transforms itself into a thousand fine objects
that charm the eye. In the compass of one year it turns into branches,
twigs, buds, leaves, blossoms, fruits, and seeds, in order, by those
various shapes, to multiply its liberalities to mankind.

Nothing exhausts the earth; the more we tear her bowels the more she is
liberal. After so many ages, during which she has produced everything,
she is not yet worn out. She feels no decay from old age, and her
entrails still contain the same treasures. A thousand generations have
passed away, and returned into her bosom.

Everything grows old, she alone excepted; for she grows young again
every year in the spring. She is never wanting to men; but foolish men
are wanting to themselves in neglecting to cultivate her. It is through
their laziness and extravagance they suffer brambles and briars to grow
instead of grapes and corn. They contend for a good they let perish. The
conquerors leave uncultivated the ground for the possession of which
they have sacrificed the lives of so many thousand men, and have spent
their own in hurry and trouble. Men have before them vast tracts of land
uninhabited and uncultivated, and they turn mankind topsy-turvy for one
nook of that neglected ground in dispute. The earth, if well cultivated,
would feed a hundred times more men than she does now. Even the
unevenness of ground, which at first seems to be a defect, turns either
into ornament or profit. The mountains arose and the valleys descended
to the place the Lord had appointed for them. Those different grounds
have their particular advantages, according to the divers aspects of the
sun. In those deep valleys grow fresh and tender grass to feed cattle.
Next to them opens a vast champaign covered with a rich harvest. Here,
hills rise like an amphitheatre, and are crowned with vineyards and
fruit-trees. There, high mountains carry aloft their frozen brows to the
very clouds, and the torrents that run down from them become the springs
of rivers. The rocks that show their craggy tops bear up the earth of
mountains just as the bones bear up the flesh in human bodies.

There is scarce any spot of ground absolutely barren if a man do not
grow weary of digging, and turning it to the enlivening sun, and if he
require no more from it than it is proper to bear. Amidst stone and
rocks there is sometimes excellent pasture, and their cavities have
veins which, being penetrated by the piercing rays of the sun,