"If young men imagine that the gratification of appetite is the great source of enjoyment, they will find this in the highest degree with industry and _temperance_. The epicure, who seeks it in a dinner which costs five dollars, will find less enjoyment of appetite than the laborer who dines on a shilling. If the devotee to appetite desires its high gratification, he must not send for buffalo tongues and champagne, but climb a mountain or swing an axe. Let a young man pursue temperance, sobriety, and industry, and he may retain his vigor till three score years and ten, with his cup of enjoyment full, and depart painlessly; as the candle burns out in its socket, he will expire."[2] [Footnote 2: Horace Mann.] Next to Temperance in importance, I would rank the habit of INDUSTRY. We were evidently made for active occupation. Every joint, sinew, and muscle plainly shows this. A young person who is an idler, a drone, is a pest in society. He is ready to engage in mischief, and to fall into vice, with but little resistance. It is an old saying, that "an idle brain is the devil's workshop." Those who are not actively employed in something useful, will be very likely to fall into evil practices. Industry is one of the best safeguards against the inroads of vice. The young, whatever may be their condition, or however abundantly they may believe their future wants already provided for, should actively engage in some honorable occupation or profession--in something that will benefit mankind. They should be fired with the high and noble ambition of making the world better for their living in it. Who can wish to pass a _blank_ existence? Yet this is the life of every idler, poor or rich. Be stirring in anything which is useful--anything which will make others happy. Then you will not have lived in vain. Behold how a good man can devote his life to labors for the benefit of others. Would you partake of the immortal fame of a Howard? Imitate, to the extent of your ability, the example of industrious benevolence he has placed before the world. "From realm to realm, with cross or crescent crowned, Where'er mankind and misery are found, O'er burning sands, deep waves, or wilds of snow, Mild Howard journeying seeks the house of woe. Down many a winding step to dungeons dank, Where anguish wails aloud and fetters clank, To caves bestrewed with many a mouldering bone, And cells whose echoes only learn to groan; Where no kind bars a whispering friend disclose, No sunbeam enters, and no zephyr blows;-- He treads, inemulous of fame or wealth, Profuse of toil and prodigal of health; Leads stern-eyed Justice to the dark domains, If not to sever, to relax his chains; Gives to her babes the self-devoted wife, To her fond husband liberty and life,-- Onward he mores! disease and death retire; And murmuring demons hate him and admire."