these evils for the distinction of being a belle in fashionable society? Yet you
hear too much said even among those who should beware
of giving you false impressions, about "introduction into
society," or in vulgar parlance, as we sometimes hear,
"turning out"-or of "fini3khing your education." But
why talk of finishing, when the education can never be
finished I Even tie angels and the spirits of the just in
heaven are continually progressing in knowledge and
virtue. The period of school education must terminate;
but so far from considering this termination as the era in
which reflection, labor, and self-denial are to cease, it
should be regarded as that period which calls upon the
young to lay aside childish things, to assume new responsibilities, and engage in new duties-to begin, in earnest,
to contribute to the happiness and comfort of those who
have been laboring and caring for them, and to act their
part in the drama of life, as those who must give account
hereafter, before the great Judge of all.
1844.
101 
ADDRESS IX.
CHANGE.
CHANGE is inscribed on everything around us.  Physical
nature is constantly in a state of transition; nothing
here is fixed, nothing is permanent. The earth itself is
continually in motion-on its axis, around the sun, and
carried with the system to which it belongs around some
unknown centre. The solid rocks upon the earth gradually decay and crumble into dust-their remains enter
into the composition of plants, which in their turn, become constituent parts of animals. Again, the decomposition of animal substances furnishes the nourishment
of plants; and from gases evolved from both plants and
animals, minerals are formed. The anthracite coal we
burn, which is considered a miineral substance, is formed
from the remains of vegetables.   The vast mines of bituminous coal of our country bear indubitable marks of having once been forests of trees; while the beds of peat
coal found so extensively in England and Ireland, and
some other parts of the world, are well known to be of
vegetable origin.
Observe an acorn; take it up in your hands and examine its structure-it is a little brown seed; strip it of
102 
THE ACORN-THE INFANT.
its outer covering; there is a softer substance which
seems on examining to be composed of two parts joined
together, and inclosing a minute filament; this is an oak
tree t It contains within its tiny dimensions the vast
roots of that monarch of the forest, with its trunk,
branches and foliage; and, moreover, the germs of future
generations of plants I From this small seed, time, under
favoring circumstances, will develop the perfect, full-grown,
majestic tree; and other trees in succession, while the
earth endures.
Behold the little infant reposing in its cradle, unconscious of its own existence, and enjoying a mere animal
life; the most helpless and imbecile of all young creatures.
But what mighty intellectual energies slumber within that
tiny form; what noble moral qualities!I-and alas, it may
be, what deep depravity lies there I Time, time, moving
on with rapid strides, touches all things in his progress;
and as he touches, a change comes over them.
But let us come nearer to ourselves, let us note the
changes which we have experienced in our persons, our
minds, and in our condition. The period of our helpless
infancy and early childhood is as dark to our memory as
the years beyond the flood.  The germ of thought in the
infant mind is gradually developed, like the unfolding
embryo of a plant. Emotions of love, anger, grief, and
joy break in upon the animal existence;-reason and reflection come later; and conscience is last to assert its
claims to direct the thoughts and actions of a being destined to immortality. First, is the physical nature; then
103 
IlouRs wITra mY PUPILS.
appear the passions; next, the reasoning powers; and
lastly, the morale or that higher development of mind
which proves man to be a free moral agent, with a guide
inherent in himself, which, if duly regarded, may conduct
him through this vale of tears to regions of immortal
blessedness.
Slowly does conscience work its way through the in  cumbent weight of appetites and passions-and often are
the hearts of the parent and educator saddened at the
little progress which the moral emotion seems to make in
the mind of the child, or the pupil. Some children seem
early to be conscientious; they have a dread of committing
sin, and a desire to know their duty; others appear to be
wholly governed by their animal nature, or their passions,
and to care little for what is right or wrong, provided
they are gratified in their desires.
Man has a middle nature, he is a connecting link be tween angel and brute. In proportion as he allows himself to be controlled by his appetites and passions, he is
assimilated to the lower order; the more he obeys the
dictates of conscience, the higher he rises in the scale of
being and the nearer he approaches to angelic perfection.
It is hard to burst the bonds of sinful and depraved appetites and passions; but if we would rise to the dignity
of which our nature is capable, we must make the most
powerful efforts, and seize hold of every aid which may
be within our grasp to assist us in the great conflict.
The young are sent abroad to school that they may
learn to live a new life. The scenes of their early child
1011 
DEVELOPMENT.
hood are the scenes of the gratification of their love of
animal indulgences; for, as the infant gradually develops
into the maturer child, and the child approaches the
years of adolescence or youth, the change is so imper ceptible, that in many cases, a corresponding change in
respect to fewer indulgences, and more rigid demands of
exertion and self-sacrifice is not made by the parents;
until, suddenly, the truth flashes upon their minds that
their child will soon arrive at the age of manhood or of
womanhood, wholly unfurnished with habits of self government or restraint.  The new life which he must
immediately commence, preparatory to his entrance into
the world, can better be begun in new scenes, and under
new circumstances; and the child is sent away to be
trained for the stern duties which await him in life,
to be taught to govern his inclinations and control
his passions, and to give the higher nature within him
an opportunity of expanding and strengthening under
more favorable circumstances.
It is not, therefore, a cause of surprise to see pupils at
first discontented and uneasy-the same self-indulgence
allowed them at home is not here permitted. The morning sleep, so sweet to the young that when not disturbed
it is often prolonged to a very late hour, must be interrupted-the kind mother or indulgent nurse does not
in the gentlest tones of entreaty beg that the darling will
open her eyes to the morning light and favor the household with the beams of her sweet countenance, but the
loud and commanding tones of the rising-bell, proclaim
5*
105 
HOURS WITH MY PUPILS.
that the rules must be obeyed, that Patapsco expects her
daughters to do their duty. Conscience doubtless whispered to the dilatory girl, when her faithful nurse was
coaxing, or her fond mother entreating, that she ought to
rouse herself and shake off the drowsiness which claimed
such unreasonable indulgence; but habit was too strong,
it overcame the feeble struggles of conscience; —but give
to this faculty a fair opportunity of gaining strength, and
you will find yourselves more and more able by its power
to fortify yourselves against temptations.
Another indulgence which children often enjoy at home,
is that of luxurious living. The first thing in the care of
the infant is to cause it to receive nourishment; the child
as it becomes older is fed on what it likes, and its tastes
are consulted. Habits of sensual gratification are thus
formed, which must in more mature life be corrected,
or there can be no dignity of character. Health and
reputation are in danger of being sacrificed where the
animal nature is allowed to preponderate over the
intellectual and moral.  It is hard for the pampered
children of indulgence to change their habits of luxurious
living, and to conform to the simplicity and regularity:so
essential in an educational establishment. Yet you can
bear witness that early rising, and regular and simple
meals, promote health of body and activity of mind.  You
have experienced how sweet is the consciousness of doing
your duty.
That when you first entered upon this life of duty and
discipline you found it hard and often disagreeable, we can
106 
CHANGES IN THE PHYSICAL WORLD.
well imagine; but every day it becomes to you easier
conscience, which before was weak and inactive, begins
to wax stronger. You feel more self-respect, a greater
approbation of yourselves.
If we are injured we cannot be miserable while conscious of our own innocence, and that we have no cause
to conceal or blush for our conduct.   It is far better to
suffer wrong, than to do wrong; and though we may not
always avoid being injured, we can avoid being, ourselves,
guilty, for, in respect to moral goodness, we can in a degree become what we desire. God has made us free
agents, and we can blame ourselves only for our own misdeeds.
Since we met together to commence the duties of the
session, the time has passed rapidly away; constant
occupation has accelerated the flight of days, weeks, and
months.
The changing aspect of the physical world is a constant admonition to us. In spring, we are pleased with
the promises of nature, and soon the vegetable world is
in full vigor and activity.   Flowers  everywhere surround us; they come back, the old friends and acquaintances of former years; and the woods and turfy lawns
are enamelled with beds of violets, claytonias, and anemones; the gardens are ornamented with the crocus, daffodil, and hyacinth; the bright fleur-de-lis, lifts its head
as if to ask our welcome, and roses blush on all sides,
loading with their fragrance the passing gale. As the
season advances, new troops of flowers come forward in
107
.1, 
HiouRs WITH MY PUPILS.
forest, wood, and dell, and the gardens and shrubbery
present new attractions; but as the blossoms of the
spring pass away, so quickly fades the summer bloom,
and autumnal flowers of richer hues, but less delicate
texture and less fragrant odors, take their place. But
the frost-king watches with envious gaze the remaining
beauties of autumn, and soon snatches them from the
sombre landscape.
The fading beauties of autumn are dear to our hearts
we love its pensive hours and its sad associations, as we
love to linger around the couch of departed friends, who
must soon leave us to find perennial spring beyond these
changing skies.
As the glowing hues of autumn are the precursor of
dissolution, so do we know that the hectic flush upon the
cheek of a dear invalid is as the fading glories of the
autumnal foliage, before it returns to the dust from
whence it was formed.
But to the good there is no terror in the dissolution of
the bodily tenement; death seems a friendly messenger
to those who think upon it as the entrance into a nobler
and happier state of existence. The seasons have their
changes; moral beings have theirs also; how is it with
yourselves? Are you becoming more assimilated to qngelic perfection; better fitted for a heavenly home, as
you advance farther on in life's journey? If so, no
matter how soon you may be called-you are ready tq
go.
108 
ADDRESS X.
A MODEL CHARACTER.
WaHILS we regard the formation of the moral character
as of the first importance in education, there are other
requisites which should not be disregarded. And yet, the
young are liable to so many faults of disposition, so often
perverse and wanting in the first principles of integrity
and honor, that in conducting their education, we are in
danger of neglecting these lesser matters, which, in their
intercourse with the world, are to constitute, in a degree,
their respectability and success in life. We will now consider our young lady as having formed her character, as
to morality and religion. She reverences her Maker and
His laws, she has resolved to follow Christ in the ordinances of His appointment; she is truthful and honorable; careful not to offend others, or injure the feelings
of any by neglect, by a haughty bearing, or by speaking
unkindly; she is a peace-maker, and would do all in her
power to reconcile those who are at variance, never
repeating words which might wound the feelings of
another, except for the high and noble object of doing
good to that person, by showing a fault to be corrected,
or an error to be abandoned. We will give to our
109
e 
HOURS WITH MY PUPILS.
young lady these qualities of heart, and add thereto a
high cultivation of intellect, a good literary education.
What parent would not be happy in such a daughter;
what educator would not rejoice in such a specimen of
his work I
But the pure gold needs shaping and polishing that
it may become ornamental. So our good young lady
must not be neglected, as to her shape, and polish. Nature
has given to each individual a peculiar form and countenance, but each one may do much towards modifying
her shape, complexion, and even features.   Habits of
stooping injure the figure, and impair the digestive
organs. The spine becomes curved when it is habitually
kept in a crooked position. The shoulders are brought
forward and the lungs, and other vital organs, are impaired by continual stooping. When you sew, write,
draw, or practice the harp or piano, you should be careful not to bend over, or hold your figure in a constrained
position. When you stand, let it be with your chest
expanded, shoulders back, and drawn down rather than
pushed up at the expense of shortening the neck. Many
ladies, with no more than ordinary forms, are called
elegant, because they know how to carry themselves, and
to make the best of their persons. If girls would practice
the direction given to soldiers to make them straight,
and show their figure to advantage, we should not have
so many crooked, awkward-looking women as the present
age exhibits. Proper physical exercises are too much
neglected, and there is the more danger of this where the
0
iio 
PHYSICAL EXERCISEB.
mind is directed to mental improvement. Here, you have
dancing and calisthenic lessons, the great use of which is
to improve the physique in health and grace. As to the
mere learning to dance as an accomplishment in society,
there is much to be said against this, as well as something
in its favor. And I will here add, that though you may
be taught fashionable dances, it is not supposed that
you are to exhibit yourselves in them  at public places.
Men of sense regard with severity, young ladies who give
themselves up to the fascinations of these dances. The
queen of England forbids them at her court; they are not
danced even in Paris, with the freedom used in this
-country.   Many  attempt them  without  knowing  how
they should be performed; and exhibitions, offensive to
delicacy, are often seen at dancing parties; the  performers, themselves, may be quite unconscious of the
appearance they present, or the unfavorable impressions
others may form of them.
Remember that the form can be affected by habits of
stooping, and ungraceful attitudes -may become habitual
The teeth are injured by too much indulgence in eating
confectionery; the complexion, by the free use of rich or
gross food, and by neglect of proper exercise. Is not the
very expression of the countenance greatly modified by
the habitual temper and disposition?
A peevish temper shows itself in a morose expression;
a haughty disposition by harsh cast cf countenance;
while a mean and insincere character appears in the
downcast and stealthy looks which seem to fear observa
ill 
HOOURS WITH MY PUPILS.
tion. Would you be handsome? The'old saw that
"handsome is that handsome does," has much truth in it,
even in its literal sense. Would you have a good form?
Hold yourselves upright, and do not act as if you were
afraid to show yourself as you are; but be erect in your
carriage, as you would be upright in your actions. If
you would be called "sweet," a term coveted by young
girls, you must be amiable, for a sour disposition cannot
make a sweet face.
Dress is an important subject to our sex at any age;
and at yours, especially, assumes a serious aspect. "What
shall I wear?" is the great question. And yet, others, in
reality, mind much less about our dress than we think for.
A simple dress is always respectable; it should be neat;
and may be genteel and fashionable. When the hair is
luxuriant, as is usually the case with the young who are
healthy, it is not well to load it with ribbons or ornaments
of any kind.
Dress should be adapted to the occasion. In travelling,
custom exacts a strict'regard to certain rules. There
are few who do not know that it is exceedingly improper
to appear with ornaments, in travelling in public conveyances-as stage coaches, railroad cars, steamboats, etc.
At hotels, it is better not to appear with an elaborate
toilet; such dress gives the impression of persons who
see little society at home, and put on their best attire in
order to attract the notice of strangers. Americans
have been ridiculed by foreigners for this showing off at
the tables-w&h6te.
112 
DEss8.
In Europe, with few exceptions, meals are taken by
travellers in their private apartments-an unsocial custom
certainly, but better than in travelling to be obliged to
dress magnificently for a hotel dinner. I am not now to
give you a treatise on dress, but would lead you to reflect
on some principles respecting it, which are too often lost
sight of by a young person on her entrance into the
world.
But we are supposing a model-young-lady;-she has been
improved by intellectual culture, possesses an elevated
moral character crowned by consistent piety. She has been
instructed to take care of herself, and make the most of
the personal advantages God has given.her. She knows
how to walk, to turn her toes out at a proper and grace ful angle, to hold herself straight, and to make the most
of her figure-so that, if tall, she does not seem ashamed
to acknowledge it; or, if short, she may show that she
can, notwithstanding, hold her head up. And she must
be amiable, sweet tempered, obliging, so that upon her
countenance rests, habitually, a sweet expression, not put
on for effect, but an emanation of the spirit within. She
is not afraid to look others full in the face, because she
is conscious of no deceit, no meanness, no wrong to any.
We will now send our model-young-lady away from
these quiet shades. We are to suppose that after the
best of maternal teachings and examples, she has been
carefully educated.-She must go out into the world attired in modest garments, gracefully worn.
Our model-young-lady knows how to take care of her
113 
'H[OURS WITIH MY PUPILS.
self, and her belongings; she can pack her trunks, and
take care of her keys; she can be ready, at a short warning, to accompany her friends on excursions of pleasure, or
a tour to Europe. She is like a pleasant sun-light in
the family circle, and diffuses happiness around her.
Her manners are gentle and refined; and yet she has energy and decision of character, so that in emergencies of
danger or difficulty she may be relied on for presence of
mind. She knows how to talk, and how to listen to
others.
She has learned how to behave at table, does not use
her knife when she should use her fork, is polite, and,
when proper, can be helpful to those who are near her.
She does not scream in public places, or private houses, to
show that she is no longer a school-girl.   No, she is capable of judging as to propriety, and acts at all times in
conformity with the present situation.
Does our model-young-lady need anything more than
she is now furnished with to make her the favorite of society? Will she not be sought for in marriage by admirers, and cherished as the beloved of her own sex?
Alas-we have neglected to endow her with wealth I She
is not rich-and so, perhaps, the world may pass her by;
while the glittering charms of fortune bring suitors to
the feet of those who may have neither charms of person
nor of intellect to boast of, the real gem is neglected.
But our model-young-lady was early taught the potency
of wealth to gain the friendship of the world, and instructed to set a just estimate upon this friendship.  She
'114 
WANT OF FORTUNE.
does not consider marriage as necessary to her happiness
or respectability in life. If in the intercourse of society she
has been approached with appearances of particular regard by one to whom she might have become attached,
had she believed him in earnest in his addresses, she has
strengthened her resolution to keep her own heart, remembering what she had often been told by one who had
watched over her education with maternal care, "Young
ladies with fortunes have more suitors than lovers; those
without fortunes may have lovers who are not suitors."
Our model-young-lady is prepared to fill that station
in life to which she may be called-if necessary, she can
be a governess, and introduce into families who have
more wealth than education, a higher standard of character. She is a blessing wherever she goes;-she is not
afraid of being an old aid: she makes the most of herself and her condition, and God will bless her in this world
and fit her for a better;-by trials if they are needful, for
whom He loveth He chasteneth.
115
.  
ADDRESS XI.
WISDOM.
Wisdom is the principal thing; therefore, get wisdom, and with
all thy gettings, get understanding.-EccLESIAsTEs, chap. iv. 7.
WHEN yOU entered this school, you were severally
examined as to your progress in learning, and classed
according to your attainments in different branches of
study, as languages, geography, arithmetic, philosophy,
chemistry, etc. It is probable that most of you have
thought your sole business at school is with these varied
branches, or the accomplishments of music, drawing,
etc. But suppose, instead of examining you as to your
progress in various scholastic studies, you had been
questioned as to your proficiency in self-government, truth
fulness, and piety, what answers could you have given?
To commence with self-government, suppose you had
been questioned whether you had yet learned this artwhether you knew how to control yourselves, so as to do
those things which are right, and to exclude from your
minds all evil, vain, and improper thoughts, could you
have answered, "I am perfectly acquainted with the art
of self-government; my conduct is always the result of
114 
SELF-GovERNMENT.
reason; I have no need of trying any more to learn how
to control my feelings?"
Would not conscience, the rather, have prompted you
to say, "I do not yet understand self-government; I
must make that one of my studies?" You might have
remembered with sorrow and penitence, the tears you
had caused a tender mother or friend, by anger, obstinacy, or some other evil passion which had led you to
behave contemptuously, or unkindly, towards those who
were devoted to your happiness. Perhaps, even while
you were preparing to leave home to come to school, you
evinced displeasure because all your wishes were not
gratified. You may have wanted some article of dress
that your parents thought beyond their means, or unnecessary for you, and you may have appeared unamiably
on account of their refusal.  You may have wished to
learn some accomplishment, thought too expensive, or not
required for your condition in life; the refusal to accede
to your wishes may have excited resentful feelings, and
unpleasant words, or unkind looks on your part, may have
wounded your kindest and best friends-those who may
be making great sacrifices to give you the advantages of
education. Consider, each one of you, whether you have
been thus guilty in any degree, and in your next letters
to your parents ask their forgiveness, not neglecting to
humble yourselves before God for your faults, and join
yourselves to the class for LEARNING  SELF-GOVERNMENT.
Consider whether you are making any advances in this
science. If you find yourselves easy to be provoked with
117 
-ouiRS WITH MY PUPILS.
your companions, or forward, and impertinent  to your
teachers, you need not flatter yourselves that you are
improving. It is when you are able to subdue the rising
temper, to command your looks from expressing anger or
contempt, and your tongue from uttering harsh words,
though your spirit be agitated within, that you can truly
feel conscious of possessing the power of self-government.
We cannot expect to pass through this rough world without meeting with much to disturb our peace of mind, and
equanimity of temper. 
In proportion as we can govern ourselves, we may
influence others.  It is not easy to be calm when assailed
by anger and injustice; but it is the part of wisdom to
keep down our own passions, that we may, at least, be
sane, though others be unreasonable   What an advantage is afforded by equanimity of temper I The master
or mistress who gives way to violent passion loses the
respect of the servant who may be property by legal
right, but whose mind cannot be fettered, and who will
at heart give honor only where honor is due.
One of the branches of wisdom we consider is the
power of self-government. Another branch of wisdom is
truthfulness, without which there can be no dignity or
worth of character. And here self-examination is necessary; for truth lies deep in the heart, if there at all.
You must learn to know and respect her in her humblest
guise, as well as in her Sunday garb. Truthfulness
either does, or does not, belong to a character. Without it - there is an empty void in that region of the
118 
WANT OF TRUTHFULNESS.
heart from which proceeds all that is good and estimable.
It might seem that where truthfulness is wanting it
would be useless to attempt to improve a character;
and indeed it is a most discouraging labor to attempt
to imbue with good desires a heart where there is
not a firm substratum of truthfulness.   But the edu cator must not be discouraged by obstacles. And the
young, thank God, are not yet so hardened in evil, that
we may not hope much from cultivation. But you must
aid me in this work. You would all shrink from being
called insincere, hypocritical, and false; but you must
look closely into your words and actions, and not try to
deceive yourselves as:wellas others. 
We have a straight and narrow way before us, in considering what truthfulness is.  We will first examine our
subject negatively.  One is not truthful who attempts in
any way to deceive  others, or to give false impressions;
in the class-room, to pretend to know a lesson that is
not learned; in social intercourse, to affect friendship
which is not felt; in chapel, to seem to worship God,
because it is reputable to do so. To attempt to enumerate all the artifices and deceits which even the young
may be guilty of, in trying to assume virtues which they
do not possess, and hiding their real faults, would present
a fearful list; we pass them by, urging upon you all,
that self-examination which constitutes the vital point of
character.
We  will suppose you are intent on gaining wisdom,
119 
HIOURS Wr   MY PUFILS.
and have entered into the trut-dass; if you have done
this with full purpose of heart, we shall have courage in
proceeding to help your efforts. You are to begin by
hating all kinds of deception, and resolving to be truthful
and sincere, let consequences be what they may. In the
various relations in life, nothing so soon destroys peace,
harmony, and confidence, as the discovering that around
and about us, is a false and deceitful spirit. Many a
woman has rendered herself odious in the eyes of her
husband by petty concealments, or false pretences, even in
trifling matters. "If she will violate truth in small things,"
he may reason, "what can I expect in more important
matters?" Women are, it is true, dependent, and such
a state may lead to hypocrisy. In some families, a
mother has been known to use artifice, in order to supply
her daughters with articles of dress, or indulgences which
the father was unwilling or unable to afford them; what
can be expected of such daughters I
It requires moral courage to be able at all times to
speak the truth; but you should fortify your minds on
this point by reflecting on the denunciations of Scripture
against lying and deceit; you should fear the reproaches
of your conscience-or still more the hardening of this
conscience, so that it would cease its warnings. If, when
you are young, you allow yourselves to indulge in artifice,
you may be assured the vice will grow upon you as you advance in life; what you perhaps did merely to amuse others,
or gratify what you thought a harmless vanity, you will
do to serve the purposes of self-interest, until you will be
120 
THE WIRSDoM-CLEW
come confirmed in habits of lying and dishonesty. As vir tues cling together and are found in companies, so it is
with vices; and one who- does not speak the truth will
become familiar with other sins.
A noble dignity 6f purpose will serve to keep you in
straight paths; aditting no thonght of concealing your
conduct, you wsill be careful to have your actions such as
you would not blush to have exposed.  Walking on in
life with an upright and sineere mind, you can have nothing to fear.  Poverty is not disgrace, persecution is not
infamy; and no affliction can be truly a misfortune to the
good, those who fear not to 10ok others in the face, and
who walk uprightly through the varying scenes of this
transitory life.  Bow'omfobrtfig to be abIe to 1feel selfrespect-but how miserable one who is conscious that if
his real character were known, he would be despised;
who knows that he has deceived and betrayed those who
trusted in him, and that truth is a stranger to his heart.
Wisdom is the principal thing.  You perceive that
you must learn self-government and truth as important
branches of this great science, and will join the class
which we hope to form for learning and practising them.
We  include honesty with truth, because they usually
go together.  The dishonest person will lie to conceal his
guilt, and the liar will not, generally, scruple to take that
which belongs to otherS.  If you have fault-marks, do not
attempt to get rid of them by palliating or excusing what
you have done; excuses are too often lies, or lead to them.
If you- have fail1d to write lettes to6 your friends when
6
i2l 
HOURS WITrrH MY PUPILS.
you should have done so, do not say you have had no
time, or try to invent excuses. Do not make false pro.
fessions of friendship, or, by flattery, minister to the weaknesses of others. Though in the common intercourse in
life, politeness requires a certain degree of respect to all,
yet with this there may, and should be, sincerity. You
should never urge persons to visit you unless you desire
it, and never promise to write letters unless you intend to
fulfill your engagement. As pupils at school, in letters to
friends at home, say nothing but truth; do not make a
serious matter of a slight indisposition, or cause alarm
by needless complaints; study truth, and with all your
study, gain habits of truth.
Piety is a branch of wisdom; and this must be sought
for as for hid treasure. If brought up from childhood in
the fear of God, happy are you; if you have this great
thing to learn, you have no time to lose, for life is uncertain, and this is the preparation required for the world
of spirits, to which we are hastening. If your hearts
are not yet anchored surely upon a firm religious hope,
put yourselves in a dass with those of your companions
who are seeking to find God, and to love and serve Him.
When you meet with Christians, to worship God, are
your hearts filled with a sense of His greatness and goodness, and of your own unworthiness?
Would-that when assembled for religious worship,
there were among us, no vacant, careless looks, no ap.
pearance of restlessness or inattention, indicating indiffer.
ence to the solemn duties in which all profess to engage.
122 
PIETY.
Those who love God delight in His service, they love
his words, his Sabbaths and ordinances; if you feared
Him, you would never dare to trifle when his presence
is invoked. When a room-mate kneels down to offer her
prayers to her Father in heaven you should feel a solemn
sense of the presence of God, and abstain from anything
that might disturb her devotions
Example is powerful; a pious pupil may do much
t6wards influencing others; one who would trifle with
religion and religious subjects, cannot fail of doing much
harm  to the consciences of others; things that they
would not have dared to think, much less to do, may become familiar, till they cease  to feel compunctions of
conscience. Consider these things, your influence over
each other, the importance of habit, and of your joining
yourselves to a ds, for learning to think and act right.
.1843.
123 
ADDRESS XI!
OPENING OF'A  hR Dli.
BY the good providence of God, we are here assembled,
m  dear tapils  nid co-laborer, after a priod of sepaa tion, to renew our efforts in gaining or imparting know'
ledge.  Yet, ere we become  absorbed in present duties,
it is well to suspend our attention on the immediate
objects before us, that we may look back upon the past,
and forward to the fature; thatwe mayousider the
principles by which we should be guided in our connection
with each other, and the bearing which this connection
may have upon our future destiny, not only in this world,
but in that hereafter, which stretches into an illimitble
eternity.
The Institution with which we are connected, has
received attention from the public, and been favored with
success.   A  combination  of happy  circumstances  has
tended to give it elevation and permanency of character.
Among these circumstances, I would mention the favor it
has received from the State legislature, which, by its
liberality, enabled the Trustees to carry out their own
views in respect to building, by giving the necessary con.
veniences, and adopting that classic style of architecture, 
mIIa:. lNwu~Qo.
so well sited to the locality.  The State has distinguished this Institute with especial favor.   We  are bound
to do all in our power to honor Maryland by the high
character and utility Of our Institution.  The first and
highest honor to any  ommnity is good literay instututions.  Thee are the pride and glory of the New England States; with their granite mountains and barren
rocks, their frigid clippmate and hard  soil, what would
these States become without their excellent schools and
colleges?  There is nothing in the air of New England
more invigorating to the intellect than the pure breezes
of our Patapsco, with its hundred hills covered with the
ancient forest-tr.ees,  rdat with the crpeting of nature
or rich with waving grain, presenting rare scenes of grandeur and beauty
We, my dear pupils and honored asociats, are bound
to do all in our power to establish this institution on a
firm and permanent basis, so that at home and abroad it
shall command respect and confidence, and we shall ia
So doing, add s6mething to the dignity of the State to
which it owes its existence;-and, if from  this place
shall go forth a future generation of women superior
to the frivolities of fashion, trained to habits of industry,
order, economy, and piety, enlightened in intellect and
fitted to be  companions  and  advisers to the future
legislators and citizens of this and other States, then
should we well repay the fostering care of Maryland and
prove useful to her in promoting the best and highest
interests of our common country, and united republc.
12 
HOURS WITH BY PUPILS.
We will, en passant, make some remarks upon the sys
tern of education here pursued, and the principles by
which the government of our Institution is administered.
Our monitorial system is an important feature in our dis cipline. This differs entirely from what is popularly
called the "monitorial system," where one pupil is em ployed to teach another. In our system, every pupil
who is of sufficient age and judgment to be intrusted
with the office, is, by turns, monitor for a day. Her
duty consists in enforcing the rules of the school, and in
reporting all breaches of such rules. These rules are the
guide of the monitor, nothing is left to her caprice, preju dice, or partiality; if her most intimate friend be found
guilty of a breach-of rule, her duty is clear, a fault-mark
must be given, or she will be found unfaithful to her
trust. If, through prejudice, a monitor gives a faultmark when it is not deserved, the injured party has the
privilege of appealing to the presiding teacher, and if
dissatisfied with her decision, to the Principal; and it
would be disgraceful to a monitor to be found to have
abused her power, and the confidence reposed in her. In
thus employing monitors, we recognize an important principle of morality, differing essentially from the code of
honor which is often proudly vaunted by young men, but
which is, undoubtedly, the baneful source of most of the
rebellions, expulsions, and other evils which disgrace
male institutions. This code of honor prescribes that no
student shall expose another to the officers of an Institution, let the nature of his offences be what they may.
126 
1ORAL COURAGE.
Such a principle carried out in society, would shield from
detection and punishment, the thief, the incendiary, and
the murderer.  Baneful indeed is this principle in its
effects; it is the opposite of that true moral courage which
is fearless in exposing evil when such exposure is necessary to the well-being of an individual or a community.
We would discriminate between the fulfillment of duty
in reporting breaches of established rules, or the exposure by one pupil of what is imprudent or wrong in another through a desire of preventing evil and producing
good, and that impertinent tale-bearing by which one
pupil would degrade another in order to raise herself, or
with the view of obtaining the favor of her superiors. It
requires little penetration to see through such motives
when they exist, and the pupil acting under their influence would ever meet with repulse and disgrace among
teachers who are judges of character, and are, themselves,
influenced by high and honorable sentiments. An espionage upon the actions of another with the secret intention
of injury to the individual, should never be confounded
with the exposure of an evil, which, if persisted in, would
be the cause of disgrace to an institution and injury to
its individual members; to conceal this, would be like seeing poison mingled with food without giving notice of it,
or a fire consuming our neighbor's house without sound.
ing an alarm. What would be our surprise should an
individual defend such a course on the ground that talebearing was dishonorable I It is by going back to first
principles, that we may, in morals, keep in the straight
127 
lOURS WITH MY PUP.ILs.
path of duty.  First principles in morality are, in the
conduct of life, as the axioms in mathematics, to which,
as we proceed in demonstrations, we are obliged continue
ally to refer.
To "do right" should ever be our motto, and when we
know what is right we should pursue it, even though the
path may be beset with difficulties. Yet, in reality, the
right way is not only the shortest, but in general the
most easy and pleasant. If any should doubt whether
the faithful discharge of the office of monitor has a tend ency to lead the young to mean espionage or to low tale bearing, may the dignified deportment and open frankness
of the pupils of this institution ever repel the suggestion.
Observe closely whether such as are most fearless in the
discharge of monitorial duty, or rather such as have
most moral courage, are those who are given to "evil
speaking, lying and slandering." Would you choose for
your friend and companion, one who would be true and
honest-who would be fearless to tell you of your faults,
when it became her duty to do so-select the faithful and
impartial monitor who will do what is right, even though
duty might require her to give evidence against her dearest friend.
When the monitor lays aside her office and is no longer
bound to report breaches of duty in her fellow pupils, sh6
may still aid in promoting good order by her advice and
example.  Having experienced the pain caused by the
task of reporting offences, she will naturally be careful
not to subject other monitors to the same trial.
128 
12-9
Some of you, after a season of relation, return to
accustomed scenes and pursuits, others come M strangers
to an institution, many of whose rules, customs and modes
of pursuing studies may appear new and strane. From
former pupils we may reasonably expect a strict atten tion to all duties that from experience you know will be
required; we may expect to find in you a reasonable
degree of improvement in mind, manners and morals;
knowing as you do the rules of the institution, and feeling
as we would hope an interest in its prosperity, we may look
to you to aid in establuing good order. Receive the
strangers who have come to us from so many distant
homes as ftiends, and by your kindness and attention
gladden their hearts, so often saddened by thoughts of
the friends they have left.
Each school session, each day and year, should be made
"a critic on the last," and where you can perceive you
have erred in the past time, be the more watchful for the
future. Has your fault been that of indolence, of wasting
in frivolous thought, or dull inactivity of mind, the precious hours which when past can neverbe recalled?  Has
it been that of irregularity in your duties,? Have you
indulged yourself in anger, impatience, and a spirit of
contradiction?   Have you suffered yourself to be led
from the straight and narrow path of prudence and duty
to follow bad examples, or allowed yourself to be infiuenced by those whom you should have had resolution to
resist?  And, finally, do you perceive in reviewing the
past that you have often left undone what you should
6*
F.xr=s. 
HouRs WT -MT PUPILS.
have done, and have done what you should not have
done? Pray to your Father in heaven to enable you in
the future to avoid what is evil and to do your duty better than you have done. To those who have come as
strangers among us, I would address words of encouragement and advice. Many things now appear to you
strange, and what is strange is often unpleasant. So
much are we the creatures of habit, that even if a change
be for the better, we are often slow to perceive it. It is
said of one who had been imprisoned all his life with no
light in his dungeon but through one little hole in the
wall, that, when about to be taken from prison, he thought
he could never see without the help of that aperture; and
he found to his astonishment that the wall was but an
impediment to his vision.  What  may now appear as
disagreeable tasks to you, will, in time, become pleasant.
To find that you are becoming better, wiser, and more
able to take care of yourselves, will be an ample reward
for any efforts you may make. You will become more
robust and healthy by physical exercise, and your minds
will be invigorated by study. The fact of your being
here shows that your parents approve of the regulations
and discipline of the school; and the fact that you have
been received here proves that we suppose you are
willing to conform to them. It is hoped and expected
that you will here so improve yourselves, that hereafter
you will be the pride and joy of your friends and an
honor to the institution in which you will have been
educated.
130 
REMARKS  TO TEAOHERS.
To you, my associates and friends, the teachers of this
institution, I would make a few remarks. If, in a multitude of counsellors there is safety, there is also danger in
(divided counsds, and that which is the duty of many, may
be neglected by all. By the influence of Christian principles, we may hope for union among ourselves, and by a
proper division of labor, each one may know her own
peculiar sphere of action.  Yet the mere discharge of
duty, without a feeling of interest in the success of what
is done, would be to fail wholly in the spirit while fulfilling the letter of the law.
Some of you have been long associated with me; first
us pupils, and then as teachers. The work in which we
are engaged is important, calling for dignity of character,
selfcommand, and self-sacrifices. While so many of our
sex live for their own enjoyment, or confine their efforts
to the little domestic circle which bounds their sympathies, we live for the public; to us are allotted trials
and difficulties peculiar to our profession. We bring
forward pupils in various sciences and accomplishments;
We  delight in seeing them go on from one degree of
improvement to another, but while we are beholding and
enjoying the work we are permitted to bring to some
degree of perfection, the objects of our care are taken
from us; the blossoms which had expanded under our
culture are removed to other bowers;-others have entered into our labors. It is for this we toil, sure that the
greatest success must be followed by the greatest trial
131 
H[ouRs WITHR MY.PUPIL.
when the time arrives for us to give back to parental
love those, who, for this very purpose, were intrusted to
us. To those who have been long associated with me in
the work of education, I can only ask that you will continue the same faithful assistants and devoted friends that
you have hitherto been. Your greater experience has,
indeed, rendered your services the more valuable, and I
can only pray that your life and health may be precious
in the sight of the Lord, and that our labors of love may
be still blessed as we have reason to believe they have
been.  But all who have walked with us are not here;
some, in a new sphere of life, are occupied with domestic
cares; others have been called to labor elsewhere, in promoting the interests of education.  Death, too, has claimed
his victims among our number, for what human circle
does not the destroyer enter I
It may be proper here to make some remarks on the
relations between teacher and pupils.  It is desirable
that teachers should be familiarly acquainted with the
pupils, that they should mingle with them in their hours
of recreation, and be to them as friends, elder sisters, or
mothers. But while the teachers are willing, in their
social intercourse, to lay aside restraint and ceremony,
the pupils, bearing in mind the difference in their relative
positions, should avoid too great familiarity of manners,
or the doing or saying aught which might require reproof
or admonition. A respectful manner towards all the officers
of an institution should ever mark the deportment of a
132
0 
RiELAON BETWEEN TEACHERS AND PUPILS.  133
pupil; and if she wishes to be beloved, she should be
frank and affectionate in her intercourse with them, considering that if they appear cold and formal, this may be
the effect of outward influences, and no indication of
want of sensibility or warmth of aection.
