mantle of velvet spread out to the sight,
Reflects to the gazer a bright world of light.
The fair bark has lost none of its beauty of yore,
But a youth is within it,--the fair child before;
And the Angel is gone--on the shore see him stand,
As he bids him adieu with a wave of the hand.
Ah! a life is before thee--a life full of care,
Gentle Youth, and mayhap thou wilt fall in its snare.
Can thy bark speed thee now? without wind, without tide?
Without the kind Angel, thy beautiful guide?
Ah! no;--then what lures thee, fair youth, to depart?
Must thou rush into danger from impulse of heart?
Lo! above in the bright arch of Heaven I see
The vision, the aim so alluring to thee:
'Tis the temple of Fame, with its pillars so fair,
And the Genius of Wisdom and Love reigneth there.
Advance then, proud vessel,--thy burden is light,--
Swift speed thee, and guide his young steps in the right;
For in life's 'fitful changes' are many dark streams,
And paths unillumed by the sun's golden beams."

Cherish self-respect. Have a deep regard for your own estimation of
your own merits. Look with scorn and contempt upon low and vicious
practices. Cultivate pride of character. I care not how proud the
youthful are of all their valuable attainments, their correct
habits, their excellings in that which is manly, useful, and good.
The more pride of this description, the better. Though it should
reach even to egotism and vanity, it is much better than no pride in
these things. This pride in doing right is one of the preserving
ingredients, the very salt of man's moral character, which prevents
from plunging into vice.

Live for something besides _self_. Build with your own hands, the
monument that shall perpetuate your memory, when the dust has
claimed your body. Do good. Live for others, if you would be
embalmed in their recollections.

"Thousands of men breathe, move, and live--pass off the stage of
life, and are heard of no more. Why! They did not a particle of good
in the world; and none were blessed by them; none could point to
them as the instruments of their redemption; not a line they wrote,
not a word they spoke could be recalled, and so they perished;
their light went out in darkness, and they were not remembered more
than the insects of yesterday. Will you thus live and die, O man
immortal? Live for something. Do good, and leave behind y