Thus the wild horse snuffs the western breeze, bounds joyously over the hills, laughs at the rattling of the chains, and despises the bridle and the plough.

We build dams in the rivers; and shoals of fish pour into our baskets. They are arrested in their course by our arrows and our gigs; or they are lured to destruction by the temptation of our bait. We bid them assemble together, and we scoop them up with our nets.

We study the face of the heavens, and foretel the changes of the weather. We know when the gust is about to rise in the west, and when the wind promises a continued rain. We can tell when to prepare for snow, and when ice will appear on the waters.

Do you not suppose, O ye inhabitants of cities, that this system of education, that these pursuits and employments, are well calculated to sharpen the faculties and exercise the understanding? Where the mind is accustomed to turn itself to such a variety of vocations, and accommodate itself to such a multitude of circumstances, must it not become infinitely superior to that sluggish existence, whose ideas are continually occupied with the millhorse round of domestic drudgery?

Not only the memory, but every faculty we possess, is improved by exercise: how then can his mind be enlightened, who is the mere creature of habit, unaccustomed to thought and reflection? Can he, whose business leads him from the house to the barn, from the barn to the stable, from the stable to the orchard, from the orchard to the cornfield, and from the cornfield to the house again, possess an elevated understanding? Can he, whose most distant excursion extends not beyond the neighboring market town, have a mind enriched with a multitude of ideas? Such a being is distressed if he wander out sight of the smoke of his own chimney. His friends are miserable, lest he should never return; and he, poor soul! gapes like a fish elevated above the surface of the water by the line of the fisherman. He gazes with surprise on every object he has not been accustomed to contemplate. He expects some beast of prey to start up in every valley, and the devil out of every thornbush. He looks for robbers behind every hedge, savage Indians in every wood. He says his pray

ers before he crosses a bridge, and confesses his sins on the banks of every torrent. But night overtakes him. How deplorable his situation! Every withered bush is a ghost; and every black stump, an imp of darkness!

But let him get home again. The sight of his barn door, and the appearance of old Towser-the bawling of his black cow, and the smell of his hogsty-the squalling of his brats, and his snug chimney corner-all in sweet succession-revive, invigorate, and restore him. Having turned off a mug of cider, he "is himself again." And then-and then-the dangers and escapes, the windmills and the giants, the ghosts and the savages, the thunder and the lightning, the battles and the conquests, astonish and confound the gaping auditors.

Is this the man you would compare with the savage? Is this the man you would prefer to the lord of the desert?

Man is said to be composed of two parts: body and soul. Now, pray be so good as to inform me whether it be the body or soul of this animal, which is possessed of that something, which you honor with the name of civilization. His limbs, you say, are robust and strong by exercise and labor. Does civilization then consist in robustness of body, or brawniness of limbs? He may be strong in his youth, but continual drudgery destroys the harmony of his shape, and the dignity of his motion. The elasticity of his limbs is destroyed, and he degenerates into a mere beast of burden. His visage becomes the very picture of stupidity and malignity. He is no longer the animal to whom God

Os-sublime dedit, cœlumque videre

Jussit, et erectos ad sidera tollere vultos.

No: he looks downward to the earth, and offers his back to the rider. His feet become as the feet of a camel, and his hands rough and scaly as the cone that drops from the top of the pine tree.

The lower ranks of those who reside in cities, being more confined in their operations, are sunk still lower, in the scale of intelligence, than the inhabitants of the country. Their business being bounded by the shop, and their excursions limited by the market; what should they know but the price of butter, and the time of high

water? Can you number the ideas of a muscle, or fathom the intelligence of an oyster? If you can, you have a competent knowledge of the intellectual powers of the people that I describe.

Do not naturalists rank the productions of nature agreeably to their locomotive powers? The animal is more excellent than the vegetable; why? Because it is capable of changing its situation. And man is supposed to be the most noble of animals, because he can travel from pole to pole, and subsist under every climate.

Vegetables, admitting they were capable of perceiving, could have but few ideas, being confined by hills and rocks and surrounded by walls and inclosures.

The things called zoophytes can know very little more than a leaf of plantain, or a sprig of hoarhound; and those animals that remain, during the whole period of their existence, on the same bank or hillock, are scarcely superior, in their intellectual powers, to a polypus or zoophytic fungus. What knowledge of the world was possessed by the toad, which was shut up for five thousand years in the solid body of a rock? Men who vegetate in one spot, and have no leisure for reading or reflection, must be limited in their ideas and narrow in their un-derstandings.