1844. 
ADDRESS XHI.
THE DRAMA OF LIFE.
TO PUPILS AND TEACHERS.
THE commencement of a new era is a favorable time
for reflection, and for forming good resolutions as to the
manner in which we will perform our parts in the drama
opening before us. The drama of life is an expressive
term, and its various portions may properly be considered as the acts and scenes of which this drama is
made up. Following this analogy, we may regard ourselves and others, as the actors in this drama. There is
much of pantomime in life; the going about with looks
of care or distress, the sullen air, the pouting lip and
contemptuous manner, deep sorrow, and despair; gaiety,
imprudence, and levity, all may be seen in the looks and
manners of mankind.
God, in his all-wise providence, has brought us together
for a brief space of time, to perform in this place, acts
in the drama of our lives. But the analogy between
theatrical representations and the stage of life, fails in
one important respect, the former is imitation, the latter
reality; the one having no bearing upon futurity, the
184 
AOTIG A POT IN LIF.
other a preparation for a future state of happiness or
misery. Thus, though in a play or drama, we might
choose our part without reference to actual virtue or vice
(so the murderer on the stage may be an amiable man,
free from murderous thoughts); in real life, we act
according to the principles of our nature, whether they
be good or bad.
What scene in life can present greater interest than the
one now before us?-A large assemblage of young persons
gathered together from different sections of our country,
meeting here for education under the care of one late a
stranger to them, and surrounded by new faces, under
new relations, subjected to new duties and restraints, and
expected to make new and great efforts in the accomplishment of the objects for which they have left parents
and home.  In order to fulfill entirely the obligations which
rest upon you, it would seem necessary that the child
should be transformed to the woman, and the thoughtless
girl become reflecting, and anxious to know her duty.
It has been appointed by Providence that I should have
much to do with the education of the young. Successive
groups of fair girls, for many years, have been congregated  to receive  instruction here.   I  was  early impressed with the idea, that though, in many cases, parents
might value most the literary improvement of their daughters, my own greatest obligation consisted in the right
use of the moral and religious influence which my relations to them gave me; and thus it was, that I was often
led- to lay aside books, and talk to my  pupils of their
139 
-Haeotts w.. Ir F Pur
future destinations i life, of the formation of character,
comprehending not merely literary attainments and ac  complishmaents, but moral principas, and the cul!tivatiou
of the heart with its noblest affections. Wh   the various
literary branches in which thes  pupils were instructed
wer  important to tbvm' in xegard  tQ a respectable
appearance in society, those moral and riious -lessons,
we may believe, have proved useful to them at
almost every hour of.eir existe e.  Were there time
now to  arrste to yoU -the iriou  for es, we should
here present you with one who was cut off in the bloom
of life, and whose earthly remains have long since mould,
ered in the dust; of another, who was egly deprived of
parents a.ad fortune, and thrown upon the cold charities
of the word; of anQther, iwho was flattered and betrayed,
and finally sunk to degradation and ruin; of another,
too proud to acknowledge her interest in one who had
flattered her for his ow4 amusement, and whose heart
became chilled by the setting bhaqk of te,cod current of
unrequited affection.-Again, I could show you one, who,
after;many fearful alernations.of hopes and fears, during,
perhaps, years of suspense, having at  tmgth gained the
prize which her trusting heart had deemed so rich and
precious, is doomed to suffJer the caprices and unkindness
of an unprincip!ed and tyrannical husband.   But these,
you may say, are extreme  cases;-those  womeu were
ptuiliary unfortunate, and though such examples may
be met with, they are exceptionsto w.hat is to be generally expected in life.  We will, then, take other cases,
-.1 
Wo>x? L
the very best as regards worldly happiness and prosperity
that can be found.  I could point you to those whose
ambition and affeetion have -ben,gratified, who  have
passed from the care of kind paents to the protection
of affectionate  and devoted husbands;-but who is not
called to mourn the loss of near friends, to witness the
footsteps of death in the domestic circle?  Those who
have become mothers,.venende   the most  favorable
circumstances of health, and surrounded by all the atten
tions of love and kindness, have b.eu made to taste the
bitterness of the fearful curse propnunced by the Al mighty on our.first mother.  And what maternal watch ings and anxieties follow the gift..f a feee chi'ld of
earth, exposed to innumerable ills, dearer to the mother's
heart than her own life, and yet holding.it frail existence
upon the most uncertain tenure.
Such is woman's life-! if she formn.no new 4o,estic
ties, she sees, one by one, her early friends become engrossed with their families, while her parents and other
near relatives, one after another, drop int' the gra-ve; she
at length, feels herself solitary and alonue, in a world where
there are none to care for her; if she enter into the
marriage state, she multiplies her chances of unhappiness,
increases her cares, and becomes compelled to forget herself in her sacrifices for others; and often, too, without
a return of gratitude and love from those for w..hom she
has made the sacrifice.
Those of you who have mothers shquld think of this;
the very term mother, is one which involves the idea of 
Hols WITH MY PUPILS.
suffering, anxiety, and love. The Scriptures make the
love of a mother the highest standard of human affection,
and they compare, too, the highest degree of suffering to
the mother's pains. You that are daughters, and may
yourselves be mothers, be kind and attentive towards
them who have suffered so much for you. We sometimes
witness the sad exhibition of a daughter disrespectful and
disobedient to her mother; the same  daughter may
restrain her temper in the presence of her father, perhaps
caress and flatter him, selfishly calculating the value of
her influence over one on whom she depends for the
gratification of her wishes.   The  daughter  sees  her
mother under disadvantages, she is a witness to her
weaknesses of temper, and provocations to fretfulness or
passion in the petty trials of every-day life. The father
at the domestic fireside is a visitor, whose comfort and
accommodation are to be especially cared for;-not aware
of the importance of trifles in domestic arrangements, the
husband may seem amused at annoyances which disturb
her who feels responsible for the order of the household, and which, if she were indifferent to them, might
soon render his home uncomfortable. Should a good
daughter join in wondering that "mother makes so much
of trifles,"-or, should she not with tender sympathy, seek
to remove the thorns which spring up in her pathway?
We have entered the sacred precincts of home. We
have alluded to the duties and trials of domestic life,
because in the formation of your character, it is important that the serious obligations which rest upon you
138
L 
ACOoXPLmzxEmS —- USEFUL KNOWLEDGE. 189
as daughters, and may be incurred as wives, should be
considered.
There is danger while cultivating accomplishments that
the young will imbibe false notions of future life. Thus
many girls are accustomed to regard proficiency in music,
French, drawing, etc., as of the greatest consequence;
and are led to act as if the concerns of the soul and
eternity were light in comparison to the acquisition of
elegant accomplishments. But in many cases, too great
anxiety to become accomplished proves an obstacle to
proficiency; if young ladies would cease to regard their
playing and singing as of infinite importance, they would
not feel such a trembling anxiety lest they may not
answer expectations, but do the best they can without the
agitation and fear which defeat their own hopes and the
wishes of their friends.
The cultivation of taste and refinement belongs to a
state of civilization. The fine arts afford pleasure, and
tend to elevate the mind; they add to the innocent
enjoyment of life, but should not be made to take the
place of necessary virtues and useful occupations. Education should be conducted with reference to the good of
the subjects of it both in this life and that which is to
come.
My associate teachers, these young persons committed
to our care have a brief space allowed them, in the which
to prepare for future life in this world, and their destiny
for eternity will also be greatly affected by the impress
sbions received and the habits here formed. 
Iovs aT Mod.
A home school for toe yung should be, as far s possible, the abode of piety without severity or superstition;
of elevated morality, and of all that is' loyely and of
good report."  All its officers and teahers should be
examples of sincerity, faithfulness, and gentleness; while
their duty obligs tEm to enforce discipline, they should
show  themselves long Suffering aad forring.   Upon
the characters and conduct of the teachers, in a large
institution, must its posperty and usefulness in a degree
depend.  The  Priucipal, who9  ca,nnot be ubiquitous, is
represented by the officers,,nd teachers employed, and
must rely on their faithfulaess and ability; the relations
between them are of a sacred  eharacter, and as they
should never be lightly entered into, thy should not, for
slight causes, be disso,vyd.
The relations of the different teachers towards each
other demand  serious consideration.  Engaged in the
same calling, separated alike from home and  kindred,
t.hey should be friends to each otrher, regarding it as a
duty to cultivate each other's acquaintance, and as much
as possible to seek each other's soci1ety.  It is not well
for a teacher to separate herself toQ  ~uch  from the
family of the Principal, and when not engaged in school
duties, to live chiefly in imagination with absent friends,
neglecting efforts to promote the happiness  of those
around her; in short, to render herself a c,ip,her in the
social circle to which she should seek to give light and
warmth.  Teachers should sympathize with each other, and
be ready to give mutual assistance or advice when needed
a-,,9 
A  -WRD  T-O Thickest.
Wathing over the interest of the school with anxious
care, a teacher should aot hesitt-e to cauti6n or admon ish a'nother teacliter; Who  tinght, tirh'  inadvertenc/e, or
a want of reflection, do that which would be injurious in its effects on the prosperity or reputation of the->
stitution. As in a well-ordered, conscientious family,
each member is studious of the general good, so in a
school-family should those who are employed as its
guardians, regard with deep interest the welfare of the
same. We have mentioned duties and obligations, let
us acknowledge that mere morality is of itself insufficient
to keep us free from error in conduct and thought, but
that the source of all good is to be found in religion.
We may be deceived in ourselves, we may be deceived
in, and deceive each other, but if we study the word of
God, and look to that as the pole-star to direct our way
through the devious mazes of life, we shall not go far
astray, or wandering, we shall soon return to the "strait
and narrow way which leadeth unto life eternal."
The Apostle Paul, being about to visit the church at
Corinth, said: "I fear lest, when I come, I shall not find
you such as I would; lest there be debates, envyings,
wrath, strifes, back-bitings, whisperings, swellings, tumults," and he closes his epistle with this touching and
solemn  benediction: "Finally, brethren, farewell; be
perfect, be of good comfort, be of one mind, live in peace,
and the God of love and peace shall be with you."
How expressive the words of that farewell, and let us
all, the "teachers and the taught," appropriate to our
141 
IIOUR   WITI' MY PUPPiLs.
selves the precious advice.  "Be perfect, be of good cornm
fort, be of one mind, live in peace," and then shall the
God of love and peace be with us both now and forever.
18"
142 
ADDRESS XIV.
ON THE CLOSE OF A SCHOOL-SESSION IN AUTUMN.~
TO PUPILS AND TEACHERS.
WHEN we assembled at the opening of the session the
spring was giving its promise; we had before us its
beautiful flowers, and were looking forward to the ripened
fruits of summer.  Then, to us, the end of the term, was
in the far-off distance; we thought perhaps there was
much time for many things. But that distant period
has come, the opportunity for improvement has gone by,
whether improved or not; it waited not for us. We look
now abroad upon nature, and behold a change has come
over the landscape. The bright green of spring has
passed away, its verdant foliage and bright flowers have
disappeared.  The changes have been gradual; from the
beauty and cheerfulness of spring we passed into the
fervid and glowing summer; though often oppressed by
its heat and lassitude, we were comforted by rich and
cooling fruits, fresh water, the ice of the preceding winter,
* Soon after this period, the two sessions in a year were merged
into one which closed in summer-the new school-year commencing in September after an interval of some.weeis. 
IF 
HOURS WITH MY PUPILS.
laid up for that season, and the refreshing breezes from
the surrounding hills which played among our groves.
How beautiful is the succession of the seasons, and how
do they, as they proceed onward in their ever-varying,
ever-uniform march, tsfy to the *sdom and goodness
of the Creator I
im'er"-h- ii'vi  lace X itumn, ]          sob  seeasn
for meditation  and  self-examination.   At this period
nature without,  and the peciuliar circumstances of our
relations in view of a coming change, call us.to realection.
At the opening or the session, you looked forward to
its close, as to an eminence-you were to ascend; you
have now nearly reached- it, nd can -look back upon the
road through which you have passed;  you knew not
who would he the companios, -of your.way, whom you
should love best, who would do most towards rendering
your journey pleasant; what opportunities you might
have for doing good to others, or of benefiting-yourselves; your future trals, your temptations, and your
pleasures were then uknown to you.  Quiet and retired
as may be your lives here, and devoid of thrilling and.
romantic; incidents, such as would give interest to the
pages o  a novel; still yo'u have opportunities-to learn —
lesson's of human  nature, which will never be forgotten.  A school is a little world, a  miniature  picture
of life.  The passions which agitate the breasts of men
and women in the great world,..'are heeree "'ee,;'"n'd  ifh
far less dbitse *We hi  the f'of ii0e i tIeo
world with;- nity sbow    fier         O ai;    t atteni
'61.
144 
SUDDEN INTIMACIES.
tion, pride assumes her cold indifference, and haughtiness
her contempt; ambition incites to efforts for the sake of
gaining superiority over others; flattery uses her bland ishments and deception, even among the young, shows
the depraved nature of a fallen race.
Falsehood and insincerity are witnessed even among
children, and in short, few of the passions, prejudices,
follies, and vices of mankind, may not be seen, in a ger minating or mature state, among the members of a school.
For this reason it is, that the careful educator must be
ever busy, ever watchful to eradicate the weeds which
spring up in his garden of young plants;-our weekly
journals of the board of officers and teachers show so
many records of lesser faults and errors, because we think
it wise to crush the evils in the bud, to eradicate the
small weeds before they shall become firmly rooted.
On entering this place to become the inmate of a new
home, as you looked around, you saw pleasant and open
countenances, which seemed as an index of all that is
amiable and lovely in character; you said to yourselves
of some particular one, "Surely I can love and trust
her;" you became intimate, told all your little secrets, and heard in return those of your friend; but soon
some cause of envy or jealousy separated you, and cold
indifference, or open enmity took the place of the warm
friendship at first professed.
You saw, perhaps, on your arrival among so many
strangers, one who impressed you with no sudden admiration, whose countenance might have appeared uninter
145 
Hors WITH MY PUPII,S.
esting —-you felt, at first, no sympathy kindling your affec.
tions into a glow; day after day, you met the same face
without, perhaps, any change of feeling; but by and by,
an occasion was offered for you to do some little kindness,
to show some civility to the uninteresting stranger; you
marked the beaming of her countenance, and her look of
grateful acknowledgment for the trifling favor, and then
you wished, perchance, it had been greater, and resolved
that hereafter you would pay more attention to one who
seemed to have a sensitive and grateful heart. By dcgrees you became acquainted, and a firm and enduring
friendship sprung up between you, which you now hope
may continue through future years. Such is human life,
often disappointing us when we had hoped most, and
offering flowers and fruits from an apparently barren soil.
Such is the history of many of the most important events
of our lives; from the most unpromising beginnings proceed the most interesting results; while from the most
specious hopes and promises we often reap only disappointment or disgust.
The views which young persons gain of human life from
morbid poetry and tales of fiction are illusory, and lead
to an entire misconception of the duties and realities of
life. They usually give to the morally good, personal
attractions, and represent the bad, as repulsive in look
and manner; but this, in reality, is far from being the
case. The very effect of personal beauty is to render its
possessor vain, imperious and selfish; and nothing but
good training, and the special care of God's Providence
146 
EFFECTS OF PERSONAL BEAUTY.
can preserve from these faults, a young person in a high
degree gifted with external attractions; while the consciousness of a plain and unattractive person, often begets
humility and meekness, resulting in excellence of character, and loveliness of soul.
But after all, what is beauty? It is regarded as the
outward and visible sign of inward graces and virtues.
Regular features, a clear complexion, sparkling eyes, and
rosy cheeks and lips may be pretty to look upon, but
unless the countenance be lighted up by an agreeable or
intelligent expression, it can never excite permanent and
deep emotions, but like a waxen beauty, or a scentless
flower, it will be regarded with indifference.
But according to our test of beauty, as being the outward and visible sign of inward loveliness, we admit that
there are those who possess those outward signs, whose
expression of countenance and graceful motion inspire
the expectation that the gem within such a casket must
be rich and precious; yet we may be deceived-and
how great is the disappointment, to find where we expected moral worth and internal beauty answering tothe
external, that all is hollow and void, or deformity and
ugliness. And how does the most beautiful countenance
cease to please, nay, excite disgust and loathing, when
associated with unamiable and hateful qualities of soul I
If the inward beauty be possessed, it will make itself
known and loved; but no outward appearances can long
deceive, where the reality is wanting. The sign fails;
the casket attracted, but was found worthless, enshrining
147 
HoupRS witrr  MY PUPILS.
nothing precious within. Where we looked to find a rich
gem, is but paste set in tinsel.
All, doubtless, wish to be beloved, but all do not use
the proper means to gain, and secure affection; you here
see many young girls like yourselves; your own characters, your faults and follies are reflected in those around
you. In studying others, you learn to know yourselves;
happy, if by means of such knowledge, you learn to
govern yourselves. The session is now approaching its
termination; a few short days, and it will be numbered
with past time, with "the days beyond the flood," it will
be no more in your possession than time which was never
yours-yet once, it was yours; each day, with its hours
and minutes, was yours to spend as you liked,' to be made
a friend to carry into eternity a good report, or an
enemy to bring accusations against you in the day of
judgment.  How little, perhaps, have many of you reflected, as time fled, that it would bear with it, reports for,
or against you-at the bar of God. Although no regret
for time misimproved can bring it back, yet such regret
may render you hereafter more careful to seize the fleeting moments, and enstamp upon them a mark of inestimable value. We know not how long we may have
moments to spend.  Every closing day and week is an
emblem to remind us of the end of life; and how much
more so, the termination of a school session constituting
so large a portion of that period of youth devoted to
education I Have its advantages been neglected-has
a feeling of repining for home prevented attention to
148 
THosE; WHO MAKE HOME HAPPY.
the  interests  and  objects  for  which  you  left  that
home'
Who will be most likely to carry happiness, and a fund
of cheerfulness and satisfaction into the domestic circle of
home-those who, when at school, were ever complaining and discontented; so that they could lay up no stores
of knowledge, could improve in no accomplishment, to
please and enliven home, when they should return to it;
or those who resolutely dismissed from their minds
thoughts which would impede their progress, and diligently improved  the  advantages for which they  left
parents and home.  This question carries with it a response which must be felt deeply by those who are conscious of time misspent, and instructions slighted. Those
who have faithfully studied, who have made each hour
perform its own work, have done all they could, and are
ready to show forth the fruits of their industry and application at the approaching examination.  Thus may it
be with us all, at the end of life-may we be found prepared for the great examintion before the "Searcher of
all hearts," and the "Judge of all men.) 
May the teachers and officers here collected for the
instruction and care of the young, ever bear in mind
their great accountability as the assistants and repre.
sentatives of the Principal. Great conscientiousness is
required in the faithful performance of your duties.  Constituting as we do one large family, there should be
harmony  and  unity of purpose among  us.   Such  an
establishment as this differs greatly in organization from
149 
-HodUs WITH MY PUPILS.
a college, where the different officers are appointed by
trustees, and accountable to them; where the President
is but a nominal head, with but his own share of accountability in respect to students. Here the Principal bears
the whole weight of pecuniary responsibility, and is as a
parent in a large family. Suppose a teacher, regarding
only her own interests or feelings, works solely for her
own purposes. If she differ in opinion from the Principal, that she secretly sets in motion projects to bring
about what she thinks is best, even against what she
knows  would  be  disapproved  of by  her employerthat she introduces disunion and distrust into a community which should be'the abode of peace and confidence. —-Suppose she should do this under the specious
pretence that some good was to be attained by that
secret combination, that her difference in opinion from
the Principal made such a mode of proceeding proper
and right; the sophistry of such reasoning is obvious.
We are not to "do evil that good may come." Far
better would it be to withdraw from a connection which
involves trust and obedience the teacher is not willing to
give. The association is voluntary on both sides, and
should exist no longer than there is mutual good will
and confidence.
We have supposed what we trust may not take place
among us. The confidence reposed in you, my associates and friends, is truly great; I am accountable for
your acts, for your influence on the character of our
pupils. It is because you are considered worthy of
150 
EXAMPLE AND INFLUENCE OF TEACHERS. 151
esteem and confidence that you are called to aid in
carrying forward plans for the proper training of the
young. To your keeping is committed in a degree my
own happiness and reputation; any great mistakes on
your part would disturb my peace of mind, and injure
the reputation of the institution whose interests you are
bound to promote. It is only as mutual friends that we
can go forward in our work. What pure and elevated
happiness might be enjoyed in a community like ours,
where the pupils were all amiable and gentle, only
desiring that the path to learning might be pointed out
to them, that they might eagerly walk therein; where
those who teach were all affectionate towards each other,
devoted to their office, and united in efforts to sustain their
Principal in her duties, sympathizing in her cares, and
scrupulously guarding her reputation from the attacks of
malevolence, who regarding this as their home, look to the
honor and prosperity of the Institute, in minute, as well as
important matters, by whom education is considered as
a noble profession fitted to bring forth the very best
faculties of the soul, while exerting them for the good of
others!
Such should be the relations subsisting between those
engaged in training the young to habits of virtue, antd to
a faithful fullfilment of their duties; such should be the
teacher's estimate of her own high calling.
The example and influence of teachers are of great
importance; dress, manners, conversation, government of
temper, and religious habits, all are to be considered by 
HJOURS WITH MY PUPILS.
teachers with reference to their office, and the influence
they may have over others-ever bearing in mind that
the results of their labor are not for this life only, but
are destined to modify and influence the condition:'
souls in a future existence.
Dignified, prudent, and discreet should be the conduct
of those who instruct others-noble and elevating should
be their sentiments and aspirations; and if they be
found faithful in the duties of their calling, their reward
will, in this life, be a happy consciousness of great good
performed, and cheering hopes of "rest" hereafter.
Close of school year for 1844.
152 
ADDRESS XV.
TEMPLES DEDICATED TO IMPROVEMENT-ALLEGORICAL.
VARIOUS are the characters and the conditions in life
of those now before me, and known to each the peculiar
circumstances which may affect that character and condition, in a manner perhaps unperceived by the world,
and seen only by the Omniscient eye of God. He alone
knoweth what is to be your lot in a world of trial
and suffering where all must undergo the ills of life, falling upon the queen in her palace, not less heavily than
upon the peasant in her cottage.  Wealth may alleviate
suffering, but it cannot prevent sickness and death, and
too often it causes mental anxieties and promotes strifes
and jealousies from which poverty is free.
Collectively, you constitute the Patapsco Institute;
though in order to complete  the organization of the
body, a head is wanted, and this, the officers of the insti,
tution constitute in their combined capacity, while others in
a more humble sphere are as hands and feet to the whole.
But there is not only the institution considered as unity,
its various memberi's all combining to complete this unity,
but each of those members are units, each has her own
...~~~~~~~~~~~~~5 
HOURS WI=  MY PUPILS.
world of thought, her own separate emotions, and her
own sphere of action. In addressing all, it is difficult to
adapt my remarks to individual cases;-the timid need
encouragement, while the presuming, or those too confident of success to make the necessary efforts require to
be reminded that talents without labor will bring no
fruit to perfection. Some are too eager in the pursuit
of knowledge, and require a warning voice to repress
their ardor, lest they sacrifice health and ultimately destroy their mental vigor by disregarding the laws of their
physical constitution.
But the number of those who injure themselves by
hard study is comparatively small; more, through indolence, neglect to take the proper bodily exercise, existing in a dreamy state of reverie, rather than making that
exertion which is necessary to a healthy state of mind or
body. Some acquire a morbid desire for such stimulus
as is afforded by trifling works of fiction, where the imagination is gratified by romantic incidents and scenes,
without any good effect upon the heart, or acquisition of any useful knowledge. Even the books which
compose our Sunday Libraries are, but too often, highly
wrought fictions, which, though intended by the authors
to convey important religious truths, are read by many
merely for the sake of the story, while the sentiments
conveyed take no hold upon the mind;-thus, there are
some plants which convert to poison the elements that
combine with them; such is their habit-while plants
of a different constitution, imbibing the same elements,
14 
EDUCATIONAL IMPROVEMENT.
are healthful, and perform their useful offices in the economy of nature.
Since your tendencies, your habits of mind, your faults
and your virtues are so varied, how shall I address you,
so that all may be benefited by my remarks?   Let us
seek for some general principle of action which exists
in every individual; we will look into the science of the
human mind, and hope we may there find some light to
guide us in this search.
You are all here for the purposes of education. Is it
not so? Or, have some of you come here because you
fancied your acquaintances would esteem you more highly if you should spend some time at a Boarding-school,
and, perhaps, obtain a Diploma? Or, because your parents said you must go to school, and you were sent away,
as if to endure penance for a time, banished from all
you love, and that can render you happy?
I will suppose that you all came with the desire of inprovement-ducation means improvement, and  improve ment, in one sense, means education. I would address
you then as rational beings, assembled in this place for
the purpose of improvement, stimulated, as I would fain
believe, by the wish to render yourselves acceptable as a
living sacrifice to your Maker, and to fulfill the duties in cumbent upon you, as rational and intelligent beings.
We now stand upon high ground;-we have carried you
in imagination to an elevated region of pure and lofty
purpose. Would that you all really stood upon this
ground, and that you could with full purpose of mind,
155 
-HOURS WITH MY UPILS.
and with the concentration of all your faculties, devote
yourselves to duty, at whatever sacrifice of taste or inclin.
ation;-then would your improvemen in all that is good
and praiseworthy be certain and constant; then would
you go on from one degree of perfection to another.
The first step in improvement is to root out the evil
which exists where we wish good may be. If an archi tect desire to erect a useful or beautiful edifice, he clears
away all rubbish, and makes a clean place to begin upon.
If a gardener would plant a good tree in place of a bar ren one, he digs out the old roots and makes the ground
ready for the reception of the good tree; so must you
try to clear away the rubbish of evil inclinations and cor rupt tastes, to eradicate bad habits and low tendencies;
you must do this work faithfully, and keep a constant
watch against the shooting forth of bad roots which may
lie concealed within your hearts. Then you can go on
with your work of improvement.
We will consider what kind of improvement is meant,
when we speak of educational improvement? This leads
us into a vast region; let us enter and examine what is
here presented to our view. We will suppose many ternpies occupy this space, each dedicated to some particular
kind of improvement;-let us pass on.  We enter an edifice and read the inscription; —" Dedicated to religios improvement." The revealed word of God is engraven on
the walls of this temple, illuminated by rays of divine
light beaming directly from the great source of light.
Here we learn our duty to God and man.   We  learn
156 
TEMPLEs DEDICATED TO IMPROVEMENT.  157
that the young are commanded  to- "Remember  their
Creator in the days of their youth"-that their Maker
demands their heart, with its best affections and desires.
The various means of grace  or religious improvement
are set forth on the walls of this temple; and the institutions of the Christian- religion are here offered for our
contemplation and participation.
We will leave this temple-ia w!,ich we behold many devout worshippers-but, only for a while, we leave it; hither will our footsteps often turn; hither will we repair when
wearied with earthly cares, or suffering under trials and
afflictions, we need direction or consolation. Here is deposited the armor'which -anMidst.future conflicts and
trials, we shall often require.  Fortified by the hopes
and encouragements we- find in the temple dedicated to
religion, we may proceed on our way.
Another edifice meets- our Yview-we enter, and scenes
of domestic life appear; the home fireside, where aged
grandparents in their arm-chairs watch with satisfaction
the happiness of those to whom  life is.. yet' fresh and full
of promise; or the child listens with deferential attention to the words of parental instruction. We enter and
behold a group of young persons surrounding one who
speaks to them  of their..moral duties;  the right cultivation of the heart and its affections? and we behold the
inscription over the doorway of the temple;-" Dedica
ted to mnoral improvement, and the.'study of.duties to others
and to ourselves."i Here we find books. of-advice as to the
"Proper improvement of time,"  "'-The regulation of the 
H5loum WITH MY PUPmS.
temper,"  "The  education of the heart."  The genius
of this temple is a person of benign, but grave aspect. If a group are seen in angry contention, the
genius appears, and holds before them a card on
which is engraven the words, "Be kindly affectionate one
to another;" at the sight of this the flush of anger is seen
to subside, and sweet smiles to irradiate countenances
but a moment before distorted with rage. A poor woman holding in her arms a sickly looking infant approaches a lady clad in elegant attire and asks charity;
in disgust she is turning away, when the genius
holds before her a tablet containing these words, " He
that pitieth the poor lendh to the Lord," the lady gives
liberally to the poor woman, and kindly looks upon the
little heir of poverty she holds to her bosom. Two
young girls are seen in low and earnest conversation;shrugs and winks and other significant signs pass between them; the genius frowns and holds before their
eyes a tablet on which with confusion of face they read
the words,  " Slander andl backbiting."-But  we  could
never recount all the scenes in the temple exhibiting human life, and dedicated to the improvement of the heart
and its affections.
We approach an edifice situated on an eminence; and
here we find many engaged in deep study. One group
are contemplating from an observatory the starry canopy
of the heavens, measuring the distances of the stars by
means of curious instruments, or explaining the motions
of the heavenly bodies. The laboratory of the chemist
158 
TEMPLE FOR THE STUDY OF NATURE.   159
attracts many —air, earth and water, once considered
simple, are brought here for analysis; and elements before unknown and unthought of, are detected in these common substances. Flowers bloom here, and many love
to watch their growth, and contemplate the curious symmetry of their formation. Even the smallest and most
humble of the vegetable tribe seem to delight these cultivators of botanical science. While natural history thus
employs its votaries, with its specimens of animals, plants
and minerals, and all created material things receive
their due attention, other groups are studying the faculties of mind and investigating the laws of the human
understanding. But even to name all the subjects presented, would require almost a lifetime.
We see that with finite, or limited faculties, the scope
for investigation is infinite. The greater part of knowledge
must be reserved for that future state of existence when
time, so short and inadequate for all we have to do,
shall be no more, and eternity, in its ceaseless round of
progression, opens before us its illimitable expanse. Here,
we can but lift up one little corner of the vast curtain
which conceals from our view the wonders of creation,
the mysteries of science, but in the future world we
shall "know as we are known." To those who have no
interest in knowledge and no desire for improvement, the
eternity which awaits them cannot we believe be blessed;
while to such as have, shall more be given, those who
have little, and do not desire more, shall be forever excluded from all sources of knowledge and improvement. 
IloURs wrH MY PUPILS.
In reference to those grand temples dedicated to relig ious, social, and int ual improvement, we should say, that
as age advances and the strength fails, the first temple
becomes the favorite resort.  -Here the' weary repose;
here faith sustains the drooping heart, bruised and crushed
by affliction, and deprived of the hopes and blessings
which make life'desirable.   The inscriptions on the walls
seem to stand out bolder, and the light from above beams
more brightly upon the humble worshippers.  Here the
wayworn traveller' rejoices as he reads, "To him  that
overcometh will I give to eat of the tree of life."
To these temples, you, my beloved pupils, have access
-you are constantly incited to your duties, to industry
and perseverance, by every bell which reminds you that
one portion of time has ended, and another has begun.
Can it be possible that amidst all these incentives to effort,
and encouragements to virtuous conduct;  all the  dis,
couragements and mortifications which attend the neglect
of the means of imprl ovement, any can recklessly go on,
throwing away time in trifling pursuits, and disregarding
duties?   
But we trust that among us are: none who are not, in
some degree, desirous to resort to all the temples which
may be accessible to them, where truth is to be learned,
and wisdom imparted.;..
-, 1845.
160 
ADDRESS XVI.
PERFECT HAPPINESS NOT TO BE FOUND ON EARTH.
LIFE is not "a succession of pleasant holidays," but to
all, and each one, it presents scenes of trials and temptations, and to many, of sorrow and suffering. No situation
offers greater temptations than one of prosperity; and
earthly prosperity cannot be permanent. Children gather
around the family board, and the family hearth, protected
and cherished by kind and indulgent parents; day after
day, and year after year, passes, and this circle remains
unbroken; but it will not always be so.  One  member after another may  be called away  to engage in
necessary business; the  young  must soon see that as
their parents advance in life, they cannot depend on
their care and exertions.  In our country there are few
fortunes so ample as to secure competency without
labor or industry of some kind. If a son receive from his
father a fortune sufficient for all his wants, how will it be
when this patrimony is divided among several children?
The genius of our government is opposed.to family distinctions; and thus the entailment of estates, as in Europe,
is not allowed by our laws.  In monarchical governments
where the crown is hereditary, fortunes and honors are
161 
HoURS WITH MY  PUIPS.
held by the same tenure. The eldest son of a noble family
inherits the estate and family honors, younger branches
are provided for by the government with places in the
public service where they are supported.
Thus is aristocracy sustained and perpetuated; but in
our country, there cannot be, under our existing laws, any
other aristocracy than that derived from talent and
industry.
The family circle may be suddenly broken up by the
death of parents; the father taken away, and all is changed
in the once happy home. The talents which sustained, or
the industry in business which supported the family have
passed away; and those who never thought from whence
the supply of their wants came, are compelled to think,
and to act for themselves; and not only so, but they are
bound to take care of those who are yet helpless and
incapable of judging, or of doing anything for themselves.
But though the outward circumstances be fair and prosperous, what domestic circle can be a happy one where
its members are not governed by right principles, and in
their intercourse with each other do not manifest amiable
and conciliatory dispositions? It is not always that the
virtuous and honest are kind and tender in manner
towards their nearest relatives-this is a sad view of
human life, and convinces us more than anything else that
we are not to be perfectly happy in this world. Too
often those who are conscious of rectitude in the weightier
matters of the law, omit within the sanctuary of the
domestic circle, what they regard as lesser duties, offering
162 
THE DAUGHrER AT HIOME.
sparingly the incense of affectionate looks and words
upon the home altar, and recklessly wounding the feelings
of those nearest and dearest to them.   How little do we
know of the sorrows and cares which oppress many who
seem placed in enviable circumstances I We heard not
the unkind word, the taunting sarcasm, we saw not the
cold or scornful glance, which have inflicted deep wounds
in that heart, supposed by us to be happy in the midst of
prosperity. How many trivial circumstances in the daily
intercourse of life, call for forbearance and forgiveness I
A daughter returns from school to take her place in
the family circle. If her chief thought is for her own
enjoyment, if her imagination continually roves abroad
in search of something to interest, excite, or amuse, what
happiness does she bring with her? If her parents have
sought to give her accomplishments, have they not a
right to expect that for them and their happiness those
accomplishments are chiefly to be valued, and to be
brought forward at their pleasure, and for their gratification? But do we not often see the wishes, and even
urgent requests of parents disregarded, while the presence of a stranger will elicit dulcet sounds of music, flashes
of Wit, or interesting conversation? Is this the fruit of
good principles, is this obeying the command of God, to
"honor parents?"  Good principles alone can secure the
young from the temptations of a deceitful and corrupting world; they alone can sustain the heart suffering
under sorrows anid trials. It should be considered as the
first and most important object of your youth, to arm and
163 
HoHURs WITH MY PuPrms.
fortify your minds with such principles as will save you
from error, and leadyou in the way of truth and virtue.
The period of great temptations, of great trials, and suf ferings may be more distant in respect to some of, you
than to others; but come they will to all, unless some
stroke of Divine Providence remove you suddenly from
this mortal scene.  This alone could save you from the
dark hours of life; are you prepared for the change?
Is your soul, as it now is, fitted to appear before God in
judgment?  If so, you-are prepared to live, to encounter
the dangers and difficulties of life; for a preparation for
death is a preparation for life-and whoever is prepared
to live, is also ready to die.
Before any of you leave this place, whither you have
come to prepare yourselves: for: future'life, may you seek
and find that wisdom from above which will prove the best
and only security for your virtuous and worthy conduct in
the scenes which lie before you; which will also be an
earnest of your acceptance with God, of your preparation to appear before him in judgment. Think of these
things I and inasmuch as the time before you is short,
the change to be effected -great, and the objects to be
gained of infinite importance, may you apply yourselves
with all care and diligence to learn those things that belong to your everlasting peace.
1845.
164 
ADDRESS XVII.
A GOOD BEGI N N ING.
