Advice to young men and boys A series of addresses delivered by B. B. Comegys to the pupils of Girard College — Story, Setting & Ideas
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Be a regular attendant at some church. I do not say what church it shall be. That must be left to yourselves to determine, and many circumstances will arise to aid you in your choice. But let it be some church, and, when you become more interested in the subject than you are now, join that church, whatever it may be, and so connect yourselves with people who believe in and love God. If there be a Bible class there, connect yourselves with it, and so learn to study the Scriptures systematically.
Do not be ashamed to kneel at your bedside every night and every morning and pray to God. You are not so likely to be ashamed if you have a room to yourself; but you must not be ashamed to do this even if there are others in the room with you, as will be the case with many of you. This is a severe test, I know, but he who bears it faithfully will already have gained a victory.
Commit to memory the fifteenth verse of the twelfth chapter of the Gospel according to St. Luke: “Take heed and beware of covetousness, for a man’s life consisteth not in the abundance of the things he possesseth.”
On last Monday, Founder’s Day, there were gathered here many men, a great company, who were trained in this college, and who, after graduation, went out into the world to seek their fortune. It is always a most interesting time, not only for them but for the teachers and officers who have had charge of them.
Some of them are successful men in the highest and best sense, and have made themselves a name and a place in the world. Bright young lawyers, clerks, mechanics, railroad men――men representing almost all kinds of business and occupations――came here in great numbers to celebrate the anniversary of the birth of the Founder of this great school. It was a grand sight. Hardly anything impresses me more. I do not know their names; for many of them had left before I began to come here; but from certain expressions that fell from the lips of some of them I am persuaded that they, at least, are walking in the truth.
It would be very interesting if we could know their thoughts, and see with what feelings they look back on their school-life. I wonder if any of them regret that they did not make a better use of their time while here. I wonder if any feel that they would like to become boys again and go to school over again, being sure that, with their present experience of life, they would set a higher value on the education of the schools. I wonder if any feel that they would have reached higher positions and secured a larger influence if they had been more diligent at school. I wonder if there are any who can trace evil habits of thought to the companions they had here. I wonder if any are aware of evil impressions which they made on their classmates and so cast a stain and a dark shadow on other young lives, stains never obliterated, shadows never wholly lifted. I wonder if there are any among them who regret that the opportunity of seeking God and finding God in their school-days was neglected, and who have never had so favorable an opportunity since. “If some who come back here on these commemoration days were to tell you all their thoughts on such subjects, they would be eloquent with a peculiar eloquence.”
The addresses in this volume, delivered by B. B. Comegys to the pupils of Girard College between 1882 and 1889, are marked by a direct, paternal voice that shifts between moral exhortation and biographical sketch. Comegys, a member of the Board of City Trusts, draws on the lives of Stephen Girard, William Penn, and others to illustrate virtues like industry and truthfulness. The language is plain and earnest, often repeating key phrases—a technique Comegys defends by citing the Hebrew proverb “Line upon line—precept upon precept.”
The excerpts reveal a speaker who moves from calm instruction to urgent warning, as when he describes the consequences of bad associations. The addresses are not systematic treatises but occasional pieces, each responding to a specific event or need in the life of the school.
The Paternal Voice and Its Repetitions
Comegys adopts the tone of a concerned elder, addressing his listeners as “boys” and “young men” with a mixture of affection and authority. In the preface, he acknowledges “some repetitions of thought and language,” attributing them to the span of time between addresses and the pedagogical principle of repetition. This is evident in the excerpts: phrases like “duty” and “course of duty” recur, and the moral lessons are reinforced through parallel structures. The voice is consistent—earnest, sometimes stern, but never condescending. Comegys positions himself as a guide, not a lecturer, often using the first-person plural (“we”) to include himself in the moral struggle.
Biographical Interludes as Moral Lessons
Several addresses are built around the lives of historical figures, using their experiences to illustrate virtues. The sketch of William Penn, for instance, emphasizes his refusal to remove his hat before superiors, framing it as a stand for religious principle. Comegys narrates Penn’s expulsion from Oxford, his imprisonment, and his eventual founding of Pennsylvania, drawing a direct line from personal integrity to public achievement. Similarly, the introductory address on Stephen Girard highlights his “hearty enjoyment of sports” and “tender sympathy for domestic animals” alongside his strong will. These biographical passages are not digressions; they serve as extended examples of the moral qualities Comegys wants to instill.
Shifts in Pace and Rhetorical Register
The addresses vary in pace, moving from calm exposition to urgent appeal. In the excerpt on William Penn, the narrative is brisk, recounting events in quick succession: “He entered the army here, and did good service too; and was, apparently, so much pleased with his new life that he suffered the only portrait of him that was ever painted, to be taken when he was wearing armor and in uniform.” Elsewhere, Comegys slows to reflect on broader social changes, as when he notes that “the world has grown wiser and better—there is more toleration.” These shifts in tempo mirror the alternating roles of the speaker: historian, moralist, and counselor. The rhetorical register remains formal but conversational, with occasional direct addresses to the audience.
Readers should approach this collection as a series of spoken performances, each shaped by its occasion and audience. The addresses reward attention to how Comegys adapts his material—whether biographical anecdote or moral precept—to the needs of young listeners. The repetitions, far from being flaws, are deliberate tools of instruction. For those interested in late 19th-century educational rhetoric or the institutional culture of Girard College, these pages offer a vivid primary source.
There’s something steadying about Comegys addressing those boys, as if his words still hang in that old hall. I found myself thinking about how much craft goes into sincerity. Somewhere nearby, How to Fail in Literature: A Lecture — Context and Discussion touches the same quiet worry—that effort alone might miss the mark, and yet we try anyway.
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