The first division of Justice concludes with an excellent description of the struggle between the English nation and King James II., who “on account of his encroachments on the body politic was with all justice and equity in the world opposed and rejected.” In the second division of Justice, called Domestic Law, he examined the legal relations that had subsisted at different times and in different countries between husband and wife, parent and child, master and servant, guardian and ward. The treatment is concise without being dry. Philosophy corrects curiosity; humanity peeps through law, and humour spices humanity. We come upon his favourite proposition that “love, which was formerly a ridiculous passion,” has become “grave and respectable,” the proof being that love now influences all public entertainments, whereas no ancient tragedy turned upon it. He counters Montesquieu’s statement that at Bantam, in the East Indies, there are ten women born for one man, by a broad doctrine: If the laws of nature are the same everywhere, the laws of gravity and attraction the same; why not the laws of generation? He reminds his class that slavery is still “almost universal”; for a small part of Western Europe is “the only portion of the globe that is free from it.” Upon the evils of slavery he spoke as strongly as he wrote before in the _Theory of Moral Sentiments_ or afterwards in the _Wealth of Nations_ (Book I. chap. viii.). It is almost needless, he says, to prove that slavery is a bad institution. “A free man keeps as his own whatever is above his rent, and therefore has a motive to industry. Our colonies would be much better cultivated by free men.” That slavery is a disadvantage appears, he adds, from the state of colliers and salters in Scotland. These poor wretches indeed, whom he must have seen daily in Kirkcaldy (where Pennant noticed them with indignation thirty years afterwards), had some privileges which slaves had not. Their property after maintenance was their own, and they could only be sold with their work. They were allowed to marry and to choose their religion, and their wages were half a crown a day, as compared with the sixpence or eightpence earned by the ordinary day-labourers in the neighbourhood. Nevertheless “colliers often leave our coal-works” and run away to Newcastle, preferring liberty on tenpence or a shilling a day to slavery on half a crown.