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About nine days before the time appointed for Masters Thompson,
Markham, Brown and Mitten to leave for the North, Mr. Beach, a
celebrated manufacturer of vehicles, in Newark, New Jersey, came
to the village, on a collecting tour through the State of Georgia. He
was well known to Mr. B. Sanders, who suggested to him that the
four youths just mentioned were about leaving for his State, and that
he would confer a very great favor on their parents, by taking charge
of them, at least as far as his residence. Mr. Beach very cheerfully
and kindly offered to do so, provided they could delay their departure
until the fifteenth of the month, and meet him at Augusta
on that date. Mr. Sanders sent for Mr. Markham, introduced him
to Mr. Beach, and the arrangement was made to suit the convenience
of the latter. On the fourteenth, Mr. Markham was in Augusta
with the four youths, where he found Mr. Beach ready to
take charge of them. They were placed under his care, and left
with him for Jersey, via Savannah, the next morning. On the
evening before their departure, Mr. Markham addressed the four as
follows:

“I cannot part with you, my young friends, perhaps forever, without
giving you the benefit of my experience and observation in the
way of counsel. Bear with me if I occasionally play the woman in
delivering it, for I speak from a heavy heart. Was ever man placed
in precisely the relation which I sustain to you all! I can with
truth say, that I never felt the delicacy and responsibilities of it, in
all their force, until this moment. When I left college, I had no
higher ambition than to be a good and a useful man; and I saw no
better way of attaining these ends than by devoting myself to the
instruction of youth. I determined to engage in this vocation—
greatly to the disappointment and mortification of my only surviving
parent, who, mother like, far over-estimated my gifts and attainments,
and regarded them as certain passports to high political or
judicial distinction, while in cousonance with a miserably perverted
public opinion of that day, (not yet entirely reformed,) she esteemed
the calling of the `School Master' as hardly respectable. I saw the
importance of it, and the bitter fruits of this debasement of public
opinion, (that it was throwing the sacred business of instruction into
the hands of the worst of characters) and I determined that, to the
extent of my ability, I would elevate the character of the teacher

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and rectify the popular error. I opened my school at first in this
place, and afterwards in the village where I now reside. I soon acquired
the confidence of the villagers—at least of all whose confidence
was worth having. I appreciated it highly, and studied to
retain and strengthen it by a faithful discharge of my duty as an instructor,
and the performance of good offices as a man. The consequence
has been, that trust after trust has been devolved upon me
through a long series of years. I accepted them simply on the
score of friendship, benevolence or humanity, thinking nothing of
the responsibilities attached to them, until I found myself occupying
the place of a parent to four youths of fair promise, of different
means, tempers and dispositions, at the most critical period of life,
on the eve of their departure from the parental roof, for two, three
or more years. Verily, my position is an unenviable one; but it
will be a source of future rejoicing to us all, if you choose to make
it such. That you may make it such, listen to the last counsels that
I expect ever to give you; remembering that there are others much
more deeply interested in your observance of them, (with but one
exception) than I am.

“Hitherto you have had wiser heads to shape your course, to correct
your errors, to check your wanderings, and to guard your morals,
than your own. From to-morrow you must be thrown mainly upon
your own resources, and that too amidst scenes of novelty, temptation
and trial, to which you are entire strangers. Fortunately for me,
and more fortunately for you if you will be advised, I am enabled to
anticipate the more serious evils to which you will be exposed during
your sojourn abroad, and to fortify you against them. Come safely
through these, and your character will survive all others, though it
may be smartly chafed by them. To these, however, I shall not confine
my counsels, for my purpose is, not simply to save you from
ruin, but to exalt you to honorable distinction.

“I begin with your duty to Mr. Beach, who has laid us all under
obligations to him which we can never repay. He has kindly
promised to take you to his house upon reaching Newark, to retain
you there for two days, until he can dispose of a little pressing business,
then to accompany you to New York, and devote two more
days to showing you the city and as many of its curiosities as can
be seen in so short a time, and then to see you all to your destination.
Now, whether we are indebted to his native goodness of heart
for these unusual and unlooked for kindnesses, or to his friendship
for Mr. Sanders, they certainly demand your profoundest respect and

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your warmest feelings of gratitude. Let him see that you are sensible
of them. In your intercourse with him be modest, but not bashful;
easy, but not forward; familiar, but not pert; and at all times
and under all circumstances, show him the most marked deference
and respect. When he speaks, give him your attention. Arrest
always your conversation with each other, to hear what he has to
say. Should he use an ungrammatical expression, or betray ignorance
of any of the very few things which you know, you are not to
evince by word, smile or interchange of look, that you notice or
know of his defects. Anticipate his wishes, and relieve him of the
burden of you as much as possible. Take care of your own trunks
and of his, (if he will allow you to do so) under his direction.
Whatever opinions he may advance, you are not to object to them;
much less are you to debate them with him. These rules should be
observed in your intercourse with your elders generally, more especially
are they to be observed in your intercourse with a benefactor.