THE past is inexorable, holding with a firm grasp all
that is committed to it; no regrets, no wishes, can wrest
from its grasp aught which it has once held.  The future
is at our disposal, should God grant us longer life; but in
order to be faithful to our own best interests, we must
think beforehand, as to the best-method of filling up the
time which may be given us, so that it may go down to
the past richly laden with good reports. How many live
with no plans for the future, acting only from impulse,
and as inclination prompts.
The young are naturally averse to restraint; they are
not inclined to give up present indulgences for future
good.  But this must be done by all who would live a
virtuous life, who would form such habits as will fit the
soul for heaven. Whoever will allow himself to follow
his inclinations without considering consequences, acts
contrary to his reason and conscience, and must reap the
bitter fruit of his own planting.  We  see the intemperate, not in strong drink merely, but in the various indulgences of the appetite which injure the health; we see
a woman fond of admiration, intoxicated with flattery,
-16 
HOURS WITH MY PUPILS.
and giddy with excitement-she cannot deny herself even
- the doubtful pleasures of society, where she can command
attentions for which others sigh in vain. She finds that
a certain giddiness, and defiance of restraints and pro prieties, attract around her those of the other sex, who
seeking pleasure in excitement, avoid the more thoughtful
and serious woman, as tiresome and uncongenial. Many
a girl who begins by being merely a trifler, goes on her
thoughtless course, until she finds herself fast sliding
down the smooth declivity, at whose base yawns a frightful gulf. The guilty and abandoned woman might once
have been lovely and innocent-her decline was
gradual; from the bowers of pleasure, she passed imperceptibly to the dark purlieus of infamy.
The school-girl is continually solicited by duty on the
one hand, and inclination on the other-to rise early, to
set about doing what is required of her, to break off from
her amusements or her indolence at the call of duty, are all,
at first, hard to her. She prefers, perhaps, to follow her
own desires, and receives reproof and loses standing.
But what a reward follows the doing that which is right,
what happiness attends the discharge of duty! In the
one case when we follow pleasure at the sacrifice of duty,
we become dissatisfied with ourselves and unhappy; in
the other we have turned away from pleasure, preferring
to do what was disagreeable because it was right, and
behold the bitter becomes sweet, and the rough places
smooth, we find what we had not expected, happiness in
the train of duty I
166 
LIVING BY A PLAN.
Have each of you formed your plan for the future, or
do you intend to leave all to chance, and your own foolish
desires? As to those few pupils among us who have
scarcely yet passed the years of childhood, we do not
expect from them the power of self-control and maturity
of judgment, which will enable them to direct themselves,
and we therefore place them under the more immediate
care and direction of older persons. But I address those
who are responsible for their conduct, as capable of judging between right and wrong; who are no longer children,
but rapidly advancing to that state of maturity when the
full development of the character, as it will be seen in
future life, is to appear. The form and tint of the flower,
are visible in the expanded blossom; time may imprint
deeper and richer hues, and give more symmetry to the
outlines, but essentially the flower will remain the sameuntil decay comes which takes away its beauty, and
leaves but the fragrance.
To live by a plan, to make a good beginning, this is
what we will now speak of. A good day should be preceded by a good night. That is, when you retire to rest,
it should be with the intention of beginning betimes in
the morning, to perform its duties, and of spending its
hours in the work of improvement; that work for which
you were sent to this place. You have, as a Christian,
been accustomed to read God's Holy Word before com.
posing yourself to sleep, and to commend your soul to
Him, beseeching His blessing upon your good resolutions.
After that, you should avoid, as far as possible, all that
,167 
HOURS WITH MY PUPILS.
would disturb your thoughts. You have prepared yourself for sleep, which is the emblem of death, and you
should not let your soul again go forth into the world.
How calm and sweet is sleep to the young who are pure
in heart, and love God, their Father in Heaven I As His
all-seeing-eye looks down upon the earth, may we not suppose that our home is regarded by Him with peculiar complacency. Here in the dark watches of the night, He
beholds many fair young heads reposing in the sleep of
health and innocence; they have the look of angels, yet
God who seeth, pitieth their infirmities, and would help
them to become perfect.
You are resolved to make a good beginning- therefore
when you hear the summons for rising in the morning, do
not wait to parley with your conscience, but spring from
your beds with the alacrity of a youthful pilgrim, who
sees a journey before him which requires all his activity.
It is unnecessary to remind the Christian young-pilgrim,
that God's eye is upon him, and that a good beginning of
the day requires a lifting up of his heart to the source of
all virtue and strength; thus, though he may meet with
difficulties and trials, he may overcome and endure them,
so as not to do wrong himself, or disturb the happiness
and tranquillity of others.
Those helpless young persons are greatly to be pitied,
in whom habits of indolence are confirmed, and who are
accustomed to depend on the services of others for the
supply of their wants. Children thus brought up become
unable to exert themselves, their bodily powers do not
168 
A BAD PLAN OF LIVING.
strengthen as they should, and their minds are, in propor  tion, weak and feeble; yet their tempers often become vio  lent and imperious, and their manners are usually
unamiable and repulsive.
How is it with you, my dear younger girls, do you wish
to be strong and healthy, industrious, amiable and intelli gent? In order to become all this, you must form your
plan of living, and try to conform your actions to it.
Suppose you should make resolutions like these: "I will
go to bed without saying my prayers, or only in a hur ried manner, then I will talk and make as much noise to
disturb others as I please. In the morning I will not
get up till a few minutes before breakfast, when I will
hurry on my clothes without properly washing myself, or
combing and arranging my hair nicely. I will go down
stairs to the dining-room in a noisy manner, running
through the halls and pushing rudely by others, especially
those to whom I ought, particularly, to be respectful. At
table, I will eat fast, sit awkwardly, help myself to what
I want, before others have bhad an opportunity, call on
the servants to attend to"me  when they  are helping
others, and create as much "uoise about me as I can, without being so rude as to be sent Out of the-rooln.. Then
in my plays with my companions, r will mmake all the quarrels I can-if a word is said that -will make  mischief
between others, I will be sure and report it, and advise
those who are friendly tolhave no more to say to each
other.  I will induce my companions to break rules and
be disobedient; we will agree together to do things which
8
169
. I -.1.:,.:
i. 
HOURS WITHi MY PUPILS.
we know to be wrong; we will linger away from our
duties, go secretly into forbidden places, skulk about as
those do who are conscious of doing wrong, and when
detected we will pretend to be surprised that we should
be blamed, we will say we did not know the rules, we did
not hear the bell, or give some other reason, no matter
whether true or false, so that we escape punishment."
No girl would avow such intentions, but should we see
one living day after day in the practice of such conauct, must we not think she has either formed her plan to
do these things, or that she is living without a plan? It
would be well for you all, younger or older, to write
down your plan of life, so that you might have it ever
before you. I am sure your parents would like to see
your good resolutions written out, and still better carri
out, in practice. "Just as the twig is bent, the tree's
inclined." We have seen a tender sapling bowing down
before the northern blasts, and we knew that if we would
have it grow straight, we must put props to keep it upright, until the fibre of the wood had gained firmness; so
do the young who are readily acted upon by passing circumstances, with their flexible feelings and feeble resolutions, need to be sustained by the careful hand of experience until the period when firmly established principles
and maturity of judgment shall give consistency and
strength of character. If a young tree, no longer a twig
or sapling, has grown up bent and crooked, the most skillful
culture will scarcely avail to make it upright.  Ye are our
twigs, saplings and young trees; are you flourishing in a
i7o 
TWGXS AND YOUNG TREES.
healthful growth, so that you will be upright in character
and fair specimens of womankind, with such principles
and such firmness of purpose for good as will insure your
future well being?
— 1846.
171 
ADDRESS XVIII.
tAN LIFE-ITS BEGINNING, ITS PROGRESS, AND
ITS CLOSE.
"You'll tell me man ne'er dies, but changeth life;
And haply for a better. IHe's happiest
That goes the right way soonest. Nature sent us
All naked hither, and all the goods we had,
We only took on credit with the world;
And that the best of men are but mere borrowers,
Though some take longer day."
HUMAN life is a state of probation, or, in other words,
of proof, to be applied as appointed by the Judge of man,
to the soul, as it may, or may not, be fitted for the communion of the spirits of the just made perfect in a future
state of purity and blessedness. Such is the great problem of life before us-we cannot shrink from this
scrutiny. God's eye is upon us all. He watched over
us when we were incapable of thinking of our own
existence; He is ever with us.   God is our Father in
Heaven, we need not fear that He will be cruel or hard
with  us.  "He  knoweth  our frame, He  remembereth
that we are dust." As a father pitieth his children, so
tenderly doth He regard us.
172 
MORAL AGENCY.
"Then why," you may ask, "are we taught to fear
God, and tremble lest we may offend Him?"  This, my
daughters, is the solution of such an inquiry. God has
given you intelligence, souls which are emanations of His
own spirit-He has not made you machines to be acted
upon by external force merely; but you have an internal
power of resistance; you are endowed with the faculty
of choice between good and evil-there are two ways
before you, the one straight and narrow, leading to life
eternal; the other, the more alluring path whose end is
destruction.   You may ask, as skeptics have done, "why
God, if He love man, should have allowed him to be
tempted?"   In other words, you might ask, "why is
man made a free moral agent?" for to be this, he must
be capable of choosing between good and evil. So we
perceive that even Almighty Power could not give moral
dignity to a being, whose virtue was not that of choice-of
free will. But God has provided all needful helps for our
infirmities-in His revealed word, He has pointed out the
dangers, and the way of escape. Let us, therefore, trust
in Him; He will lead us by the hand through dark and
slippery places, and at last set our feet upon the rock of
ages, never more to slide.
Life is around us, in the vegetable and animal king
doms, existing under various forms. We will confine our
thoughts at this time to human life, in which the physi.
cal and moral are inseparably blended in this mortal
existence.
Infant life, how mysterious does it appear I the little
173 
HOURS WITH MY IPUPILS.
unconscious lump of mortality, incapable of putting forth
its tiny hand to avert danger, insensible alike to looks
of tenderness or indifference, lies in its cradle-coffin, dead
to all around it, except in its sensual nature, as if its eyes
were closed in the last earthly sleep I  Can the tiny
form of this miniature man or woman, enfold a spirit
destined to battle with life; to meet and foil in his
assaults the adversary of the human soul, or to join with
him in his unhallowed warfare upon the fallen race of
man? Who but the Omniscient One can foresee what
that infant shall be, when the germ of life having
developed itself, the mature being in his physical and
moral lineaments shall stand revealed?   The mother
with tender love watches over her little brood, to her all
are alike lovely-for each she "weaves her song," it may
"be of melancholy joy."
"No lingering hour of sorrow shall be thine,
No sigh that rends thy father's heart and mine
Thy fame, thy worth, thy filial love, at last
Shall soothe this aching head for all the past;
With many a smile, my solitude repay,
And chase the world's ungenerous scorn away."
But in this one little family, what a diversity of character may hereafter appear I A noble Christian philanthropist has helped to rock the cradle of his baby-brother,
who grows up to be dissolute and unprincipled, an
open violator of God's laws and a blot upon social life.
Of two sisters who shared the same little bed in the nursery, and the same- kind mother's care, one may become
.174 
INFANT LIFE.
an exemplary Christian woman, while the other may sink
to infamy and shame.
"'Tis aye a solemn thing to me
To look upon a babe that sleeps   Wearing in its spirit deeps,
The unrevealed mystery
Of its Adam's taint and woe,
Which, when they revealed lie,
Will not let it slumber so."
Infant life quickly passes away; the beaming of awakened intelligence is seen in the glancing eye, in smiles
and frowns. The child begins to exercise its own will,
and to seek to subjugate the wills of others.  At this
point, education should begin; the first lesson is that of
obedience; the child must be made to do what is commanded and to abstain from doing what is forbidden.
With serious aspect he is taught to say, "I must submit
myself to all my governors, teachers, spiritual pastors,
and masters," and this early lesson should be followed up
by a steady course of discipline, so that the habit of
obedience may be early acquired; thus only can the
evils be averted, which are sure to fall upon those who
have not learned, while young, to submit themselves to
authority.
The life of childhood passes rapidly away; dolls and
playthings soon cease to be cared for, and to amuse. Girlhood and school-days come.  There is a great change in
the life at this period, little was expected of the child
she was suffered to am'ise herself.  Happy childhood had
175 
HOI-URS WITS MY PUPUiS.
no hard lessons to learn, it was allowed to pass unbur  dened with care and labor.
But there is no stopping in the journey of life, and the
stage of girlhood comes with its many restraints and its
onerous tasks-in the higher walks of life, these restraints
are confinement to a given routine necessary to secure
advantages of education, and these tasks are the bending
of the mind to study and research, and the wearisome
practice necessary to acquire elegant accomplishments.
The young girl emerging from childhood has her trials she is no longer regarded as a mere plaything; her actions
becoming more constrained as she feels sensible of having
grown to be a large girl, she loses the grace of childhood,
and perhaps becomes awkward and embarrassed; this
tendency is heightened by her being told of her faults of
manner. The young girl from twelve to fifteen often has
many mortifications; she does not know exactly how she
ought to behave-if she should appear too womanly she
thinks this might seem like putting herselfforward; if she
is childlike, this may appear ridiculous in one so old.
She does not know her place, whether it be with the
children, or the older persons.  It is at this period of a
girl's life, when a boarding-school is often a desirable
asylum. The change has come, and the girl in her first
teens can no longer be fondled as a child; even her
parents seem to be more distant towards her; and, sometimes, she feels sad and jealous; thinks nobody loves her,
that she is not lovable, and wishes she were away from
home, or could do, or be, something else.
176 
THE YouNG GIRL SENT FROM HOE        177
She is sent from home to school, and this school-life is
a new state; the school-girl has many responsibilities, and
is obliged not only to learn a great deal, but to unlearn.
She must arrange her own clothing, take care and keep
her things together. She has no mother, aunty, or black
mammy to run after her and pick up; what she throws
down, or leaves about carelessly, will probably be lost;
if she tear a dress she must mend it, or the rent will be
made worse; if a string be torn off a night-cap she must
sew it on, or it will be lost, and this appendage of her
night-dress become useless. She must learn to keep a
watchful eye over her books, music and other belongings,
so that nothing be lost; thus she may be expected to
acquire ideas respecting property; and she is obliged to
learn to respect the rights of others, as encroachments
upon these are followed by ill-feelings, loss of reputation,
and disgrace.   She must learn to be active and  industrious, is obliged to rise early to perform her morning
duties, to assist in arranging her room, and be neatly
dressed for breakfast at an hour when at home she would
be indulging in her morning slumbers.   She finds there
is not so much fun and amusement in a school-girl's life
as labor and thought; but she must consider the importance of the objects in view-that the thoughtless, careless child is to be formed and moulded into a prudent,
judicious, useful woman.  To  accomplish so great an
object, demanded an entire change of life and habits;
and the acquirement of knowledge, varied and extended,
of the savoir faire, or knowing how to do, as well as the
8* 
BOS -u!T WIT  MY PUPILS.
learning of books.   No  one should wonder that ofttimes the school-girl is discouraged, especially at first,
before she has fully emerged from the chrysalis state of
childhood into the fuller light and knowledge of the
world she inhabits. She longs for home and its indulgences, and to be again the little pet of the family; but that
could not be-if she could compare one of her little.girl
frocks with the dresses she now wears, she would see that
nature has been working a change, and she, too, must
work; at home, living idly and indulged, she would be
awkward, disagreeable and ignorant; at school, diligently devoting herself to the work of improvement, she
is laying the foundation for future honor and respectability, preparing herself to be loved for worth of character, to be the pride of her parents, and ready to
act her part in life. But to insure all this there must be
self-sacrifice and labor.
School life, with many of you, is fast drawing to a close,
your first teens - have disappeared, with some, a score of
years may be counted; you have persevered in a long and
thorough course of school education, and there can no
longer be any good reasons for your remaining as pupilsthe ripe fruit separates itself from the bough when it has
matured; this is nature's law.   The immediate stage
before you is that of taking your place at home, as- young
ladies; having had advantages of education, much will
be expected of you-that you will appear easy and affable
in manners, knowing what to say, and how to act on all
occasions.  You must require much of yourselves in res
-178 
THE YOUNG LADY RETURNED FROM SCHOOL. 179
pect to exercising an influence at home for the welfare
and happiness of all within its circle; you should have a
quick eye to discern disorders and irregularities in the
household,  and energy to remedy them.  Carry home
with you the habits of early rising and industry which
you have here formed. How much might be done by an
energetic daughter in a family, where servants sleep away
the best hours of the day, and rise to lounge about, doing
things in the most careless and slovenly manner, because
they will not take the proper way of doing them. How
much might be accomplished in the way of reformation
by the young lady returned from school, who should be
seen to rise early, to walk about and notice what is going
on. Servants would be ashamed to lie a bed late, or to
indulge in idleness when their young mistress should set
them an example of early rising and activity.
A good daughter may do much towards rendering home
pleasant-if a father's brow seem shaded by care and
anxiety, she may, by her cheerfulness and winning ways,
dissipate  the dark thoughts  which press  upon  him.
Perhaps he thinks of debts which he cannot well pay, -and
sees around him luxuries which he knows he cannot
afford-the good and wise daughter will have tact to discern the associations in his mind, and instead of beg'nmning to talk of what she wants, and must have, and to
plan new expense, she will show her father that she is
careful, and trying to learn and practise economy; that
she realizes the fact that he has expended a great deal
for her, aui is now. determined to begin to help save 
HOURS WITH My PUPILS.
expense. She finds her Arithmetic very useful in reckon
iDg up amounts, in showing her what things cost, and
how soon a large sum of money may be dissipated where
unrestrained expenses are indulged in.
There is, probably, more domestic unhappiness in the
world on account of female extravagance than any other
cause. Those who earn money know how hard it is to be
obtained, and they usually spend it cautiously, while those
who are accustomed to disburse what others acquire,
often do it with lavish prodigality. A husband soou
becomes disgusted with a wife who thoughtlessly incurs
debts which he must pay, or forfeit his reputation-for the
extravagant wife escapes the law, while the industrious
husband suffers for her faults. Often we see a care-worn
man, seldom smiling, or if he does it seems as if it were in
mockery of his own gloomy thoughts, toiling day after
day in his store or his office, slavishly performing the
duties of his calling, whatever these may be;-seldom he
allows himself indulgences, he has no leisure-he must
coin himself, yea his life, his heart's blood, for money"I must have money," cry his wife and daughter.  To be
able to answer that call, there have been men of high
standing in society, who have stifled the voice of conscience, bartered reputation, and ended a life of wretchedness within the walls of a prison.
The extravagance of a wife or daughter has driven
many a man to commit forgery, to betray public and
professional trusts, to cheat in business, and to incur debts
with no probable means of repaying. Should we not,
ISO 
A GOOD WIFE.
then, as educators of women, seek to give you habits of
economy and care in expending money? Begin as daughters to relieve your fathers of their heavy burdensshow that you sympathize in their cares and would gladly
assist them if you could. Many good daughters do aid
their fathers by writing for them, by keeping accounts,
and helping to arrange their business papers; they may
steal quietly into a business office where no servant would
be permitted to go, and with  ready tact manage  to
remove rubbish and waste papers which had accumulated;
put in their places in the library, books which are scattered about, and thus give an encouraging air of taste
and neatness to a place which before looked gloomy and
confused; and a little vase of flowers by its fragrance
would speak to the father's or brother's heart, of a
daughter's or sister's care and love, and thus lighten the
task of wearisome labor.
A wife who is a help-meet rather than a spend-thrift
will confine her wants to her husband's means; there
are noble and accomplished women, even in these days
of female recklessness and extravagance, who, forsaking
the fascinations of society, devote themselves to their
domestic duties, and even keep the business accounts
of their husbands, while the Iatter are devoting their
energies to the duties of a laborious profession. Such
women should be honored, as they surely are, by the
good and wise, and their daughters, we may expect,
will, in their turn, make good wives, in whom the
hearts of their husbands may safely trust.
181 
]:OURS wrrH MY PUPILS.
How long continued may be your life at the home of
your parents will depend on God's will and Providence;
but changes must come-you will not always be young
ladies, though all of you may not assume the responsibilities of married life.   You will  not always have
parents to live with; the circle in your childhood's home
must one day become a broken one. The pillars of the
edifice will fall, your parents must be taken from you,
and one after another of your beloved ones be removed
from this earthly scene. But you will ever find enough
to do to fill up the measure of your days with usefulness. You may find some friend of your early life, perhaps some school-mate whose marriage entailed upon
her misery and suffering; you may by your sympathies
soothe her afflictions, and if you have means, may minister to her who has been impoverished by a dissolute and
improvident husband.  As years advance you may not be
disposed to count your single life an unblest one; and
yet, we do not say you should not marry. The ordinance
of God's appointment, we may not condemn; but the
subject should not be lightly weighed-not decided in a
party of pleasure; or disposed of as an author winds up
his romance, by marrying the heroine because the readers
expect it.
"Some at the bridal, some at the tomb;"
In a few years what changes appear among the youthful
travellers who go forth with joyous feet from our classic
shades, to tread the paths "of life's enchanting way."  By
..182 
CLOSE OF LnE.
the past, I see the future reflected as in a mirror. An
accumulation of wedding cards-of letters announcing
the death of former pupils appear among my sacred
relics. Here one writes to tell me of the loss of a
beloved parent, brother, or sister; and again, another
informs me that she is thrown dependent on her own
exertions, and asks to be aided in rendering her education
available  for her support, and it may be that:of a
family.
Such is life, its beginning and its progress:
"To each his sufferings, all are men:
Condemned alike to groan;
The tender for another's pain,
The unfeeling for his own."
The close of a life which was well begun, and conti
nued in the practice of Christian virtues-whether this
close come sooner or later-is not to be dreaded. It is
but the entrance into a new and better life, for which
this has been a preparatory state.
-  1845.
183 
ADDRESS XIX.
TIMES AND SEASONS.
"To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose
under heaven."-EccLE. ii. 1.
THESE words of divine inspiration emanate from the
same Mind which directs the course of the seasons, the
succession of day and night, and the changes in human
existence, from infancy to old age.
How beautiful is everything in its season! In the
spring of the year the bounding rivulet as if rejoicing in
newly recovered freedom, rushes joyously on its way,
murmuring to the fresh springing blossoms which deck its
verdant banks. The birds, which had been driven from
their summer haunts by the ungenial frosts, return to the
groves and forests, and hail the return of foliage with
their most cheerful notes.   The sun comes forth from his
chamber, as with a renovated existence, reflecting from
flower, and bud, and leaf, from hill and vale, mountain
and streamlet, the most cheerful, and the most beautiful
coloring; not as in midsummer, with gorgeous brightness,
does this ruler of the seasons and the day, gild the face
of nature in the delicately tinted spring.
The young lambs frisk about among the flocks, and
I"4 
CR ANGING SEASONS.
their cheerful bleating bespeaks their enjoyment of the life
that God has given them-young and happy life is seen,
too, among the herds of the stall; and everywhere we
perceive new existences springing forth in the vegetable
and animal kingdoms.
We walk abroad amidst the beauty and loveliness of
this animated scene of nature, coming forth from the
shroud and the grave of winter; and our hearts are
warm with love and admiration of that benevolent power
which has effected this great change. But the season
wears on; we lose the exquisite enjoyment which it at
first afforded us; and, as it gradually ripens into summer,
we are pleased.to see the perfecting of nature's works.
The flowers of spring are succeeded by others of more
gorgeous coloring; and as the beautiful and fragrant blossoms wither and fade, the swelling germs of flowers, scarcely noticed, perhaps, in their blossoming, give promise
of the fruits which are to succeed. The young animals
have gained in strength and maturity what they have
lost in mirthfulness. We see that nature is in a state of
progression, and we are satisfied that it should be so
even sober autumn has its peculiar attractions, and stern
winter finds us prepared, by a gradual change, to greet its
frosts and dreariness, with a kindly feeling. The warmth
of affection is heightened by the cold temperature, which
draws the members of a family around the fireside. New
scenes and new wants elicit in the mind of man new
thoughts, presenting a new field to his imagination, and
new scope for his emotions.
In our own existence such is the anology to the chang.
185 
HOURS WITrr MY P UPILS.
ing seasons of the year, that nothing is more commonplace, than to compare youth to spring, middle age to
midsummer, and old age to winter.   But though the
comparison be common-place, it is nevertheless beautiful
and striking. And as one season gradually slides into
another, so do the stages of life imperceptibly follow
each other, and we go from infancy to adolescence, from
youth to middle age, and from thence to old age, without
being aware that the change is going on, until we find
that it has passed; though others may have perceived
this long before we, ourselves, may have been conscious that
the particular stage in life's journey has been completed.
The mother tells her young child that he must not cry for
trifles, for he is no longer a baby; the little boy is still
changing, and when he behaves in a childish manner, he is,
by-and-by, reminded that he is now a great boy, and
must not behave like a child. The awkwardness or
ignorance which might have been tolerated at an
earlier period, are considered as unpardonable in the
young gentleman, and the pardonable impetuosity of
youth is found unsuitable to mature manhood. But ardor
and firmness, resolution and decision, gradually decay,
and the pride of manhood is laid low at the approach of
weak and feeble old age, when "the grasshopper becomes
a burden," and "man is afraid of that which is high."
And yet the strong man so gradually declines into the
vale of years, that often he has been classed by others
among the elders, long before he, himself, is sensible that
he has passed life's meridian.
" - To everything there is a season."  To the morning 
CHANGING SEASONS OF LuE.
there is sportiveness and activity, to the midday labor
and care, and to the evening, repose.
But to what do these observations tend? Is there
something for you, my dear young friends, to do, which
has any relation to the times and seasons, to which we
have referred? Should the beautiful order and regularity
of nature, merely elicit a transient admiration; or shall
we educe from thence lessons of wisdom for the direction of our conduct in life?  In the language of the
poet, "Order is heaven's first law," and it should be
ours also. We should consider times and seasons in relation to our own employments, and should, in our lives,
exemplify the beauty of order and regularity.
You who are now before me, may, in respect to age, be
considered as children, older girls, and young ladies; yet
we must admit this classification is not so distinctive as to
render its application clear, in all cases-for here, as in
the world of nature around us, the boundaries are not
distinct lines, but one state gradually passes into another.
It was the complaint of a precocious young girl, now
a grave matron, that in cases where obedience and restraint were required, her mother would insist she was yet
but a child; but when she failed in prudence and dignity
of conduct, she was reminded that she had now become a
young lady. The mother, however inconsistent it might
seem, yet acted conformably to the nature of the case,
for girls at a certain age may be regarded as children
or young ladies, according to circumstances, and the
187 
HOURS WITH MY PUPILS.
places they are required to fill. Still each of you should
consider the character, as to age, you actually sustain,
and appear in, to others. A young girl no longer a little
child should neither affect the babyish language and ac tions of infancy, nor the manners of grown persons;
while the young lady should avoid  extreme timidity
on the one hand, or too great confidence on the other;
for manners, which at one age, may please and amuse,
at another, would excite disapprobation or contempt.
There is a season for improving the mind and the
heart;-it is that of youth, especially the period devot ed to education.   This season is now yours, but it is
rapidly passing away; every day a portion of it is van ishing, and bringing you nearer to the time when your
pursuit of knowledge will be interrupted. You will find
that future years which will see you removed from the
restraints of school, will present few favorable opportunities for intellectual improvement.   Various are the
interruptions to liberal pursuits, and the hindrances in
forming moral habits, in that intercourse with the world
which follows an entrance upon its active scenes. Now,
then, is your season for learning books, for learning how
to lkarn, so that you may best improve future opportuni.
ties. Now is your season for acquiring a literary taste,
without which books and leisure can do little towards euriching the mind with stores of knowledge, or elevating
the intellectual character. An expensive library of valuable books selected by a literary friend, or a hired littdrater, may by purchase, be the property of one whose
188 
LITERARY TASTE.
mind is incapable of appropriating the rich treasures it
contains.
At this season of your lives, you should study to correct
the evil passions which you may have suffered "to grow
with your growth, and strengthen with your strength."
Think what you would wish to be, and strive to render
yourselves such; think what you would not be, and
endeavor to avoid persons, places and  circumstances,
which would tend to mould your characters into that
form from which you now shrink. The minds of the
young, like plastic clay, easily take impressions from sur-,
rounding objects. 
Educators may do much towards directing the efforts
of the young in properly moulding their own characters,
but the work, after all, must be in a great measure, their
own. If they resist what others attempt to do for them,
they will certainly destroy all symmetry and proportion,
they can and may defeat all. How important then is this
season of education to those whom I now address-!
How rapidly is it fleeing from you   Is there, then, any
portion of it to be thrown away, ot trifled with?- Surely
not. So long as any one of you has one bad passion to subdue, or one bad habit to reform, you have work to perform.
Who can know what he may be led to do if he does
not learn to govern his own spirit! How often a person
begins a wrong course and keeps on doing wrong, in order
to justify or conceal. the first bad act which might have
been but a trifling sin in comparison to what follows.
Beware then of seeking to conceal or justify what you
189 
HOURS WITH MY PuPIL.
may do amiss; better retrace your steps, and acknowledge
you have done wrong. It is always interesting and affect ing to see a young person striving against faults of
character, willing to think herself to blame, anxious to do
right. God, and good angels love such an one; she will
have help to struggle with the infirmities of her nature,
and will go on conquering her faults, and improving in
goodness.  In the season of youth she will perform the
duty and labor which belong to it, and will have a reward
in a peaceful and virtuous old age, and in a happy
eternity.
I would gladly hope that all of you will remember the
words you have now  heard.  Some will do so; their
hearts have received the good seed; and reflection, and
meditation will cause it to bear fruit; others have perhaps
listened with curiosity, but with little desire to be made
better; they are satisfied with themselves as they are-or
they are not willing to trouble! themselves about their
faults; it is not a pleasant subject I Some have been too
indolent to listen, but have sat listless and indifferent. To
them this is a season for dreaming or reverie; satisfied
that they are not to be questioned at the close of the
address so that their inattention may be exposed. What
have such to do with seasons or purposes I the seasons
they desire are not seasons for doing good, or gaining
knowledge; their purposes-alas I how many live with~
out any.  Though to "everything there is a season, and a
time to every purpose," there are many who disregard all
seasons, for the, improvement of their own minds, all
190 
SEASON OF YOUTH.
seasons for being useful, all seasons for preparing for a
future world-to them there is no settled purpose of
action.
May the number of those among you who care not for
seasons, who live without a purpose, be small. Now is
your season for resolving to be, and to do, what you should.
Now is the time for you to form your settled, determined,
purpose to turn from all evil ways, and seek for righteousness, and holiness of heart.  You may  possibly live to
reform, if you defer this work, but we have no certainty
for the future. Youth is the season you now have. May
you improve it aright.
1845.
191 
ADDRESS XX.
OUR GARDEN AND GARDENERS.
"Now'tis the spring, and weeds are shallow rooted;
Suffer them now, and they'll o'ergrow the garden,
And choke the herbs for want of husbandry."
SHAKSPEAR].
To TEACHERS AND PUPILS:
AFTER a short suspension of duty, we have again
met to renew our labors; some to impart, others to
receive instruction.   But though we have been resting
from our usual occupations, nature has performed a great
work; she has thrown off the icy chains of winter, and
comes forward to greet us in her robe of spring. And
yet her great work was going on in the dark and silent
tomb of earth, unobserved of all save Him who directs
nature's laboratory in which the care-perfected seed and
bulb are undergoing changes to prepare them to rise to
light and life.  At His word their resurrection is accomplished, and the new plant, like a new creation, rises from
decay and death.  The leaf a,d flower buds which had
been carefully folded up in their scaly or downy covering
now expand, and the trees and shrubs are again clothed
with verdure and beauty.
19 
BLOSSOMS IN SYLVAN-WALKS.
"Look all around thee!  How the spring advances I
New life is playing through the gay, green trees;
See how, in yonder bower, the light leaf dances
To the bird's tread, and to the quivering breeze!
How every blossom in the sunlight glances!
The winter-frost to his dark cavern flees,
And earth, warm-wakened, feels through every vein
The kindling influence of the vernal rain.
"Now silvery streamlets from the mountain stealing,
Dance joyously the verdant vales along;
Cold fear no more the songster's tongue is sealing,
Down in the thick, dark grove is heard his song And, all their bright and lovely hues revealing,
A thousand plants the field and forest throng,
Light comes upon the earth in radiant showers,
And mingling rainbows play among the flowers."
The German poet, Tieck, thus beautifully wrote of
spring in the last century; for from age to age, the
observers of nature are presented with the same phenomena, and the hearts of men are gladdened by the joyful.
vernal season.
When you now go forth in our "Sylvan walks," you
can gather for your botanical studies the Sanguinaria,* the Epigea,t the Viola, the Anemone, and many
others of spring's early flowers; and the blossoms on
some of the forest trees have come, as is their wont,
before the leaf buds are fully expanded. The late icebound streams murmur cheerfully as they flow on, and
o  Trailng arbutus
9
193
* Blood root. 
HOURS WITH MY PUPILS.
the songsters of our groves and ancient forests, enrap
tured, sing their loudest, sweetest  strains.   "Youth,
Spring and Flowers," they are all here-shall we too,
not rejoice and be glad! Yes, we should do so; and
yet we must reflect, for we have something to do in life,
as well as much to enjoy.  Spring will pass away, its
flowers will wither, and its foliage fall into "the sere and
yellow leaf" to be blown about by the autumnal winds, and
then sink into the bosom of its native earth. After
spring, is the season of fruits, the harvest of nature.
The analogy between youth and spring suggests that in
the former, as in the latter, there must be a preparation
for something valuable to follow the season of beauty and
gladness. A garden of spring flowers, or showy plants,
would be pleasant to look at, but for the support of life,
fruits are required. Bread is from the fruit of flowers
which have no beauty of form or color. The wise gardener, though he loves and values flowers, is most solicitous for the perfecting of fruits.
Here, then, is a garden of plants, and here are gardeners to tend them. Our pupils are the plants we are
to cultivate; sweet roses and proud magnolias, flourish
side by side with white lilies and snowdrops; the blushes
of the carnation are reflected by the pale japonica; but
have we nothing to do but to look at, and admire our
flowers; or, as in vegetable physiology, to study their
formation and their habits? If it were so, the work of
education would be a mere amusement; or rather, it
would become needless. But our plants have minds to
194 
MORAL CULTURE.
be cultivated, souls to be fitted for the vicissitudes of
life, and prepared to be transplanted into celestial
regions. Their habits have a moral element, which must
be watched and developed. So, my friends and associate
gardeners, our work assumes a serious aspect, and though
we began with joyful salutations to youth, spring and
flowers, we are obliged by a sense of duties resting upon
us to turn our course to the grave paths of reflection,
and to consider, what, as gardeners, we have to do.
That we have, at least, been considered as faithful
laborers in our garden, seems to be indicated by the
increasing numbers of the objects of our care.
But laying aside all figurative language as we enter
into a subject so practical as the duties of teachers,
let us pause a few moments to review the qualifications
required in their proper performance. The life of a
teacher may, by some, be regarded as one of dull and
common-place labor, uncheered by bright or beautiful
thoughts and aspirations; the butterfly with gilded
wings, fluttering in the sunbeams, if she could think in
her giddy round, would doubtless fancy herself the queen
of insects; so do the butterflies of society look down upon
those far nobler than themselves, because they do not
glitter and float in idle enjoyment through the atmosphere
' which constitutes their world. Should one gifted with
reason feel humiliated because the inmates of a lunatic
asylum fancying themselves, kings and queens, deck theirpersons with fantastic array, and put on airs of superiority?  These self-deceived lunatics are not more blind
195 
HOURS WITH MY PUPILS.
to the truth, than are those, who living in indolence and
self-indulgence claim superiority over such as devote their
lives to their own improvement, and the education of the
young, for the former should accompany the latter.
There are those who go down to their graves " unwept,
unihonored, and unsung," because they have lived but for
themselves. They who have worshipped the world, and
its vanities, can expect in return but what the world has
to give-unsatisfying and empty are its pleasures; its
rewards are transient and worthless.  But teachers must
not be expected to be exempt from human imperfections.
Doubtless many are urged into this profession by external
circumstances, so that with them it is at first rather a
necessity than choice. We will grant that this may be,
and often is, the fact; but when once the duties are undertaken by the conscientious and reflecting, their importance is felt, and more and more must the sense of
high responsibility become active. We are not now
referring to those necessitous foreigners who, for bread,
engage in teaching languages and accomplishments, with
never a thought beyond the emoluments received, or the
popularity which will insure their business success. There
are noble men and women, enlightened and conscientious
foreigners, who merit respect and confidence for their
devotedness to the improvement of their pupils, who labor
cor. amore, in their duties, and  fill their station with
fidelity and dignity.
