Another fault of scholars which does infinite mischief, {564} is that of believing, or at least acting as if they believed any other time better than the present, for increasing their knowledge and improving their morals. Hence their innumerable little tricks to avoid their school exercises—their continual efforts to escape from study, and their passion for holidays. The possession of life is viewed—if not as a perpetuity—at least, as an estate to be enjoyed for a very long period, the first part of which is the only season for the enjoyment of vivid, highly exciting and never to be neglected or rejected pleasures. As a season of preparation and _the only one_—not only for the faithful performance of all the duties of the present life, but for securing an inheritance in the life to come, it is rarely ever viewed by young persons at school. If a human being leaves an estate in trust to other beings like himself, for beneficent uses, the whole world is ready to cry out “shame—shame!” should these trustees violate their trusts. Yet is this same world either entirely silent, or takes little notice of the infinitely more criminal breach of trust committed towards the God of the universe, by every individual in regard to his own soul, whenever he neglects to exercise _its_ powers as he has been ordered, by one having supreme authority to command, and unlimited power to punish eternally, for disobedience. It would seem as if each person really believed his life and all his faculties actually constituted a kind of estate, for which he was indebted to no one, and which he had a full and perfect right to use or abuse as he pleases. But _would this be so_—_could it possibly happen_, almost as a matter of course, if the first and the last lessons which our youth received at every place of instruction from the nursery to the college, were accompanied and fortified by this most momentous truth, presented to them in all its terrors, when necessary—or recommended, where this seemed best, in all its attractions? Would they not first fear to neglect their moral and religious duty—then love it—then cherish a sense of it in their hearts, as their vital blood—and lastly, make it the governing motive of their whole lives? Religious and moral principles should be the paramount objects of all instruction, and their constant inculcation the imperative duty of all instructers, from the humble teachers of our alphabet, to the most learned and dignified professors of our colleges and universities. As to the moral malady, procrastination—which led to the preceding remarks, it is certainly not peculiar to scholars, for it afflicts the old as well as the young. But it is equally certain, that unless it be contracted in youth, it rarely, if ever, appears in after life. Every scholar then, who feels the slightest symptom of this disease, should apply as a remedy, the cardinal rule—“obsta principiis”—“resist