s in their infancy, he creates every thing in full maturity. In a
word, he makes a world which shall be exactly a copy of our own, with
the single exception that the 800,000,000 of free agents in it shall be
supposed to be wholly ignorant in regard to the nature of the food
assigned them. But the new world is created, we will suppose, at
sunrise, in October. The human inhabitants thereof have stomachs, and
soon, that is, by mid-day or before night, feel the pangs of hunger.
Now, what will they eat?

The world being mature, every thing in it is, of course, mature. Around,
on every hand, are cornfields with their rich treasures; above, that is,
in the boughs of the orchards, hang the rich russets, pippins, and the
various other excellent kinds of the apple, with which our own country
and other temperate climates abound. In tropical regions, of course,
almost every vegetable production is flourishing at that season, as well
as the corn and the apple. Or, he has but to look on the surface of the
earth on which he stands, and there are the potatoe, the turnip, the
beet, and many other esculent roots; to say nothing of the squash, the
pumpkin, the melon, the chestnut, the walnut, the beechnut, the
butternut, the hazelnut, etc.,--most of which are nourishing, and more
or less wholesome, and are in full view. Around him, too, are the
animals. I am willing even to admit the domestic animal--the horse, the
ox, the sheep, the dog, the cat, the rabbit, the turkey, the goose, the
hen, yes, and even the pig. And now, I ask again, what will he eat? He
is destitute of experience, and he has no example. But he has a stomach,
and he is hungry: he has hands and he has teeth; the world is all before
him, and he is the lord of it, at least so far as to use such food in it
as he pleases.

Does any one believe that, in these circumstances, man would prey upon
the animals around him? Does any person believe--can he for one moment
believe--he would forthwith imbrue his hands in blood, whether that of
his own species or of some other? Would he pass by the mellow apple,
hanging in richest profusion every where, inviting him as it were by its
beauties? Would he pass by the fields, with their golden ears? Would he
despise the rich products of field, and forest, and garden, and hasten
to seize the axe or the knife, and, ere the blood had ceased to flow, or
the muscles to quiver, give orders to his fair but affrighted companion
within to prepare the