The lady-teachers in this institution, are a band  of
sisters, gathered together from domestic circles inII various
196 
ENGLISH SCHOOLS AS DESCRIBED BY DICKENS. 197
parts of our country.  I have not chosen my assistants
from any one section, but have desired to assemble here
the peculiar characteristics of the various portions of our
great empire. From New England, the middle and
southern States, I have sought to gather in one circle,
intelligent and devoted young women, inspired with the
noble desire to cultivate their own minds, and to impart
to others the fruits of education. I say young women,
for in general, educators who are advanced into middle
life have become fixed in their own opinion, and cannot
readily follow out the system prescribed by another. By
aiding in normal education, I have happily been able to
train teachers so as to fit them for their places here. So,
as a mother and elder daughters, we have wrought
together in the care and guidance of the younger ones.
The elder daughters observe whether the various professors, and foreign teachers, are faithful in their duties, and
are ever ready to give the alarm if aught seems to be
going wrong in our large family. This is a beautiful
orgaiization-it is one which binds us all in one close and
endearing bond-mother, elder sisters, and daughters I
Let us bear in mind these sacred associations. There is
another picture, such as Dickens and some other modern
novel writers delight in portraying-as in " Do-the-Boy's
Hall," the "Young lady's school with thirty boarders and
six teachers," where exist cruelty and oppression on the
one hand, and mean espionage and vulgar attempts at
gentility on the other.
When  Charles Dickens was recently in our country 
HOURS WITH MY PUPILS.
and visiting the neighboring cities of Baltimore and
WVasliington, I had a strong desire to invite him here,
that he might see an American school, different from
the miserable pictures which he had drawn of English
schools. But Mr. Charles Dickens was then a great man,
courted and followed by Americans who ought to have
stood aloof from such servility-so I gave him no opportunity to complain of any annoyance from me in the way
of attentions. I had, when Miss Martineau was in this
country, and on a visit to a friend of mine in Vermont
(where I then resided), gone by invitation to meet her.
While arrogantly boasting of the attentions she was receiving, and lamenting her many engagements, she said in
relation to a distinguished family of Boston with whom
she was expected to pass a few days: "One would not
really wish their friends sick, to be rid of an engagement,
but I should be glad if something were to happen which
would excuse me from going."  After this remark I said
to Miss Martineau that I had hoped to have had the pleasure of seeing her at my own home, but under the circumstances, could not of course think of adding to the number
of those who annoyed her by invitations. It so happened
that this lady wished to attend a great celebration, where
a distinguished orator was to speak, at a town some
thirty miles distant. It had been my intention to ask her
to accompany us in our carriage, but as the case was, I
let her take a stagecoach, and make her own way. Yet,
after all, I was put into Miss Martineau's book on America, as one who took great pains to see her, "a literary
198 
ENGLISH M RITERS ON AMERICA.
lady who boasted of her housekeeping, etc., who talked of
Dr. Brown-and Miss M - did not know what Dr. Brown
until she discovered it was Dr. Thomas Brown, the late Professor at Edinburgh;-and this lady's sister too, had been
to see her on another occasion, and it seems she had gone
a long journey to tell this lady in Vermont, what she, Miss
Martineau, had said to her." Such is the twaddle, if I may
use the word, that is too often printed about America
in Europe.  It was true that my sister, Mrs. W., did on
her return from Boston to Troy, visit me in my Vermont
home, and spake of having seen Miss Martineau. They
were both present at some educational meeting, where
Mrs. W., as an educator, was distinguished and Miss
Martineau had remained in the background. Mrs. W.
had expressed to me her disappointment in Miss Martineau; this of course I did not mention to her, but
merely said, my sister who visited me on her return from
Boston, spake of meeting her. Yet, though our names
do not appear in her book, we are there; and I have only
to add, that if there is as little truth in other portions of
it, as in that which had relation to what came within my
own knowledge, the book is far from reliable authority.
But this is a digression, though the chain of associated
ideas may be readily traced, from schools to Mr. Dickens, and from his American travels to those of Miss Martineau. But we owe much to the genius of the former,
for his sketches of life in its various phases; and the
latter, in her earlier writings, especially those on political
economy, manifested a strong and vigorous intellect;
199 
OIIOURS WITH MY PUPILS.
but it is unfortunate when writers of fiction forget that
there are such realities as truth and fact.
We  say, then, that notwithstanding all the obloquy
which has been heaped upon boarding-schools, and in too
many cases but deservedly, we are conscious of aiming
at excellence. I believe that you, my associate teachers,
labor from a noble sense of duty, and that the services
you here render, are not given from mere worldly consid erations. Your love for me, and those whom you assist
in educating, is deep and sincere. Living together
as one large, united family, we can forget the outside
world-some of you have left pleasant homes to aid in
the great work in which we are engaged; you now say,
and think, that you shall never wish any other home,
but far be from me the desire that you may never depart
hence to preside in your own domestic circles, or to found
other educational establishments to prepare for which
you are now gaining the rich fruits of experience. No,
let us enjoy the present, trusting in each other's affection, and chiefly anxious to make the most of time as it
flies, in the cultivation of the moral garden which we are
called to "keep and dress" for our Lord and Master.
Be content, faithful teacher, with your profession. Even
in this world you are doubtless happier than the daughters of pleasure. You are also free from the often harassing cares and the peculiar physical ills to which those
are subjected who have entered into the marriage state.
We would not use arguments to dissuade from this relation when God's providence seems to lead to it. We
200 
LEADINGS OF PROVIDENO.B
believe in Providence, and that man should follow its
leadings in humble submission. This Divine Providence
has led us all hither, Principal, Teachers and Pupils;
God saw us a few years ago in our various homes, and
in His omniscient mind, He then saw us here, as we are
now, dwelling together in one of the loveliest spots of
earth which He had created; and He has made us love
one another, and feel happy in our mutual relations.
This has been a very rambling address; it was my intention to have dwelt somewhat in detail upon the duties
of Teachers and Pupils, but I have indulged in expressing emotions which the subject has naturally excited.
We will not now come down from the height to which our
imagination has raised as to the enumeration of special
duties. It is certain that if we all have love for each other,
zeal to do right ourselves and to influence those around us
for good, there will be peace and happiness within our
circle, and the great work of improvement both in ourselves and wherever our influence may extend, will be
steadily carried forward.
-. 1846.
201 
ADDRESS XXI.
RELATIVE DUTIES OF TEACHERS AND PUPILS.
IN a late address commenced with the intention of discussing the relative duties of teachers and pupils, we did
not proceed directly to our subject, but indulged in some
digressions, which might have been more interesting, if
not so directly useful as the consideration of practical
duties; this we are now to engage in, and for a short
time let us give our serious thoughts to the subject.
"Duty," says an anonymous writer, "is above all consequences. It commands us to look neither to the right,
nor to the left, but straight forward.  Hence every signal
act of duty is an act of Faith. It is performed in the
assurance that God will take care of consequences."
In education, especially, must we be influenced by this
single regard to duty.   Thus a teacher, who, in the hope
of gaining the love of a pupil, neglects discipline, or any
other duty, does not look straight forward, but consults
consequences rather than duty-and what consequences
will arise from such remissness on the part of the teacher;
what but a want of respect for, and confidence in her
who fears to do her duty? Let no teacher think to gain
the love of pupils by failing to perform her own duties;
2t2 
FAVORrrISM.
but go forward, and do what is right, leaving the consequences to Him who can overrule all, for good. That
teacher is to be distrusted who evinces a strong desire
for popularity, who is usually seen with her train of attendant satellites; who sintigles out her own favorites, and
leaves others, perhaps, equally or more worthy, to feel
themselves neglected anid uncared for. It may be very
hard to maintain perfect impartiality, but it is a duty
which should not be violated by the conscientious teacher.
Neither is any parent justified in showing partiality in his
family-so that it should never be said, such a child is his
or her mother's favorite, as we often hear.
Experience shows the evils incident to particular stations and situations.   In a former address we took a
poetical view of our associations together here, where
principal, teachers and pupils are united in one family,
forming one household.   But does not discord sometimes
rear its snaky head in the sacred family circle, and shall
we, where so many and of such various tastes and habits
are congregated, escape from all assaults of the serpent?
Human nature in its best estate is prone to err.  Those
who are willing to devote themselves to labor an(d duty,
are sometimes most tenacious of being appreciated by
others. Any supposed impeachment of their motives, or
depreciation of their merits, may change the calm current of their thoughts and disturb that equanimity of
feeling which is required in order to act well the impor tant part theyhave undertaken, and to render them exam ples to others.  Dr. Johnson says, that "so far is it from
203 
HOURS WiTH MY PUPILS.
being true, that men are naturally equal, that no two
people can be half an hour together, but one shall acquire an evident superiority over the other."  If this be
so, how is it when many persons, whose lives are devoted
to improvement, and whose duties call them to govern
others, are brought together within one social systemshall they be planets revolving each in her own orbit
around a central point, or shall each, striving to be a sun,
jostle others, in trying to fix herself into a position where
her gravity shall overcome the attraction of all the other
bodies in the system?
We cannot deny that habits of solitary study and
meditation may be often unfavorable to cheerfulness, and
that ready interchange of pleasant conversation which
constitutes agreeable social intercourse.
"Universal plodding prisons up
The nimble spirits in the arteries."
To this evil, teachers are exposed, and therefore it is
important that they should often break off from solitary
musing or study, and go forth among the pleasant scenes
of nature which in this favored spot so lovingly invite
you. Wherever you look, to whatever point you turn
your footsteps, you see beauty and grandeur, united.
Where can we find on earth, scenery in which these two
qualities more harmoniously mingle I-the more we contemplate it, the more deeply do we feel the power of external nature to soothe and elevate the mind.   Cowper
says:
204 
OOMPANIONSHIP.
"Scenes must be beautiful, which daily viewed,
Please daily, and whose novelty survives
Long knowledge and the scrutiny of years."
But then according to Byron:
" To view alone
The fairest scenes of land and deep,
With none to listen, or reply
To thoughts with which our hearts beat high,
Were irksome."
Therefore it is well to have companions in your walks;
not such as would encourage any morbid sentimentality,
but those yho are natural, and, who
"Nature love in all her varied forms."
There is an evil which arises from anxiety for self-im
provement and great conscientiousness-it is that of
wishing to know what others think of us, that we may
be thus assisted in forming an opinion of ourselves; this
is generally unprofitable, and therefore it is well in tete-atete conversations, to avoid discussing our own faults or
virtues. Confessions are often a lure for praise; and it
is difficult to speak of ourselves to others with perfect
sincerity.
To those who love and study natural science there are
never-failing  subjects for observation  and  discussion
here, is a beautiful species of moss with its tiny flower, or
a lichen with its fairy cup. A fossil shell sets the imagination to work to invent a cause for its being found so
205 
HouJRS WITH MY PUPILS.
far from the river's banks; a stone of volcanic origin gives
the mind a new impulse, or a shining lizard seen from his
lurking-place suggests another train of thought. So it is
better to throw away sickly fancies and the idle complainings of the school of Byron and L. E. L.,* and be
happy as those should be, who love God and the world he
has made, and believe that, here, they have his work to
do, and after he shall have done with them on earth they
will be taken by him, to a higher and happier state of
being.
Teachers are in danger of becoming dull and moping,
or sentimental and romantic, and therefore should they
invent for themselves a pleasant variety of recreations;.
they should not fear sometimes to indulge in reading
lighter works of humor, or romance, avoiding in poetry or
prose the too sentimental class. They should talk and
laugh, and love to see others do the same, in proper times
and places. It is very desirable too that we should cultivate with those around us a spirit of cordial regard.
This requires that we should have confidence in others,
especially in their good will towards us. It is one of the
great faults of authors, and others devoted to literary
pursuits, to brood over fancied neglects, to imagine themselves unappreciated.   It would be but  natural that
teachers, associated together in one household, should
sometimes be infected with this jealousy. A woman par
* Miss Landon, a poet of the present age, whose signature was L. E. L. was
the victim of unsanctified and ill-directed imagination; her writings, like those
of B3yron, have a sickly influence on the young.
206 
WgiT OTHERS TIENC OF US.
tially insane, went to her neighbor's house, and after some
commonplace remarks, said to her, "I am going to kill
you."  "Why  would you kill me?" asked the  lady.
"Because you do not reverence me enough," was the
answer. Perhaps we may sometimes feel displeased at
others, because we imagine they do not reverence us
enough; but it would be well if we could care less for the
estimate in which we may be held by those around us;
indeed it is an unprofitable speculation at the best.
Laying aside then these analyses of our own minds and
characters, we will turn to the more profitable inquiry
of what wve have to do. As I look around, I perceive a
large assemblage of the young of various ages-a few
who may be called children, many between this age
and that of the young lady, and a large number of those
who have arrived at mature years. They are all sent
here to be educated, which according to our great statesman Webster, means, "that the feelings are to be disciplined, the passions are to be restrained: true and worthy
motives are to be inspired, a profound religious feeling
is to be instilled, and pure morality inculcated under all
circumstances."   Thus weighty are our responsibilities
who have undertaken to perform all this, and chiefly do
they rest upon her who is the head of the institution, to
whom these young persons have severally and individually been intrusted as a precious charge from fond and
anxious parents. To aid me in this great work of education, I have selected the teachers whom I see before me,
some of whom have been for years my associates. Each
207 
2.0URS WITH MY PUPILS.
teacher is invested with authority and influence, and acts
in her particular station as the representative of the
Principal, whom parents properly regard as accountable
for the acts of her chosen associates, or neglect of duties
intrusted to them, in relation to pupils. It is therefore
right that every teacher should understand well what
she engages to do, and prepare herself for the performance of her duties by every means in her power. No
kind of knowledge of literature or science is useless to a
teacher; if she understand Latin or Greek, she will be
the better able to teach the meaning and derivation of
the words of her own language. History furnishes interesting anecdotes and illustrations. Rhetoric, if well understood, will aid in teaching composition, and the critical
reading of the best writers.  Moral Philosophy is not
merely for the recitation room, but its rules and principles should be reduced to practice, and  the judicious
teacher will not want for opportunities of illustrating
and enforcing them in the conduct of life. One who is
familiar with Botany and other branches of Natural
History, has the key to the hearts of her pupils in the
power to amuse and interest them in their walks abroad,
by being able to unfold the wonders of a little way-side
plant, a chance pebble, or insect. A beautiful sunset,
or a rainbow is a grand exhibition of the laws of optics;
and the canopy of night, to one versed in Astronomy, is
a never-failing subject for conversation.
A person of cultivated mind, may thus not only add
greatly to the happiness of others, but thereby acquire
208 
SHOULD NOT BE CONFINED TO TEXT-BOOKS. 209
an amount of influence which may be turned to great ac  count in education. Pupils soonl observe whether their
teachers are confined to textbooks, or can draw illustra tions from  their own stores of knowledge.   Almost
everything you can learn by observation may, at one
time or another, aid you in your educational labors. The
human mind is a curious instrument intrusted to you
to tune, and play upon; to touch its cords aright re quires a skillful hand. A humorous anecdote, a happy
touch of well-meant satire, an affectionate smile, often
permanently affect a stubborn spirit which appeals to
reason might fail to influence.
In addressing these remarks to teachers in presence of
pupils, I have thought that good may arise from bringing
before the mind of the latter the sacrifices made for them,
and the preparation which is required of the former, to
fit them for their responsible duties. But as duty and
obligation are reciprocal, pupils may consider what should
be their conduct towards those who thus devote themselves  to their  happiness  and  improvement.    "The
authority of instructors," says Wayland, "is a delegated
authority, hence the analogy between him and the pupil
is analogous to that of the parent and child, it is the
relation of superiority and inferiority.  The right of the
instructor is to command; the obligation of the pupil is
to obey. The right of the instructor is however to be
exercised for the pupil's benefit. In the exercise of his
authority he is responsible to the parent whose professional
agent he is. He must use his own best skill in governing
il
t 
HOURS WITH MY PUPILS.
and teaching his pupil.  He must use his own intdlect in
the exercise of his profession, and in the use of it, he is to
be interfered with by none. When he and the parents cannot agree, the connection should be dissolved." "Such"
says Wayland, "being the nature of the relation between the instructor and pupil, it is the duty of the former
to enforce obedience, and of the latter to render it.  On
the fulfillment of this duty on the part of an instructor,
the interests of education and the welfare of the young,
vitally depend. Without discipline, there can be formed
no valuable habit. Without it, when young persons are
congregated together, far away from the restraints of domestic society, exposed to the allurements of ever-present temptation, every vicious habit must be cultivated.
The young may applaud a negligent and pusillanimous
instructor, but when in after years he shall suffer the
result of that neglect, he will not fail to regard with bitter
feelings, him who betrayed the trust committed to him."
And will not the pupil bitterly repent in after years, if
her conscience reproach her with having by her own -misconduct, made sorrowful the hearts of her faithful instructors?  While teachers admit the force of their duties, let
pupils also realize their obligations, and strive to render
those duties pleasant, by self-control and earnest endeavors
to perform their own part.
It is comparatively easy to assign to others their duties,
and to give them rules of conduct. It is easy, too in respect to ourselves, to see what at the present moment lies
within our circle, and to mark out for ourselves a line of
210 
ADAPTATIOi.
conduct. But there is a constant change going on around
us, to which we must assimilate ourselves, varying our
actions to meet the present exigencies. Thus, quickness
of apprehension, the ability to shift our course to suit with
the gentle breeze or the boisterous winds that may spring
up, are essential to the navigation of the sea of life. We
must have our charts, our compass, and general rules, but
cases will often arise, where these seem insufficient guides.
In this little world of ours, we all, in our several stations
and relations, have our peculiar trials and perplexities, and
must at times be thrown upon the resources of our own
judgment and conscience to direct us through unexpected
difficulties arising from the caprices of others, the misap prehension by them of our actions, or from our own unin tentional deviations. She to whom in God's providence
are intrusted the hopes of so many parents, has a fearful
responsibility resting upon her. She has chosen you, the
lady-teachers here present, to be her assistants in the work
of education. She is accountable for your acts and for
your influence. Years have passed since some of us have
sustained this relation. But years with their changes have
their influence in rendering persons more tenacious of their
opinions, less yielding and accommodating. Increasing
years, especially if accompanied with physical debility,
doubtless tend to increase morbid sensibility. We may
be afraid that others do not " reverence us enough," we
may be unwilling to yield to others any points we have
made-we may become less loveable in character  as in
person, as years increase.   Be it so-God orders all, and
211 
EHOURS WITH MY PUPILS.
the Christian will say, "Though He slay me, yet will 1
trust in Him." Let the elder children affectionately sustain
the steps of the parent whose feet may sometimes slide.
Let the younger ones seek by cheerful obedience to make
their home gladsome, and so to improve the advantages
given them, that when they become actors in the scenes of
life, they may do honor to the training of their schoolhome.
1846.
212' 
ADDRESS XXII.
PRO GRE S SIVE IMPROVEMENT.
THE  current of time bears us onward, and is ever
changing the  relations of intelligent  beings.   Thus,
although our granite edifice remains unchanged, though
Ahe same walls which echoed the words uttered in former
years, now reverberate our accents; though the same
lofty trees exhibit their rich foliage in our majestic groves,
atd the same shrubs offer their annual tribute of spring
flowers, there is a great change in the living tableau
before me-not all are iere who have formerly met with
us, but we see strangers in their places.
There is sorrow in parting forever with beloved pupils,
who must leave us when they have become inured to discipline-as their intellectual powers have- become developed, and they have endeared themselves to us by
dutiful and affectionate conduct, then we must part with
them. What parent would not be sad to see his children
depart, and their places filled by strangers! yet though
you all came as strangers, you remain not long as such,
you are added to the large family, and are hereafter to
be considered as its children.  But when I look around,
there is a sad vacancy-they are not here, many beloved 
IHOURS wrrI  MY PUPILS.
ones whom for years I have been accustomed to meet in
this place, and whose bright intelligence often enkindled
thought within my own mind. It was remarked by a
professor in a European university, that when lecturing
to his students, he was in the habit of fixing his eyes
upon some particular member of his class, and judging
of the merit of his address by the changing expression of
his countenance. I can say that not one but many pupils,
who are not now here, have been thus often particularly
observed by me; that their respectful attention to my
words, the kindling expression of their countenances,
beaming with love and intelligence, have given to these
occasions an interest never to be forgotten.   An impression of moral beauty has been thus made upon my heart,
which time cannot erase, and which I have faith to believe will accompany my spirit into the eternal world,
where may be my next meeting with many of those dear
children of my care and love.
And yet, they might at first have been impatient of
control, not perceiving the importance of restraints to
which they were subjected.   Perhaps at first, as some of
you may now be, they were anxiously counting the days
and months they should be obliged to etdure such confinement and self-denial; but, when their school days terminated, and they were called upon to bid a last adieu to a
home where they had received kindness and protection,
to leave forever the guardianship of those who in all sincerity and faithfulness had watched over their welfare,
then.how  sorrowfully did they look upon the  past,
214 
IMPORTANCE OF FIRST IMPRESSIONS. 
how deeply regret that they had ever in aught grieved
those friends, or despised the home which had sheltered
them from temptation, and afforded them intellectual sus   tenance; where good habits had gradually been formed,
and where they had learned to fear to do wrong, and
to shun all "evil ways and works."
May heaven's blessings rest upon the heads of those who
have gone from us, and may they long live to prove the
benefits of a liberal and thorough course of female edu  cation, to do good in the world by an example of correct
and elevated conduct, and in the faithful discharge of all
the duties of life I
Many others are now treading in their footsteps, their
juniors, who have had the benefits of their good examples,
and who will, it is hoped, finish their scholastic course
with the approbation of their alma mater, and the satis faction of their friends.
But strangers are here, whom we have yet to study and
to know, for be assured that you are forming for your selves a character and reputation, while perchance you
are only occupied in making up your minds respecting the
persons and the place, with whom, and where you are to
pass a portion of your future life.  When a young girl
goes from home to reside among strangers, how seldom
does she estimate aright the importance of the first impressions she may make, of herself, upon the minds of
others.   While  thinking of the indulgences of home,
weighing trifling inconveniencies, and looking upon persons
and things in the most unfavorable light, how much bet-,
215 
HOURS WITH MY PUPILS.
ter to try to render herself agreeable, and gain a good
standing in her new position.   She should reflect that
others will take the liberty to form opinions respecting
herself; and that while she may be free in her censures
upon what to her is new and strange, she perhaps is rendering herself an object of severe and unfavorable remarks
to those about her.
One great advantage to the young in going abroad,
consists in their being taught the value of character. A
young girl accustomed to servile attentions at home, to
consideration on account of the wealth or respectability
of her parents, has yet to learn what it is to stand upon
her own merits.
All pupils meet here on an equality, except so far
as greater moral worth, intelligence, or more agreeable
manners, may create distinctions. We do not inquire
whose parents are more wealthy, more distinguished,
more fashionable, or more ancient and aristocratic. Those
pupils who are most worthy of esteem and love, stand
highest while here, and are most remembered for good
after they have left the institution; such leave behind
them the best characters, and it is not difficult to predict
that they will hereafter, in life, take precedence of those
who  may have trusted to their wealth or the respecta bility of their friends, rather.than their own intrinsic
merits. -  -
We call on you all, therefore, to look well to yourselves,
to consider what are your dispositions and intentions have you come hither intending to devote the energies of
216 
NECESSITY OF RULES.
your minds to the attainment of knowledge, to perfect ing yourselves in accomplishments which may hereafter fit
you for refined society, gratify your friends and enliven
the domestic circle;-above all, have you come hither ia tending to be better than you ever have been, and to do
better than you ever have done? If improvement be your
object (as assuredly it was that of your friends in sending
you hither), let me assure you, that you shall have every
possible assistance in this work. We have no rules that
are intended to annoy you, or to place you under any
unnecessary restraint-none but what we consider neces sary to the good order, welfare, and happiness of the
pupils.
We ask you to form no habits here, which will not be
for your future happiness, usefulness, and respectabilitywe ask no servile obedience to tyrannical laws; no constrained deference to those who have no love or care for
you; but we ask your love and confidence. We ask you
to be sincere and open, to be what you ought to be,
rather than dissemblers concealing as under a mask
jealous and corroding thoughts, and willing to do wrong
if you can do so without detection. God's eye is ever
upon you; He sees what are your motives of conduct,
how you spend the time He has allotted you, and what
improvement you make of advantages which His providence has afforded you. In our excellent morning service
you will find petitions for all needed grace.   First, after
asking God to pardon your sins and give your true repentance you pray that He wvill put from you " al evil ways
10
217 
Iiouns WITH MYY PUPI-L.
nod works."   Think  upon  this -prayer when  you  are
tempted to fall into evil ways, and do evil works, and in
sincerity of heart call upon God in the language of our
daily evening service: "Deliver  us, 0 merciful Lord,
from the dangers that beset us; from all evil and mischief,
from all vanity and lies; from pride, impatience, and impertinence; from envy, hatred, and malice, and all uncharitableness: from inattention, carelessness and sloth; from selfishness
and self-indigience; from lying, deceits and corrupt examples.
Would you become the children of God, resist the suggestions of the adversary of your souls, who would seduce
you to evil; resist him and he will flee from you; you
must be in earnest in the work of your own improvement,
for "the hour cometh when no man can work."   Piety
must be at the foundation of all your good resolutions,
or they will be fleeting as the morning dew.   "The fear
of the Lord is truly the beginning of wisdom;" with their
hearts imbued with this, the young may walk safely
through the fiery trials of the world, and pass unharmed
through its dens of lions; all is included under this one
wordiety.
Some may conduct well for the sake of reputation, and
others for the approbation of friends, but the pious would
do right, because they love and fear God; they would
avoid sin, not to please others, but because their own
soul abhors "evil ways and works.":
We who are charged with the instruction and care of
so many young persons, have much to do.  What can sustain us under our duties and privations, but-the desire.to:
218 
HIGH CALLING OF EDUCATOPs.
do our Master's will, and faith in his divine assistance?
"Feed my lambs," said the blessed Jesus to his disciples;
-though educators are not set apart for the sacred work
of the ministry, they have a high and holy calling —they
are appointed to aid the young in their preparations for
life; and the principles formed while under-such influence
may fix their condition in the world to come. Shall
teachers be as bright examples to the young, or stumblingblocks in their way to eternal life?  Serious and weighty
are the considerations which should press upon our minds
in view of this responsibility.  Let us bear with patience
the imperfections and errors of the young, considering
our own deficiencies in the sight of God;-let us strive by
kindness and affection to win them over to the cause of
truth and virtue, and to the work of their own improvement. But let us never, through the desire of popularity,
or fear of offending our pupils, indulge them in what is
wrong, or pass over their offences through fear of their
resentment.
We are all accountable to God for the manner in
which we discharge our duty, and we should be fearless
where principle is concerned. It would be very easy to
do right if this were always to act in a way to please
those who are about us, and whose love we desire to secure. The most difficult part of our duty to our pupils,
is to say and do that which will cause them, for the time,
t,) dislike us, or which may lead them, for the time being, to doubt our wish to make them happy; but we must
not by such considerations be deterred from acting accord.
219 
IHOURS WITH MY PUPILS.
ing to our understanding of duty and right; and we
may be sure, that hereafter, if not now, we shall be re warded by the love and gratitude of such as are capable
of noble sentiments; —yet we must look to a higher source
than earthly affection or approbation, for our reward.
We have all, Instructors and Pupils, met under this roof
as a family, united by many common ties and interests;
let us therefore love one another, and strive to render each
other's burdens light, by mutual sympathy and kindness.
For myself, I would ask indulgence from all; all of
you have cares and duties common to some others, I have
those peculiar to my own position as Principal, and in
which none can wholly sympathize because they cannot
feel their weight and pressure. In years past, my thoughts
have often reverted to my pleasant home among the
green hills of Vermont, and I have said, "there will I
rest when the labors in which I am engaged may be laid
aside, and an evening of calm old age may follow a life
of toil." It was natural I should sigh for that quiet
home, and for the literary leisure I there enjoyed while
preparing many of my educational books. I seem now
to see it, as it stands overlooking a beautiful New England village embowered by forest trees, presenting with
its appropriate architecture a picture of beauty such as
the eye seldom rests upon. What a crowd of associations are connected with that home I Every shrub and
qower has its history; in a small village * at a little dis
* Guilford, three miles from Brattleborough, Vermont.
220 
PASSING REGRETS.
tance stands the old church where is now our family pew,
with its books, carpets, and cushions, as we left them
nearly seven years since-and there is the cemetery, seen
on yonder eminence, beneath whose solemn shades I had
thought, at last, to rest I
A few months since, when the Green-mountain region
was decked in the rich tints of a New England autumn,
I visited that spot, more lovely in reality than even my
recollection had painted it. A strong desire to remain
there, and to escape from the cares and labors which
Patapsco required, seized upon my spirit, and it was not
without tears, that resisting such temptation, I tore myself away, leaving as my tenants a refined and intellectual family, who were capable of enjoying the natural
beauties of the spot, appropriately called "Boscobel." *
May it not be in vain that I have returned to toil for
a few more years, should my life be spared, in the duties
of education, and may we all during our future life on
earth, and in Heavenly Mansions, be enabled to review
with satisfaction the period of time which we shall here
spend together in the great work of progressive improvement.
May, 1846.
* Meaning Beugti. Arov.
221 
ADDRESS XXIII.
STUDY.
"If you devote your time to Study, you will avoid all the irk.
someness of this life; nor will you.,ng for the approach of night,
being tired of the day; nor will you be a burden to yourself, nor
your society unsupportable to others."
WHEN we commenced the school session which is in a
few days to close, spring with tardy steps was following in
the train of winter.  A few early flowers greeted us with
their cheerful smiles, giving the assurance that an everwatchful Providence during the apparent vegetable death
of winter, had been busy within the dark, cold earth, perfecting the germs of beauty and loveliness which were to
adorn the face of nature in her more genial season. And
so, day by day, we were greeted by new flowers, which
seemed to hold up their heads to us in friendly salutation,
as if to say, " you see I have come back again, God has
taken care of me as well as you, and though I have been
buried in the damp, cold ground, I have been raised again
to life, and all the happiness of which my vegetable nature
is capable." Have we read aright this lesson taught us by
every plant which springs up from the dark clods of earth?
If we have, our hopes of a resurrection from the cold sleep
922 
THE  THOROUGH SCHOLAR.
of death have been confirmed;-the analogy is too strike
ing to be overlooked.
As  new  flowers  diversified  the scenery abroad, so
a succession of new faces presented themselves to
add a new interest to scenes within. Many who a few
months since were strangers to each other, have formed
intimacies which, however widely you may be scattered
in your future life, will never be forgotten, though
new friends, new scenes and new relations may in some
degree lessen the vividness of your present feelings.
The current of life, animal, vegetable, intellectual and
moral, has been moving onward, and now, we number by
days, the close of the present school-year. We have all
had much to do-first, improvement of the mind in the
studies assigned to you has occupied much of your attention-or if not, it should have done. But what a difference  between  a thorough and a superficial scholar I
To the former, the most difficult sciences are made to
yield up their truths.   The thorough scholar will not
be satisfied with a partial, indefinite knowledge of subjects, but possess herself of their nature and bearings.
She may have to study hard, but she knows of no other
way; she has not learned to skim over a lesson, and
consider it as learned, when in reality she knows nothing
about it; that is, of its true meaning. When attempting to learn a language, the thorough scholar makes sureprogress-she does not go by mere sound in conjugating
or defining words; she does not require that her teacher
shall give her the key-note to begin with.  For instance,
223 
HouRs WITH MY PUPILS.
if called upon to conjugate the French verb aimer, to love,
in the indicative mood, present tense, the good scholar
can begin jaime, and go on, tu aimes, il aime-but the
superficial scholar will need to be set a-going or wound
up like a watch, by being. told the first person, and then
as a stone will move for a little distance when it is pushed,
our superficial scholar will go on, perhaps through the
different persons; though when she comes to the third
person plural, she will be likely enough to say, ils ai-ment,
although she has been daily told for a year, that ent at
the end of words in the third person plural is silent. If
it be the Latin verb gmare, the thorough pupil is asked to
conjugate, she remembers that it is a regular verb of the
first conjugation, that its indicative mood, first person is
ano, and then she can go on to amas, gmat, etc.-but the
superficial scholar is in a mist; she has not learned understandingly, but as a parrot, to repeat after others, and she
looks vacantly, or with a beseeching glance, waiting for
the teacher to commence, and then after dmo has been
said, our stone begins to roll on, and we have amas, anat,
and the tune naturally brings out amamus, amatis, amant,
though the change of accent by the addition of a syllable
may daily have been explained and pointed out by the
teacher, especially in that very case of am-a-mus and amatas.  The superficial scholar can never be made to understand why y is used in French in such cases as il-y-a; nor
how in il aimerais, he might or could love, the words migkt
or could are expressed; though she may have been repeatedly told that the words might or could are denoted by
224 
THE SUPERFICIAL SCHOLAR.
the ending in a's.  If the superficial scholar can remem ber long enough to recite something which some one else
has found out for her, she thinks she knows her lesson,
when, in reality, she has no understanding of it what ever.
In mathematics, the superficial scholar is satisfied with
the mere ability to say something, no matter whether to
the point or not.  She will run on with plus and minus,
confounding these distinctions until she proves herself to
be minus of all thorough knowledge of the science of
algebra.   In geometry, she will say that A is equal to
B, and D is greater than B, because B is equal to A;
thereby proving that she, in intelligence, is equal to
a superficial thinker.
But our time would fail in attempting to show the difference between the thorough and the superficial scholar
in the various branches of education. The disposition
which can rest satisfied with superficial attainments, is
found to diffuse itself through the whole round of accomplishments, as well as literary and scientific departments.
In music, this is seen in the false manner in which notes
are played or sung; many a young lady conscious of her
want of thoroughness, solaces herself with the idea, that
if she make a noise upon  the instrument, put on an air
of nonchalanwe, and seem self-satisfied, others will suppose
she performs well; but very superficial must she be, who
does not know that at this day, when music is so generally understood, her incorrectness as to time and tune
will be readily discovered.
10*
225 
tHOURS WITH MY'PUPILS.
.~In composition, of all branches,' the superficial mind
perhaps  most  discovers itself-attempts to steal the
thoughts and language of others will be here apparent;
ignorance of the rules of correct reasoning, of the power
and value of words, and even of grammatical construction, is exhibited; or perhaps there may be fluency of
language with very little sense; for shallow minds may
have words at -command, though they can hardly be said
to'stand for ideas, as words are nothing -except as they
represent thoughts.
Besides the cultivation of the mind in the attainment
of knowledge, which some falsely imagine to be the chief
and almost the only branch of education, is the improve
ment of the heart, or the cultivation of the moral and religious feelings. You have all found as you went on from
day to day, that you had constant need of watchfulness,
to keep within the path of duty amidst the trials and
temptations which befell you in your way.   Trials of
temper from the thoughtlessness or unkindness of others,.
and trials in overcoming your love of ease and self-indul
gence; indeed no day perhaps passed without some trial;
temptations, too, from various sources have been in your
pathway.
In reviewing your conduct during  the  school-year
which is now expiring, you may be conscious of having
injured the feelings of others by unkind treatment,  or
-passing them by with haughty indifference not - less
wounding to the sensitive heart than open contempt.
You may have made uncharitable-remarks, or circulated
,226 
REVIEWING THE PAST.
slanderous reports, calculated to injure another; you
may have sown the seeds of suspicion and jealousy among
friends; you may have ministered to folly by flattering
the vain, and  depressed the meek  by pride and arrogance.  You may have fostered in yourself a spirit of discontent, refusing to enjoy the blessings bestowed upon
you; or, through indolence, you may have neglected
your advantages. Above all, you may have trifled with
religious privileges; you may have profaned the Lord's
day, neglected his holy word, and done despite to the
spirit of grace which has striven in your hearts.
In a few days our circle will be broken up, and never
again shall we all dwell together as we have done in the
same home, and sustain to each other the same relations.
Many of you may never meet again in this world-you
may not again behold the face of her who, however imperfectly her duties have been discharged, has yet
desired to be faithful, knowing her own great accountability to the Father above. You may not again behold
the faces of those kind teachers who have labored for you,
often under discouragements; you will think of their
efforts, hereafter, differently from what you perhaps have
done. When you reflect how much easier it might be for
a teacher to pass by deficiencies than to remedy them,
and that it is those who are strictly conscientious who
are willing to take upon themselves unpleasant duties,
you will feel the higher respect for those who have had
the moral courage to do what is right.
