ject all religion and die in the darkness of infidelity. Others will come to mock, but remain to pray, and meet us at last in heaven. Thirty years-if our labors be extended to that period-will present us with a new congregation. Ears that were wont to listen to us will be cold in death. We shall have handed one generation of hearers over to the tribunal of God. One after another they will have fallen. From the pulpit we shall be called to close their dying eyes. The question is well nigh as solemn to us as to them, How have they been instructed? What sentiments have we inculcated? What hopes encouraged? As they turn upon us their glazed eye-its glance rendered the more penetrating by the anxiety of the departing moment-how shall we feel, and what will our consciences say, when they seem to implore our last effort in their behalf? Suppose them impenitent. Have we taught them the whole truth of God? Have we shown a personal interest in their salvation? Have we followed them to their retirement with our warnings? Have we prayed over them with that intensity of desire which their perilous condition demands? Have we left no means untried to rouse them to a sense of their guilt and danger? Can we say, as they lie gasping in death, not one drop of their blood will be found in our skirts; nor an upbraiding look from them be flung upon us at the judgment bar?

It is in vain for us to think of escaping from these inquiries. Nor can we atone for the neglect of souls by assiduities at the death-bed. 'Tis not the place for us to labor. We can as little hope to do good as they to obtain it. All then is alarm and agitation. Every thing is rushing to a fearful crisis. The soul is struggling in its tremendous passageway to eternity. If the work have not been done before, it is almost hopeless that it will be done then. No: the question is, whether, whilst we have the soul under our influence, within reach of our efforts, we have done all we could to save it. What verdict will conscience pronounce on this point? Have we taken leave of no soul at the threshold of eternity, in whose case something seems to whisper, "It has sunk to hell; it is gone, irrecoverably gone; it is among the everlasting burnings!" The thought even is dreadful. But how much more dreadful when conscience mutters, "Yes, it is gone, and you are to blame. You should have prayed more for its salvation-shown a deeper interest in its welfare-labored more industriously to save it. You VOL. V.

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were too indifferent whilst it was within reach of mercy. But now it is gone. Your note of warning cannot reach it now. Your next interview with it will be at the bar of God."

Or suppose the soul departing in the exercise of a hope. It looks upon you from the couch of death, with an inquiring eye, as if to ask you, "Is my hope such as I may depend on?" The answer involves an overwhelming responsibility. It was you who encouraged that hope. It was your instructions which led to its adoption. The anxious inquiring soul came to you in the hour of its trial. To your ear was the question addressed, "What shall I do?" The soul caught up your discourse, and followed your counsel. You have had its training, and now, in the awful moment when soul and body are separating, it appeals to you, if the hope which it indulges will stand the dreadful shock.

Suppose, by error in doctrine, or by deluding methods in practice, we have encouraged a false hope; suppose, instead of faith in Christ, it be but the fitful excitement of fancythe resolution of the creature, rather than the regenerating influence of the Spirit-how shall we feel to send that soul into eternity, soothed by assurances, which will only aggravate the horrors of its disappointment!

The commission which we have received will soon be recalled. Our work will soon be done the last sermon preached the last spiritual office performed. Then must we too encounter the dying struggle. How have we discharged our ministerial functions? will then be the all-absorbing question. It will be forgotten, how much we were esteemed as eloquent preachers, or able divines, except as these items go to swell the weight of our responsibility. It will not soothe our dying reflections to think, what a conspicuous part we have played on the theatre of controversial strife. Ah no; ecclesiastical pre-eminence will then look small. The grand and startling question will be, How have we acquitted ourselves as the appointed watchmen of souls ? To have brought one soul to Jesus, will be more refreshing in death, than to have worn academic honors, or to have elicited by our eloquence the deep murmurs of applause. To have educated the humble for their stations in heaven will then seem a more grateful task, than to have shone amid the great lights of the age, for the extent of our erudition, or for the unanswerable power of our logic. To a

dying minister, how contemptible a thing is fame! And when his tongue is silent in the grave-when it can no more speak forth its awful message, how soon do his name and his memory fade from the earth! But oh, his account at God's tribunal, how overwhelming! Others must answer for themselves alone. He must not only lay open his own soul beneath the light of the judgment-have its motives. searched and its hopes sifted--he must not only pass this perilous account for himself, but he must stand an examination for his fidelity to hundreds. Souls will meet him there who once sat under his ministry, watched his conduct, and listened to his appeals. There his doctrine will be scrutinized. Did he preach the truth? was it the whole truth? Did neither the fear of man, nor the love of popular applause operate to blunt its keen edge? Was he faithful out of the pulpit? did he follow the sinner in every walk of life with his prayers and his entreaties? Were his life and doctrines coincident? Was he ambitious? was he mercenary? Did he do all from love to Christ and souls? As these questions roll on his ear, along will come the witnesses to reply. There will be seen lost souls. Were they lost under his ministry, and through his unfaithfulness? The wailings of the damned will say yes or no. There will be seen the hypocrite glaring through the flames of hell, to testify whether he was brought thither for want of one to deal faithfully with his soul; there, too, the mournfully stricken object of despair, who built a hope of heaven on fallacious grounds;--and one unutterable look of anguish will say if the minister was to blame. Who can anticipate such scenes, and not feel that the ministry is a work of fearful responsibility?

