nezzar on the throne of Babylon; but they cannot, in any consistency, stop until they end with the same Nebuchadnezzar when "he was driven from men, and did eat grass as oxen, and his body was wet with the dew of heaven, till his hairs were grown like eagles' feathers, and his nails like birds' claws." Cowper, in the opening of the Task, has humorously delineated progress of invention from the stool to the sofa:

the

Time was when clothing, sumptuous or for use,
Save their own painted skins, our sires had none.
As yet black breeches were not; satin smooth,
Or velvet soft, or plush with shaggy pile:
The hardy chief upon the rugged rock
Wash'd by the sea, or on the gravelly bank
Thrown up by wintry torrents roaring loud,
Fearless of wrong reposed his weary strength.
These barbarous ages past, succeeded next
The birthday of Invention; weak at first,
Dull in design, and clumsy to perform.
Joint-stools were then created; on three legs
Upborne they stood.

But relaxation of the languid frame
By soft recumbency of outstretch'd limbs
Was bliss reserved for happier days. So slow
The growth of what is excellent: so hard
T' attain perfection in this nether world.
Thus first Necessity invented stools,
Convenience next suggested elbow chairs,
And Luxury th' accomplish'd sofa last.

Now, why should we be called to reverse the process and pass back through these several stages? Has any one ever seen one of the advocates of the simplicity of Nature select from preference his length even of the finest sand for his bed, and the undressed roots for his supper?

Many of the errors prevalent on this subject have arisen from regarding labour too exclusively as the punishment inflicted on man. The toil to which Adam was sentenced after the Fall is strictly limited to such labour as is necessary for mere subsistence; in every other respect labour must have been from the beginning the prerogative and the privilege of man. The world of matter and the world of mind are equally shapeless and void to all man's purposes, until they are moulded and formed by industry and exertion. Absolute truth, ready made, no more presents itself to our mind than finished models of mechanism present themselves ready made to our hand. Original principles there are doubtless in both, but the development and application of these principles are just as far to seek in one case as in the other. The express words of the Sacred Record shew that man was destined to labour before he was doomed to toil,-"the Lord God took the man, and put him in the garden of Eden to dress it and to keep it." The kind and degree of labour are not stated, but the fact of some labour is most explicitly recorded.

That labour is an essential attribute of humanity appears from the nature of the world and from the nature of man. "The earth he stands upon," says Dr. Dewey," and the air he breathes are, so far as his improvement is concerned, but elements to be wrought by him to certain purposes. If he stood on earth, passively and unconsciously, imbibing the dew and sap, and spreading his arms to the light and air, he would be but a tree. If he grew up neither capable of purpose nor of improvement, with no guidance but instinct,

and no powers but those of digestion and locomotion, he would be only animal. But he is more than this; he is a man; he is made to improve, he is therefore made to think, to act, to work. Labour is his great function, his peculiar distinction, his privilege." We may add that the necessity for some labour is felt even by the indolent; their work is "killing time," and very hard work they often find it to be.

Nothing more strongly marks the progress of civilization than the increased respect, not merely for the rights of industry, but for the honourable character of industry itself. There has, indeed, been always in the world a public opinion derogatory to labour; but we shall find that this opinion increases in intensity the nearer we approach savage life, and diminishes with similar rapidity as we proceed in the opposite direction. Mr. Irving informs us, that the government of the United States employs a blacksmith to take charge of, and keep in repair, the arms paid as an annuity to the Shawnee tribe, "a measure highly pleasing to the Indians, who detest labour of all kinds, and would willingly travel a hundred miles to get another to perform some trivial job, which they might themselves accomplish with but a few hours' labour." Under circumstances of high excitement, in war and in hunting, there is no being more untiring than the savage; but in peace, and in his own village, he lounges about listlessly, miserable for want of employment, yet unable to overcome his repugnance to labour, and compelling the females of his family to work for him.

No greater difficulty has impeded the progress of the missionaries than this repugnance to toil; it would

seem, indeed, as if the progress of industry was identified with the progress of civilization, and that idleness and barbarism were nearly convertible terms. Thus viewed, it may be received as a gratifying sign of progress that the epithet, "man of business," which in former ages was a term of reproach, is now a title eagerly sought by the legislator, the statesman, the great fundholder, the wealthy merchants and manufacturers, and the proprietors of the most extensive

estates.

Civilization, then, is truly the friend of the poor: though it does not extirpate indigence it removes its most repulsive features and most fatal qualities: if it increases the enjoyments of the palace, it gradually renders its luxuries part and parcel of the comforts of the cottage: if it asserts the necessity of labour, it does not compel the poor to toil alone, it forces the rich to work, both with them and for them.

CHAPTER VIII.

SUPERSTITIONS AND DETACHED CUSTOMS.

THERE is no circumstance connected with savage nations which has been the subject of greater curiosity than their religious tenets, and there is none on which our information is more indefinite and unsatisfactory. A great and natural difficulty besets every inquiry into the subject. The Rev. Henry Woodward has very ably shewn that most men are disposed to deduce their notions of the Divine character from an ideal exemplar of themselves, and this is not less true of nations and eras than it is of individuals. It is an aphorism with all modern philosophers, that the mythology of a people is an exponent of its intellectual character,—the converse is equally true; the general state of society in any country affords important aid to determine the nature and bearing of its religion. If we find a warlike ferocious race, delighting in cruelty and devastation, we may be assured that they will have deities delighting in slaughter, and rites polluted with blood. A more indolent race, whose sloth is only chequered by sensualism, will display deified passions and lustful ceremonies. Tribes scarcely rising above the brute creation, too apathetic to remember the past, or speculate on the future, who possess not in their language a single word to specify cause, will either have no notion of a God at all, or a