In the education of the young it requires firmness and
227 
HouzRs WITH MY PUPILS.
resolution to pursue what is right, fearless of giving
offence, and a high, unswerving moral purpose. The
young talk a great deal of teachers being kind. Well,
what is kindness in a teacher? Is it best displayed in
trying to do all possible good to the pupil, or in allowing
that which is hurtful, through fear of not being called
sweet and amiable? Suppose we are sick, and send for a
doctor, and the doctor, though finding our heads badly
affected, our hearts diseased, and our stomachs in a dis ordered condition, instead of prescribing suitable reme dies, though unpleasant, for the bad heart and the swelled
stomach-suppose this doctor, finding out what we like
best to eat and drink, and what amusements please us
most, tells us to indulge ourselves in all desirable gratifications, though he knows they will make us worse; he
knows they made us sick-that what ails us, is the effect
of self-gratification; but he wishes to please us, to be
popular, to have us say, "What a sweet doctor I How I
love him I" No, you would not long love such a doctor;
and as soon as you thought about his conduct rationally,
you would say, "I would never have that doctor again;
I would never put any friend of mine under his
care."
The educator finds patients in his pupils-many heads
badly affected, many hearts diseased, many stomachs
filled with indigestible pride, and swollen with vanity.
We must be faithful to our duty; we must use proper
remedies, even at the risk of being called cold-hearted
and severe. But when our patients recover, then we have
228 
WHEN PUPILS ARE NOT PATIENTS.
our reward in their gratitude and love; and the first sign
of their being convalescent, or of not requiring treatment,
is when they show the proper feeling towards those whose
lives are devoted to their improvement.
But doubtless, too, there may be something to be
regretted on the part of the teacher as well as the
taught, on future retrospection.   It would  be better
for the teacher to err on the side of indulgence rather
than that of severity, as it would be better for the
doctor to let nature alone than to give too much medicine. The present happiness of the young should not be
lightly regarded, nor should heavy burdens be laid on
youthful shoulders.   Those who have passed their bright
days of youth, may be refreshed by mingling with the
young and light-hearted, while the latter should seek to
learn wisdom from the more experienced.
"Something of youth, I in old age approve,
But more the marks of age in youth I love.
Who this observes may in his body find
Decrepit age, but never in his mind."
-1849.
229 
ADDRESS XXIV.
FOR A CILOSING SESSION.
THERE is something in the word lIast, when applied to
any period of time, which falls mournfully upon the ear;
all closing scenes appear in a degree sad; even joyful
occasions, which yet mark the termination of any course
of time, are mingled with sorrowful associations.  The
last hour of the day, the last day of the week or of the
month, and the last day of the year, suggest each their
peculiar reflections.  The closing of a school-year is -now
the subject of our contemplation.
There are some who pass through the varie  scenes of
life with little apparent thought of the past,- or care for
the future.  To them, the gathering of a family group,
after a period of separation, suggests no thankfulness to
God for His preserving care; sickness and death in this
circle of family or friends cause a transient, profitless
sadness, which passes away with the occasion, leaving in
the heart no germs of suggestive meditation to develop.
the fruits of wisdom. A marriage scene, to such, is
merely one of gaiety, feasting, and bridal attire; they
think not of dark shadows which may lie in the pathway
of those whom they see setting out together in the journey
230
I -' 
SUGEsTrvE MEDITATrON~
of-life.  The'solemn vows pronounced at the altar are, to
them, mere words of ceremony-; an unmeanilg, simper or
giddy laugh,often attest their want of thought or sens.ibility.
We  pity those who' strive to'banish from their minds
.all reflections which, by presenting life in its true aspect,
:might render them less gay, and less inclined to follow
-after the vain, and unsatisfying pleasures of the world.
;But  why should any child of earth wish to deceive
himself as to his true condition?  We  commiserate the
deluded maniac who, sitting' down  amidst want  and
wretchedness, exults in fancied riches and power;-or
:one upon whom some impending calamity is ready to fall,
who is yet wholly unconscious of his situation; should we
<not, then, pity thoseo who act the part of the imbecile in
their self-delusion and blindness to realities, amused with
,toys and trifles, when they should be seriously applying
their hearts to learn wisdom?
It has been the great object of my appeals to you, to
awaken the powers of reflection'and conscience with
which you are endowed, but which too often seem to
remain dormant and inactive. The earnest desires which
some of you have recently expressed to be instructed, and
the attention with which you listen to my words, give me
courage to proceed in my course of' moral teachings;
would that my ability were more commensurate with the
great work to be accomplished-that the experience of
years,might be accompanied by the energy of youth I
In all human organizations, where a number of indi.
,8i 
1HOURS WITH MY PUPILS.
viduals are combined to form one body, each has his own
particular office; the head plans, the limbs execute-the
former must depend on the latter to carry out and perfect
its designs; and it is important for the good of the whole
body that the directing mind should be at liberty to con sider general results.  The bearing of a heavy weight
requires strength and endurance, and one thus situated
might seem quiescent, even while making great efforts to
sustain the burden.   Thus, though your progress in
literature and science, or your class-teaching, may be
chiefly intrusted to others, my own most important duty
is that of helping to form your characters-to frame the
different parts of education into one symmetrical and
perfect edifice, founded on truth and virtue, and perfected according to tlie best models 6f Christian excellence.
Time has flown on rapid wings since a pilgrim band
came hither with faith and hope to cheer their lonely
steps.  And have we not been rewarded by the smiles of
heaven upon our labors? That you are all here, representing the fairest portions of our great country, from
East and West, and from North and South, is the living
answer. Devout faith has been more than realized, and
the most sanguine hope exceeded. What shooting forth
of the tendrils of affection has not this "garden of immortal plants"  witnessed? Many of our beautiful flowers
have been removed to their native homes, and some have
been taken to celestial regions. But love is not lost, it
exists on earth, however distant may be the hearts in
282 
NEW  ASSOCIATIONS.
which it has taken root; and in Heaven it is strengthened
and purified.
The atmosphere of a home-school is favorable for the
development of tender emotions. The young girl who
leaves her home to come among strangers, meets with
others under like circumstances, and sympathy soon be.
comes a strong bond of union; new ties are gradually
formed-the warm love of newly-found sisters, and the
kind regards of those who have assumed the parental
office, fill the void in the heart, and give the conscious
happiness of a new home, enriched by many new and
delightful associations-not taking away any of the love
for the old home, but suggesting much that is hereafter
to make that home more perfect and happy.
Those who were affectionate, amiable and obedient in
the domestic circle at home, brought hither the same
good qualities, and in their new relatious exhibited the
same dispositions which heretofore made them lovely or
otherwise. Change of place does not alter the heart;
one does not part with bad habits and feelings on leaving
one place and going into a new scene; though from the
restlessness and desire of changes we often see manifested,
it would seem as if many deemed that in new scenes they
should be different persons; that in another place the
"Ethiopian would change his skin and the leopard his
spots."
Neither when we leave this state of existence, and our
souls wing their way to the world of spirits, shall we be
essentially different from what we now are; we shall be
233 
HIOURS WITH MY PUPILS.
placed in a new situation, with new associates, and-with
new and enlarged faculties, but our minds will retain
their identity. It is supposed by some who have dared
to speculate upon the condition of the disembodied Slirit,
that it will resemble in its lineaments and appearance the
body to which it has been united, but freed from its
grossness and materiality; and that, purified from all
earthly stains, it will exist a glorious and spiritual body,
but yet bearing the stamp and semblance of the terrestrial body.
The disposition of the mind is now apparent, in a
greater or less degree, in each individual; and character
is, in some measure, read in the countenance; hereafter,
when the spirit shall no longer be concealed by an earthly
covering, we shall doubtless appear without any disguise;
here we see, and are seen "through a glass darkly," then
shall we "know even as we are known."
How fearful are such reflections to those who pretend
to be what they are not; who endeavor to conceal their
real characters and motives I We must believe such
will hereafter appear in their true characters; that their
thoughts and emotions will shape their spiritual forms
and that their proper place and associates in the world
of spirits will need no other designation than will be given
by their own external appearance. 
The virtuous are often misunderstood in this world
their good, perhaps, evil spoken of; and bad motives attributed to those whose intentions are too pure and noble
to be understood by the sordid  and selfish-the path of
234 
ALL RIGHT AT LAST.
the good may be overshadowed by suspicion and jealousy;
they may meet with ill-will and unkindness where they
had most reason to expect love and gratitude.   When
such are oppressed with a sense of injustice, and anxious
that their motives may-be known, and themselves vindicated from the charge of what they detest and abhor,
how consoling the thought that the time will come when
all these misunderstandings will be rectified  In such refiections upon a future state, we have the strongest inducements to seek to be truly just and upright in heart,
so that our souls may be fitted to appear before the'just
made perfect, before angels, and before the Great Father
of our spirits.
1849.
235 
ADDRESS XXV.
To THE GRADUATING CLASS:
MY DEAR PUPILS: It becomes both my painful
duty to address you for the last time as members of this
institution, and my pleasant office to announce to you
your honorable discharge from school-duties and the
restraints of scholastic life. The object you have so long
had in view is attained; and you will now leave this
place of your education, having passed through its course
of studies, and with its highest testimonials. You may
sometimes have been tempted to pause in your courseindulgent parents, fearful of your tiring in the race, have
perhaps left you to choose between the enjoyments of
home and the privations of school. The temptation was
great, but you overcame it, and have purchased the gratification which ever follows the sacrifice of inclination to
the dictates of reason and duty.
Your minds have become more matured and better disciplined by habits of research, your characters more
formed, and strengthened, by the practice of self-denial,
and you are in consequence better prepared to enter upon
the duties and trials of life.
In the seclusion of these classic shades, no less healthful to the moral than to the physical constitution, you
986
I 
To THE GRADUATING CLASS.
have been carefully guarded from evil influences; and
now, with unclouded brows and firm steps, looking to
heaven for its blessings and guidance, you go forth to
assume the responsibilities of woman's mission.
You are about to enter upon new scenes, while those
who have so carefully watched over, guided and guarded
you, will not be near to encourage you in goodness, or to
avert from your pathway temptation and danger. Dearer
friends in their caresses and indulgences may not weigh
consequences, as those have done whose calmer reason
discerned in the minute germ, the poisonous flower or
bitter fruit. Does the father, when delighting to indulge
his daughter in all her fancies-perhaps smiling even at
her caprices, and regarding her as lovely in whatever
mood she may chance to fall-does this fond father consider the relation that these caprices may bear to the
future woman? Does he think by what a different standard than his own the character of his daughter may be
estimated by a husband?  The latter may dislike extravagance;  he may regard caprice and  childishness  as
studied methods to obtain power over him-as attempts
to govern him by affected weaknesses. Children, too, are
severe in their judgments upon parents.  They are quick
to detect the slightest weakness or defect in' a mother,
whom  they will not revere if she be not self-denying,
exemplary, and free from all reproach.
Inasmuch then as pupils and daughters become wives
and mothers, those who have the forming of their minds
and characters cannot be too assiduous to train them for
237 
HouRs WITH MY PUPILS.
future dignity and usefulness in those relations.  But
should Providence decree to the young lady a single life,
so that it shall be her lot to walk alone through its vicis situdes, surely she will require all the strength of mind,
firmness of purpose, and dignity of character, that the
most judicious training can bestow.
AMore than half your number, my daughters,* will enter
upon life with no mother to watch over you.  God has
seen fit early to deprive you of that tender, sympathizing
friend; and though a father's affection be richly bestowed
upon each one of you, yet there will be many occasions in
life, when that father will look to you for prudence and
mature judgment, perhaps to fill the place in the family
circle of your lost mother; and there will be seasons
when your hearts will yearn for sympathy, such as only a
mother can feel-in such moments may you be led to seek
for communion with the Father of your spirits I We
trust you go hence, in some measure prepared to be the
friends and comforters of those who have so long looked
forward to your return to them as an event which would
unite a broken family circle, and diffuse over it some of
the cheerfulness of former happier years.
What time can any of you, my daughters, have for
the worthless frivolities of fashionable dissipation? What
peace of mind would you be willing to barter for a
short-lived admiration, even were it to gain the eldat ot
being called the belle of the season.
It has been too common for writers, especially in the
The graduating clas oonslist  of nxie ptups.
2j$ 
To TIEi GRAI)UATING CLASS.
department of romance, to describe woman either as too
sublimated or etherial for any earthly toil or duty, or as
divested of all that is attractive  and fit only for the
labors and materialities of common life.  The manners
and language of polite society are flattering. to the young
and attractive woman; they tend to mislead her as to
her true position and real value, and after a short
dream of power, she too often wakes to find herselfa slave.
Alas, for woman's lot I A being often gifted with lofty
powers of intellect, and capable of high moral purpose,
but possessing strong impulses, an excitable imagination,
and capable of emotions which, left to act without.
restraint, carry her into the wildest excesses of passionwhat shall check those  impulses-what  shall curb the
vagaries of fancy, and keep this wandering star within a
fixed orbit-what shall speak peace  to the turbulent
passions of her nature, and convert the dangerous tendencies of her soul to the best and noblest ends? One
power alone is able to produce such effects-the power
of religion acting upon the heart and conscience. That,
power which led the pious Marys to follow the footsteps
of their Redeemer, the last at his burial, and the first
witnesses of his resurrection.
Would we see what woman may become without religion?   Let us look  at France-misguided, bleeding
France I We see in the streets a procession of women,
clamoring for. their rights, threatening to destroy pro-;
perty and lives, and not merely threatening, but perform
239 
IHOURS WITH MY PUPILS.
ing horrid deeds of cruelty, with blasphemy upon their
tongues and murder in their hearts. The picture is too
sickening, we would pass it by; but let us dwell a mo ment upon the causes which have led the women of a
country boasting its refinement, to such degradation and
wickedness. Fourteen years ago, Madame Louise Belloc,
a great and good woman of France, in communications
addressed to my sister, Mrs. Willard, and myself, deplored
the progress in her beloved country of the doctrine of the
St. Simonians, or Socialists; and especially that her own
sex were among the first to be fascinated by them.
With prophetic vision she foresaw the gloomy destruction
of social ties which lay concealed in embryo, beneath
specious principles of liberty, and a pretended desire for
the amelioration of human society.
French literature, since that period, has assumed a new
phase. We will not even name one among the many
works of genius which have helped to sap the foundations of all moral distinctions, and subvert the institations on which all that is valuable in human existence
depends. When you hear of what the French women
have dared to do, casting off the delicacy of their sex,
and becoming ruffians and murderers, and all that is
wicked and despicable, remember that these are the
results of the principles to be found in the modern French
novels, which fashionable American ladies allow to ornament their boudoirs, and with which young American
girls do not hesitate to acknowledge themselves familiar.
Any attempt to lay aside the restraints imposed upon
240 
TO THE GRADUATING CLASS.
our sex by time-honored custom and by the holy word of
God, should be frowned upon by every virtuous woman.
Our mission upon earth is to do good. As woman was
first in transgression, she should be first in penitence and
holiness of character. In the private scenes of life, its
daily round of cares, duties and trials, woman's virtues
should be preeminent. As the perfume of flowers and the
rich juice of the grape are crushed out by pressure, so the
sweetest qualities of woman's heart, the rarest excellences of her character, are brought out by the heavy pressure of affliction! But why, it may be asked, speak to
the young and light-hearted of sorrow? Ask the faithful
guide why he tells the traveller, in a perilous journey, of
the difficulties he must encounter before reaching its termination.
Even this hour, so joyous to you in anticipation, so
triumphant in its fulfillment of long-cherished hopes, is
saddened by the sundering of ties closely entwined around
the heart. But soon will the consciousness of time passed
in this place be to you among the recollections of by-gone
years, as "a dream when one awaketh."  Thus will all
earthly scenes successively fade into the dim twilight of
the past, until that last scene shall come when each of us
shall bid adieu to earth itself, and our disembodied spirits
pass into the unseen and spiritual world-there, in a new
school, to learn the mysteries of our own being and of
God's providence.
11
241 
PARTING HYMN.
BUNG BY THE PUPILS AT THE COMMENCEMENT, AUGUST IST, lb4li
GOD of the young! Creator, Friend,
To Thee in lowliness we bend;
Oh, hear us in this parting hour,
Support us by Thy mighty power.
God of the young! In humble prayer
Oh, let us seek Thy guardian care;
Our trust in Thee securely place,
And rest devoutly on Thy grace.
God of the young! Our footsteps guide,
Where flowery paths are open wide;
Keep us, Thy daughters, free from guile;
Teach us to fear each tempting wile.
God of the young! To Thee alone,
Our course in life is fully known;
Dark waters rise upon the sight,
Thy presence only giveth light.
God of the young! Thou once on earth,
A feeble child of human birth,
Didst feel the ills of mortal life
And meet temptation's awful strife.
242 
PARTING HYMN.
God of the young! Who for us died,
Oh, keep us ever near thy side;
In sorrow's hour be thou our stay,
And bring us to thy perfect day.
243
I 
END OF THE FIRST SERIES.
WE have passed over a period of eight years, from the
founding of the Patapsco Institute in 1841, to the close
of the school-year in 1849, having selected from written
addresses such as seemed least local in character, and
most generally applicable to the young in school, at home,
and in the various other circumstances of life. We have
kept in view the wants of teachers, who may not have the
leisure to prepare addresses on moral subjects, but conscientiously consider that the literary instructions of their
pupils, do not constitute their highest duty. We have
remembered our debt of gratitude to those, who in years
long passed, wrote books of instruction for the young;-a
debt incurred in youth, by the appropriation of the counsels in self-education, and in after years doubled by the
aid received from them in the training of others committed
to our charge. To discharge this debt to the rising generation, and to those by whom they are to be educated, is
the great object which induces me to bring from their
dusty repositories the time-worn manuscripts in which are
244
* 0 0 
REPORT OF BOARD OF TRUSTEES.
embodied my instructions to my pupils, and my system of
education.
NOTE.-During the years 1847-8, instead of the weekly addresses,
were occasionally read, in serial numbers, stories written for the
pupils, among which was " Ida Norman," with some others, as yet
unpublished.
Tsz following extract is from a report of the Board of Visitors of 1849, among
whom were the late Chancellor Johnson of Maryland, Rev. Dr. Atkinson (now
Bishop of North Carolina), Hon. J. P. Kennedy, late Secretary of the Navy, with
other distinguished gentlemen:
The scheme of education which has come within the view of the
Board of Examination, matured as it has been by the discrimittating and accomplished mind, and by the rare experience of the
lady, MRs. LINCOLN PIIELPS, who presides over the Institute, and
not less effectively sustained by her talented coadjutors in every
branch of instruction, would seem to leave nothing to be supplied
for the increase of its value to the community. The studies of the
Institute embrace within their scope an unusually large range of
scholastic acquirement. They are drawn from the best sources,
and are illustrated by authors of the most approved excellence.
The course marked out for each class, seems to be singularly well
adapted to the age aad progress of the pupil, and calculated to
ensure the largest amount of instruction compatible with the con.
dition of those to whom it is imparted.
The moral discipline of the school not less favorably attracts the
regard of the undersigned than the scholastic. The invaluable
impressions of good precept and good example in forming the
characters of the young, in teaching the decorum of life, its vir
245
4 
HOURS WITH MY PUPILS.
tues, its charities and its courtesies, are duly and prominently
brought within the social government of the Institute, and are
inculcated with a success and effect that are everywhere visible
throughout the establishment.
In closing their report, the committee are not willing to pretermit the agreeable duty of renewing the expression of their testimnony to the signal merits of the distinguished lady, whose reputationl no less than her judicious control, has given character to the
Institute; and the eminent deserts of that assiduous, skillful, and
accomplished company of teachers and aids, who have so effectively seconded her efforts. Throughout a wide range of useful
science and graceful art, everything appears to be well taught by
those competent to the task.
246 
SECOND SERIES,
Commencing with the School-year of 1 849-5o,
and closing July, 1856. 
A 
ADDRESS I.
WHAT SCHOOLS OUGHT TO BE-AND WHAT SCHOLARS OUGHT
TO BE.
WHEN we say there are in our country few literary in stitutions for girls, you may be surprised at this asser tion: almost every pupil, here, remembers that her parents
were perplexed, among the multitude of schools, to decide
where to send her to complete her academical education.
There are, indeed, many fashionable, and popular schools
for young ladies, but few, comparatively, that are so
conducted as to secure the pupils the advantages of a
thorough, practical, education, combined with good moral
and religious influence.
In some schools, much valuable time is spent in crochetwork, embroidery, the manufacture of toys and trifles;
and, in some, claiming to be of a higher order, the principals do not even profess to understand the literary or
scientific branches taught, but are satisfied with employing teachers in these departments, of whose qualifications
they are incapable of judging.
What would be thought of the president of a college, or
principal of a boys' school, who should be found ignorant
of the different literary and scientific branches taught in
the same?
11*
24.9 
HOURS WITH MY PUPILS.
There are schools for girls conducted by gentlemen of
learning-these cannot be called superficial; true, they
are not liable to that objection, and they may present
advantages for a thorough literary education; but a
gentleman may be very learned, and yet very ignorant of
the associations which are most powerful in the female
mind; he may not, nay, he cannot know how to advise
young girls on many points of importance connected with
prudence or propriety of conduct; and there are subjects
of interest connected with physical education on which
hlie could not speak to his pupils.
The female mind possesses its specific characteristic
traits, which women, themselves, best understand and appreciate; they know the peculiar weaknesses of their
sex, their course of thinking, their moral dangers, and
the temptations which life presents. Women should,
therefore, be prepared to act as educators of their own
sex. For this purpose, they should, themselves, be educated; their reasoning and reflective faculties should be
exercised, and their minds cultivated by study and systematic training. They may thus become fitted to guide
and educate the young, either as mothers or sisters at
the home fire-side, as governesses in families, assistants in
schools, or as principals of educational establishments for
their own sex. We would not that women should be
presidents of male colleges, but is it more absurd to suppose a lady presiding over an institution for young men
than to imagine a gentleman as sole principal of a young
ladies' school? Associated with a lady of education and
250 
I)OMESTIC AND RELIGIOUS TRAINING.
dignity of manners, who is vested with authority to act as
principal in such cases as mo-:e especially belong to the
care and direction of girls, a gentlemana  may, with propriety, preside over their  literary education.   As regardcls the cares of business, and financial direction of a
large establishment, we  must admit  that, in general,
women are less competent managers than men.
In the organiization of this institution, it was designed
as a place for literary education, in connection with such
domestic and religious training as might fit the pupils for
the peculiar duties of their sex in this life, and prepare
them to act with reference to the world which lies beyond
these earthly scenes.   Yet we approve and encourage
feminine pursuits-thus, we expect you, once a week, to assemble with your work-boxes and materials for work, that
you may be busy with your fingers while listening to the
reading of select pieces or original compositions; but we
also aim at a certain degree of thoroughness in the higher
departments of learning. WVe do not think that girls
must, of necessity, be superficial; and though they cannot
become so learned in the classics and mathematics as
college students, who devote most of their time to these
studies, they can learn well as far as they go; and they
can go as far as they have time consistently with the
varied accomplishments which they are expected to
acquire, as music, and perhaps drawing, with some
knowledge of domestic affairs, of arranging their rooms
neatly, a knowledge of plain sewing with the ability to
execute some fancy-work-the latter has been found of
251 
IIouRs WITHI MY PUPILS.
much use in the fairs gotten up to build, or furnish
churches, and even to found literary institutions for the
education of young men. To sustain the reputation our
Institute has acquired will demand the continued efforts of
teachers and pupils. We profess to have a good and
thorough system of education; let us consider what this
requires of us, that we may not fall below our own
standard.
Our standard of manners should be high.  This forbids
all that is low in speech or action, all that would be in consistent with refinement and delicacy, all tricks and
meannesses, which some foolish girls consider as proofs of
cleverness. What great errors do tile young commit who
make themselves buffoons for the amusement of others, or
who seek to gain notoriety by daring to set aside proper
restraints I
It is not necessary to go to modern teachers of politeness and good manners to learn rules for behavior-the
Holy Scriptures, on this subject, as in more important
matters, contain ample directions, and if your minds
could be thoroughly imbued with its teachings, so that
they would enter your hearts and influence your lives, you
would be perfect patterns of gentleness, simplicity, truthfulness, politeness, and true Christian loveliness of character.  The Bible teaches that we should in honor prefer
others to ourselves, and that we should be kind and courteous, doing to others as we would they should do unto
us. If such were the motives by which society was influenced, how different would be its aspect from what we
252 
SUPERFICIAL KNOWLEDGE.
now see, where politeness is often a cloak for the most
selfish and unworthy designs.
We profess to have a high literary standard, and
whatever is taught, is expected to be thoroughly understood. In learning a language, you should enter into, and
master difficulties-you should study independently, not
looking to others to help you out of difficulties. You
should think, reflect, compare, and examine, using your own
judgment; memory will then have something committed
to her worth the keeping. If you try to learn by rote,
without first understanding, poor memory will be sadly
troubled to keep together a mere mass of words-but
give her thoughts and ideas to take care of, that is, your
own thoughits which you have carefully dug out of the
mine of knowledge, and how will she brighten up, how
tenaciously will she guard the treasure committed to her!
Without this hard study, this finding out for yourselves,
your deficiencies will be apparent to all, and you cannot
even deceive yourselves. When you study the conjugation of a verb, or the declension of a noun or pronoun,
you should so learn, that let any part be taken by itself,
you can at once translate or recite it.  The superficial
scholar requires to be told how to begin, and then poor
memory is dragged in to help out with the rest, and, like a
parrot, goes on, "eram, eras, erat," etc.; or "je porte, tu
portes, il porte," etc. Now, this is not knowing, nor would
a thousand years of such study make a scholar. We
often observe when younger pupils are called on to
answer, simultaneously, questions upon their lessons, there
253 
H-OURs WIlrHl MY PUPILs.
will be some who watch others to catch their accents, and
then, with an air of confidence, repeat what they have
said, or are saying. Whatever you study, try to know,
not merely for the day of your present lesson but for
your whole life.
After hearing a botanical lecture, you should pursue, in
your own mind, a train of investigation; think of the peculiarities of the plants examined, the principles to be
applied to new cases, and make deductions for yourselves
from facts stated. One pupil may merely remember that
the teacher analyzed a blue or a red flower, that it had a
long or short stem, large or small leaves; while another pupil
has comprehended the laws of construction illustrated by
particular plants; she has exercised her powers of comparison and generalization, has passed from the individual to the species, from them she has made deductions as
to natural affinities between this and other known plants,
she has learned to perceive specific and generic characters,
and having become acquainted with individual plants, to
group them into their appropriate natural orders and
classes, according to the laws of her own mind.  Thus,
by its generic characters she can recognize a Veronica,
Viola or Orchis, though of a species before unknown to
her.   This recognition,  indeed,  requires practical  acquaintance with plants. The attentive student, in the
first stages of the study, learns the methods of analysis,
and acquires a facility in finding out the names of plants,
by examining their structure, and referring to her
guide-books. These books will teach that this analysis
254 
IMPROVING TiEE.
is but the first step in the study of plants, and that
the student should not rest at the threshold of this
science.
The subject of learning things thoroughly, in its application to different branches of education is too extensive
to be followed out, at this time, but I would urge upon
each of you its due consideration.   If you have more
studies than you can learn well, your burden should be
lightened; but first consider whether you do improve all
your time allotted for study to the very best advantage,
whether you are not indolent and listless, and do not let
the hours slip by with little exertion; whether you do
not spend much time in getting ready to begin to do
somnething, looking up books carelessly thrown down, or
finlding some one to help you to get your lessons-or, perhaps you have not yet learned the best way of pursuing
your studies. Whatever you do, do it earnestly.
Our standard of mnorals should be high-even above
intellectual eminence, should morality be placed. What
is to become of our country, if schools for its future
women are not pure fountains of morality? What will
be the character of future generations, if the mothers
who are now being educated are not intelligent, virtuous
women, who will be ready to sacrifice pleasure to duty,
and set an example of strict and undeviating integrity to
those whose characters will be committed to their forming
hands?
Our standard of religious duty should be high.   We
profess to be a Christian school.  The  character  and
255 
-HoURS WITIH MIY PUPILS.
teachings of the blessed Saviour, whose name we bear,
should be our example and guide. We should study his
character and teachings. In the Hlistory of His life, we
observe first, His humility-His early years were spent in
lowly circumstances, laboring with his hands for his daily
subsistence. After he had become distinguished as a great
teacher and benefactor, he was still simple in his habits,
and chose for his associates and friends the poor and
humble.
The outward observances of religion are of little impor tance, unless connected with the inward sentiment.   Sup pose a monarch possessed of the power of reading the
hearts of his subjects, beholding among the crowd of
courtiers, one in whom he sees indifference or enmity;
he is scrupulous as to all the ceremonies of the court,
bowing exactly as etiquette demands, gracefully presenting himself before his sovereign in the most humble posture, repeating with great correctness whatever the forms
of court etiquette prescribe.-How would such a subject
appear iu the eyes of his master-would not his professions be despised, and his real character odious?  God
is this monarch; he requires the homage of the heart,
he  desires of his creatures no  "vain oblations "-outward observances are the mere circumstances in religious
life, and should be so regarded. The "Sermon on the
Mount," which contains the first public teachings of our
blessed Saviour, may be considered as embodying the
principles of his religion; meekness of spirit, humility,
desire for holiness, a merciful and forgiving temper, purity
256 
THE CHRISTIAN GRACES.
of heart and life, and willingness to suffer in a good cause
-these are enumerated as Christian graces. While the
peace-makers, those who are kind to the poor, and who
are ready to forgive injuries, are pronounced blessed;
such as make hypocritical professions of great piety, or
who think they "shall be heard for their much speaking,"
are condemned.
We might enlarge upon the topic of what a school
ought to be, and what pupils should be. But our subject
spreads out in extent before us, and like everything in
life, must be broken off. A broken shaft may well represent the termination of human researches and human
plans, which can never be completed, never finished-something must be omitted, something wanting-and so our
subject, so full and inexhaustible, must now be broken off.
1850,
257 
ADDRESS II.
LETTERS.
SOME persons excuse themselves from writing letters to
their absent friends, because they have no news. What
a frivolous reason t as if those who love others, and are
interested in their welfare, would not prefer to know their
thoughts and feelings, rather than to be informed of events
in which they have little or no interest, or what is commonly called news.
What  child can find it difficult to fill a letter to a
parent, with warm, affectionate, and grateful sentiments!
What child, on reviewing the past, cannot see in memory's tablet, some records of disobedience, of conduct which
has grieved a parent's heart? and when sitting solitary,
and looking into the chambers of thought, such sad images arise, how sweet the privilege to address that injured
parent in the language of penitence, even to magnify the
past error, that the humiliation may be the greater.
In writing a letter to your parents, my dear pupils,
endeavor to prepare your mind for the duty, by some
previous reflection; think whom you are to address, think
of all the benefits they have bestowed upon you;-before
you could know them they watched over you; when you 
]D)UTIES TO P-ARENTS.
were helpless and feeble, they guarded you from harm,
suffering for your sakes many privations and anxieties
such as none but parents can know.
Think of the trouble you have since caused them by
your wayward temper, your neglect of their advice, and
disregard of their admonitions;-and can you have nothing to say to them about all this, when you are separated
from them, and your consciences are awakened to feel
that, in respect to them, you "have done the things you
ought not to have done, and have left undone the things
that you ought to have done?"  You can little realize
how precious to the heart of a parent are letters from a
child which express grateful sentiments, sorrow for past
undutifulness or neglect, and the warm gushing of filial
love.
Your parents send you from home for your improvement.  Their solicitude for you is great; it may be that
they were not well able to afford the expenses they are
incurriing; but they have said, "the education of my
child shall be my first object; I may soon be taken away
from her, and she left alone to meet the troubles of life
she will need a cultivated mind, under all circumstances
to endow her with this gift every effort must be made.?
The days seem long to them which separate you; but
your letters are looked for, as messengers of happiness to
cheer the family circle.
Think then, what kind of letters you should write to
your parents, and to others in the home-circle.  Will it be
pleasing to them that you should dwcll on every disa
259 
HOURS WITrh MY PUPILS.
greeable circumstance, that you should murmur at privations, or express your envy of those who are permitted to
remain at home? In short, would you follow them when
absent, with those bad traits of character which troubled
them when you were at home?  F,- who are, usually, the
discontented at school? Surely not the most affectionate
daughters when at home; but those who are restless in
their dispositions, who love to find fault; who, when with
their parents, rendered them unhappy through their perverseness of temper.
The good and affectionate daughter leaves home for
school determined to spend her time to the best advantage; in proportion as she loves and respects her parents,
she honors and confides in those whom they have chosen
to direct her education. When she writes letters she tries
to do it in such a manner as will gratify her parents in
respect to her improvement.  She has no need of news,
to exaggerate inconveniences nor to manufacture falsehoods, for her heart is full of kind and loving thoughts,
and words cannot be wanting where such exist.  She is
capable of gratitude, and appreciates the kindness of
strangers; all is seen by her in the reflective light of her
own good nature.
We will give you two specimens of letters written by
school-girls to parents. Perhaps some of you knew Miss
Snarl, who writes as follows: the sheet of paper is soiled
and rumpled, the date appears scribbled half-way down
the page, 0so as to leave less space to be filled up.
260 
AN UNGRATEFUL LETTER.i
"UNFEELIING PARENTS:  I would  of written  before if
I had any news, but shut up in this prison, we don't of
course have any, so you can read the newspapers for that
(I should not write now only I want you should send me
some money).  When we arrived at this mean village of
Ellicotts Mills, we were directed to get upon some rocks,
and climb up a narrow passage; in this way we pro  ceeded for some miles, I should think (though this may be
exaggerated), but any how, it was the worst climbing I
ever done, and we were nearly ten minutes in coming from
the depot to this place. But one would be willing to
make some exertion to get to that which is agreeable
but all this fuss was to find a school, to be confined in like
a prisoner. After we had groped our way along, ever so
far, we came to a road that led up to the Institute.   The
Institute! Yes, it is no doubt instituted for the torment
of poor girls banished from everything that is pleasant.
I really do not see what pleasure folks can take in such a
life as they lead here. If they had any kindness of heart
they would let us do as we choose, and not as they think
best. But no, I do believe they love to torment us; we
must get up when a bell rings, we must be silent in study
hours, we must descend to the mean employment of putting away, and even mending our own clothes; and if we
talk and laugh in our classes we get a mark. As to these
r,arks which some dread so much, I don't care for them.
I mean to do what I please; but if you will only let me
go home, I won't quarrel no more with Ned and Molly,
and keep the house in disorder. I have eat up all my
261 
IIOURS WITH MY PUPILS.
goodies. I am really hungry, and would like to live in our
pantry for one week, and do nothing but eat. The fair
here isn't but tolerable! I am tired of eating candy so
much. I have carried it about in my pocket till I am
sick of it. The piano keys where I practise are always
stuck up with the candy which my fingers leave on them,
and I expect every day to hear a mark read for it; but
I say again, I don't care for marks. I have had my will
at home, and I mean to have it here. We have been
expecting to have some awful sickness, the scarlet fever,
measles, small pox, or yellow fever; but I do believe the
poor girls are afraid to have anything which is not according to rule.
"No more at present from your distressed and miserable child,
"1 GROWLINDA SNARL.?
It is a relief to turn from this snarling epistle to one of
a different character. You all know Miss Goodchild, and
she writes as you would have expected.
"MY  DEAR PARENTS:   Though somewhat  fatigued
with my journey, I will not let a day pass without informing you of my welfare. On reaching the romantic village
of Ellicotts-Mills, we were directed to the Institute by a
winding path which leads up a steep ascent; but were
amply rewarded for our labor, by the delightful prospect
presented on every side.
"In my own mind I compared this with the pursuit of
262 
A GOOD LETTER.
knowledge before me. The way may be rough, I may
have to pursue it alone, or unaccompanied by those whom
I most love, but yet, great rewards will attend perseverance in my journey. Yet, thought I, as panting for
breath I ascended the lofty eminence leading to the Institute,
"'How hard it is to climb the steep,
Where Fame's proud temple shines afar!'
"Determined as I am to be happy, and to accomplish
the objects for which you have, at so much expense and
such sacrifice of your own feelings, sent me to school, I
shall find no difficulty in controlling my thoughts and fixing them upon my studies.
"If I am ever tempted to murmur at any duty, the
thoughts of my dear parents, their anxiety that I may be
found among the best pupils, and the idea that my disgrace would be reflected upon them, shall stimulate me to
renewed efforts;-but indeed, our tasks, so far as I understand what is required, are not hard, and I think there
is, around us, everywhere, a disposition to render us
happy, as well as every facility for improvement; I shall
write more fully soon.
"Your affectionate daughter,
"AGATHA GOODCHILD."