“In the course of your travels, you will sooner or later be thrown
in company with every variety of character; the grave, the scientific,
the facetious, the ignorant, the profane, the vile. Be not forward in
obtruding yourselves upon the notice of either class. A modest and
diffident approach to men of rank and learning, you may make, with
propriety and improvement; but take care to let them always lead in
the conversation; and as soon as they turn their attention from you
to another, cease to be talkers, and become listeners. Let others
entertain the wit, not you. To the ignorant be charitable, not rude.
Ignorance is no crime. Show no countenance to the vulgar and the
profane. I do not say that it is your province to rebuke them; but
it is your duty to yourselves to exhibit no signs of approbation to
anything that falls from the lips of such characters. And do not
suppose that you will gain credit for purity of heart, by simply abstaining
from vulgarity of lip yourselves. Let me see how you receive
it from the lips of others, and I will tell you exactly how far
you differ from them in moral character. Does it absorb your attention?
Does it excite a smile? Does it raise no blush upon your
cheek? Does it receive from you an impulsive hint? You are no
better at heart than the retailer of it. The only difference between
you is, that you are a little more prudent than he is, in your choice
of times and places of relieving your hearts from this moral feculence.

“Do not allow yourselves to contract the habit of profane swearing.

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Aside from its sinfulness, it should be eschewed by every man who
desires to become fascinating in conversation, or renowned in elocution.
I never saw the very profane swearer, who was a very eloquent
extemporaneous speaker. The reason is plain: such an one, always
accustomed to filling up his sentences with oaths, cannot command
the appropriate terms to supply their places when they are rejected.

“When you enter college, you will be presented with a copy of its
laws: read them attentively, and resolve to obey them. Indeed,
you will be required to sign a written pledge to do so. A word upon
this pledge. It is called the matriculation pledge, and imports the
formal admission of the student into the Institution. How it comes
to pass I know not, but so it is, that not one in twenty students
regard this solemnly recorded vow as of any force whatever. A
large majority do not violate it—at least in any important particulars—
but whether their conformity to it is from respect to it, or a
proper sense of its obligations, is very questionable. It is certain,
that in the four years in which I was in college, I never heard it adverted
to as a ground of obedience to the rules of the Institution.
One day, a very grave, pious student said to a rather wild one, in
my presence, `How does it happen that so many students treat the
matriculation pledge as a nullity?' `Oh,' said the other, `when I
took the pledge, I understood it to mean that I would keep the law,
or endure the penalty'(!) I see you all smile at this stupendous
discovery in moral philosophy, and well you may. If every official
oath, and every private promise were to be interpreted in this way,
no government could last a year, and every ligament that binds man
to man would be severed in less time. Officers might do as they
please, and `endure the penalty!' Husbands might forsake their
wives, and wives their husbands, and `endure the penalty!' I
might desert you here, and take your funds to myself and `endure
the penalty!' Mr. Beach may desert you in Savannah or New York
and `endure the penalty!' But I forget myself—you see the absurdity
of this doctrine as plainly as I do. If you mean to disregard
your matriculation pledge, tell me so now, that I may save you
from the sin of taking it. If you mean to keep it, all further counsels
from me would seem unnecessary. Not, so, however: nine-tenths
of those who take it, mean at the time to keep it; but from
temptation, want of caution, or some other cause, they violate it;
and then they think one violation as bad as a thousand, and become
desperate, or quiet their consciences with some such miserable appliance
as that to which we have just adverted. Now, this is all

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wrong. One breach of duty can never justify another; and there
is almost as wide a difference between a deliberate fault, and one
committed under severe temptation, as there is between innocence
and guilt. If, therefore, you should be betrayed into a breach of
your pledge, do not consider yourselves as released from it, but as
instructively admonished to guard with quickened vigilance against
the associations or train of events that led you into it.

