ount of
superior age, but their claims ought not to be admitted. A person who
has the eyes both of his mind and body open, will derive more wisdom
from one year's experience, than those who neglect to observe for
themselves, from ten. Thus at thirty, with ten years acquaintance with
men, manners and things, a person _may_ be wiser than another at three
times thirty, with seven times ten years of what he calls experience.
Sound practical wisdom, cannot, it is true, be rapidly acquired any
where but in the school of experience, but the world abounds with men
who are old enough to be wise, and yet are very ignorant. Let it be
your fixed resolution not to belong to this class.

But in order to have the mental eyes open, the external eyes should be
active. We should, as a general rule, see what is going on around us.
There are indeed seasons, occurring in the school or the closet, when
abstraction is desirable; but speaking generally, we should 'keep our
eyes open.'

It is hence easy to see why some men who are accounted learned, are yet
in common life very great fools. Is it not because their eyes have been
shut to every thing but books, and schools, and colleges, and
universities?

The late Dr. Dwight was an eminent instance of keeping up an
acquaintance both with books, and the world in which he lived and
acted. In his walks, or wherever he happened to be, nothing could
escape his eye. 'Not a bird could fly up,' says one of his students,
'but he observed it.' And he endeavored to establish the same habit of
observation in others. Riding in a chaise, one day, with a student of
his, who was apt to be abstracted from surrounding things, he suddenly
exclaimed, almost indignant at his indifference, 'S---- keep your eyes
open!' The lesson was not lost. It made a deep impression on the mind
of the student. Though by no means distinguished in his class, he has
outstripped many, if not the most of them, in actual and practical
usefulness; and to this hour, he attributes much of his success to the
foregoing circumstance.

There is a pedantry in these things, however, which is not only
fulsome, but tends to defeat our very purpose. It is not quite
sufficient that we merely bestow a passing glance on objects, they must
strike deep. If they do not, they had better not have been seen at all;
since the habit of 'seeing not,' while we appear to 'see,' has been all
the while strengthening.

It cannot be denied that a person who sha