It is said that "while there is life there is hope;"Miss Growlinda has spirit-even her willfulness may be
turned to good account; and we should not wonder if
263 
HiouRS WITH MY PUPILS.
she becomes a favorite among us. We will be kind to her,
and endeavor to teach her that there is something sweeter
than candy-even the consciousness of becoming better
and wiser.  And we must be careful not to spoil little
Agatha by praising her for being good,-" Let him that
thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall."
-  1850.
264 
ADDRESS III.
ON THE CHARACTER OF MISS MERCER, THE TEACHER,
PHILANTHROPIST, AND CHRISTIAN.
FEw among you are unacquainted with the character
of the late Miss Margaret Mercer, who for many years
was the honored Principal of a female school in Virginia.
It is well that those young persons who do not properly
appreciate the claims to honor and respect of faithful and
gifted instructors, should contemplate some one particular
instance of devotedness and merit, that thus they may
learn to place a different value upon those engaged in the
noble work of education.
Miss Mercer was nurtured in ease and affluence, but
she declared in the midst of trials, and too often the
ingratitude of those for whose benefit she labored, that
she found more true enjoyment in the occupation of teaching, than she had ever done in all the pleasures and indulgences of gay and fashionable life. The father of Miss
Mercer was the intimate friend of Jefferson and Madison,
and himself distinguished by the confidence of his fellowcitizenis. He devoted much time to the education of his
daughter; to his instruction she ascribed her fondness for
literature; and to him she was, in a degree, indebted for
12 
]IOURS WITH MY PUPILS.
a high tone of intellect and morals. Her biographer says
of her, "beautiful and accomplished, and occupying a high
social position, she entered upon life with the brightest
prospects before her, and for a time participated in the
usual amusements of the circle in which she moved. But
she very early learned the'luxury of doing good,' and
gave indications of that benevolent and self-sacrificing
spirit which in after life shone so conspicuously in her life
and character."   In one of her lectures to her pupils,
"On Patience," she relates an affecting story of the sufferings and resignation of a poor woman, on whom she
personally attended; thus incidentally disclosing her own
benevolence and sympathy, even at an early, and too often
thoughtless age.
The religious character of Miss Mercer gradually
unfolded itself in beautiful and attractive features.  She,
herself, spake in after life of a change of heart, which in
her case had been the gradual development of a religious
principle, the first unfoldings of which were scarcely perceptible. At the age of twenty-three, she writes to a
cousin in Essex Co., Virginia, in answer to a letter referring to the supposed amusements in which she was considered as indulging. She informed her cousin that so far
from being engaged in worldly pleasures, she had been for
the last month waiting by the sick-bed of a beloved aunt,
expecting that disease would forever remove her dearest
and best friend.
"Thank Heaven," she says, "I have hopes that the
Almighty has heard my earnest prayer, and that a merci
266 
RELIGIOUS CHARACTER OF MISS MERCER. 267
ful Father will not withdraw this model of our imitation.
Last night I had such a golden dream about going to
Essex I I do think if you had a church it would be a
heavenly place. I could cry when I think there is no
church for such dear good people to collect in, and offer
their thanks to Heaven for being so blest. I was confirmed, and had the pious blessing of our venerable old
bishop (Bishop Moore) the day before I came from home.
You cannot think how humble, how penitent, and yet how
happy I feel. It seems as though I still feel the pressure
of his hand upon my head."
"Such," says the biographer of Miss Mercer, "were the
first dawnings of that spiritual life which was more and
more developed until it shone bright and clear, to the
glory of Him who had thus begun a good work in her, to
be perfected only when after forty years' trial she was
taken to the rest prepared for His people."
There was a beauty in the mind of Miss Mercer which
was singularly reflected in her person, at an early age;
but, in after life, when sickness had made its ravages upon
her physical frame, she appeared decrepit, and her countenance bore traces of suffering. But the mind triumphed
over bodily infirmities, and waxed more and more lovely,
as the external investments became less attractive.
She had in early youth a just and refined taste in literature, and though delighted with the beautiful in style,
she was not forgetful to scan the sentiment as the ultimate criterion of literary merit. With such a standard
in her mind, she -ondemned Byron; while admiring his 
tHOURS WITH MY PUPILS.
genius, she was disgusted with his infidelity and heartless
ness, and abhorred the malice which induced him to desire
to infect others with the sentiments which rendered him so
wretched and hopeless.
Yet at this time Byron had not written his later works,
which no female of delicacy would even wish to read, or
have in her possession. And since we are upon this sub ject, it may not be amiss to caution you respecting the
indulgence of imagination in the perusal of improper books.
Indelicate ideas may be expressed in smooth and poetical
numbers, and the most corrupting sentiments may be conveyed through the medium of beautiful language. Some,
indeed much, of the poetry of Thomas Moore is of this
character; and when all his poems are brought together,
it would be better never to read those which are unexceptionable in sentiment, than to attempt to pick out amidst
the corrupting mass, the gems which may be imbedded
therein.
The letters of Miss Mercer to her cousin and young
friend, even at an early period of her life, are beautiful
specimens of pure and elevated composition.  Her letters
contain no vulgar phrases, no low conceits, or malicious
slanders, no frivolous gossip or unmeaning tattle; but
they bespeak a mind elevated, earnestly seeking wisdom
and knowledge, and desiring to make others wiser and
better.
We have not time to proceed with the circumstances
which led the gifted and accomplished Margaret Mercer
to devote her talents and life to the education of the
268 
MISS MERCER's LOVE OF NATURE.
young, which she did in the spirit of the most devoted
self-sacrifice; and yet, here, she found the element her
soul sought after; here she found that happiness which
the world had never imparted. In the midst of her pupils
she found the opportunity she so much desired of doing
good. She loved to direct their thoughts to the great
and good God through the medium of his works. She
regarded the study of nature in its various forms, as tending to refinement of taste, and especially as conducive
to pious feelings. She loved flowers-to paint them from
nature, and to study their botanical relations.   She
observed with wonder and awe the laws of attraction,
magnetism and affinity, and made every lesson in science
conducive to higher attainments in piety.
Miss Mercer's great desire was the moral and religious
improvement of her pupils; she watched over them with
a mother's solicitude, and grieved over the thoughtless
and erring, even as a tender parent sorroweth over a
wayward and unpromising child. She possessed in an
eminent degree the love and confidence of her pupils;
those who sought improvement, knew how to value the
advantages which, under her care, they enjoyed. But all
her pupils did not appreciate her labors, her talents and
high moral worth.   Thoughtless and impatient if restrained, or possessing bad traits of character which they
wished to hide, some did not like the government which
would control irregularities; others feared a penetration
into character which would reveal their secret faults; to
such young persons Miss Mercer was doubtless repulsive.
269 
HOURS WITH MY PUPILS.
To them she was only a diminutive woman of singular
plainness of dress, and destitute of any attraction; they
did not like her.  But to those who could appreciate her
talents and worth, who could understand the beauties
of her mind and heart, there was a perception in her presence (as I have heard her pupils describe) of something
angelic-a charm almost supernatural, which attracted to
her. Some of her former pupils have been members of
this institution; I have delighted to listen to their descriptions of her. She was truly one of those noble educators who adorned their profession and made it honorable. The principal teacher * at Miss Mercer's school
graduated (under my instruction) at Troy, N. Y., Seminary.    She was privileged to be at the dying-bed of
this interesting woman, and reports that her last words
were, "It is sweet to depart and be with Jesus."
May we live the life of the righteous, that our last end
may be as theirs I
* Miss Ingersoll of Massachusetti
270 
ADDRESS IV.
GOOD WORDS AND WORKS.
AGAIN we have arrived upon the confines of Christmas
and New-Year, and many of you are eager for expected
meetings with friends, and the pleasure of being released
from school rules.
Some of you, having been absent a few short months
from home, are about to return thither again.  It. may be
that those whose homes are too far distant to be reached
in a few hours, feel sad that they must be deprived of the
enjoyments connected with such visits. But in general it
may be remarked, that pupils entirely separated from home
influences and associations while at school, accomplish
more than those who, by frequent visiting at home, return
to old habits and associations, so that each time of coming again to school they are obliged to begin anew the
work of improvement.
It may be considered but a poor compliment to the
home of a pupil to suppose that she will not, there, be
trained up better than elsewhere; yet, without any disrespect to parents or home influences, it must be acknowledged that children do, at home, often acquire habits of
idleness and self-indulgence which must be overcome to
fit them for the duties of life; and that when they return
271 
HOURS WITH MY PIUPILS.
to the accustomed scenes of former indulgence they
naturally fall into the same routine of life and behavior.
At home you like to indulge in sitting up late, and
wasting your morning hours in bed; you prefer to be
waited on, rather than take useful exercise in doing things
for yourself. You like to complain to your parents, be cause they pity you, and seem to care more for you when
you appeal to their sympathies. You like to eat irregu larly of such things as suit your appetite, whether good
for health or not. With servants you may be capricious;
with brothers and sisters, perhaps fretful and exacting,
unwilling to make the exertions and sacrifices, yourself,
which you demand of them.
Now, the great advantage in going from home to
school, is in breaking off all bad habits formed through
the indulgence of parents too often blind to the faults of
their children, or if seeing them, destitute of the resolution to carry out effective plans for their reformation.
Doctors are often unwilling to prescribe for their own
families in sickness: they prefer trusting to the judgment
of other physicians. Parents are, indeed, often the poorest physicians for the moral ailments of their children;
and so, it is well they should intrust them to others for a
certain time at that period of life when bad habits must
either be conquered, or become masters.
Now, what are your moral complaints, the bad habits,
the disagreeable ways, and unpleasant tempers which you
should be cured of; which have hitherto stood in the way
of your own happiness, and that of your home fireside?
272 
PRACTICAL -DUTIEs.
It is not likely there is one of you who has not something to regret as to the past, some amendment to desire
for the future.
Those who are going home, will do well to consider how
they ought to deport themselves. When one is going to
any place, it is natural to form some plan beforehand as
to how she intends to act, and to form some idea of the
impression she will be likely to make upon others. Because you are to meet parentsobrothlers and sisters, should
you be less careful about your conduct than if you were
going among strangers?
You might say, "Our feelings will prompt us to act
rightly. We love and honor our parents, and, of course,
we shall be affectionate and obedient;" but it is not of
coarse that this will be so; there are in the world a great
many selfish, undutiful, hard-hearted children; and often
when the indulgence is greatest on the side of the parent,
there is most ingratitude on the part of the child.
It is not by showing excess of feeling when you meet
your parents, that you will manifest any essential improvement in your characters. You must think in what duties
you have hitherto most failed, to what faults you have
been most liable, and begin by doing those things that
you know you should do, but have formerly neglected.
Rise in good season in the morning, and dress yourselves
neatly; look about and see what you can do to make home
more cheerful. Shut doors carefully after you, in rooms
which should be closed; ask servants kindly for what you
want. When they do things awkwardly, and you can
12*
273 
lOURS WITHl MY PUPILS.
think of a better mode of doing the same, suggest this to
them in a pleasant way. After servants have cleaned
rooms, there is usually required the hand of taste and
neatness to arrange things so as to give a pleasant, sociable and refined look or coup d'al.
Be attentive to little things: take your father's hat,
cane or umbrella, if you meet him as he comes into the
house: it is so pleasant to parents to see their children
observant and thoughtful.* Think what you can say or
do to make home pleasant;-exercise there, your accomplishments if you have any; if you can play or sing but
tolerably well, do the best you can. You can all read;
try to find something in books or newspapers to suggest
subjects for conversation, or read in the family circle such
passages as you think might please. Do not be too
anxious to go somewhere or have company: it is sad when
families can find no happiness in each other. Above all,
cultivate no intimacies, nor make any acquaintances,
except as your parents approve; nor invite company to
your homes but with their knowledge and consent.
Children may see faults in their parents. What shall
they do in such cases? It is hard to say-but a virtuous
daughter of mature age, loving a parent above all earthly
friends, might wisely suggest, with caution and tenderness, thoughts tending to good.
Suppose a father, worldly-minded, bent on gaining
wealth at whatever cost of health and principle; a pious
daughter might speak of the vanity and uncertainty of
riches, and allude to enduring treasures in another world.
.i
274 
THE RIGHT STOPPING-PLACE.
A mother, careful and troubled, like Martha of old, might,
by a daughter's pious reflections, or a word spoken ill
season, be led to see her fault in being too careful about
"much serving."
There are tendencies to evil, even when pursuing what
is proper and right in the conduct of life. It is not in
human nature to stop just at the right point, but there is
a tendency either to go beyond, or to stop short of the
proper limit; either of which is faulty. We can often
see better what is right, in the case of others, than in our
own. When moving onward, there is sometimes a difficulty in discovering the right stopping-place.
A wise and pious young person may be a blessing and
honor to her parents and her family. Striving to do
right, herself, she diffuses around her peace and happiness,
so far as may be in her power. Brothers are made better
by the influence and example of a good and judicious sister-not one who sets herself up for a pattern, who
would exalt herself and put down others; but one who
quietly moves on in her proper sphere, cheerful, attentive
and obliging, refined and active in doing for the happiness
of others. But how seldom we see in young girls good
sense and sound judgment united with piety and conscientiousness. Such things do exist, but where are they to
to be found? Not usually among the children of luxury
who have never felt a necessity for exertion of any kind.
Such may wish to act nobly, may have good aspirations,
but how seldom can they conquer their fixed habits of
indolence: putting off duties till a more convenient sea
275 
HIOURS WITH MY PUPILS.
son, they satisfy their consciences by feeling that they
love goodness; that they would like to be good, if it
were not so much trouble. They have, what Lord Kaimes
calls "the sympathetic emotion of virtue," which he
proves, hardens the heart when felt without leading to
action; the mind becomes satisfied with itself, and
regards the sympathy felt, as an equivalent for actions
performed; the wish to do right, as a substitute fop having done so. At length, the sympathetic emotion of
virtue may cease even to prompt to action. Look at the
novel-reader pursuing with absorbing interest her tale of
virtue and distress. She may let fall some tears of commiseration, and indignant at the oppressor, wish she could
step forward to the relief of the heroine;-yet she lies at
ease stretched out upon her luxurious couch, or lounging
in her cushioned rocking-chair, fancying herself good,
because  she  has  sympathized  with virtue in distress.
Perhaps she calls a, servant  to hand  her a glass of
water, or perform some service, which she might better
have done for herself, and the servant, it may be, is sick,
and with evident feebleness performs what is required of
her; how does our sympathizing novel-reader act?  She
probably takes little or ~no notice of the languid air, or
feeble step of her attendant; but fretfully complains that
she had has to wait, and wishes she might be better
served. Perhaps she hears of a case of sickness or distress in her neighborhood or among her friends, but she
thinks not of offering to assist by her exertions; she feels
far less sympathy with actual suffering near her, than
276 
SENTIMENTAL VIRTUE.
with the imaginary actors of romance. Such is sentimen tal virtue I How poor and inoperative, how little to be
admired or esteemed I
Behold the young woman who dreads not labor, whose
step is quick and elastic, whose activity shows a desire to
promote the happiness of those around her; she lives not
in a dreamy state of reverie, admiring the virtue she has
not the strength to imitate; not only on her tongue is the
law of kindness, but her deeds are worthy effects of
principles of benevolence and love.
Happy is that young person; her course in life must
be one of usefulness; in her breast morbid and gloomy
feelings find no place; her time is employed in doing good
to herself or others-or improving her mind by useful
study, or in works of love and kindness.
In the last chapter of Proverbs, the mother of king
Lemuel describes a good woman: this chapter is worthy
of much study, for it is rich with instruction as to the
good qualities of woman. First, it is said that "her husband hath not need of spoil," by which is to be understood that she is not wasteful or extravagant, but knows
how to make the best of a little, by her prudence and
good management   "She will do her husband good, and,
not evil, all the days of her life." It is of a woman of
good sense, industry and economy, only that this can be said.
The good woman is said "to work willingly with her
hands," not in fancy needle-work merely, but in providing
clothing for her family, so that her husband appears with
fine linen, when he sitteth in high places, or "with the
277 
H-ouRs WVITH MY PUPIL8.
elders at the gates."  "Her household are not afraid of
the snow," for they are warmly clad through the care
and activity of this good mistress. She herself appears
clad in beautiful garments by the labor of her own hands.
Her'conversation is seasoned with wisdom and discretion,
and she studies to govern her conduct with judgment and
prudence.
Think, my dear pupils, of such a character; strive to
resemble it. When you see levity, indolence, extravagance and folly, pity but do not imitate.
Those of you who are going from the Institute for a
short time, should improve this pause in your scholastic
life. Carry home with you activity, and hearts full of love
and kindness to all. Pain not your friends by seeming
reluctant to return to your school duties when the holidays are past; but rather surprise them by your zeal to
press onward in your pursuit of knowledge: express your
gratitude for advantages of education afforded you, and
your determination to make the best use of them. Govern your tongues in respect to your school and school
companions; circulate no idle tales, which will tend more
to your own disadvantage than to that of others; but by
excelling in mind, manners and morals, may you prove
that you are not of those on whom instruction is thrown
away.
-1850.
2978 
ADDRESS V.
TO THE GRADUATES.
Commencement, July 31, 1859.
YOUNG LADIES OF THE GRADUATING CLASS: You have,
in successive years, beheld your seniors receive their last
testimonials of approbation, and have wept to see them
depart, sorrowing that they were no longer to dwell
among us. Time has brought the hour when you, too,
are to go, not for a short vacation, a season of recreation,
to return again and resume your relations as pupils;but you go, to come back no more. You go, to take your
places in the world, to act your parts in its busy scenes.
But though there may be before you bright anticipations
of a dawning future, you cannot, unmoved, sever the ties
which bind you to this place, to those you leave behind,
and to each other, as sisters and companions. Though
sadly experienced in such scenes as this, when cherished
daughters depart as they blossomed into loveliness, and
their hold upon our affections had become strongest, it is
not for us to regard this present scene unmoved.
Your class is the largest which has graduated at this
institution-many of you came here children, in person
and character; you are now thoughtful, and serious-minded
women-and though these traits of character may apply
279 
HOURS WITH MY PUPILS.
more fully to some of you, than to others, yet that you now
stand in your places on this occasion, is an evidence that
each one of you has thought, and resolved, and performed;
and we trust that the habit of thiinking, resolving, and per forming, being in some degree formed, none of you will
enter upon life unconscious of, and indifferent to its duties
and obligations.
At this time, especially, when the world is agitated by
revolutions, and our own beloved country threatened with
disunion and the horrors of domestic strife, woman has a
high and holy mission to perform. May you, my beloved
pupils, daughters of the North and of the South, seek in
your respective homes to assuage the angry passions which
would lead brother to contend with brother. Woman
should be conservative; on her depend, in a great measure,
the destinies of nations, as well as of families.
Go then, my daughters;-with a parent's love, receive
a parent's blessing;-my prayer for you all shall be, that
on earth you may accomplish your mission, as Christian
women, so that, in Heaven, you may receive the Christian's
reward.
280 
ADDRESS VI.
BAD ADVISERS.
"How blest is he who ne'er consents
By ill advice to walk."
WHEN a fond parent parts with a beloved daughter,
committing her to the care and influence of strangers,
many fears suggest themselves as to the nature and effects
of this influence. With the utmost prudence on the part
of parents in selecting a school for their children, evils of
a formidable character may arise where least expected.
Thus, those who have the care of the young may be
faithful, watchful and judicious; their assistants may be
in all respects competent to the discharge of their duties;
but, by chance, there may be among the flock gathered
together from various climes and homes, a few whose
habits are evil, whose minds are contaminated by vicious
thoughts and feelings, and whose example and advice
would  be injurious.   The stranger, in a moment  of
sad repinings for home and the dear friends she has left,
meets in some private recess a pupil of this class, whose
influence may counteract the good advice she received
from her parents before leaving home, and the efforts and
28] 
H-OURS WITHE MY PUPILS.
care of those who now stand to her in the relation of
parents.
We will call the stranger, Lois (a name honored in
Scripture), and the dangerous companion, Calypso, who
was represented as the tempter of the young Telemachus.
Our young friend Lois, having just parted from her
parents, is very sad; she thinks no one cares for her,
everything is new and strange, new places and new faces,
new duties, new employments, and new privations I She perceives movements which she cannot account for; bells are
rung, and all change their places; if it were not that they
seem serious and busy, she might suppose they were playing
at the old game of " Puss in a corner," and running from
place to place for the mere sake of change. The manner
of pursuing studies, of reciting lessons, and of doing many
other things is different from what she has been accustomed to;-and she longs for the old familiar objects
which are associated with her affections, and seem to be
a part of her existence. Sad at heart, Lois sits down in
a corner of her little room, perhaps on her trunk, the only
familiar object near her, the only possession in the wide
world which she can claim as her own. I.n her despondency Calypso enters the room: she sits down by Lois
and begins to talk with her.
"And so you are left here alone, my dear; it is really
too bad that strangers should be so treated. I have
been wanting to call and see you ever since you came,
but Miss Crabapple kept me in her room after school to
study over a lesson just because I did not know it; for the
282 
THE TEMPTER.
truth is, I hate study, and am determined not to become
as stupid as those who are called the good girls here;
such a dull set, you have no idea I But how long since
you came-where do you live-have you been classed yetwhat are you going to learn-how long are you obliged
to stay-do you expect to have to be here in vacation?"
But we cannot repeat all the questions which, in rapid
succession, are asked of the new scholar by Calypso.
Lois, with tears, answers that her parents came with
her, a few hours since-that they have left her, and she
is very unhappy, for she has never before been abroad to
school, and she is afraid she shall find it difficult to do
her duty now sheis left to herself.
"Left to yourself!" says Calypso, "you will find quite
enough to attend to you.   You'll be watched closely
enough, I can tell you; but come, let us walk out, the
walls have ears here, so that I cannot talk confidentially,
and I wish to be your friend. It is a great thing to find
a good friend when you come to a place like this, and I
am sure I shall love you devotedly, you are so like one of
my dearest friends, she has just such beautiful eyes as you
have, and just such a sweet mouth."
Lois, cheered by the voice of kindness and sympathy,
and gratified by the soothing accents of flattery, wipes
away her tears, and taking the arm of Calypso, is conducted by her to an arbor, overlooking a beautiful prospect of hills, valleys, and rivers, where, amidst the picturesque wildness of nature, the art and industry of man are
conspicuous and add variety to the scene.
283 
H IOURS WITHI MY PUPILS.
And here, where all should prompt to pure and elevated thoughts, does Calypso seek to poison the mind of
the stranger, by infusing distrust, suspicion, and apprehension of all around her, magnifying the privations she
will suffer, and maligning the character and motives of
those with whom she is to associate.
A young girl approaches them, Calypso looks uneasy,
she wishes not that she shall make acquaintance with the
stranger, lest her own influence should be lessened.   Eudosia is one whom Calypso particularly dislikes; often has
she been heard to say, " 1 hate her." When asked why she
hated one so good and gentle, the answer was "she sets herself up to be a pattern, she is trying to court favor by seeming to be better than the rest of us girls, but it is all
hypocrisy."
"Then let me be a hypocrite," was the rejoinder of the
well disposed, "if Eudosia is one; if I could but imitate
her virtues, I should be but too happy."
Eudosia, with kindly interest in the stranger, addresses
her in gentle tones.  "We  do not," says she, "wait for
an introduction when a new sister comes among us; we
know, by our own past feelings, what it is to be a stranger
in a strange place, and how sad are the first moments
after a separation from our dear parents, and when we
feel that we are left alone. But you will not, I am sure,
be sad, long, here, for we are all so happy."
Lois looked at Calypso, who had just said the pupils
were all very unhappy, and wished themselves at home.
Eudosia was a plain-looking girl, with little of tho
284 
THE FALSE AC.CUSER.
fascination of manners which Calypso possessed, and Lois
thought she would prefer the latter for her friend, but
she could not avoid thinking that Eudosia's remarks indicated a better heart than did the slanderous aspersions
of Calypso; and she thought, too, that there was not in
the manner of Eudosia any of that coldness and contempt
with which Calypso had said the pupils treated strangers.
Calypso, rising and taking the arm of the stranger
pupil, said, in a low tone, "You had better not say anything to that girl, she is a spy and a tell-tale."
Lois was astonished at such a charge; the fine, open
countenance and dignified though gentle demeanor of
Eudosia certainly indicated no such traits of character.
She began to fear that Calypso was not a safe friend;
she thought of the lines which she had learned in her
Sunday-school lessons,
"How blest is he who ne'er consents
By ill advice to walk;"
and summoning more resolution than she had before exhibited, Lois said to Calypso, "I like the countenance of
that young lady. I do not wish to entertain distrustful
thoughts of those with whom I have come to live. I like
her because she speaks well of others;" and Lois, turning
to Eudosia, said, to the astonishment of Calypso,
"Is it customary for the young ladies of this school to
ridicule strangers?"
"Certainly it is not a common custom," replied Eudosin; "I have never seen it done except by a few, who are
285 
HIOURS WITH MY PUPILS.
either ill-bred or unamiable. I assure you that when a
new pupil comes, we are generally very desirous to make
her happy, and to cause her to forget, as soon as possible,
that she is among strangers."
"But," said Lois, "is not a pupil here despised and
neglected by teachers and pupils, unless she is of a rich, or
distinguished family."
"All the distinctions we recognize here," replied
Eudosia, "are such as arise from superior talents or merit."
"But you are kept under very strict rules, I suppose,"
remarked Lois.
"We have no rules but such as are for our own good,"
was Eudosia's reply.
Calypso could contain herself no longer:
"This is very fine, Miss Eudosia, to try and get the
new scholar to join your set, the'doing good party.'  I
suppose you consider yourselves as patterns, upholding, as
you do, the teachers in their treatment of us. A meanspirited set you are, with your servile obedience and hypocritical pretensions; but if Miss What-do-you-call-her
prefers your friendship to mine she is welcome to enjoy it;
but she will find herself laughed at, and ridiculed, for
there are some of us, here, who are determined not to be
governed by tyrannical rules, nor influenced by those
whom we consider our inferiors.
As Lois, astonished, looked towards Calypso, her face
flushed, her features distorted, and her frame trembling
with anger, a perfect transfiguration appeared to have
taken place; all the charms she had at first seen in her
286 
THEH  CHIOICE.
countenance had vanished, and ugliness had taken the
place of beauty.
Eudosia attempted to take the hand of Calypso, begging her not to be angry, as she had no idea of offending
her.
"Why," she said, "should my answers to the questions
of the new scholar so displease you?"
"Because," replied Calypso, "they were contrary to
what I had told her, and you would make me out a liar."
'I am sorry," rejoined Eudosia, "that you, Calypso,
should act so unworthily as to attempt to injure this
stranger who has come among us. You would destroy
her happiness, render her suspicious of those in whom she
should confide, so that the objects for which she has been
sent here would be defeated. I did not suppose you
capable of such acts, but I should have said the same, even
bad I known what you had previously told her, for we
should never be afraid to speak the truth."
Lois had left Calypso's side, and taken the arm of Eudosia. She felt how narrow had been her escape from an
intimacy with a false-hearted, unprincipled girl, and
regarded Eudosia as providentially sent to be her deliverer from an ill-adviser.
Calypso, with a sarcastic glance and sinister smile,
walked away, and finding a pupil of congenial character,
gave an exaggerated account of Eudosia's meanness in
interfering between her and the stranger; which account
was whispered about among those who would listen to
scandal. The rudeness of the stranger in repelling Calypso's
287 
'HOURS WITH MY PUPILS.
attentions, was noised about, but no fuel being added
to the fire, in the way of defence or complaint, it soon
went out; the good principles which had been carefully
instilled into the mind of Lois by a pious mother, had
saved her from the seductive influence of an ill-adviser.
And often did she reflect on her narrow escape from a
dangerous intimacy, treasuring up in mind the precious
lines, which, like a friendly monitor, had whispered in her
season of temptation
"How blessed is he who ne'er consents
By ill advice to walk."
, 1851.
288 
ADDRESS VII.
MEDITATE  UPON THESE  THINGS."
1 Timothy, iv. 15.
To man alone, of all the beings who inhabit this earth,
is given the power of contemplation. The flowers of the
field are beautiful to the eye, they are lovely and fragrant; but they do not meditate. We love flowers because
they are attractive; God has created them for us, and
adapted them to give pleasure to our senses and imagination; some fulfill the objects of their being, when they
look beautifully, and give out sweet odors; others are
made for useful purposes-they are the gifts of a kind
Providence; we should love and cherish them, and be very
thankful to Him who so profusely scatters them in our
pathway; but they cannot think, and therefore they are not
accountable to their Creator, or to us who cultivate them.
" Ye are of more value than many sparrows." Animals
are higher in the scale of existence than plants; the birds
can sing; how  sweetly sound  their notes at the early
dawn-in the morning twilight, when Nature is awaking
from nightly repose, the spirit of harmony seems to pervade the groves and forests, the air itself is full of melody.
Poets have loved to think that birds sing hymns to God,
13                     9 
HOURS WITHI MY PUPILS.
that "insects murmur his praise, and quadrupeds salute
Him  at the dawn of day," when they walk forth in His
beautiful world-but this is poetry merely, it is not fact
-the feathered songsters, by their music, may help to ex cite devout aspirations in hearts which can meditate; but
these musicians, themselves, know not God, they enjoy a
mere animal existence.
We can bless God for His great goodness in creating
so much beauty, and harmony, and perfection-we can
meditate upon Him, and His works-we can go forth in
the freshness of morning, or in the pensive evening twi light, and rejoice in all that we see around us, of the
beautiful, the picturesque, and the sublime. How noble
our faculties! How delightful should be the task of
cultivating them, and of continually seeking to raise ourselves to the dignity of which our nature is capable.
Education is designed to lead the young to habits of
reflection. The study of arithmetic is not valuable merely
because this science is necessary in the business of life, but
for its effect on the mind, in leading it to reflect, to think,
to reason; so it is with the higher branches of mathematics, with grammar, languages, natural sciences, ete.all conduce to that one great result, the cultivation of the
reasoning and reflective powers. But there are meditations of a higher and holier nature than those connected
with the intellect; the thoughts and feelings of the soul
directed to moral and religious subjects; the study how
we may best perform our duties in that station of life
where God has placed us.  The thought of moral obliga.
290 
EFFECTS OF MEDrrATION UPON CHAARACTER. 291
tion or duty is not, naturally, pleasing to human nature in
its present imperfect state.
The child loves sensual gratifications; in him the animal nature is predominant. The young girl begins to
love admiration, and for a time this may be a ruling passion. Alas! that with many, this passion is allowed in
maturer years to engross the mind, leaving no room for
nobler and better feelings. When such persons think, it
is not in meditation upon subjects of an elevating nature.
One whose mind is devoted to the world and its vain pursuits, may meditate upon the flattery offered to her personal charms, or may study how to set forth these attractions to the best advantage.'For the sake of appearance
she may pay a decent respect to virtue and piety, but her
own tastes and inclinations are opposed to the pursuits
and meditations connected with an elevated course of
moral conduct.
The pupils collected here, come not merely to learn various branches of education, and accomplishments for this
world alone, but to be disciplined in mind and character
with reference to the two worlds which lie before them.
Meditate on what you are, on your relations to those
around you, to your Creator, and to a future life. Such
meditations will give seriousness and earnestness to your
characters; they will moderate your love of admiration,
and teach you to value above all else, the approbation of
God and your own conscience; they will impart to your
minds serenity and peace; they will raise you above the
trifles of earth to that heaven of purity and love to which 
HoURs WITH MY PUPILS.
the good aspire.  "Every saint in Heaven," says the
great Dr. Edwards, "is as a flower in the garden of God,
and holy love is the fragrance and sweet odor that they
all send forth, and with which they fill the bowers of that
paradise above. Every soul there is as a note in some
concert of delightful music, that sweetly harmonizes with
every other note, and all together blend in the most rapturous strains of praise to God."
"Favor is deceitful and beauty is vain, but a woman
that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised." Such are
the words of inspiration-meditate upon them. Do you
care too much for favor, for praise, for human love-remember that they are incapable of making you truly
happy, for it is the approbation of conscience only which
can give your soul peace. The persecuted good man feels
"A peace above all earthly dignities;
A still and quiet conscience;"
while his oppressor cannot forget the All-Seeing Eye
which beholds  his  actions.  Milton, in his " Comus,"
beautifully expresses this thought:
"He that has light within his own clear breast,
May sit in the centre, and enjoy bright day;
But be that bears a dark soul, and bad thoughts,
Benighted walks, under the mid-day sun,
Himself is his own dungeon."
"I had a thousand times rather," said a young man, in
writing to a parent, "be supposed in fault when innocent,
292 
SHAME OF UNDESERVED PRAISE.
than to suffer the bitter shame of receiving undeserved
praise." Much more we might say on the topic before us,
but we forbear, at this time, for nature invites you forth to
enjoy her loveliness, and it is not fitting that the young
should be required to think too much, or too seriously.
Go, then, and gather wild flowers, inhale the fresh breezes
from our hundred hills, and watch the sylvan brooks in their
meandering course. Forget lessons for a time-be thankful for all the blessings of your lot, and for the future leave
all to your Father in Heaven. But yet should the serious
tones of the address to which you have now listened,
linger around your thoughts, softening youthful gladness
into sober contemplation, we may hope your happiness
will not be the less now, and that greater good may await
you hereafter. So you see I cannot even advise you to go
and amuse yourselves, without adding a word of mneditation.
-, 1851.
293 
*
ADDRESS VIII.
TO THE GRADUATING CLASS.
YOUNG LADIES OF THE GRADUATING CLASS:
THE circling year again brings us to an anniversary
of peculiar interest-a period to which you have looked
forward with anxious solicitude. You stand here to receive the meed of intellectual labor, and exemplary deportment. This should be to you a proud and happy
hour;-nor should you fail to recognize the kindness of
your Heavenly Father who has crowned His many gifts by
bestowing on you the means and advantages of education.
Human life, my dear pupils, is but a tissue of events,scene follows scene in quick succession, until, at last, the
drama closes, and the curtain falls. There was a day
when each one of you came a stranger to this place,
whither by Providence you were sent to receive instruction, that you might be fitted for the future scenes of life.
This present moment then seemed far distant, as you
regarded the vista of the future, in your prospective
"Temple of Time."  But it is even now here, and the moment arrives for you to depart-not strangers, as you
came, but loving children, affectionate pupils, and fond
sisters, to those whom you met as strangers.
294 
FAULTS OF THE FEMALE CHARACTER.   295
Desiring that this scene may not be without its influence on your future lives, permit me, ere you go, my beloved daughters, to address to you a few parting words.
You are now to take your places in society as women;
may you walk carefully along the straight and narrow
road of virtue and piety, consulting in matters of worldly
prudence those who have had experience in life, avoiding
all peculiarity of conduct and manners, and refusing to
sanction, by your presence or example, whatever is offensive to propriety or principle. Seek rather to be useful
than brilliant, to be loved and respected rather than to be
envied or admired. Take no important steps involving
your future happiness without the sanction of your parents
or guardians; trifle with no solemn obligations. While
you are careful not to be yourselves deceived, beware of
being found selfish deceivers of those who may intrust to
you their happiness. May you be able to fill with propriety whatever station may be yours, neither despising
nor neglecting the humblest duty, nor found deficient in
the proper discharge of the highest.  Whatever may be
your allotments in life, receive your portions with cheerful
submission to the will of the Great Dispenser of all, remembering that even in this world virtue and piety have
their reward, and that misery is the natural consequence
of ill-doing.
The great faults of the female character, and those
which education often fails to check, are vanity, love of
admiration, and of pleasure, faults which too often destroy
domestic happiness, turning the energies of the mind to 
HOURS WITH MY PUPILS.
frivolous pursuits of dress and fashion, or the dangerous
chase after exciting amusements, or associations that are
often fatal to virtue and reputation. Let educated Christ  ian women frown on all writers, however gifted with
genius, who, perverting their gifts of intellect seek to veil
the deformity of vice, and who dare attempt to introduce
into American society the dissolute manners of Europe
all who return from foreign travels to ridicule what they
call our strict notions of propriety, and who would seek
to familiarize us with scenes where vice, under the slight est and most transparent disguise, appears in fascinating
colors. Home! this sacred word is even unknown in
some of our modern, fashionable languages, which Ameri can girls are sometimes taught while allowed to remain
ignorant of the rudiments of their own. May you, my
dear pupils, ever love your homes;-bear thither all the
treasures of knowledge and the accomplishments you have
acquired; seek to gladden those homes by cheerfulness,
industry, and intelligence; and let piety consecrate those
sacred precincts where your affections may freely expand,
and your energies be safely employed.
