idle.”—I would that, in like manner, the intellectual honors, which others have acquired, might so stimulate the youth of this seminary, as to bring into exercise the yet latent powers, which the God of nature has given them. No doubt there is in this assembly enough of genius, of latent talent, of undisciplined intellect, to accomplish any, or all of the noble projects to which we have alluded. Many a mind that now passes for an ordinary one, may, by a proper course of discipline, penetrate more keenly into the mysterious operations of nature than Newton, or soar higher among the lightnings of heaven than Franklin. It is a remark of Addison, that the human mind, without education, is like the statue in the block of marble. From the block of ever so shapeless and unpromising an exterior, the skilful sculptor may bring out the breathing form. So it is with the mind. The embryo philosopher, poet, and orator, may be concealed in many an uncultivated and awkward student. In apparently the coldest breast, and dullest head, there is a spark of intellectual fire, which, if we can by some fortunate collis. ion bring it out, may be kindled up to a great flame. There is a very common and fatal error respecting this subject. We usually ascribe all the success of great minds to the influence of a certain intangible, invisible, indescribable agent, which we call GENIUS. An intimate acquaintance, however, with the character of those, who have, in every age, shone as stars of the first magnitude, and a minute knowledge of their history, would convince us, that what Newton said of himself was true of others; that their success depended, not on any special genius which nature had given them above other men, but on mental discipline, and persevering industry. Every thing depends upon the proper developement of the faculties, and discipline of the powers of the mind. The strongest powers can avail nothing without proper discipline-the weakest, with such discipline, may accomplish the noblest efforts. Should nature give us the body of a giant, without exercise and discipline, our limbs would always retain the weakness of infancy. Just so it would be with the mind. It is necessary to subject it to such a course of study, as shall bring to maturity its noble powers, and give it energy sufficient to keep its faculties in constant operation. NASSAU HALL, PRINCETON, N. J. SITUATED in a healthy and delightful region, nearly central as to the two largest cities in the union, and easily accessible in a few hours from either, Princeton appears peculiarly adapted to be the seat of an extensive seminary. These advantages have been so well seconded by the ability of the gentlemen who at different times have filled the chairs in Nassau Hall, that a large number of students has been annually drawn thither, among whom we find the name of some of our most distinguished men ;-and the college of New Jersey has been enabled to maintain, for the greater part of a century, an honorable rank among the literary institutions of the land. The college was founded in 1746, and was first established at Elizabethtown; the next year it was removed to Newark, and the following year it was incorporated by a royal charter, with the title of Nassau Hall. It remained at Newark for ten years, till 1757, when the superior advantages enjoyed by Princeton, led to its removal and permanent establishment there. In 1912 the theological seminary of the Presbyterian church in the United States, was also established at Princeton; and shortly afterwards that of the Associate Reformed Church was united with it, so that between the academic and the theological departments the insti Nassau Hall. tion is a very extensive one. The government of the college is vested in a board of trustees, consisting of twenty-three members; of this board, the governor of the state is ex-officio president, and one half of the remainder are clergymen. The executive government is composed of a president, who is also teacher of theology and moral philosophy; a vice president, who is professor of languages and belles-lettres; a professor of mathematics and natural philosophy; a professor of chemistry and natural history; and three tutors. The theological seminary is accommodated in a separate edifice calculated for one hundred students. It has three professors, and a library of six thousand volumes. Candidates for admission are required to produce testimonials of good natural talents, of good moral and religious character, of belonging to some regular church, and of having passed through a regular course of academical studies. Tuition and the use of the library are afforded, free of expense to every student, and there is a charitable fund for aiding the indigent. A residence of three years is required to complete the course of study. The usual number of students in the theological department is ninety, and the whole number of graduates about five hundred and fifty. In Nassau Hall there are about one hundred students. Commencement is on the last Wednesday in September. There are two vacations, viz. from Commencement six weeks, and from the middle of April six weeks New-York, October, 1832. Grace is glory begun, and glory is grace made perfect. Grace is the first degree of glory, glory is the highest degree of grace. Grace is the seed, glory is the flower: grace is the ring, glory is the sparkling diamond in the ring grace is the glorious infant, and glory is the perfect man of grace: grace is the spring, glory is the har vest. DYER. USEFUL AND ENTERTAINING EXTRACTS. RETIREMENT. To the thinking mind, retirement is a feast, a kind of holiday to the soul-a culling and gathering of fruits, for the winter of age-and a collection of strength for new and unavoidable attacks. He who is never alone, who finds no time for looking into the arcana of his own thoughts, has not learned the true art of living, and is the sport of the winds and waves of temptation, without any ballast or helm. He who lives away in the world, lives not at all: he is like the dancing meteor, never stationary; or "like a wave of the sea, driven with the wind and tossed." He is restless and cannot tell why -grasping at something ahead which he never attains; and "walking through dry places seeking rest and finding none." He wonders what all the world are about; and when he meets with a sober man of retiring habits, thinks him a monk, and wonders what sort of a world he was made to inhabit! To such a man retirement would be misery-for to be alone is what of all things he most dreads. But to love retirement, it must habitually be cultivated. To love the company of one's self, is no small attainment; and frequent converse can alone accomplish it. There are persons who from childhood seem constitutionally formed for retirement→→ who seem to shrink from society, and draw all their comforts from solitude; who heed not the bustlings of the world, and seek not its pleasures; such are generally thinking beings; and they think to some advantage. They go into the crowd to "gather up the fragments;" and they retire from it to cull them out, and assign each its proper place. They mingle with their fellow men, to learn the diversity of character in the jumbled mass; and they talk with themselves to ascertain how far the heart of man answers to theirs, how they can be benefitted by the mistakes of others, and the best method of correcting their own. The benefits of retirement are great-truly so. They soften the passions, produce a contentedness, a rational indifference to the opinion of the world, and bring the mind under that close discipline which fits it for the severest exercise.-There probably never was a well designed composition, fitted to do good, but was written by a lover of solitude. There never was a being eminent ly qualified for society, but learned his best lessons in retirement. I saw a youth, so constantly alone with his books, that even his parents were apprehensive that he was getting deranged. He built him a temporary covering upon the side of a woody hill, where he took his book, and his pitcher of water, and bread-his lamp and his blanket, and spent the live long day-and often the night. There he read, thought, and digested, till he attained great things. He never spoke without he had something to say, and his words were words of wisdom. He was mild, sociable when he could meet with a reciprocal mind, who had now and then an original idea to exchange; otherwise he withdrew from observation. He became celebrated for his originality of expression in speaking and writing--was applauded with the highest honors in the college where he graduated-yet, to ordinary minds, he passed for a solitary, unhappy, isolated being. TRUST IN GOD. THE grandeur of religion appears more conscious, it attains a sublimer attitude, and shines with a surpassing majesty all its own, when employed in solacing and sustaining the Christian under distress and personal bereavement. When his family are torn from him by the cold, rude hand of death, or a valued friend drops into the grave without any intimation of the change, and deprives him of all he loved below; he appears a wanderer, a sort of solitary detachment of humanity, to himself,-disconsolate, unknown-were it not for that blissful assurance, that the separation is only temporary, and that there is a time coming which will usher in a resurrection of the just by Him who on earth declared, I am the resurrection and the life; he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live. Religion, which abounds with precepts for his entire trust in God, enables him also to bear with patience and pious resignation, the troubles and perplexities of life. While it inculcates adherence to duty, constancy in virtue, and dependence upon God, it no less frequently expresses, in animating strains, the immortality of reason |