ine own fate; I
put thy destiny into thine own hands!"

Yes, man is made the architect of his own destiny; he, himself, hath
been the cause of the successes or reverses of his own fortune; and if,
on a review of all the pains with which he has tormented his own
life, he finds reason to weep over his own weakness or imprudence
yet, considering the beginnings from which he sat out, and the height
attained, he has, perhaps, still reason to presume on his strength, and
to pride himself on his genius.

CHAPTER VI.

THE PRIMITIVE STATE OF MAN.

Formed naked in body and in mind, man at first found himself thrown, as
it were by chance, on a rough and savage land: an orphan, abandoned by
the unknown power which had produced him, he saw not by his side beings
descended from heaven to warn him of those wants which arise only from
his senses, nor to instruct him in those duties which spring only
from his wants. Like to other animals, without experience of the past,
without foresight of the future, he wandered in the bosom of the forest,
guided only and governed by the affections of his nature. By the pain of
hunger, he was led to seek food and provide for his subsistence; by the
inclemency of the air, he was urged to cover his body, and he made him
clothes; by the attraction of a powerful pleasure, he approached a being
like himself, and he perpetuated his kind.

Thus the impressions which he received from every object, awakening his
faculties, developed by degrees his understanding, and began to instruct
his profound ignorance: his wants excited industry, dangers formed his
courage; he learned to distinguish useful from noxious plants, to
combat the elements, to seize his prey, to defend his life; and thus he
alleviated its miseries.

Thus self-love, aversion to pain, the desire of happiness, were the
simple and powerful excitements which drew man from the savage and
barbarous condition in which nature had placed him. And now, when his
life is replete with enjoyments, when he may count each day by the
comforts it brings, he may applaud himself and say:

"It is I who have produced the comforts which surround me; it is I who
am the author of my own happiness; a safe dwelling, convenient clothing,
abundant and wholesome nourishment, smiling fields, fertile hills,
populous empires, all is my work; without me this earth, given up
to disorder, would have been but a filthy fen, a wild wood, a dreary
desert."

Yes, creati