ART. VII.-NEGLECT OF THE CLASSICS IN THE LITERARY INSTITUTIONS OF THIS COUNTRY.

No. I.

BY THE EDITOR.

WE deem it superfluous to enter upon a vindication of the importance of the ancient Greek and Latin Classics. Aside from the fact, that they are the only sources of ancient history, philosophy and science, it is well known that

they have always been the models to all who have aimed at excellence of style or skill in various departments of literary effort. Those who have been the most distinguished for original genius, have been the most enamored of these highest specimens of it, and most assiduous in their efforts to form themselves upon them. Almost every distinguished literary character of ancient and modern times has given his testimony in their favor. An intimate acquaintance with the poetry, eloquence, history and philosophy of Greece and Rome, have always been considered as an essential part of a polite education. It is notorious, that most of the literary institutions of Europe have assigned to the Classics. at least one half of the time devoted to the acquisition of a learned education. The learning and wisdom of our fathers assigned them a place of equal honor in our own institutions, and custom still deigns to continue this place to them.

But the honor which they receive in the literary institutions of this country is exceedingly hollow and unsubstantial. There is a great, and, we apprehend, an increasing neglect of them. Being pursued in a superficial and inaccurate manner, the student is not able either to understand or to relish them, and not continuing his course till he is mostly freed from the drudgery of constant recurrence to grammars and dictionaries, he almost uniformly becomes heartily sick of them, and throws them aside in disgust as soon as he is freed from the restraints of his college course.

That they are very generally and very greatly neglected is notorious. No one, who has graduated at any college* in New-England or New-York within the last twenty years, can have a doubt on this subject. It is notorious, that very few students become sufficiently acquainted with the Latin and Greek to read them with ease and fluency. We have heard it variously estimated, by some that not one in twenty, by others, that not one in fifty continue their acquaintance with the classics after leaving college. There can be little doubt, that the number of classical scholars who are formed at our colleges, bears no great proportion to those who derive no important benefit from this very large portion of their literary education.

Perhaps the clerical profession, more than either of the others, gives leisure to its members for the pursuit of general

*We regard Columbia College of this city as a marked exception to our observations, as respect the diligence and accuracy with which classical literature is pursued.

literature. But how seldom is one found, who has built on the foundation which he laid in college, and become to any extent imbued with the literature of Greece and Rome! Look into the libraries of professional men, and so far from seeing there a choice collection of the best classic writers, you will hardly find the few Greek and Latin books which they used at school. Except a few school books, there is but a very limited sale for such works in this country.

Of what use is it to study the Greek and Latin four years and then lay them aside for ever? It may be said, that they furnish a useful exercise to the memory; but why labor so long to amass such a treasure, and then suffer it to perish? It may be said, they furnish a useful discipline to the mind. But what kind of discipline is that, where all the mental labor is but negligently and superficially performed? It may be said, that the student becomes acquainted with a few of the master-pieces of antiquity. But if this acquaintance with such works were intimate and accurate, it would almost uniformly be continued and extended. The truth is, that as these studies are now conducted in most of our colleges, one half of the time allowed for edu cation is absolutely thrown away.

We do not wish, in stating these facts, to cast the blame upon those who conduct the studies in our collegiate institutions, though we do not consider them as altogether undeserving of censure. One cause indeed of the evils we have noticed, is that too little time is devoted to a preparation for college. It is perfectly feasible that the student should, previous to admission, be able to read the best Latin and Greek authors with some degree of facility. There is certainly time for this between the ages of ten and fifteen. But the main reason is, the superficial manner in which students are taught during their preparatory course, and which the colleges, owing to the spirit of rivalry for numbers, have been induced to sanction. From the great majority of preparatory institutions, they receive young men with inveterate. habits of superficial and inaccurate study, and the most that can be hoped from a more thorough course, is the unlearning of what has been acquired. We believe that not a few of the instructers in the colleges of this country would prefer to receive some of their pupils total strangers to Greek and Latin, rather than undertake any thing with them in the condition in which they actually come into their hands. The