32 
THE CULTIVATOR. 
S 
Young’ Men’s Department. 
Lectures on Self-Instruction, delivered before the Young Men’s Associ¬ 
ation in Albany, by J. Buel. 
When the husbandman lias prepared his ground, and deposited 
his sted, his work is but well begun. Were he to stop here, he 
would be but illy compensated for his labor. He must watch the 
germination of the seed, nurture the young plants, and eradicate 
all noxious weeds—he must practise unceasing vigilance and in¬ 
dustry, if he would realize the full fruition of the harvest. So with 
the young mind, which has received the advantages of school edu¬ 
cation, and been imbued with the seeds of knowledge. It is but 
prepared for useful culture—the main labor is yet to be perform¬ 
ed ; the experience and maxims of the good and wise are to be 
brought to its aid ; the virtues are to be sedulously fostered t ; bad 
habits and propenstities are to be guarded against or subdued, and 
industry and vigilance unremittingly exercised, if we would have 
it attain to fame and happiness, the great incentives to action, and 
the grand pursuits of life. The foundation has been laid in the 
school, but the individual himself must rear the superstructure. 
The soil has been prepared and the seed sown, but to him is con¬ 
fided the care of the crop :—to him it is left to decide, whether the 
edifice shall be a hovel or a mansion ; and whether the increase of 
the seed shall be two-fold, or an hundred fold. It is true, that in¬ 
tellects, like soils, differ very much in fertillity ; yet good culture 
seldom fails to remedy the seeming defects in both, if duly persist¬ 
ed in. Persevering application, with the aid which the example 
of others always furnishes, has a magic power in surmounting dif¬ 
ficulties, of calling into action inert faculties, and of directing 
them to purposes of usefulness. The field, and even the highly 
prepared garden, without what is termed after culture, will soon be 
overrun with weeds, brambles and thorns,—its prospects of beauty 
and usefulness obscured, and the hopes of its owner will end in dis¬ 
appointment and chagrin. Without the after culture, in like man¬ 
ner, the young mind is wont to run wild, to become shrouded with 
menial passions, and to disappoint the hopes of solicitous friends. 
It would seem to be a wise provision of Providence, that our prospe¬ 
rity and happiness are made in a good measure to depend upon vi¬ 
gilance and industry ; or rather, that the lively exercise of these 
qualities, under the guidance of correct principles, should receive a 
certain reward. 
To the young, self-instruction offers the most certain means of 
obtaining the distinctions and enjoyments which constitute the 
great aim of life. Wealth is held by a precarious tenure at best. 
The elements may destroy, or unforeseen misfortunes wrest it from 
us. The habits it begets are also calculated to render its ptsses- 
sion transitory. Instead of exciting to active exercise, the mental 
powers, it too often relaxes exertion, and lures to a cisreputable 
lethargy, both body and mind. Friends upon whom the young 
too often repose for the means of success in life, are mortal, and 
changeable in their affections, and dependence upon their favors is 
precarious, and often humiliating. Friends, besides, are generally 
found most willing to help those who stand least in need of their 
assistance,—those who are able and determined to help themselves. 
And os for distinction of birth, what is it 1 An artificial eminence, 
which renders ignorance more conspicuous, and folly more allur¬ 
ing. It seldom makes men more learned or more virtuous. But 
knowledge is useful, not only as constituting capital in our particu¬ 
lar business, but as a means of enabling us to fulfil our public duties 
with more usefulness, and as constituting a main source of our in¬ 
tellectual enjoyments. Knowledge is power—it is independence, a 
treasure which one cannot be beguiled of—and which even the pro¬ 
cess of law respects—a friend which will not forsake us. It is a 
property which distinguishes iho savage from the brute;—an ac¬ 
quirement which elevate civilized, above savage life; a quality 
which marks the grades in society ; and a community is ever ranked 
in the scale of improvement according to the measure of useful 
knowledge which it possesses. 