“But, my young friends, there is a condition attached to that
pledge—an implied one, to be sure, but none the less obligatory on
that account—which Professors are apt to forget; but students,
never: It is, that the members of the Faculty discharge their duties
faithfully to the students. And here is the prolific source of many
difficulties in Colleges. One duty of the Faculty students always
see very clearly; and that is, that every member of the Faculty is
bound to treat them with tenderness, courtesy and respect, and this
duty they not only exact with unreasonable rigor, but treat a breach
of it in the most unreasonable manner that human ingenuity could
devise. They hold the Professor bound to this duty, no matter
how they may treat him. This is bad enough, but their mode of
dealing with the offending Professor is ten thousand times worse.
The injured party, instead of mildly and calmly laying his grievances
before the Professor, and asking an explanation of him, which in
ninety-nine cases out of a hundred would produce a reconciliation,
spreads his grievances through the College. His class (perhaps two
or three classes,) espouse his cause, visit the Professor with every
species of insult and indignity, set all the laws of the Institution at
defiance, rage like the Bacchantes of old, get themselves expelled by
the dozen and suspended by the score, and then come to order.

“There was but one row of this kind while I was in College; and
though I really sympathised with the student whose wrongs preduced
it, I took no part in it, because I could not see what good end
was to be accomplished by it. And had I not seen such things with
my own eyes, I could not have believed it possible that any human
being out of Bedlam could act in this way. I was blamed for my
neutrality while the uproar was in progress, but never afterwards.
Now, should either of you feel yourselves aggrieved by anything said or
done by any member of the Faculty, after allowing cooling time for
yourself and him, go to him and lay the grounds of your complaint
before him privately and temperately. If he does not give you satisfaction,
appeal in like manner to the Faculty. If they give you no
redress, appeal to the Trustees; and if they give you no redress,

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appeal to me, and, if your cause be just, I will procure for you an
honorable dismission, and remove you from the College. This course
will be much more creditable and profitable to you, than to tax the
friendship of your fellow-students with your vindication, when it is
impossible that they can gain anything by it, and certain that they
will lose incalculably. All this upon the supposition that you are
actually multreated by a Professor without any fault on your part—a
case which hardly ever occurs. Take care that you do not construe
the duty of a Professor into a fault. The laws will show you what
he is bound to do; and all that he does in obedience to the laws, do
you submit to without murmurs or complaint. It is no ground of
objection to him that other Professors are more remiss in the discharge
of their duties than he is. The comparison between him and
them will be altogether in their favor while you are in College, but
altogether in his when you come out of it, especially if you ever
become the Trustee of a College.

“The greatest danger to which you will be exposed, is from the
shocking system of ethics which prevails in Colleges. It is admitted
on all hands, that a student should not become a voluntary informer
against his fellow-students. But even to this rule there ought to be
some exceptions; and the exceptions should cover all cases where
the information is given from a principle of benevolence to the
students themselves, and there is no other means of securing the
end in view but by information lodged with authorities of the College,
or of the State. A student, for instance, knows of a contemplated
duel between two of his fellow-students; he uses his best
exertions to stop it, but fails; is he to be branded with the infamy
of a common informer, because he puts the Faculty in possession of
the fact? Surely not. A fortiori, where the intended crime would
produce irreparable injury to a person, and subject the student himself
to the pain of death, as murder, arson, treason, and the like.
True, none of these crimes but the first mentioned (the duel,) are
likely to ever occur in a College; but should they occur, it is very
doubtful whether the informer would find any quarter among his
college companions.

“But let us come to a case very likely to occur. It is a rule in
some Colleges, (in most of them, I believe,) that if a student is
charged with an offence, and another is called on to testify in his
case, and refuse, he shall be dismissed. Every student who enters
the College pledges himself to keep this law; and yet, in the judgment
of seven-tenths of the students, it is considered basely

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dishonorable to testify, if his testimony would prove the guilt of the
accused! The culprit himself has not the magnanimity to confess
his guilt, and save his innocent friends from punishment, but,
shielded by this miserable abortion of College comity, he avoids detection,
sees them disgraced, driven off and robbed of man's richest
boon, (a liberal education,) while he quietly retains his place, and
ultimately pockets his Parchment! And yet, black, rotten and
fœtid as he is, some of the unimplicated congratulate him on his
escape, and many of them hold fellowship with him, not only without
nausea, but with an agreeable relish!! The dirty lump of humanity
should be turned over to the scavenger, by the unanimous
verdict of the College, and pitched into the remotest sewer from it.
Now this case has actually happened, and it may happen again while
you are in College. If so, and you are cognizant of the offence,
(not a participant in it,) and summoned as a witness against an offender,
go to him and tell him to confess his fault, or you will become
a witness against him. If thus forewarned, he refuses to confess,
testify against him. His friendship is not worth having, nor
is the friendship of a legion of students, who would cut your acquaintance
for so doing. I know it is hard to bear the derision and
contempt of your College companions, but bear that, or even martyrdom,
rather than forfeit your word, incur disgrace, be driven from
the walks of science, and have your fairest prospects blighted, to
favor a villain.

