tiplicity of exercises into which the student's time is cut up in these institutions, have swept on, till you are already master of more science, I doubt not, than many of those who pass from the walls of college with diplomas in their pockets. And still you have not had the opportunity of profiting by the advantages I have named."

"In what do these distinguishing advantages consist, let me ask?"

"In this:- - In the first place, you soon learn, in your intercourse and collision with so many intellects of all grades and of all degrees of erudition, the exact measure of your own mind—its weakness and its strength. This, in the walks of life, must always be of incalculable advantage: it will teach one what his self-esteem had before entirely concealed from him—the certainty of a failure in many an aim which the same blinding principle would have otherwise led him to attempt. And it will teach another that he possesses capabilities of which he was, perhaps, before wholly unconscious, and thus lead him successfully to essay some noble goal, to which, but for that, he would never have aspired or attained. And, in the second place, among this congregation of talent, consisting of the many hundreds of the votaries of learning, with whom you will be constantly associated, you will hear, during your collegiate career, almost every possible subject, pertaining not only to science, but all else that has ever exercised the thoughts of men, discussed discussed with all the lights that can be thrown upon it, and settled, as far as may be, by reference to professors, or other good authorities; so that you will be thus enabled to enter the mingled world of men, who are too bustling and busy to think much themselves, or allow others much time to do so, with a ready store of sifted knowledge, which he who has acquired his education in comparative solitude will rarely ever obtain. And there is yet another consideration which will be impor

tant, especially to you, who intend becoming a professional teacher. You will receive a diploma of the graduate's degree, which perhaps may be indispensable in obtaining the preceptorship of an academy-or, at least, so eligible a one as your merits should command."

"Ay; but I propose to become a teacher of common schools - "

"Till you can do better-is it not so, my friend?"

"No, Mr. Seaver, no. Both experience and observation have shown me the sadly defective condition of our common schools-those first nurseries of science, upon the management of which, as it appears to me, almost all that we prize depends. They must not only foster and bring forward all the germs that are transplanted into our higher institutions of learning, which will flourish or decline according to the numbers and quality of the supply thus furnished; but they are the radiating points of intelligence to the great mass of the community, that will become enlightened in proportion as the light emitted from these points is strong or feeble. But how can either of the two great objects I have named be expected from schools conducted, as most of our common schools now are, by those who need the very instruction they are employed to impart to others? Men do not thus manage the objects of their care in the physical world. There the greatest skill and attention are always bestowed on the youngest plant, till it is nursed, moulded, and brought forward into a shape and condition in which it will push up rightly of itself, or require less skilful hands to attend it. parallel between the young plant and the young every body's mouth! My own wants and troubles in obtaining good instruction, when a boy, have led me to think much, and feel deeply on this subject. And I have long since resolved that my feeble powers, as far as they may go, shall be contributed to the object of remedying the existing evil; for

And yet the

mind is in

there I think they will do the most good, and there I am very sure they are the most needed."

"There is much force in your remarks, Mr. Amsden. The condition of our common schools is indeed deplorable. And the people of this country appear to be strangely blind on the subject. They either do not see it in the just light in which you have placed it, or they expect what they will never men qualified for the task engaging as teachers of common schools, for wages which will not pay the interest of the estimated at its worth in money — spent money and time by them in obtaining their qualifications. But why should you, who are poor, be the first to make the sacrifice, which you must make, if you engage in this employment?”

see

"And why should I not? I am satisfied that examples of the kind must be set, and sacrifices be made, before the eyes of the community will be opened to the difference between what now is done, and what may be done, with our common schools. And why, I repeat, should not I be the first to go forward? The pecuniary sacrifice which I may be compelled to make, will, with my present feelings, cause no abridgment of my happiness; and I shall rest content with the pleasure of my employment, and the consciousness of doing good for my reward."

"The purpose is indeed a high and noble one, Mr. Amsden; and my conscience will not permit me to say another word in dissuasion. But, allowing that you persist in your determination, does that—to return to the point from which we started does that circumstance furnish any answer to the main part of the argument I have advanced as the ground on which I advised you to change the present scene of your studies to that of a college?"

"Perhaps not. Your views, Mr. Seaver, were certainly new to me; and they have had sufficient weight on my mind to determine me to reconsider the matter in question. But

I must reflect before I can permit myself to decide. It is possible that your arguments, as far as opinion is concerned, may prevail."

And the arguments of Seaver did prevail. The objected want of pecuniary means having been obviated by the proffered assistance of the generous and high-minded friend who had induced him to take the step, — Amsden, after a few days spent in preparation, and in writing to apprise his friends of his change of purpose, set out for the college to which he had been recommended by his preceptor, and for which his course of studies more particularly fitted him. Reaching the institution, after little more than a day's journey, he immediately presented himself for examination; when, having been found amply qualified, he was permitted to unite himself with the Sophomores, at a time when they had been nearly two years in college. And, within a fortnight from the time of the conversation above detailed, he might have been found within the classic walls of his newly adopted Alma Mater, burning, in his eager pursuit of knowledge, the midnight oil, where

"around the lamp that o'er

His chamber shed its lonely beam,

Was widely spread the varied lore

Which feeds, in youth, our feverish dream."

But alike vain and thankless would be the attempt to interest the general reader in a description of the seemingly dull and unvaried routine of a life of study. The student's world is all within his own mind. There he finds enough to engage, enough to interest him. Others, however, think not of this, nor take note of the treasures he is silently hoarding up for the rich and glorious appropriation of the future. They can see nothing to admire in his listless, abstracted appearance; and when, in after times, he comes forth into the active scenes of life, which call for an exhibition of his trea

sured knowledge and wisdom, and in which the results of years of toil are seen perhaps in a day, they are astonished at his unexpected display of intellectual power, and wonder why they had never heard or thought any thing of that man before.

For nearly a year and a half, through vacations and all, our hero applied himself, with all the enthusiasm and mental energy with which he was so unusually gifted, in unremitting labor to the grateful task before him, not only perfecting the particular sciences required of him, but extending his researches into the broad and widening fields of general knowledge. At the end of this period, however, having gone over, in advance of his class, the little of actual study that now remained to complete the whole course prescribed by the rules of the institution to entitle him to a degree, he asked, and very readily obtained, leave of a discretionary term of absence, to enable him to replenish his pecuniary resources, by resuming the avocation of teaching, which it was still his unaltered purpose, in despite of all probable sacrifices, to make the business of his life.