Two short years since, there stood one before me, as
you now stand, beloved and esteemed by all: to her was
unanimously assigned the honor of the farewell address to
her class. We listened to the thrilling tones of her voice,
saw her kindling eye and deeply glowing cheek, as she
read her beautiful and touching allegory of "The Voyage
of Life;" and we could almost fancy her slight form that
of an angelic spirit, even then, rising to its native skies.
296 
M~AY  JOHNSON'S FAREWELL.
She has gone-Mary Johnson* has passed from this
earthly scene to those heavenly mansions to which her
thoughts were often turned, and an entrance into which,
as a humble disciple of her Saviour, she sought to secure.
Listen to her last words, for they were the last she
uttered in this place, which for years had been her home.
"We are happy," said she, "my class-mates; for go we
not to gladden the household hearth, to minister to the
happiness and comfort of beloved parents, and to hold
communion sweet with those unto whom we are bound by
the dearest ties of kindred? The sorrow which we feel
at parting with the loved guardians and companions of
our scholastic life, is but the one bitter drop which must
be mingled in every cup of earthly joy; and this is all of
which I would remind you. I would only say, remember
the fleeting nature of earth's best gifts, and beg that ere
we have left the calm and peaceful precincts of Patapsco's
shades, and become surrounded by the perils of the uncertain and dangerous sea of life, we shall each resolve to
steer our course inl that direction which, we know, would
be pointed out, could the guiding star be still allowed to
hover over us. Let us go forth with the determination
that the siren fashion shall never entangle us in pleasure's bewildering maze, that we will not waste in her
courts our heart's best affections, but that home and domestic peace shall be our watchword, and chief delight."
Short was the time allowed our beloved young friend to
* A (laughter of the late Chancellor Johnson, of Maryland.
13*
297 
HOURS WITIH MY PUPILS.
dwell in her pleasant home on earth.  The summons came
for her to go to her heavenly home; and in the spirit of
the closing words of her Valedictory Address, she expressed
her willingness to depart;-and we can readily imagine
her, in her last earthly moments, saying to weeping friends,
"Time has brought us to the very moment of our departure, I can only say a single word, farewell!-our chain
of union has, link by link, been severing,'tis now forever
broken."
Other memories of dear, departed ones crowd upon us
-they will often come to you in hours of silence and solitude, and possibly in scenes of gaiety and pleasure, admonishing you of the uncertainty of human life.
For a time after you leave this place, its associations
will seem to fade in the excitement of new scenes, or
amidst the attention and applause which may greet your
entrance upon the stage of life;-but, should you, too,
not be called away in the flower of your days, Time will
soon bear you to a period when trials or cares may come
upon you; then, in solitary and anxious hours, will the
guides of your youth appear before you, with their serious
counsels drawn from experience, and you will gladly receive from faithful memory what, unconscious to yourselves in pleasure's hour, she had carefully treasured up.
Education will not only be required for guidance in
domestic and social life, but as American women, it should
imbue you with an enlightened patriotism, such as may be
of service to your country. The pages of history teach
us the dangers of disunion in republics; that nations, like
293 
PATRIOTISM A DUTY OF WOMAN.
individuals, may destroy each other by blindly yielding to
the influence of passion, which refuses all comnromise,
which  rushes onward regardless of consequences, and
would bring destruction upon all that is most dear and
sacred, rather than yield to the monitions of prudence, or
the counsels of moderation. Misguided, indeed, is that
individual, and terrible is the fate of that nation, thus
blinded. WVe may seem to be wandering out of our
sphere on this occasion, yet the circumstances of our
country cannot be regarded with indifference by its women.
It would be absurd to say to the passengers of a vessel in
danger of shipwreck, that none but the commander and
pilots need give themselves any concern;-such as are too
weak to labor, might be of service, by encouraging others
to assist in extricating the ship from peril. So may you,
my daughters, do something for your country by using the
influence within your sphere, to allay the strife and contention which endanger its prosperity, honor, and the stability of its government. If every American woman were
at heart a patriot, and would frown indignantly upon all
attempts to sunder the chain of Union which connects in
one vast nation our States and Territories, soon would the
voice of disunion cease to resound, hoarsely, through the
land. Let patriotic women of the Northern and Southern States seek to allay angry passion and bitter prejudice, and to soothe the agitated spirit of fathers, hus bands, and brothers; this done, our country is safe, and
intermeddling fanatics seeing their hopes disappointed
will cease from their incendiary efforts. On this subject
299 
HIIOURS WITI MY PUPILS.
you may think little now, yet the time may come, when
you will appreciate the vast importance of the duty I
suggest.
But I can no longer detain you from expectant friends;
with my parting blessing I would say, may you in youth
remember, that "favor is deceitful, and beauty is vain:
but the woman that feareth the Lord she shall be praised;"
thus in age may it be said of each of you, "many daugh.
ters have done virtuously, but thou excellest them all."
, 1851.
300 
ADDRESS IX.
BOOKS.
WE  have found it necessary to establish a censorship
in respect to books. The influence of these silent companions is too great to be permitted without some advice
or restraint. The young may not perceive the reason of
this caution, and think themselves justified in evading
rules, by smuggling in such books as are not among our
authorized volumes.   Yes, such things may be donethere is no situation in which a person cannot, if he
choose,  do  himself  an  injury.   The  young  can find
improper books to read, and may manage to conceal
them. They can talk with others on subjects which are
unprofitable and corrupting. Is it wise to do so?
There may be cases when reasoning would be out of
place; as, for instance, in the case of a good old servant,
whom his mistress was about to employ in something a
little out of his usual routine of duty, and sought to
convince him by the use of cogent arguments that she
was not unreasonable in her request-old "Uncle Tom,"
began rubbing his forehead as if to quicken his reasoning
faculties, and finally said, "Please, mistress, tell me just
what you want me to do, and I'se satisfied to do it."
801 
0HOURS WITH MY PUPILS.
The lady saw that her servant was right, but making the
best of the case, replied, "Yes, I know you always do as
you are told, but I wish you should think that I do right
as well as you." But it is proper that your reason should
be appealed to; it is not enough in education to require
implicit obedience to rules, the young should be made to
understand that such are designed for their own well
being.
You have time for recreation and amusement-is it not
your own to be spent as you choose? You have books
which have been given you, or purchased by yourselvesshould you not be allowed to spend your own time in reading your own books, or those borrowed of a friend?
Would it not seem tyrannical to interpose any power to
prevent the exercise of free-will in this case?   You have
perhaps heard of the child who said that his jack-knife
was his own, and so were his fingers, and he had a right
to cut them with his own knife if he chose to do so.
But so obvious are the evils to the youug of reading
improper books, that little argument may be needed to
convince you all that, as your appointed guardians, we
are in duty bound to examine your private libraries.
An inundation of unprofitable reading has swept over
us, and it has become necessary to clear away the literary
rubbish found within our premises. So much trash is
now published which is worse than useless, that the young,
left to themselves, are in great danger from the evil influence of the literature of the day.   Booksellers must live
by their business; they cannot afford to publish that
302 
DANGER FROM IMPROPER BooKs.
which will not sell; therefore the question with them is
not so much what will do most good, as what will be
popular, and bring the greatest profit by rapid sales.
Not that a good man would publish a book which he considered as decidedly immoral, but a bookseller might be
tempted by the prospect of gain, to publish books of a
doubtful tendency.
Then there are books so sparkling and lively, that they
become favorites, before they are discovered to be worthless in themselves as to sentiment or information. Their
whole value consists in their style. A young person being
asked how she liked the style of a book she was reading,
answered, "I have not yet come to the style "-but the
books we refer to are all style.   Exclamations, dashes,
interrogations and mysterious breaks, keep alive the attention, and are, it may be, suggestive of something unexpressed. A book is amusing, and it sells well; the writer
becomes popular, and a new work by the same author is
eagerly sought for by the mass of readers, who would be
saved the trouble of thinking.
Books are silent, and may be, dangerous companions,
conveying through the medium of the eye a moral poison
to the mind.   As an illustration of this, I will tell you a
true story. An unprincipled young man (and there are,
alas, such in our world), artfully threw in the way of an
innocent girl, a book of an immoral tendency. Attracted
at first by curiosity, she began reading it. Day after
day, did the seducer watch his victim; he knew that the
poison was doing its work in her mind, and so at length
303 
HOURS WITH MY PUPILS.
he triumphed by the help of that insidious ally, the bad
book lying concealed in its secret hiding-place, unseen by
all but her to whose once pure mind it proved as the
destroying angel.
We may better point out the books we do approve,
than the trash we would condemn; and this I have often
done in private conversations with many of you who have
asked my advice as to the furnishing of your libraries.
There are writers whose names are a guaranty for good
moral and religious influence; no book of theirs is to be
feared or suspected.   There are unexceptionable books
which it would not be well for you to have in your school
libraries, because they would tend to draw away your
thoughts from the pursuits which here demand your
attention. One who possesses in a high degree the susceptibility of ideal presence, cannot well break off in the
midst of one of Scott's interesting novels, at a bell-call,
and, with the reasoning powers in full exercise, enter upon
the study of a dry lesson. Therefore we do not generally
advise that novels should have place in your school libraries-yet there are some works of fiction written express
ly for the improvement of the young which we would not
exclude.
Some time since, an interesting pupil from a distance,
was introduced; with her travelling bag she held in her
hand a book which attracted my attention-it was one of
the forbidden class. You know me too well to think I
would have spoken to the stranger unkindly; but to a
suggestion respecting the book, she said with perfect
304 
WORTHLESS BooKs.
simplicity, "it was given me by an acquaintance in the
car, as I was passing through B, but I have not yet
looked into it." Of course she was innocent of any offence.
A young lady enters a steamer or railway car, and the
vender of cheap literature comes round with his books "Love  at first sight," "The  Mysterious  Rag-Picker,"
"The Interesting Shoe-black,  "The  Robber's Bride,"
"The Neglected Wife's Lover," "The Happy Elopement,"
"Parental Tyranny," etc.  Our young lady having in her
purse some gold dollars or silver quarters, thinks it would
be a charity to buy something of the poor fellow who
seems so anxious to sell; and she wants something to
read, as papa or brother may be too much engrossed in his
newspaper to notice her, so she possesses herself of one of
these choice volumes. On the table before me lies a pile
of these contraband wares which have found their way up
the "Hill of Science." Suppose we should call upon the
owners, or readers, and inquire what good they have
gained from their perusal-would not a blushing cheek
and downcast eye be the eloquent reply?   You were
disgusted with the "Mysterious Rag-Picker," and the
low company to which she introduced you. The "Robber's Bride" you found was no fit associate for a refined
young lady-and the "Neglected Wife's Lover," though
very handsome and interesting, proved himself a villain,
and the wife a weak-minded woman, not deserving the
respect and attention of her husband. As for "Parental
Tyranny," you were ashamed of reading such stuff, and
acknowledged to yourself that the love of parents is shown
305 
HOURS WITH MY PUPILS.
in care and needful restraint.  "The Happy Elopement,"
did not, on the whole, seem so happy when you reflected
on the long train of consequences which might follow
such a misstep on the threshold of life.
None of you have a word to say in favor of these
worthless books-but we might name works that have
found an entrance into good society, and whose authors
have attained an ephemeral celebrity, which help to corrupt
good taste and good morals. Genius, though it may
give brilliancy to bad metal, cannot turn it to pure gold.
There must be a high moral purpose in the heart accompanying the products of the brain, to give the latter sterling value.
But here are Byron's and Moore's works; are they not
found in all libraries? Can the most fastidious find any
fault with these standard works? True, the genius of
these poets has immortalized their names; while the
English language shall continue to be read or sung, will
Childe Harold, Lalla Rookh, and the songs of Byron and
Moore touch the finest chords of the soul. But we will
not even name the licentious and corrupting writings of
these poets, which render their complete works unfit for
the library. Moore was ashamed of his earlier poems, and
sought to destroy them, but they were too luscious a morsel
for the depraved to give up, aud his repentance could not
recall the poisoned arrows which his genius had winged.
Byron, with fiendish malignity, seems to have excelled
in his power of voluptuous imagery, and his unblushing
effrontery in violating decency under the guise of refined
306 
MOORE AD BYRON.
language.   Far  better read  the cheap novels  whose
coarseness of style is often an antidote to their bad morals,
than sigh over the exceptionable writings of Moore and
Byron.   The latter hated human nature, he loved to
represent it as bad, and to make it worse. He could
soar high as an angel of light, but he chose rather to
descend into regions of darkness, with fiends for his com panions. So in social life; he left its higher walks, its
pure domestic enjoyments, to grovel in sensuality with the
abandoned. So bad was his life, that his diary given by
him to his friend Moore, to publish for the benefit of the
latter, was by him condemned to the flames, as unfit for
the public eye. There may be many men who would be
ashamed to publish the daily record of their lives, but
Byron was willing the world should know of his infamy,
and that his friend Moore might for pecuniary profit have
the benefit of it.
Setting aside the immoral portions of Byron's writings,
there is in all his works a tone of feeling, which has been
found to act unhappily on the minds of others. An
indifference to life, a recklessness of social obligations,
and a want of all faith in a Superintending Providence;
therefore is the best of Byron's poetry to be perused
with fear and caution.
But here comes the immortal Shakspeare.  Can there
be any objection to his works? Yes, the young should
not read them unless selected, freed from the low and
vulgar allusions which pervade many of his plays.
It was said by one who well understood human nature,
007 
H-OURS WITH MY PUPILS.
that curiosity had caused more women to swerve from
virtue and innocence, than evil passions. There is a deep
meaning in the history of the temptation and fall of the
mother of the human race; curiosity and disobedience,
then " brought death into the world, and all our woe."
In examining the books before me which have been the
companions of your private hours, I find many marked
passages, indicating emotions of various kinds-sometimes
sadness and melancholy, such as would not be expected
from such bright and blooming young girls. Disappointed
love, bitter experience of life and blighted hopes-impassioned sentiments seeking a safety-valve in "words that
breathe, and thoughts that burn." Surely those who
have yet scarcely passed life's threshold, should not require
the relief of such outpourings; if the buds are thus
blighted, what will be the ripened fruits?
But we are consoled by the thought that it is only
while you are reading, that you have these fancies; the
first walk you take abroad, or the first romp with your
companions, dissipates them, and your merry laughter
does not sound like the wail of the disconsolate.
Throw from you, my daughters, all books which affect
your minds unfavorably, or which crowd out good sentiments and desirable knowledge.   Select your reading no
less carefully than you would your friends. And until
your judgment is more mature, avail yourselves of the
experience of those who are able and willing to advise
you in the choice of books.
1852.
308 
ADDRESS X.
TO THE GRADUATING CLASS.
MY DEAR PUPILS:
THOUGH according to custom I address you as
Pupils, I must not forget that the interesting relation we
have so long borne to each other is dissolving with the
passing hour. Some of you have been members of this
institution for more than the usual Collegiate term of
four years;-the time which seemed so long in the perspective of the distant future is, is even now, here-the
last scene of your scholastic life is closing, and as a
Class you will assemble in this place no more.  As there
are hope and joy in the various opening scenes of Life's
drama, there are regret and sadness in their termination.
As a Class, I see you together in this place for the
last time;-there were others who thought to be with
you on this occasion;-five of them in God's Providence
are now in distant States, engaged in transmitting to
others the instructions here received. And there was
oe * who now belongs not to earth;-ere the roses of
spring had shed their perfume to the vernal breeze, she
* Jane Singleton Garner.
809 
HOURS WITH MY PUPILS.
had faded away;-dust had returned to dust; but "the
germ of immortality," which ill the sight of her Creator
constituted her identity, will be "safe with Him," until at
the final resurrection that "which was sown in weaknes
shall be raised in power," and the "corruptible shall put
on incorruption."
As the Class of 1852, your names will stand associated
in the annals of the Institute. In reviewing those annals
we find that Death, who "loves a shining mark," has
taken from different Classes of Graduates some of their
brightest ornaments-the beautiful, the meek and gentle,
the lovely in heart and life, and the trusting devoted
Christian, have passed away from the things of earth.
Clad in sable garments of widowhood, are others who, a
few short years ago, went out from us full of joyous
anticipations of the life on which they were entering;
they can now but too well understand why they were
taught by the warnings of experience to look for trials in
this state of probation.
The Class of 1852-what will be their future life,their future history? The oracle responds, "even as it
hath happened to others, so will it be to them." Carry
with you then to your distant homes in the valleys of the
Connecticut and Mississippi, the Schuylkill and James
Rivers, the shores of the Potomac and the banks of the
Chesapeake, subdued thoughts and expectations as to
future earthly good,-receive with thankfulness whatever
happiness or prosperity may be yours, seek to be useful
in your lives, whether they be, long or short, and in the
310 
TO THE GRADUATING CLASS.
days of trial and sorrow, for such must come, meekly bow
yourselves in humble submission to the Providence of GOD.
Thus feeling and thus acting, we shall all at last find
ourselves united in the "land of the blest," where partings with beloved ones shall be no more:
"Joys on hign can never die,
Though all below must fade."
1852.
311 
ADDRESS XI.
BEHAIOR AT HOME AND ABROAD.
THE approach of Christmas and the New Year renders
it proper for me to direct your attention to some practical considerations connected with this season of holidays.
A large number of you are to return to your homes to
spend a few days in the enjoyment of family reunions, and
of the social affections, in that domestic circle, where your
hearts most freely expand
The affectionate, loving daughter thinks of the pleasure
she can afford to those who have watched over her
infancy and childhood, and she revolves in her mind what
she can do to promote their happiness. The self-loving
daughter is thinking what new gratification her parents
are to afford her, what advantage in respect to pleasure
or presents she shall gain from the holidays. Look
steadily into your hearts, my dear pupils, and decide
impartially, to which of these classes you belong; to that
of the affectionate, disinterested daughters, or are you of
those who care mostly for themselves, who love their
parents chiefly as the dispensers of good things, and who
repay their past kindness by exacting new favors. How
disgusting is selfishness I When witnessed in the domestic
212 
TRY TO MAKE H-OME HAPPY.
circle, how hideous! I once knew of a case where two
sisters in a family of respectable condition, carried their
selfish spirit to such a point, that at the death of their
mother, as she breathed her last, one sister locked the
door against the other, that she might get possession of
the gold-beads upon her mother's neck! You start with
terror at such an act, but the unconscious dead was not
afflicted by it;-a living parent grieves to witness selfishness inll a child. Go, then, to your homes with loving
hearts, not loving yourselves chiefly, but those who have
done so much  for you, to whom  you owe obligations
never to be cancelled. Think what you can do while there
to make your homes happier-regard everything in its
best light; do not say "why do we not have things, so
and so," or "as such and such persons do;" do not begin
to suggest your own wants, but make the best of everything. Should you find any one of the household feeble
in health, or less happy in mind than you would wish,
study lhow you may minister to the comfort, or promote
the cheerfulness of that one. Even the placing of a footstool, or arranging a cushion or pillow by an affectionate
daughter or sister, is as a sunbeam going warm to the
heart.   Your  parents have many cares and anxieties
which you cannot know; they are often disquieted by
causes not apparent to you, and with which they may not
deem it expedient to trouble you. All that you can do to
help them bear the evils of life is but little, and yet that
little is powerful for encouragement; parents are willing
to toil and suffer for their children, and they are surely
14
313 
I-OURS WITH MY PUPILS.
excusable if sensitive with respect to the love and grati
tude of those for whom their own lives are devoted.
Suppose those of you who are going to spend a few days
with your parents should write down some resolutions by
which you determine to regulate your conduict while at
home; they would be good, too, for other seasons. I will
suggest to you an outline which you can vary according
to circumstances.
"1st. To appear in the family circle, amiable and cheerful, and to be obliging and conciliating in manners.
2d. To be active, and show that I have improved in
habits of industry;-seek occasions for being useful.
3d. To be careful of all that concerns myself, not to
burden any one with the care of what belongs to me, as
clothing, books, music, etc.; or to require to be reminded
of my duties.
4th. Observe all the family regulations; not to be late,
or irregular, at meals, family prayers, church, etc.
5th. Be moderate in the indulgence of my appetite at
table, and in abstaining from eating between meals, so
that I may not injure my health by any excess or imprudence.  Ne7Tr eat or drink anything which I believe to
be injurious to my health. Let my friends see that I
have improved in self-control.
6th. To assume 1no superiority over others, because I
may esteem myself wiser, more temperate, or more pious.
7th. To keep myself perfectly neat in person and
dress.
8th. Not to annoy my parents by any demands for
314
0 
THE YOUNG LADY AT HfOME.
dress, money, etc., but be grateful for whatever they may
give me.
9th. To think more of pleasing my parents, and of
making the home-circle happy, than of going abroad
or seeing company.
10th. To avoid all impropriety of manners, to respect
myself too much to encourage in young gentlemen the
slightest familiarity, or to be guilty of any approach to
indiscretion-considering that a young girl who seeks to
attract gentlemen around her, places herself in a dangerous, and often, doubtful position. Towards those who are
relations, or particular friends of my family, to be polite
and friendly, but in no case to induce contempt by appearing too forward or too fond of their society.
11th. To attend to my religious duties while at home,
with the same regularity as at school;-to value time,
and to seek to spend it in the most profitable manner, by
improving myself, or in doing good to others.
12th. To comply cheerfully, as far as possible, with the
wishes of my parents and friends-to sing or play when
requested, without appearing obstinate, affected, or disobliging, by refusing; to perform what I do with simplicity, without airs or affectation-to keep such control
over myself that I may always act with dignity and selfpossession.
13th. To avoid idle gossip respecting my school, my
teachers or companions, remembering that my school is
my alma mater, that I owe towards it that filial respect,
which should cause me to feel indignant at those who
315 
E OURS WITH MY PUPILS.
would do aught to injure its good name; and that I should
do all in my power to maintain its reputation and honor,
considering that my own intelligence and good behavior
will be my best recommendation of those who conduct my
education.
14th. And lastly-to consider myself at all times and
places, accountable to God, for my thoughts, words and
actions, and to seek to live in accordance with His commands."
Some of you are going to visit, as invited, at the
homes of your school companions. Many of the resolutions we have suggested might be properly adopted by
such; but there are others, which occur to me as peculiar
to your relations, as guests. In accepting an invitation to
visit, you incur certain obligations-one is to render yourselves agreeable to your entertainers; to appear polite,
affable and cheerful, that you may not become burdensome to them.  Study how you may please and commend
yourselves to the elder members of the family in which
you visit; listen with attention  to their conversation,
evincing modesty and respect; endeavor to learn all you
can from those who are wiser and more experienced than
yourselves-ask of them to treat you with candor, and to
tell you of any faults which they may perceive in youacknowledge that you need to be advised (there will be
little danger of any of you saying what is not true, by
such confession). Try to make yourselves beloved by
those with whom  you are sojourning.   When  family
affairs are brought forward in which you can have no con
316 
CONDUCT AS A 1rISITOR.
cern, show no idle curiosity to listen, or to pry into such
matters, but withdraw from domestic consultations, when
you perceive your presence might be dispensed with.
Never boast of what you have at home, or what you
have been accustomed to, as if to make a contrast with
the house, furniture or modes of living of your hosts.
Families of high position often live plainly, and without
ostentation, while the nouveau riche are often profuse and
extravagant;-and yet if you were visiting where there
was elegance of style, and sumptuous living, it would be in
very bad taste for you to make such a remark, or vice
versa. But you should be no servile flatterers, nor seek
to please by giving up your independence of thought or
character. Artifice is easily seen through-it defeats
itself. If your manners are affectionate and amiable
because your feelings are kind and friendly, this will be
apparent to those who know anything of human nature;
but if you merely put on sweet manners, the dissimulation
will be apparent.
When visiting a young lady friend, never do or say
anything to tempt her to act contrary to the wishes of
her parents. If you hear them express disapprobation
of anything, as of a particular book, associating with
certain individuals, of peculiar modes of dress, etc., be
careful not to countenance your friend in opposing her
parents, or disregarding their opinions.   You  should
rather seek to influence her to be dutiful and respectful
and should you see her, selfish, exacting, or indifferent, it
would be right for you to take an opportunity, when
317 
HOURS WITH MY PUPILS.
alone with her, to express your surprise at her conduct,
and your disapprobation of the same. Her parents,
noticing that your influence is good with their daughter,
would then feel happy to have you an inmate of the
household-they would recommend you to her as a safe
and worthy friend, and ever remember you with affection
and esteem. You would be sorry to have any parent say
of you to a daughter, "I do not like your intimacy with
that girl; she is wanting in good principles, she is a dangerous friend;" or, "she is weak and silly, she has no
judgment, and her heart is as corrupt as her head is
weak;" or, "your friend is a poor fanciful girl, with her
hea(l full of romance, and deficient in good sense-I
would have you regard her rather for a warning than as
an example, and discontinue your intimacy as soon as
possible."
Speaking of behavior abroad, let me give you some
cautions;-a mother, when her children are to go from
home, advises them against such bad practices as she
knows are sometimes seen in the young. In travelling,
remember that you are observed by many-do not disgrace yourselves, your family or your school, by rude,
boisterous, or improper manners. Loud talking, laughing, and calling each other's names, so as to attract attention, should be avoided. Talking about your school to
each other, while strangers are listeners, is not to be
recommended on such occasions, even though you speak
kindly.
The conduct of young ladies, particularly school-girls,
318
i 
CONDUCT IN TRAVELLING.
in railroad cars, steamboats and stage-coaches, is often
imprudent, sometimes ridiculous. Last summer, in travelling, I sat near a young girl, pretty and well dressed,
but disgusting by her vanity and frivolous conversation.
She ran on talking to a young man (who seemed not
to be more than a slight acquaintance) of the balls and
parties she had been to at such a place, of the partners
she had danced with, of such and such beaux whom she
admired, of young ladies whom she did not think "at all
pretty," and of her plans of amusement for the winter.
As her companion seemed a weak young man (his strength
like that of Sampson of old, appearing to consist chiefly in
his hair), he seemed to listen attentively to this silly conversation, and perhaps thought it well enough; he might
not himself have learned that life has any higher objects
than visiting "the springs" or other places of recreation
and amusement, or that a young lady has any more noble
field of ambition than engaging the attention of brainless fops.
At public tables in hotels, boarding-houses, etc., young
ladies should conduct with dignity and reserve. It is
improper to talk and laugh loudly, to make remarks
upon others; a quiet, self-possessed manner always commands respect. A noisy party at a public place is always
freely censured by the observers.
A few words in respect to young gentlemen whom any
of you may meet in your approaching absence from the
Institute; and the observation may apply to all young
girls, at any other times, seasons, or places.
319 
II:OURS WITH MY PUPILS.
Do not seek to be followed by admirers-severe remarks
will ever be made upon young ladies who throwing out
their lures indiscriminately in quest of admiration, induce young men to follow in their train. A coquette will
throw away true friendship and hazard reputation; to
gratify her vanity. Or if a young girl be really so susceptible that she bestows her affection without due caution, she may become a dupe to the arts of the designing.
The greatest weakness in the female character is, in
general, that which appears in her relations with the
other sex. It is right, at a suitable age, and under
proper sanctions, to form an attachment which may result
in the most intimate and holy relation. But young girls
should beware of entertaining thoughts on this subject at
too early a period of life, as false steps may be taken before
the judgment is mature, and the character formed, which
would lead to a life of disgrace or misery. Be cautious,
dignified, and reserved in your manners towards young
gentlemen-keep near to those whose care and duty it is
to protect you, and fear being left too much to your own
judgment. At church, remember that your professed
object is to worship God, and permit not your eyes to
wander about in quest of admiration from idle gazers;
when you leave the sanctuary do not encourage young
men to accompany you home, as is too common a practice
in cities. On the streets, at all times, behave with decorum. While you treat gentlemen of your acquaintance
with civility, let it be with that dignified politeness which
will repel familiarity, and prevent their joining you when
320 
BEHAVIOR TOWARDS GENTLEMEN.
not desirable. A volume might be written on this topic,
but I will conclude by one remark,-that if the principles
be good, and the heart pure, you will scarcely fail to
conduct with propriety.
- 1858.
321 
ADDRESS XII.
TO THE GRADUATING CLASS OF 1858.
YouNG LADIES OF THE GRADUATING CLASS:
FOR the last time I address you as pupils-The
interesting relation which for a long course of years has
existed between us, must now  cease forever.   There
remains but for me to say a few parting words, and you
will go hence, bidding a last adieu to your adopted home.
and to those who have stood to you in the place of
parent and sisters.
I would not move your minds to sadness, nor that tears
should be called forth by unnecessary appeals to your tender emotions.   This is no tableau vivant, nor scenic representation, gotten up for effect.   No, it is a living reality,
a real and final separation between those who have long
held in respect to each other, intimate and sacred rela
tions.
The most unreflecting girl, she who may have complained of the wearisomeness of her school years, and
often, and often, wished they were over, approaches not
this period without at least a touch of sadness, a mournful sentiment at the thought that her school life has 
To THE GRADUATING CLASS OF 1853.   323
drawn to its close; that the time allotted for exclusive
attention to the improvement of her mind has run out,
and that her accustomed places will know her no more.
Those of deeper feelings  experience  emotions'which
words cannot express-they look back upon the tranquil
past, with its hallowed friendships, and associations, and
forward, to the uncertain future;-they shudder at the
mysteries of life before them, and vainly wish they might
ever remain in happy, irresponsible, childhood. Children,
were some of you brought to this place-one, an only
child, by her only parent who has not lived to behold
this hour so fondly anticipated, and which would have
restored to him a cultivated woman in the place of the
little girl he left among us.
Children, some of you came here to be watched over
in sickness and in health, to be borne with in your waywardness, to be instructed in learning, to be trained in
the ways of virtue and piety, fitted to act your part in
life as woman, and for a higher and nobler state of existence. Often our task may have seemed but imperfectly
performed; an overwhelming sense of its magnitude,
compared with our ability, may have weighed down our
spirits; but time waited not for us, nor for you;-quickly,
oh, quickly has it flown, and the children have become
women;-such as they are, they must go forth to act
their part for the short period of human existence.
Have you thought, and decided, upon the parts you are
to perform in the drama of life before you?   Your par ticular stations, whether high or low-the accompani 
H-OURS WITH MY PUPMS.
ments which may surround you, God alone knowveth; but
if your education have been successfully conducted, if we
have done our part, and you have done yours-you will
be the same, essentially, in all conditions of life-in pros  perity and honor, you will not be proud and high-minded;
in adversity, you will not be, abjectly, cast down.
Respecting yourselves under all circumstances, you will
command the respect of others for what you are intrinsi cally, not for those adventitious advantages which do not
ennoble the soul, nor, when wanting, affect its true dig nity. If you have well profited by education, you will be
wise, intelligent, and good women, seeking to apply your
talents and acquirements to the promotion of the happi ness and well-being of those with whom you may be con nected. You will have no sympathy with women who
would cast off female delicacy, by invading the peculiar
province of the other sex.   May the duties of woman be
your study; the liberality of man, designed by God as
her protector and defender, is taking care of her rights;
true it is that woman is dependent-fanaticism may call
her the slave of man;  but what  the Almighty has
created her, that she is, with all her physical weakness,
her nervous excitability, and her desire of loving, and of
being loved. The lot of woman she may not escape
from, without doing violence to her better nature, and
the immutable laws of her Creator. There is, in the
lives of most women, a period in which they seem called
upon to exercise only the feminine virtues, to love, to be
loved, and to confide in a chosen protector;-too happy
-324 
To THE GRADUATING CLASS OF 1853.   325
such a lot to be long continued; but soon sterner qualities must be developed; and the trying scenes of woman's
life do not usually fail to test her forbearance, prudence,
and her power of enduring, not only physical suffering,
but a wounded spirit, conscious, perhaps, of injustice.
So  opposite are the  situations of woman at  various
periods of her life! Education should provide for all;when gentle breezes of affection and kindness waft her
onwards, she should be grateful and happy; but she
should possess the ability to encounter the storms of life,
and strength, and firmness of character to sustain her
amidst rough waters, and stormy tempests.
If you have in the progress of your education, acquired
strength of mind and firmness of purpose, we trust you
will never abuse these gifts by attempts to go beyond the
proper sphere of women, but the rather in judiciously
fulfilling the duties of life in that sphere in which it may
please God to place you.
But if some among you, endowed by nature with
genius, and improved by a cultivated taste, shall be able
to wield "the pen of a ready writer," so that you may
hereafter be known in the literature of your country,
may you be more conscientious as to moral effects, than
ambitious of popularity. If celebrity and distinction, as
the result of well directed talents, should be yours; may
you enjoy them as the just reward of labor, and conse
crate your influence to high and noble purposes.
Society is in an agitated state, andc never was there
such need as now, of wise and good women to exert their 
I[IOURS WWITS MY PUPILS.
influence in calming the agitations which exist, and in
bringing order out of confusion. Beware of listening to
the popular delusions of the day, in any form whatever;
walk carefully, on, guarded by science, and guided by
religion. When the time shall come for God to give us a
new revelation, we shall all know it-the evidence will be
clear and full. Till then listen to no insane ravings of
pretended or supposed spiritual influences. Even should
appearances confound you, believe not that the established
laws of nature will be changed, except for some great
and good object; and what you cannot understand, and
revealed religion does not call on you to believe, cast
aside as vain and unprofitable speculation. The Almighty
can never want man's help in the manifestations of His
will, or if He do require it, this, He will, clearly, and
fully reveal.
You stand before me no longer children, time has
matured your persons and minds;-your regular scholastic life is now to end;-yet the work of improvement
should cease but with your life, and then in worlds of
bliss, improvement will rapidly advance-the capacity of
the human mind is infinite-it is unlimited! We must
now part, you go to your parents, all but one * of your
number, who remains with her widowed mother. May
you, all, long live to bless the hearts of those who love
you, and when the time shall come for us to leave these
earthly scenes, may we go to dwell in celestial mansions with a Father in Heaven.
* The youngest daughter of the author Myra Lincoln Phelps.
326 
ADDRESS XIII.
REFLECTION.
COIERIDGE, says, " Retet on your own thoughts, actions
and circumstances, and especially the words you use, and
hear used."
How often do young persons say, in a self satisfied
manner, as if this were a complete vindication of bad conduct, "I did not intend any harm, I did not think it was
wrong;"-but this not thinking is a great sin. Are you,
all, in the habit of reflecting upon your thoughts-what
kind of thoughts do you have? The most thoughtless
must sometimes think, and the character of their own
minds must come ulp in review before them. You are
sometimes alone; at night you may lie awake, and then
comes to you a solemn sense of your being God's creature,
accountable to Him for the improvement of the time and
advantages he gives you. What kind of a soul appears
before you, do you like its companionship, is it a good
soul? If so, a sweet perfume of virtue and innocence
will linger around it, a consciousness of good thoughts
and good actions will give it a pleasant and tranquil
aspect; though you may be in bodily pain or in affliction,
such a reflected image of your own soul will make you
821 
HOURS WITH MY PUPILS.
comparatively happy. But if you see a bad spirit, and
know it is your own bad soul, come to show you its
deformity, how will you'try to turn away from its contemplation;-but it will not leave you, it will virtually
say, "am I not your own soul, which you have neglected,
suffered to grow deformed and disgusting? for what I am,
you are accountable, you cannot rid yourself of me; conscience will ever be holding up the mirror in which you
now see me, you cannot turn from this spectre-it is yourself.
There are times when all must think; conscience
speaks when all else is silent. Silence and solitude are
solemn monitors. But there are, we fear, some whose
thoughts are so habitually evil, whose minds are so filled
with vain and foolish, not to say impure imaginations, in
whom the mirror of conscience is so clouded, that they
cannot even feel remorse, cannot see by reflection, their
own bad souls.
You who are before me are all young, and it would be
hard to believe that you have yet lost the power of reflection; but if you have not, why is it that some among
you continue to do evil after being often and often
reminded of your faults, and shown the path of duty?
Reflect on your thoughts, words, actions, and circum
stances.
Thoughts I what are thoughts? You see your external forms, but thoughts are invisible to the bodily eye, to
God they have shape and substance. He looks into your
minds, and sees what is there allowed and cherished.
328 
THOUGIITS-WORDS-ACTIONS.
What are bad thoughts, what are good thoughts?
Bad thoughts are malicious feelings towards others, as
envy and hatred-contempt and indifference towards
their happiness, the desire of injuring others by wounding
their feelings, either by assuming airs of superiority
towards them, or in any other way. Bad thoughts are
evil imaginations of scenes and objects which virtue and
purity would avoid.  Discontented and murmuring thoughts
are bad; everything is bad in thought which leads to bad
words and actions.
Bad words-what are bad words? Evil speaking, and
foolish talking, as also trifling remarks on serious subjects;
speaking unkindly or disrespectfully of those who labor
for your good, and are entitled to your love and gratitude, and saying what will tend to lead others wrong,
either in thought, word or act.