“That students should suffer themselves to be punished, in order
to conceal the guilt of an offender too vile to own his guilt—that a
rule should obtain among them, which makes it better to be a culprit
than a witness, safer to sin than to see it, more honorable to profit
by magnanimity than to practice it, and more graceful in the malefactor
to divide his responsibilities among his friends than to bear
them himself—is marvelous indeed. But the wonders of College
ethics do not stop here. Another principle of the school is, that no
member of the fraternity is to exculpate himself from a crime committed
by one of his fellows; because, forsooth, if all who are innocent,
avow their innocence, the guilty one must be discovered if he
be a man of truth! By the law of all Colleges, I believe, if a
student stands mute when questioned as to his participation in an
offence, he is to be regarded as the perpetrator of it, and to be visited
accordingly. Students, innocent students, stand mute and endure the
penalty! They virtually acknowledge a fault, of which they are not
guilty. Who is to be benefited by their self-sacrifice, they know

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not—or may not know! Whether any crime at all has been committed
by a fellow-student they do not know, and do not enquire!
Whether the consequences which they apprehend, will follow from
their exonerating themselves, they cannot know! Their course of
conduct will save the offender, or it will not. If it save him, he
escapes and they are punished; if it do not save him, they share his
fate without doing him any service! Why this is monstrous!
Young men, you are not to forfeit the inestimable blessings of a liberal
education, for any such refinements as these. You are not to
encourage the idea that you are evil-doers, when you are not! You
are not to lacerate your parents' feelings, to conciliate the blind
votaries of a preposterous dogma! I know that you must have a
will of iron and nerves of steel, to withstand the sneers, the jibes,
the taunts, the scorn of your college compeers. You can have no
idea of their potency until they begin to threaten you. Why are
such conservative agencies abused to the encouragement of vice and
the terror of virtue! How has it come to pass, that wrong receives
more favor in schools and colleges than anywhere else? How happens
it, that every code of morals, human and divine, is reversed in
these Institutions? It is amazing, it is unaccountable! But, my
young friends, there is majesty and power in virtue, if she will assume
her prerogatives, which will command respect and awe down
opposition, even in colleges. Put yourselves under her guardianship,
and with head erect and heart unawed, boldly meet the champions
of vice, and you are certain of victory, and of victory's richest
spoils: a quiet conscience, approving teachers, rejoicing parents,
mental culture, public favor, and lasting honor. Stand together as
one man in the maintenance of right, be led by neither to espouse
the wrong. Cultivate the friendship of the orderly, the pious, the
studious, the intellectual. Have no fellowship with the idle, the
dissipated, the boisterous, the prodigal. Treat them politely, but
distantly. These are the characters who breed all the mischiefs in
College. From such as these must have sprung up those moral
monstrosities of which I have been speaking. The best code of
morals for them is, of course, that which indulges vice and repudiates
virtue. Take care of them; the Faculty will judge you by
the company you keep; and if you would avoid the trying dilemmas
of which I have spoken, keep away from the vicious and the lawless.
These are the ones who are arraigned for outbreaks, and their companions
are the witnesses, if not the accomplices. Let cards alone;
let intoxicating liquors alone! If you disregard everything else

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that I have told you, burn these seven words into your memory:
`let cards alone; let intoxicating liquors alone!' Let your recreation
hours, and only your recreation hours, be spent mainly in female
society; preferring the pious and intellectual, to the light and
volatile. Write home often, and when temptations assail you, think
of home. Do not get in the way of neglecting your College duties;
remissness is the first step to degradation. You all have your Bibles;
read them often—if not from a better motive, read them for your
mothers' sakes. And now, bow with me in prayer to God, that He
incline your hearts to keep these precepts, and His own, which are
far better, conduct you safely to your destination, preserve you, and
bless you, during your sojourn at the seat of Science, and return
you to us, endowed with its richest treasures!”

The prayer was offered up, and the following morning Mr. Markham
bade his young friends a tearful farewell, saw them on their
way to Savannah, and then turned his steps homeward.