hath sadness in it. Then, there is a kind of contempt of the
landscape felt by him who has just lost by death a dear friend. The
sky is less grand as it shuts down over less worth in the population.

CHAPTER II.

COMMODITY.

WHOEVER considers the final cause of the world, will discern a
multitude of uses that result. They all admit of being thrown into one
of the following classes; Commodity; Beauty; Language; and
Discipline.

Under the general name of Commodity, I rank all those advantages
which our senses owe to nature. This, of course, is a benefit which is
temporary and mediate, not ultimate, like its service to the soul. Yet
although low, it is perfect in its kind, and is the only use of nature
which all men apprehend. The misery of man appears like childish
petulance, when we explore the steady and prodigal provision that
has been made for his support and delight on this green ball which
floats him through the heavens. What angels invented these splendid
ornaments, these rich conveniences, this ocean of air above, this
ocean of water beneath, this firmament of earth between? this zodiac
of lights, this tent of dropping clouds, this striped coat of climates,
this fourfold year? Beasts, fire, water, stones, and corn serve him.
The field is at once his floor, his work-yard, his play-ground, his
garden, and his bed.

"More servants wait on man
Than he'll take notice of."--

Nature, in its ministry to man, is not only the material, but is also the
process and the result. All the parts incessantly work into each
other's hands for the profit of man. The wind sows the seed; the sun
evaporates the sea; the wind blows the vapor to the field; the ice, on
the other side of the planet, condenses rain on this; the rain feeds the
plant; the plant feeds the animal; and thus the endless circulations of
the divine charity nourish man.

The useful arts are reproductions or new combinations by the wit of
man, of the same natural benefactors. He no longer waits for
favoring gales, but by means of steam, he realizes the fable of
Aeolus's bag, and carries the two and thirty winds in the boiler of his
boat. To diminish friction, he paves the road with iron bars,
and, mounting a coach with a ship-load of men, animals, and
merchandise behind him, he darts through the country, from town to
town, like an eagle or a swallow through the air. By the aggregate of
these aids, how is the face of the world changed, from the