Dr. Paley says, one may act a lie;-o, one may  act
pride, vanity and selfishness; contempt, ingratitude and
irreverence, they have  all their appropriate looks and
gestures, and can be represented to the eye without
words. This word acting is very significant, as applied
to many of the thoughts of the heart of which it is the
effect. Bad actions are not confined to looks and gestures, or an irreverent manner in religious worship; these
may pass away with the occasion, though they make
impressions on the minds of the spectators not easily to
be erased, and they are noted by God. There may be a
course of bad conduct carried on through a series of acts,
all tending to a bad end, all injuring the actor more
329 
HOURS WITH MY PUPILS.
or less, though often intended only for the injury of
others.
As in Geometry you often learn truth by studying an
erroneous hypothesis, so may you learn to follow good, by
considering the evil to be avoided. You well know,
what are good thoughts, words and actions, and you can
have, and speak, and do, such if you choose-you may be
good or bad, as you prefer. Sometimes we may be at a
loss as to what is our duty, but who ever heard of a conscientious, reflecting person desiring to do right, who was
really bad? or, if for a season, through the malice of
others, such an one should be suspected of doing wrong,
the truth will eventually appear; to God it is ever
known, and even if we suffer in this world, for righteousness' sake, we shall be abundantly rewarded in the world
to come.
Reflect on the circumstances by which you are surrounded.  You are at school; sent here for your improvement. Some of you are being educated here by means
provided for you by parents no longer living; they thought
of your good, they left you property that you might
enjoy the advantages of education.   Whether you have
living parents watching for your improvement, or whether
your parents are anxiously regarding you from the world
of spirits, do as they would wish you to do-reflect.
Reflect on your thoughts, words and actions, and the
-rctmstances  in which you  are placed.  Extend your
views to future situations in which you may be placed,
resolve to fulfill your duties to living parents, or to the
330 
CIRCUMSTANCES OF LIFE.
memory of departed ones. Reflect that life is not given
mortals to be trifled away in levity or amusement, that
it is short, and important as a preparatory state to that
eternity which lies beyond.
Thus by reflecting, will you avoid evil and secure good.
Life is a school, for which this place is to prepare you to
enter-from that school you will pass as you may be
prepared by the manner in which you live, to an immor.
tal existence.
1854.
331 
ADDRESS XIV.
TO THE GRADUATING CLASS OF 1854.
IMPORTANT eras in life are significantly marked by
appropriate ceremonies.   Among  the ancient Romans
there was a custom of publicly taking from boys, at a
certain age, the baubles and playthings of childhood, and
investing them with the toga worn by men, as a sign that
they were, henceforth, to be admitted to the privileges,
and charged with the duties, of manhood. The ceremonies of this day are significant of an important era to you
who stand before me.   You have now received an honorable discharge from the duties of school, and are henceforth to be considered as women. The roll of parchment
presented to you is of itself nothing, but as emblematical
of labor, self-denial and victory, it becomes to each of you
a valued trophy.
How long a course of training has been required to
prepare you for this day I From your first rude attempts
to form letters with a pen, from your first imperfect
efforts to express thoughts in writing, and from your
earliest lessons in thinking, has gradually proceeded that
development of mind which has enabled you to become
the authors of the literary compositions you have to-day
832 
To THF GRADUATING CLASS OF 1851.   333
read before this audience. And how long and laboriious
has been your application to the science of music, to prepare you to perform with skill and execution the most
difficult pieces of the greatest masters of the science of
harmony. Your late examinations in the various branches
of scholastic education has proved that you have all
labored, though, it may be, with different degrees of
application, to prepare yourselves for an honorable discharge from school, and to merit the honor of graduation.
But in b)eing freed from certain restraints, and invested
with privileges belonging to the new stage of life on
which you are to enter, you assume new duties and
responsibilities; these, rather than the idea of enjoyment,
should chiefly engage your attention; the flowery gardens of pleasure may attract your youthful tastes, but
there you may not long linger-or rather, there you
cannot long remain.  The journey of life is to be performed, and many obstacles in the way are to be surmounted.  No  kind indulgence of tender parents and
friends can exempt you from the condition of humanity,
the common lot of mortals. In the Book of inspiration
it is said that man is born to trouble as the sparks fly
upward-that is, the physical law in respect to the flying
upward of sparks of fire is no less certain, than is the
moral truth that every human being is born to trouble.
When we look at a collection of blooming flowers, we
know they will not long remain in this state; the blossoms must fade and wither. In beholding a group of
young girls, in the freshness of early youth, thoughts of 
HOURS WITE MY PUPILS.
coming  change will take possession of the reflecting
mind.
You who are now before me occupy the place where
for thirteen years successive classes of graduates have
stood-like you, their hearts beat with bounding pulse at
the thought of the delightful scenes which imagination
promised them in the world they were about to enter.
Suppose these graduates of past years could now, at our
call, be brought forward, and stand, side by side, with you
who are looking forward to the future with joyous antici pations. Here would we see a mother bowed down with
grief for the loss of her lovely children; and there a
feeble woman, with little physical strength to perform
the arduous duties which, in her domestic relations,
devolve upon her-and here is a daughter bereft of her
last parent, and left to feel an orphan's loneliness and
sorrow;-each one, however prosperous may have been
thus far her career in life, has learned that there is no
unalloyed happiness in this world. Mark the change
which a few years have made in the appearance of allthe bloom of youth, how evanescent I Like the morning dew upon the blossom, it passes away long before
the noon of life. Not a few have exchanged their bridal
attire for the garments of widowhood. We start backfor there appears a spectral train with shadowy robes of
white-they are your elder sisters of Patapsco,  who
have passed away from the scenes of earth to the world
of spirits-their last school examination, and the scenes
of this day, were soon followed by the falling of the
334 
To THE GRADUATING CLASS OF 1854.  335
curtain upon their short drama of life.   Among those
who have been added to the land of spirits is Agnes
Buck,* a graduate of last year, known and loved by many
of you. On the very week allotted for revisiting her
school-home, the last summons came, and she departed.
We would not sadden too much this parting hour, but
it is right to remind you of the uncertain tenure of
earthly enjoyments, and your obligation to live as those
who are seeking a better inheritance than earth can give.
We trust that none of you will go from this place to be
mere triflers, seeking only for pleasure amid scenes of
gaiety. More than half your number are professed followers of Christ. You will not surely forget your solemn
obligations as Christians "to live soberly and righteously"
in the world.
As graduates of Patapsco, may you maintain the
honor and dignity of your Alma Mater, exhibiting at all
times and in all places a character earnest and sincere,
amiable and conscientious, despising the arts by which
too many of your age and sex seek to attract a shortlived admiration; frowning upon the flatteries which
lead to vice, and jealous of any influences which might
cause the slightest divergence from the path of rectitude.
Representatives from more than half the States of our
Republic, may you ever love our common country, and
cherish with a conservative spirit that sacred Union
which binds it together as one great consolidated nation.
* Grand-daughter of A. Kirkland, Esq., of Baltimore.
I 
HouRs WITH MY P[UPILS.
In your own homes will be your proper sphere of effort;
make their inmates happy and virtuous, and you confer a
blessing on society. The future citizens and statesmen of
our Republic may owe to you, as wives and mothers, a
loftier patriotism and a purer morality.
But the hour of parting is at hand, and I must bid you,
as a class, farewell. Having accomplished the objects
for which you came hither, you must now go to fulfill
your duties to those kind parents who have so liberally
bestowed on you the advantages of education. We shall
miss your pleasant voices and affectionate smiles; there
will be a void in the places you have filled; and though
strangers may come to occupy your seats, the absent
daughters will not be forgotten.  Though we  may  see
each other's faces no more in this world, we will hope to
be reunited in those heavenly mansions which are prepared by our blessed Saviour for those who love and
serve Him on earth. You may have much to do before
the close of your mortal pilgrimage. God will lead you
where- He will have you to be, and in His own good time
will take you to Himself, if you will be guided by His
Spirit.
336 
PARTING HYMN.
FOR COMMENCEMENT.
&FATHER above! a sister band
Go forth upon life's troubled wave,
And only Thine Almighty hand,
In sorrow's coming hour can save.
To them, unknown, the dangers lie
Which intercept their onward way,
They dream not of the secret sigh
Which oft invades the scene most gal.
Fair maidens! though with willing heart
Ye go, familiar friends to greet;
Yet, Alma Mater claims her part,
A sigh, a tear, as offering meet;And memory, often to your souls
Will speak of early, by-gone days,
s time its rapid current rolls,
And pleasure sings her farewell lavay
Yes, ouch is life! a mingled scene
Of joy and grief,-of sun and shadeBut yonder Heaven is all serene,
And flowers immortal never fade.
God's blessing rest on those who now
Launch forth upon life's troubled wave,
Give grace to keep their Christian vow,
And from the world's temptations save.
— 1854.
15
887 
ADDRESS XV.
3!HE VIRTUOUS WOMAN.
"While they behold your chaste conversation coupled with fear.
Whose adori.ing let it not be that outward adorning of plaiting the
hair and of the wearing of gold, or of putting on of apparel; but
let it be the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, which is in the
sight of God of great price."-1 PETER, iii. 23.
0N this occasion of addressing you, I can think of no
more important subject on which to direct your attention,
than what is suggested by these words of Eoly Scripture.
When I consider the great and prevailing faults of the
female character, and connect with this the idea that the
interests of a never-ending eternity depend on the attainment of purity and holiness in this short state of probation, an overwhelming sense of awe comes upon me, and
I am constrained to say to you, "what thou doest, do
quickly."
"Chaste conversation coupled with fear," is mentioned
by the apostle as a means by which a wife may influence
her husband who refuses to hear and obey the word;and here we may pause a moment, though in anticipation
of future events, but which will doubtless arrive to many
of you. A wife has a deep interest in the character of 
A  BRIDE.
her husband; to retain his affection and esteem after
marriage, how important I the salvation of his soul
should also be to her an object of deep solicitude.   How
little does the young and thoughtless girl, about to connect her future happiness and respectability, and perhaps
her own eternal interests, to the keeping of one whom
she has met in parties of pleasure, and of whose real
character she knows nothing-how little does she think of
the coming scenes and events of a life of trial and change
-of a life of duties and responsibilities I She is to be
married-her mind is taken up with thoughts of bridesmaids, beautiful dresses, wreaths and bouquets, a pleasure
tour, and brilliant parties where she will be the reigning
queen, as the bride.
When the ancients were about to sacrifice a victim,
they first adorned it with chaplets of flowers and led it
about triumphantly-alas, how many victims of imprudent and ill-advised marriages are  left to mourn their
want of reflection, during a life of sorrow and unhappiness. But the husband may be deserving of love and
confidence; if so, he has certainly a high standard of
excellence in his own mind, and he looks to find in his
wife, the realization of his dreams of female purity and
loveliness. Most miserable she, the wretched wife, who
is conscious that her husband is deceived in her, that
familiar acquaintance with her faults and deficiencies will
deprive her of his esteem, and chill his devoted affection.
"Chaste conversation  coupled with fear."-Iii married life, especially, should a woman be chaste in her
339 
)HOUlRS WITH MY P[UPILS.
actions, and in her words-even a man of little refinement
or delicacy, himself, is disgusted with the want of these
qualities in a woman; and a husband is not slow to
observe the faults of his wife.   Disgust and hatred soon
follow love, when disappointment succeeds to hope and
anticipation. Chaste conversation does not, in the meaning
of the Scripture, here refer to words merely, but to conduct in general: to modest demeanor, to actions free
from all lasciviousness or shadow of sensuality, and to
wise and sensible discourse. This is to be coupled with
fear. Fear of what, fear of whom? Fear of acting or
speaking wrong, fear of violating any rule of propriety;
and, above all, fear of God, who searcheth the heart and
before whom all are to be judged for deeds done in the
body, for evil thoughts and idle words.  Such should be the
weoman who will have a good influence over her husband,
who will lead him, though unbelieving, to respect religion,
who will secure the esteem and confidence of a pious and
worthy husband-for he shall praise her, his heart shall
safely trust in her.
" Those adorning let it not be that outward adorning of
plaiting the hair, and of wearing of gold or of putting on
of apparel; but let it be the ornament of a meek and quiet
spirit which is in the sight of God of great price."  We do
not suppose that it is wrong to dress becomingly, that
braiding or plaiting the hair, or of wearing ornaments of
gold, pearls or diamonds, are in themselves offensive in
the sight of God. He has created a world of beauty for
our enjoyment; He decks the flowers of the field in
340 
APPAREL.
robes of brilliant coloring and silken texture; He has
given lustre to the diamond, bright hues to the ruby and
emerald, and its inherent richness to the gold-let these
things be used by His intelligent creatures as His gifts,
but not worshipped as idols. Let the body which he has
created in His own image, which is destined to be the
temple of the Holy Spirit receive its due care and attention-keep it pure outwardly by attention to cleanliness,
and cover it with garments adapted to its comfort, and
if circumstances permit, suggestive of taste and elegance.
But when the chief care is expended upon the person,
when the great concern is what one shall wear, how
shall she dress her head, how have her garments made,
what ornaments she shall put on-then it is that sin is
committed, and the rights of the soul are set aside for the
adornment of the perishing body.
There are some among you who are too much engrossed
with the subject of dress. You attach to it an importance that it does not deserve; would you, in order to
distinguish yourselves for fashion and elegance, do that
which is wrong, and venture on the very verge of disobedience to the known rules of the Institute, in relation
to dress on public occasions? Our pupils have often been
commended for simplicity and modesty in this respect.
Let not "the putting on of apparel," appear to you as a
matter of supreme importance. Think of that hour when
your body will be shrouded in its last garment.   Regard
the passing scenes of this mortal life as steps which are
carrying you forward to the verge of an eternity you
341 
H-]fouRS WITH MY PUPILS.
must soon enter. In the Romish church, the novice about
to give up the wiorld, puts on the habits of her order.
You, who are about to enter into the busy scenes of life,
may, hereafter, adopt the vanities of fashion; you may,
perchance, become its votaries, and its leaders, but pay to
the institution which has sought to render you something
more noble, at least the compliment to be willing to
leave her halls dressed with maiden simplicity.
But God forbid that any of you are to become the
heartless devotees of fashion; may you now, henceforth
and forever, possess "the ornament of a meek arn  quiet
spirit, which is in the sight of God of great price."
-  1855.
342 
ADDRESS XVI.
TO THE GRADUATES OF 1855.
TIME, in its ever-moving current, has brought an hour
of deep interest to the members of this institution, more
especially to you who stand before me-the class of
graduates of 1855. In past years, you looked upon this
scene in the dim perspective of futurity;-it has gradually appeared in more distinct outlines;-it is now
here, the present-to-morrow, it will be of the past,anticipation will have transferred it to the keeping of
memory, where it will ever live amidst your most hallowed recollections.
Some of you have passed here many years of your
life; some have been with us a fewer number of anniversa
ries, but all have been here long enough to have formed
strong ties in the place where your closing period of
school education has been passed.   Amidst the beautiful
scenery of nature, your hearts have not been insensible;
and while the outer world has made its ineffaceable
daguerreotypes upon your memory, affections, deep and
strong, have stamped their impress upon the soul.
The present scene is, of itself, sufficient to excite strong
emotions without the aid of words. Why then speak
848 
HOURS WITH MY PUPILS.
thus of its import I Why remind you that you are forever to leave the home where you have been cared for;
your physical, intellectual and moral natures nurtured
and trained, that you who have lived together as sisters,
in one common family, are now to be separated far and
wide from each other, never more all to meet together
again in this world I  Yet you expect from me  some
parting words, and therefore I speak; not to excite your
sympathy to useless tears, but to strengthen the principles of virtue, and the good resolutions which we hope
have taken deep root in your minds. The parent sees not
his child go out into the world, without giving, with his
blessing, counsel to guide his steps amid the dangers
which may await him.
This hour should be to you, my daughters, a happy
one.   You have honorably passed through your school
probation, and are going to your several homes, with
the approving smile of conscience, and testimonials of
approbation.  But human happiness is never unalloyedthe expectant voyager about to embark for foreign
countries, amidst exciting anticipations of new scenes,
turns sadly to those he leaves behind, and to the home
which he may see no more-the happy bride leaves not
without regret, her girlhood's home, and its dear inmates.
Gladly you depart for your native home-sorrowfully you
leave this place, and the friends you have here found.
But it is not well at this moment to occupy ourselves
too much with mere feelings; duties await you, and you
go to prove, in the battle of life, the armor with which
344 
To THE GRADUATES OF 1855..
you have been furnished. In the varying scenes which
may await you, your principles will be tested; your
habits of industry and of self-command will be constantly
put  in requisition.   To live an idle, useless existence,
would be to forfeit self-respect, and the esteem of those
around you. It is well-directed action, only, that is truly
conmmuendable. The labor to be fashionable, or to gain
edlat for beauty, accomplishments or learning, is unworthy
your immortal destiny. May the daughters of Patapsco
ever aspire to be good women rather than fine ladies.
The reputation for talents, or great learning, is not to be
anxiously desired. Education should produce good fruits,
rather than manifest itself in ostentatious show or pretension.  Our country needs all the virtue of its enlightened daughters in this period of political excitement and
dangerous tendencies, when patriots tremble for the fate
of our common republic: and foreign nations, jealous of
our prosperity, regard with complacency and encourage
our sectional prejudices, confidently expecting them to
work out our national destruction. I speak not to you
of  woman's rights, but of  woman's  duties.   May  the
descendants of the noble women of the American Revolution, prove themselves (with far superior advantages for
mental culture), not inferior to them in wisdom, virtue,
and true patriotism.
Go, then, my daughters, fulfill your mission as wise
and good women, faithful followers of the blessed
Redeemer of mankind, seeking to benefit others rather
than please yourselves.  Go, now, to be the light and
15*
345 
H-OURS WITH MY PUPILS.
joy of your respective households, and reward the care
of the parents who have made so many sacrifices for you.
Finally, wherever the guiding hand of Providence may
lead you in future years, and whatever relations you may
be called to sustain, may you be found among the faithful
and the true, and at last may we all find a home,
together, in heaven.
1855.
NOTE.
The following paraphrase was prepared at the suggestion af
the beloved daughter of the author, to be sung at the Commencement which took place but a few weeks before she was
called to join in heavenly music.
346 
PARTING HYMN.
EVENING HYIMN TO THE VIRGIN, PARAPHRASED.
Jesu sanctissime, list to our parting strain!
Ora pro nobis I we may not meet again;
Guard us while shadows lie,
Far o'er life's journey spread;
Rear our hearts' parting sigh,
Thine, too, hath bled.
Thou, that hast look'd on death,
Aid us when death is near,
Whisper of Heaven to faith,
Oh! Saviour, blest Saviour, hear!
Ora pro nobis! we lift our hearts to thee,
In life, and death, our Saviour be.
Jests sanctissime, list to our parting strain I
Ora pro nobis! we may not meet again;
Oh! thou who know'st our frame,
And dangers of the way,
Our erring thoughts reclaim,
And be our stay.
Oh! save our souls from ill,
Guard thou our lives from fear;
Our days with virtue fill,
Oh! Saviour, blest Saviour, hear!
Ora pro nobis! we lift our souls to thee!
In life, and death, our Saviour be.
Commencement, 1855.
git 
ADDRESS XVII.
CHRISTIAN PROFESSION.
THE time is now near at hand in which some of your
number are to make a public profession of their Christian
faith. It is proper that this address should have refercnce to the coming event, and to topics connected with
the early dedication of the young to the service of God,
their Creator, Redeemer and Sanctifier
In pursuing this subject, I shall consider those of you
here present as consisting of three classes: 1st. Those who
manifest no desire to become the children of God, or who
may have felt religious convictions, but have said to the
Holy Spirit striving in their hearts, "Go thy way for this
time, when I have a convenient season I will call for
thee."   2d. Those  who  have professed their faith in
Christ; who are communicants in His church, and who
are bound by this relation to Him, to live as becometh
children of light. 3d. Those who are about to ratify
their baptismal vows, made for them by others when
they were in infancy, or who have as adults voluntarily
taken upon themselves these vows.
First, to those who choose to remain without taking
801 
THOSE WHO MAKE NO CHRISTIAN PROFESSION. 349
upon themselves the obligations to live as becometh the
children of God; who prefer to enjoy the pleasures and
gaieties of life, rather than to check the tendencies of
their hearts towards those vanities;-to you I would
address a last warning admonition-for so short is the
period now before us, ere our final separation as
"Teacher and Taught," that we may regard this as our
last opportunity for the serious consideration of truths
which concerns your immortal destiny. Bear with me
then, once more, while I would seek to make you better
acquainted with yourselves, and the condition in which
you now stand, as respects your title to a heavenly inheritance.   There are many of you who have chosen to
remain free from all self-imposed Christian obligations.
You have preferred to cast off reflection; you have not
wished to place yourselves in a situation where you
might be reminded that you are acting unworthily of
a Christian profession; you thought that by making
no profession, none could reproach you for not fulfilling its conditions.   Alas! for the hardened heart,
for the conscience which can slumber on, unheeding the
Iclud tones of the Gospel, "Awake thou that sleepest!"
God speaks to you in His providences. Within the
last year, His voice has come to us all, in an event which
though touching me most painfully, has been deeply felt
by every inmate of Patapsco, even to the humblest servant, for all felt that they had lost a friend.
One in the bloom of health and the prime of life, who 
HOURS WITt MY P UPILS.
read to you on one Sabbath day * on the uncertainty of
this life, and the importance of being prepared for a
fture state-as if a practical illustration were required
by the Almighty, is, on the third day after, suddenly
taken from these earthly scenes, when with filial love
and devotion she is travelling with her mother debilitated by sickness and seeking health in change of air and
scene-you know the beauty and piety of her life: you
hear, on all sides, the testimony that she was "ready to
go;" you perceive how this belief softens the grief of survivors, nay, turns their mourning into joy, and their
weeping into songs of praise; for they look forward to a
blessed reunion in the world of spirits, and to a neverending companionship with her in mansions prepared by
the Saviour for his faithful servants and followers.
God speaks again in the early death of school companions; The good and exemplary Eliza Van Meters t is cut
* On Sunday, August 26, Miss Lincoln in the absence of the chaplain (it
was a season of vacation) and her mother being indisposed, gathered for
religious worship the large number of pupils remaining, with other members of
the Institute family. If she had known what God designed should take place
on the third day after (the 29th of August, at that same hour), she might have
selected the Hymns and other portions of the worship, as appropriate. She
read a Sermon on God's providence, the uncertainty of life, dangers seen
and  unseen;-how, in a moment from an accident in travelling, the soul
might be summoned to eternity. Again, as the sun was calmly sinking below
the western horizon, did she lead in the hymn of praise to God in that circle of
pious worshippers; and with a glowing cheek and brightened eye, after the
prayers with which she had closed the Sabbath evening, she came to her
mother's sick room, to ask if she should read to her. And thus passed her last
Lord's lay on earth-a fitting prelude to an eternal Sabbath.
+ Daughter of Hon. John Van Meter of Ohio.
350 
GOD's PROVIDENCES.
down by "sickness in a day;"-while the piously resigned
Sarah Young * is seen slowly lingering under the touch
of consumption, and after her removal to her own Virginia home, we learn that she has passed away.   A
momentary sadness has come over you-perhaps a sigh
breathed, or a tear shed, or at the least a shade of seriousness for an houri or a few minutes, and then you
turned away, glad to amuse yourselves, glad to cast from
you all gloomy thoughts-the dark, cold grave was too
horrible for you to think of, you would not turn to the
beaming light from Calvary, which can irradiate the tomb
with  heavenly  brightness.   Religion  seemed  to you
gloomy and austere;-because you would not become
familiar with her, you feared her looking into your trifling
and vain hearts; so you failed to secure that friend, who
taking you by the hand would have led you safely
through dangers and temptations, and finally enabled you
to triumph over the last enemy in this our mortal life, even
death.   Religion would have taught you that Christ
having conquered death, His followers have no more
cause to tremble before the " King of terrors."
Of what avail to you, who refuse to attend to God's
call in his solemn warnings, have been the many addresses
you have heard from this place; when the voice which
now speaks to you, and which soon will be forever silent
to you, has called on you-to repent of your past thoughtlessness, and to turn your feet from following after
vanities.
* Daughter of Dr. Young of Virginia
351 
I speak to you as a class-and yet, had I time, I might
particularize the different individuals of this class who
refuse to interest themselves in religion, who disobey
God's calls, and remain as they are; I might say of one,
she is too indifferent, about everything, to mind religion;
she neglects her own improvement in her school educa tion, she only desires to live without doing anything-all
effort, physic al or intellectual, is a weariness to her; how
then can we expect her soul to wake up to its immortal
interests I Shall we say, sleep on, take thine ease-alas,
how soon thy soul may be required of thee I
I might say of another, she is too eager for present
pleasures to regard spiritual interests which are not
manifest to the senses-like Esau of old, she would sell
her immortal birthright for one savory morsel.
Of one, we might say, she is skeptical as to religion
she sees the faults of professed Christians, and she doubts
the efficiency of that religion which fails to make them
what they should be. Of all the devices of the enemy of
the souls of men, this is one of the most dangerous, the
most successful in keeping back those who are willing to
reflect, from entering the fold of Christ. But consider
that Christ came to save sinners, consider that as sinners
His professed followers came to Him, and though they
may often err, and do things unworthy of their high
calling, yet they may repent in bitterness of spirit;you see the transgression, but the penitence may be in
secret between the sorrowing soul and its God. "Lay
not the flattering unction to your souls," that the faults
HOURS WITH MY PuPILS.
352 
THE HOLY COMMUNION.
of professing Christians will excuse your neglect of
"bounden duty and service." Watch not for the failings
of others in respect to their duties, but look well to
yourselves that ye be not among the foolish virgins, who
will be found at the last, with lamps untrimmed and with
no oil in them.
We will next address those of you who have been partakers of the Holy Communion. You professed to wish
to be "Christ's faithful servant and follower."   You pro
fessed your faith in Him, and your determination to be
true to your religious obligations, to your life's end. You
promised that "by God's help you would renounce the
world, the flesh and the devil," and that you "would not
follow nor be led by them." That help will ever be
granted you, if you ask for it in humble prayer. You
have  met with trials  and  difficulties.   Perhaps  you
imagined that you were to find your nature entirely
changed-that you would never feel tempted to sin-that
you would never be angry, even under provocation; that
you would never be jealous of others, envious, unkind or
unamiable. You may have expected some wonderful
changes to be wrought in your own character and disposition by your obedience to God's commands.   The
blessed sacrament of the Lord's Supper, we do indeed
believe is a sanctifying ordinance; but like the dew of
heaven, its influence is gradual, often unseen and unfelt
by the recipients, until manifested by the trials of life, or
at the near prospect of death, when doubtful hope is
changed into firm faith, and the Christian can say with
353
I 
HOURS WITH MY PUPILS.
St. Paul, "for we know that if our earthly house of this
tabernacle be dissolved, we have a house not made with
hands, eternal in the heavens."
You have met with trials, perhaps, in the unkind
remarks of others; they have asked for the fruits of
your profession. It is true that you ought to exhibit
Christian tempers, that you ought to be kind, courteous,
meek and humble. Often may your friends have been
pained to witness your defects, your apparent living so
far below your Christian profession; but do not despair
-.you have placed yourself, with all your diseases of the
soul, under the care of the great physician-we confide in
His skill, we trust in His power and wisdom, and we
know that if you will persevere, Hie will cure your spiritual maladies.
I shall conclude by addressing those who are about to
make their public profession as followers of Christ, and
for the first time, approach the Lord's Table in the Holy
Communion.
On entering a new home, we regard with deep interest
the first meal we take in that place. When the home
circle assemble around the family board, they feel that
this is a kind of consecration.of their new abode. When
you were about to leave home to go away for years, the
last meal you took was a season of deep thought. When
you return, and find yourselves once more seated at the
family table, your hearts will overflow with gratitude for
the goodness of God which has preserved you all, and
brought you together again, crowning you with mercy
351 
GATHERIING AT TABLE.
and loving-kindness.   And when a beloved member of
the precious family circle is taken to join the family of
the Redeemer in another world, how do we feel the void
when thle survivors gather together at table; thus is the
family board consecrated as the altar of domestic love
and harmony, the suggester of tender and sacred associationlls.
The table of the Lord I how solemn, how affecting the
thought that our Saviour is here, with us, in Spirit-the
bread and wine are the emblems of his body and blood
given for us-he will bless to our use that holy feastin it, we commune with the spirits of all Christian worshippers-with "the saints of all ages,"-here we meet in
spirit with the beloved ones who, but a little while ago,
knelt, bodily, with us at this table, but are now of another
world; we believe them present with us, rejoicing that
we are following Christ in his commands-and that we
shall soon be with them in Paradise.
It becomes those who are about to devote themselves to
the service of God, to be humble, for they know themselves to be sinners in God's sight, and if reproached by
their fellow-creatures as such, let them bear patiently
such reproach, considering what persecutions their Saviour
endured for their sakes.
It becomes them to be serious;-shall a sinful creature
of earth, permitted to approach the majesty of Heaven,
lightly  regard  such  a privilege?   Let thoughts  of
personal appearance, of the opinions of other human
beings respecting you sink into nothingness, before the
'355 
HOURS WITH MY PUPILS.
awful considerations which at such an hour should press
upon the soul. You are beginning to take your first
steps towards heaven; with your eyes and hearts raised
heavenward, seize upon that chain whose termination is
in the spiritual world; hold it fast-let it not be wrested
from you till you find yourselves safe in the "bosom of
your Father and your God."
356
__.464( 
ADDRESS XVIII.
TO THE GRADUATES OF 1856.
You have now, my dear pupils, received the testimo.
nials of honorable dismission from your scholastic duties.
Some of you came to this place while you were yet
children. The bud under our fostering care has blossomed; and, in the bloom of womanhood, you are now to
return to your respective homes.   The  years of your
pupilage may have seemed slowly to pass away-but they
are now all gone-and you, too, are to go with this
departing, this departed school-year.
You who, for a longer time, have been pupils of
Patapsco, will, more especially, be regarded as exponents of the system of education here pursued.   Your
success or failure in respect to the great business and
objects of life, can never, either in your own minds or
those of others, be entirely separated from the persons
with whom, and the place where, your characters have,
in some degree, been formed and moulded.
As the fruits which reward the cultivator are not all
equally perfect, with the same degree of care and labor,
so must moral and mental culture, ever be attended with
various degrees of success. Health, energy of purpose,
357 
HIouRS WIT[  MY PUPILS.
industry and perseverance, are necessary to form the
thorough  and accomplished  scholar.   Seldom  are  all
these requisites  found  united;-your  deficiencies,  for
such the best will find in themselves, may it be your
future care to supply, by improving all advantages
which may be attainable.   May you feel that so far from
being proud of the attainments you have made, you
should rather be humble because you have not done
more. In this spirit of humility return to your homesin this spirit enter upon the scenes of life, and you will
render glad the hearts of friends, and secure the favor
of strangers.
You are now to depart hence, to enter a new schooleven the school of life.  The school of life I where your
teachers may be stern and severe, speaking harshly to
you in trials and afflictions of various kinds, and in divers
manners-but  you must learn that "whom  the Lord
loveth, He  chasteneth;" and  thus He  prepares  Hlis
children to leave this school of life with honor, and His
approbation of, "Well done good and faithful servant,
enter thou into the joy of thy Lord." If you have
looked forward with solicitude to your school examination
as a test of your preparation for an honorable discharge
from scholastic duties, how should you ever bear in mind
the termination of earthly scenes, and His scrutiny who
having offered himself as your Saviour, is to be your final
Judge. Think not then, that your trial is finished;this present, is only one stage in the drama of your life,
but it is to make way for more serious and eventful
358 
DUTIES AND PROSPECTS IN LIFE.
scenes and duties, in which your attainments, principles
and characters are to be tested.
Some graduates of former years, who, in the pride of
youthful loveliness, and distinguished for talents and
moral excellence, stood in the places you now fill, rest
from their earthly labors, having left behind them a good
hope of their Christian calling. Many others are now
filling various stations in life with honor and usefulness;
— when weighed in the balance, they are not found wanting.   I say this in no boastful spirit, but in humble
gratitude to God-for what they are, and for what they
are not; both that they are pious and intelligent women
seeking to know, that they may perform their dutiesthat they are not, the mere creatures of fashion, squandering health and reputation in scenes of thoughtless
gaiety and dissipation.   Often is the grateful incense of
praise for their virtues wafted to me from the circles of
life which they adorn, and where their genial influence is
diffused. So may it be with you, who are now to leave
the seclusion of academic life;-may you be prepared for
admission into heavenly mansions should it be your lot to
be called early from this world, or for a longer sojourn
amidst the toils and trials of life-and though on earth
we may never meet again, yet there will assuredly come
a period, when, if we discharge faithfully the duties of
our high calling, we shall rejoice together for all we have
been, and all we have done, conformable to the dignity
of our immortal nature, and of our Christian privileges.
The greater number of your class are professed fol
359 
IIOUR8 WITH MY PUPILS.
lowers of Christ. Several of you were baptized here
There was one* who stood with me as your sponsor
she was with us on the last anniversary of this day,
but the Lord, whom she loved and served, saw fit, in a
mysterious manner,  to take her from  us.   May  you
cherish her memory, and emulate her bright example;
and may each of you be to your parents, a blessing and
an honor, as was my sainted daughter to her widowed
mother. Let us bless God for all the saints He has given
to earth, as an example I
The circumstances under which I take leave of your
class are peculiar and affecting. While you go to begin
the duties of life, I resign the office which for so many
years has brought me into communion with young and
loving hearts. Though rejoicing in the favorable circumstances under which I leave this interesting charge, and
foreseeing for this institution, so dear to us all, a continuance of prosperity and usefulness, I cannot, without feelings which words may not express, bid adieu to my LASt
CLASS )F GRADUATES.
* Miss Jane P. Lincoln.
360 
PARTING HYMN.
ALMIGHTY FATHIERI bow Thine ear,
And listen to our farewell strain!
A sister band, behold us here,
Thou knowest if we meet again!
For, far and wide, our pathways lie,
And dangers wait our pilgrim band;
Uncertain all beneath the sky,
Our trust is in Thy mighty hand.
For not to earth our hopes we bind,
Sisters in Christian faith are we;
And oh, our Saviour! may we find
In heaven, a home, and rest with Thee,
A "little while," the Saviour cried,
And ye shall see your risen Lord,For us was Jesus crucified,
For us, incarnate. was the "WORD I
O Holy Spirit!'tis Thy part
To fit us for a heavenly rest;
Thy gracious influence on the heart,
Alone can make us truly blest.
Our choral harmony of praise,
To God the Father, God the Son,
And Holy Spirit, let us raise;
The Omnipresent THREE-IN-ONE
Commencement, 1856.
Sl1
16 
CONCLUSION.
THE course of this volume has been like the progress
of life. We had our five times three-score and ten pages
allotted us (for to the practical wisdom of publishers,
authors are bound to submit.) —At first the period seemed
lang, and we indulged in making ample selections from
the materials before us, but we found, as the middle
parlt of the book was attained, we had made but slow
progress.  And so the pages went on, until there was, at
the last, space for little more than the "Farewells."  Is it
not so with human life.  Does not its termination, however protracted, conie suddenly to all, and find much that
was to be done, remaining incomplete?
We had intended to have given Letters written to
pupils, while travelling in our own country and abroad.
But having already passed the prescribed limits, we
must omit them, with the intention, however, if life and
health be permitted, to publish them at a future time, in
a separate volume.
And now we part with our readers-we may have been
but a dull companion, for we have discussed serious subjects, and perhaps have seemed austere in our sentiments; but what experience of life, the inspiration of
862 
LAST WORDS.
conscience, and the word of God prompted us to say, we
might not withhold.
At this very time, events are transpiring which speak
to the women of America in louder and more solemn
tones than our feeble whispers, of the dangers of yielding
to the fascinations of pleasure. Parents and Teachers
are thus admonished to be more sedulous in the moral
training of the young, and to value above all other education, the proper development of the emotions and conscience, strengthened and sustained by a firm and well
disciplined will. Thus only will women be virtuous, the
safe and prudent conservators of domestic happiness, and
public morals.
March 15, 1859.
ANOTHER CONCLUSION.
Nine years have passed since the author bade farewell to her
readers-years of war and tumult in our country's history they
have been, and never has there existed greater necessity for the
wise training of the young than at this period, when the foun.
dations of our civil government are shaken. Unless the rising
generation of men and women shall redeem the country by
freedom and patriotism, the "American Republic" may serve as
a beacon light in history, to warn against the dangers of civil
strife and partisan animosities. Though women may not bear
a1 part in the government of the country, they can do much by
their influence at home to save or destroy the Republic estab.
lished by our political fathers.
MARCH, 1868.
THE END.
363