ply 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 now she does. 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. That variety yields at
once a ravishing prospect to the eye, and, at the same time,
supplies the divers wants of man. There is no ground so barren but
has some profitable property. Not only black and fertile soil but
even clay and gravel recompense a man's toil. Drained morasses
become fruitful; sand for the most part only covers the surface of
the earth; and when, the husbandman has the patience to dig deeper
he finds a new ground that grows fertile as fast as it is turned and
exposed to the rays of the sun.

There is scarce a