Such are the blessings of civilization; such are the consequences of refinement.

But we will be told of the polished few, whose minds are expanded by philosophy, and whose happiness is insured by a multiplicity of enjoyments. We shall speak of their happiness hereafter; at present we mean merely to consider the paucity of their numbers.

As refinement progresses, the number of the refined must necessarily be reduced. If you become elevated, you must have supporters. If your elevation be still more increased, the quantity of supporting materials must be multiplied in a like proportion. It is absurd to talk of all becoming equally refined, polished, and civilized. How can you dine in state, if there be none to wait at your table? And if we increase your refinement, state, and splendor, must not your attendants continue to be multiplied proportionably? Now, if we follow this train of

thought, we shall be able to prove, by a chain of incontestable arguments, that, when civilization is carried to its acme, there will be one man polished into a god, and all the rest of the species will be slaves, parasites, and brutes. [To be continued.

Acquisition of Wealth.

It appears to us nearly as hard for him who devotes his time to the acquisition of riches to be perfectly upright and honorable through the whole course of a long life, as for a "camel to go through the eye of a needle." The man who receives a fortune by inheritance has every opportunity to cultivate and cherish his virtuous inclinations; but the man who sets out in life without wealth, is beset by temptations on every side that urge him on to the acquisition of money, by means both illicit and unwarrantable. He sees that property procures pleasure, attention, and respect. He wishes for pleasure: he wishes for a distinguished situation among his species: and in order to obtain things so desirable, he immediately sets about the business of accumulation. If he be able to subdue his love of pleasure, and think proper to take the plain beaten path of industry, he may get rich; but his temper and disposition will be changed. He acquires his wealth with difficulty; and we always love the product of our attention and labor. He is now a rich man; but the finer feelings and nobler sentiments of his mind are absolutely eradicated: that generous disregard of self, and that enthusiasm in the cause of virtue have disappeared.

A fortune is not to be made at once by industry; it is made up by the daily accession of small sums. Small sums, therefore, become an object of importance to the industrious man. He values them highly. And the man who sets a high value on small sums may possibly adhere to the 'dead letter of honesty; but he has lost that nobility of the heart, for which nothing can be a sufficient compensation. A minute attention to trifles has narrowed and contaminated his mind. He must be shut out from the congregation of those who are clothed in the whac raiment of pure unsullied honor: he is unclean.

DISCOVERIES.

"Wist ye not that such a man as I can certainly powwow?" OUR violent desire to know what the world had said and were saying about our Savage induced us to have recourse to means for gratifying our curiosity which we never resort to unless on extraordinary occasions.

We once studied the science of powwowing under the celebrated Kaioka. Kaioka was a great man: a priest, a prophet, and magician. He could predict the approach of comets, and the time when our warriors would return from their predatory excursions. He could prevent the rivers from overflowing their banks, and the moles from destroying the corn. He could foretel the event of a war, and interpret the meaning of dreams. He could surround the moon with a circle, and multiply the number of suns. He could charm away the most malignant spirit, and stop the ravages of the most alarming disease. He formed a treaty of friendship with serpents, and cherished the rattlesnake in his bosom. He could bring on darkness at midday, and call down rain from heaven, by his powerful incantations. He acquired an absolute ascendency over the spirits that manage the clouds and those that assist the operations of rivers. The genii of the caves and the inhabitants of the abyss were subjected to his power.

We took a few lessons from this wonderful man, which enables us on extraordinary occasions to dip a little into the invisible world. We can "start a ghost" or rouse a goblin, when there happens to be any necessity for such an exertion; but we generally are content with having recourse to dreams, after having made the necessary preparations.

By this last method we made some highly interesting discoveries concerning our Savage, as will be seen in the sequel.

We fasted and prayed. We took an emetic, and performed the necessary ablutions in the Schuylkill: and then, having burned a few leaves of tobacco to propitiate the spirits of the air, we lay down and slept. In our dream, a terrific form made its appearance. We cannot undertake to satisfy the curiosity of the public, as to the being that we saw in our dream; for of that we are ignorant.