Self-instruction not only affords the means of bettering our indi¬ 
vidual condition, but it teaches and stimulates us to perform the 
high duties we owe to God and to society. It not only serves to 
multiply our personal enjoyments, and to benefit those who are 
immediately dependent upon us, but it enables us to add to the 
stock of general happiness. The man who makes a useful disco¬ 
very in science, who improves the condition of a useful art, or who 
renders the earth more prolific in supplies for the sustenance of man, 
is in a measure a public benefactor. What are all the improve¬ 
ments, the comforts, and enjoyments which we possess, over the sa¬ 
vage tribes who roam our western wilds, but blessings and refine¬ 
ments which have grown out of self-instruction—and mostly of 
men, too, in the middle or lower classes of society. Such, in our 
country, were a Franklin, a Fulton, a Sherman, a Whitney, a Rit- 
tenhouse, an Evans, and a host of others, all in humble life, who were 
in a manner self-taught, and who have conferred important bene¬ 
fits on mankind ; and even our Washington never enjoyed the ad¬ 
vantages of any but a domestic and scanty education. Yet how 
greatly are we indebted to these self-taught men, for the distin¬ 
guished privileges which we enjoy as a nation and as individuals. 
The poet has said, that 
“ Man may be happy if he will.” 
This, however, must be received with poetic qualifications. No 
one can expect to avert the afflictions to which we are incident by 
nature; nor would it be well for him if he could ; for these often 
come upon us, like parental chastisements, as blessings in disguise. 
But he can avert most of the evils which are born of his follies and 
his vices. A little reflection, aided by a notice of what is passing 
around him, will teach any discreet man, that if he would enjoy health 
of body, and vigor of mind, he must be temperate in the indulgence 
of his appetites, and be active and stirring in his employments ; 
that if he would acquire wealth, or retain that which is conferred 
upon him, he must be industrious and frugal in his habits ; and 
that if he would obtain the substantial distinctions of life, he must 
first merit them, by storing his mind with useful knowledge, and 
practising those virtues which command the applause of good men. 
It will not do to temporize in these matters—to put on our good 
habits, as we do our Sunday clothes—merely out of respect to others, 
or for ostentatious show ; they must be abiding, every day wear, and 
adopted from a consciousness that they best become us, and are 
most conducive to rational enjoyment. I have some where seen it 
remarked, that the vices are intuitive, while the virtues have to be 
learnt: or, to employ a rural illustration, that the virtues are exo¬ 
tics and require constant care to induce them to develope all their 
natural beauty and fragrance; while the vices are of indigenous 
growth, like the weeds of our gardens, which will soon acquire and 
maintain the ascendency, if they are not carefully extirpated or 
smothered. 
Self-instruction is not only productive of positive good to indi¬ 
viduals and to society, but it serves to lesson the measure of po¬ 
sitive evils. Neither the mind or the body are long at rest, and 
if they are not usefully employed, they are too apt to seek indul¬ 
gence in pursuits that are trivial or directly evil ; and what is fre- 
quently indulged in, soon becomes habit, which it is extremely 
difficult to overcome, though we are sensible of its pernicious ten¬ 
dency. The mind that delights in study, is never driven to seek 
pleasure in the haunts ol dissipation : it can be happy alone. The 
wonderful works of creation, and the history of man afford ample 
matter for study, for reflection and research ; and as we ascend 
the heights of knowledge, every step we advance enlarges the 
sphere of our vision, the beauty of the prospect, and the measure 
of our enjoyment. “Next to the fear of God, implanted in the 
heart,” says a distinguished writer, “nothing is a better safeguard 
to character, than the love of good books. They are the handmaids 
of virtue and religion. They quicken our sense of duty, unfold 
our responsibilities, strengthen our principles, confirm our habits, 
inspire in us the love of what is right and useful, and teach us how 
to look with disgust, upon what is low, and groveiling and vicious. 
No man who has a fondness for reading, is in much danger of be¬ 
coming vicious. He is secured from a thousand temptations to 
which he would be otherwise be exposed. He enjoys the sweet¬ 
est, the purest, the most improving society, the society of the wise, 
the great, and the good, and while he holds delightful converse 
with those, his companions and friends, he grows into a likeness 
to them, and learns to look down, as from an eminence of purity 
and light, upon the low born pleasures of the dissipated and the 
profligate.*” 
The common avocations of life do not prevent the acquisition 
of useful knowledge. Not a week, and scarcely a day passes, that 
does not afford hours of exemption, from ordinary business, which 
may bo employed in improving the mind; and these hours amount 
to years in the aggregate of ordinary life. Labor does not unfit 
* Hawes’ Lectures. 
