lief of his is the precise circumstance which sets him free. The foundation of the rule is plainly this: a man is bound only to satisfy the expectation which he intended to excite; whatever condition therefore he intended to subject that expectation to, becomes an essential condition of the promise.

Errors, which come not within this description, do not annul the obligation of a promise. I promise a candidate my vote;-presently another candidate appears, for whom I certainly would have reserved it, had I been acquainted with his design. Here therefore, as before, my promise proceeded from an error; and I never should have given such a promise, had I been aware of the truth of the case, as it has turned out.-But the promisee did not know this;-he did not receive the promise subject to any such condition, or as proceeding from any such supposition; nor did I at the time imagine he so received it. This error, therefore, of mine, must fall upon my own head, and the promise be observed notwithstanding. A father promises a certain fortune with his daughter, supposing himself to be worth so much-his circumstances turn out, upon examination, worse than he was aware of. Here again the promise was erroneous, but, for the reason assigned in the last case, will nevertheless be obligatory.

The case of erroneous promises is attended with some difficulty: for, to allow every mistake, or change of circumstances, to dissolve the obligation of a promise, would be to allow a latitude, which might evacuate the force of almost all promises: and, on the other hand, to gird the obligation so tight, as to make no allowances for manifest and fundamental errors, would, in many instances, be productive of great hardship and absurdity.

TEMPTATIONS ARISING FROM THE INDULGENCE OF SOCIAL PLEASURES.

WHEREVER circumstances throw a large num ber of young men into each other's society, and where similar pursuits naturally lead to a homogeneous character, temptations are forcible, and often fatally successful. This happens in large cities, and in literary institutions. In the former, there is a vast concourse of young men assembled from all parts of the country, who come together as adventurers in the pursuit of affluence or pleasure. Some of them bring into the metropolis a reputable character, and correct moral principles. Others come to give loose to evil propensities, which, in the country, and under the restraints of home, were kept in some subordination.

When these characters mingle in a large and bustling city, the former class will naturally be exposed to the seductions of the latter. The pioneers in wickedness, the practised and hardened crew, who have abandoned themselves to the indulgence of their passions, lie in ambush, to seize upon their victim and hurry him to ruin. Hundreds of such, with a comparatively plausible exterior, may be found in the streets, and shops, and alleys of our cities. Some of them manage to keep up an outward show of decency, and conduct their plans of dissipation in so covert a manner, as neither to fall into disgrace, nor excite suspicion or investigation. These are most to be dreaded. They who have gone beyond the bounds of external decency, and become so hardened as to feel no shame, have less influence, in proportion to their loss of charac ter, and their notoriety in crime. A moral youth

feels contaminated by their approach. Any visible connexion with such, would be at once a forfeiture of character.

It is men of fair professions and unsuspected wickedness, plausible, but insidious, who are most to be feared, because most likely to be successful. Practised in the arts of temptation, they make a gradual advance upon the ingenuous and unsuspecting youth. They insinuate themselves into his confidence and friendship. When they have learned his scruples, and fathomed his character, they begin the work of drawing him on to their own desperate state of hypocrisy and crime. They will represent as mean, what is only frugal, and characterize as childish those scruples of conscience which it is their object to eradicate. They will first appeal to curiosity, and then make curiosity the avenue to crime. They will speak of the possibility of concealment, and insist that we could not have been endowed with propensities which it is unlawful to indulge. They will represent as manly, what is mean and debasing; and tauntingly ascribe to superstition, what is but the sober dictate of reason and religion. By every possible mode of attack, by persuasion and ridicule, by professions of friendship, and sneers of contempt, will they assail the principles and conduct of their victim, until reason and conscience give way, and like the bird lured on by the fowler, he goes directly into the fatal snare.

The indulgence, at first, will be only such as causes a twinge of conscience, or a secret misgiv ing of soul. The tempted youth will feel a sort of shame and self-contempt; and in the cool moment of reflection, will fix his resolution against all future attacks. But, alas! the first step in a retro

grade course has been taken. Like the first step in the retreat of an army, it is as dispiriting to the vanquished, as it is invigorating to his foe. The next attack is less likely to be resisted, for the ability to resist decreases with every successful temptation. The first sacrifice of conscience and principle is like Samson giving up his locks. It is in vain then to go out and shake yourself, in the consciousness of your strength. The seducer will be upon you. He will no longer fear, either the force of principle, or the vigor of resolution. He has carried his point; and one breach of obligation, he well knows, will make way for another, until your character and your destiny become identified with his own. How many a young man has fallen a victim to this process of temptation! How many, with prospects of usefulness and success, and with a character which might have insured respect, have, by listening to the voice of the seducer, forfeited the confidence, and fallen under the pity and contempt of the community. Yes, and with the wreck of his own character and prospects, he has become a source of mortification to his friends, and perhaps "brought down the gray hairs of a parent with sorrow to the grave."

These remarks apply, with equal force, to the dangers and temptations of a college life. Human nature is the same in both circumstances. Instances of successful temptation are very common in our literary institutions. There is, there, the absence of parental watchfulness, and the presentation of powerful inducements to ruin. There is, there, a class of youth whose progress in dissipation is incredibly great. It is in inverse proportion to their years. Idle themselves, their study is to make others so. Lost to morality and de

cency themselves, they watch for opportunities to reduce their companions to the same degraded level. They endeavor not only to copy the manners, but to ape the vices of older profligates; and the rapidity with which they make shipwreck of health, character, and conscience, is a most melancholy proof of the force of temptation, and the prevalence of youthful depravity.

O, ye reckless young men, let me reach your ear, and pour into it a note of friendly warning. If there be left in your heart any feeling; if the rapid abandonment of all that is sacred and honorable have not carried away every vestige of remorse; let me remind you of the claims of your relatives, your country, and your God. Your course will give a death-blow to a father's hopes, and a death-pang to a mother's heart. It will deprive your country of services which might adorn her annals. It will draw down upon you the displeasure of heaven, and, if persisted in, will cover you with ignominy, and ultimately consign you to the prison of despair. With such certain consequences of your dissipation staring you in the face, can you, dare you, rush on to the issue? Is it not time to pause-to repent-to break from the grasp of the destroyer?

If these pages meet the eye of one who is still on comparatively safe ground, who has not yet made a plunge into sensual and forbidden pleasures, we would bid him beware of the destroyer. For you, there is hope. If a freedom from gross vice, and an avoidance of the occasions of temptation, yet sustain you in the confidence of your friends, and in justifiable hopes of respectability and influence, again we say, beware of the destroyer. Place yourself in an attitude of defence.