death”—We are extremely happy in asserting that a stretch of industry & perseverance rarely equalled in the annals of this school has been exhibited this summer but few are exceptions to this assertion—but to the consciences of those few, I would wish to speak so plainly as to be felt & so powerfully as to govern—What will be the account that God will demand of hours supplied but to be wasted—of talents granted but to be abused—of the light of intellect given but to be shrouded by the mists of indolence. From these few dark shades in the picture we turn to those brighter hues, that have gladdened our eyes and encouraged our hearts—To those who have employed their time to advantage, who have now been sowing that harvest they will reap hereafter, we have many words of praise to give—But the character of our praise & the merits of each can be better learnt by a reference to the prizes & the credit marks— But there is another light in which the flight of time this summer is to be viewed—When industry shall have accomplished its object & indolence shall have performed its office, when the stream of time shall have emptied all its waters into the ocean of eternity—indeed long after this world with its own peculiar concerns & trials shall appear “as some lone island speck seen far—far off across a wide long stretch of sea”—will this summer be remembered with pain or joy, as its time of probation has been improved—Have you any good reason to suppose its remembrance will be painful—If the occurrences of this summer have not induced your repentance & reformation, will any after considerations effect them—Is there great reason to imagine that hearts that have resisted the providences of this season will still resist them when habits of sin have increased its power and the chains of the world wound themselves more closely round. Will God be more merciful hereafter, when you have sinned longer against him—But will that hereafter arrive? Are none a prey to death as young, as strong as blooming as you? Where now is all that was Clarinda Darling, whose sun at this summer dawn rose as clear as bright as yours? mouldering beneath the clods of the valley—Will you not pause one moment and leaning over her grave resolve that e’er death strike you, you will give yourselves to God—Do you think that strength of frame & vigor of body will secure from the tyrant’s grasp, & then after neglect your repentance?—Who three months since so blithely bound’d on your path to school as she? Whose frame so vigorous & whose strength so strong? Can beauty save you—Look at her grave & ask— “Will the cold earth its silence break To tell how soft, how smooth a cheek Beneath its surface lies.”