you are describing a native of Canton or
Pekin. But," added he, after a short pause, "though to a superficial
observer man appears to put on very different characters, to a
philosopher he is every where the same--for he is every where moulded by
the circumstances in which he is placed. Thus; let him be in a situation
that is propitious to commerce, and the habits of traffic produce in him
shrewdness and address. Trade is carried on chiefly in towns, because it
is there carried on most advantageously. This situation gives the trader
a more intimate knowledge of his species--a more ready insight into
character, and of the modes of operating on it. His chief purpose is to
buy as cheap, and to sell as dear, as he can; and he is often able to
heighten the recommendations or soften the defects of some of the
articles in which he deals, without danger of immediate detection; or,
in other words, his representations have some influence with his
customers. He avails himself of this circumstance, and thus acquires the
habit of lying; but, as he is studious to conceal it, he becomes wary,
ingenious, and cunning. It is thus that the Phenicians, the
Carthagenians, the Dutch, the Chinese, the New-Englanders, and the
modern Greeks, have always been regarded as inclined to petty frauds by
their less commercial neighbours." I mentioned the English nation.

"If the English," said he, interrupting me, "who are the most commercial
people of modern times, have not acquired the same character, it is
because they are as distinguished for other things as for traffic: they
are not merely a commercial people--they are also agricultural, warlike,
and literary; and thus the natural tendencies of commerce are mutually
counteracted."

We afterwards descended slowly; the prospect beneath us becoming more
beautiful than my humble pen can hope to describe, or will even attempt
to portray. In a short time after, we were in sight of Venezuela. We met
with the trade-winds, and were carried by them forty or fifty miles
inland, where, with some difficulty, and even danger, we landed. The
Brahmin and myself remained together two days, and parted--he to explore
the Andes, to obtain additional light on the subject of his hypothesis,
and I, on the wings of impatience, to visit once more my long-deserted
family and friends. But before our separation, I assisted my friend in
concealing our aerial vessel, and received a promise from him to visit,
and perhaps spend