western nations of Europe, to become acquainted with the inhabited parts of the globe; but that all the efforts yet made, had still left a large portion almost entirely unknown. I asked if he did not think it probable that some of the nations in the interior of Africa were more advanced in civilization than those on the coast, whose barbarous custom of making slaves of their prisoners, Europeans had encouraged and perpetuated, by purchasing them.

"No, no," said he; "the benefits of civilization could not have been so easily confined, but would have spread themselves over every part of that continent, or at least as far as the Great Desert, if they had ever existed. The intense heat of a climate, lying on each side of the Line, at once disinclines men to exertion, and renders it unnecessary. Vegetable diet is more suited to them than animal, which favours a denser population. Talent is elicited by the efforts required to overcome difficulties and hardships; and their natural birth-place is a country of frost and snow—of tempests—of sterility enough to give a spur to exertion, but not enough to extinguish hope. Where these difficulties exist, and give occasion to war and emulation, the powers of the human mind are most frequently developed."

"Do you think then," said I, "that there is no such thing as natural inferiority and differences of races?"

"I have been much perplexed by that question," said he. "When I regard the great masses of mankind, I think there seems to be among them some characteristic differences. I see that the Europeans have every where obtained the ascendancy over those who inhabit the other quarters of the globe. But when I compare individuals, I see always the same passions, the same motives, the same mental operations; and my opinion is changed. The same seed becomes a very different plant when sowed in one soil or another, and put under this or that mode of cultivation."

"And may not," said I, "the very nature of the plant be changed, after a long continuance of the same culture in the same soil?"

"Why, that is but another mode of stating the question. I rather think, if it has generally degenerated, it may, by opposite treatment, be also gradually brought back to its original excellence."

"Who knows, then," said I, "what our missionaries and colonization societies may effect in Africa."

He inquired of me what these societies were; and on explaining their history, observed: "By what you tell me, it is indeed a small beginning; but if they can get this grain of mustard-seed to grow, there is no saying how much it may multiply. See what a handful of colonists have done in your own country. A few ship-loads of English have overspread half a continent; and, from what you tell me, their descendants will amount, in another century, to more than one hundred millions. There is no rule," he continued, "that can be laid down on this subject, to which some nations cannot be found to furnish a striking exception. If mere difficulties were all that were wanting to call forth the intellectual energies of man, they have their full share on the borders of the Great Desert. There are in that whitish tract which separates the countries on the southern shores of the Mediterranean from the rest of Africa, thousands of human beings at this moment toiling over that dreary ocean of sand, to whom a draught of fresh water would be a blessing, and the simplest meal a luxury.

"Perhaps, however, you will say they are so engrossed with the animal wants of hunger and thirst, that they are incapable of attending to any thing else. Be it so. But in the interior they are placed in parallel circumstances with the natives of Europe: they are engaged in struggles for territory and dominion—for their altars and their homes; and this state of things, which has made some of them brave and warlike, has made none poets or painters, historians or philosophers. There, poetry has not wanted themes of great achievement and noble daring; but heroes have wanted poets. Nor can we justly ascribe the difference to the enervating influence of climate, for the temperature of the most southern parts of Africa differs little from that of Greece. And the tropical nations, too, of your own continent, the Peruvians, were more improved than those who inhabited the temperate regions. Besides, though the climate had instilled softness and feebleness of character, it might also have permitted the cultivation of the arts, as has been the case with us in Asia. On the whole, without our being able to pronounce with certainty on the subject, it does seem probable that some organic difference exists in the various races of mankind, to which their diversities of moral and intellectual character may in part be referred."—By this time the Morea and the Grecian Archipelago were directly under our telescope.

"Does not Greece," said I, "furnish the clearest proof of the influence of moral causes on the character of nations? Compare what that country formerly was, with what it now is. Once superior to all the rest of the habitable globe, (of which it did not constitute the thousandth part,) in letters, arts, and arms, and all that distinguishes men from brutes; not merely in their own estimation, (for all nations are disposed to rate themselves high enough,) but by the general consent of the rest of the world. Do not the most improved and civilized of modern states still take them as their instructors and guides in every species of literature—in philosophy, history, oratory, poetry, architecture, and sculpture? And those too, who have attained superiority over the world, in arms, yield a voluntary subjection to the Greeks in the arts. The cause of their former excellence and their present inferiority, is no doubt to be found in their former freedom and their present slavery, and in the loss of that emulation which seems indispensable to natural greatness."

"Nay," replied he, "I am very far from denying the influence of moral causes on national character. The history of every country affords abundant evidence of it. I mean only to say, that though it does much, it does not do every thing. It seems more reasonable to impute the changes in national character to the mutable habits and institutions of man, than to nature, which is always the same. But if we look a little nearer, we may perhaps perceive, that amidst all those mutations in the character of nations, there are still some features that are common to the same people at all times, and which it would therefore be reasonable to impute to the great unvarying laws of nature. Thus it requires no extraordinary acuteness of observation, no strained hypothesis, to perceive a close resemblance between the Germans or the Britons of antiquity and their modern descendants, after the lapse of eighteen centuries, and an entire revolution in government, religion, language, and laws. And travellers still perceive among the inhabitants of modern Greece, deteriorated and debased as they are by political servitude, many of those qualities which distinguished their predecessors: the same natural acuteness—the same sensibility to pleasure—the same pliancy of mind and elasticity of body—the same aptitude for the arts of imitation—and the same striking physiognomy. That bright, serene sky—that happy combination of land and water, constituting the perfection of the picturesque, and that balmy softness of its air, which have proved themselves so propitious to forms of beauty, agility, and strength, also operate benignantly on the mind which animates them. Whilst the fruit is still fair to the eye, it is not probable that it has permanently degenerated in fragrance or flavour. The great diversities of national character may, perhaps, be attributed principally to moral and accidental causes, but partly also to climate, and to original diversities in the different races of man."