The external throne of the Divine magnificence is Nature; and man, by contemplating her, advances by degrees to the internal throne of the Almighty. He is formed to adore his Creator, and to have dominion over every other creature; he is the vassal of heaven, and the lord of the earth; by him this nether globe is peopled, ennobled, and enriched; he establishes order, subordination, and harmony among living beings, and even to Nature herself he gives polish, extension, cultivation, and embellishment; for he cuts down the thistle and the bramble, and, by his care, multiplies the vine and the rose. In those dreary desarts where man has not inhabited, we find them over-run with thorns and briars; the trees deformed, broken and corrupted, and the seeds which ought to renew and embellish the scene, are choaked by surrounding rubbish, and reduced to sterility. Nature, whom we find in other situations adorned with the splendour of youth, has here the appearance of old age and decrepitude. Here the earth, overloaded with the spoils of its productions, instead of presenting a scene of beautiful verdure, exhibits only a rude mass of coarse herbage, and trees loaded with parasitical plants, as lichens, agaries, and other impure and corrupted fruits; the low grounds are covered with putrid and stagnant waters; these miry lands being neither solid nor fluid, are not only impassable but are entirely useless to the inhabitants of both land and water; and the marshes abounding with stinking aquatic plants, serve only to nourish venomous insects, and to harbour infectious animals. There is, indeed, between the putrid marshes of the low ground, and the decayed forests of the high parts of the country, a species of lands, or savannas, but which are very different from our meadows; for in them there is an abundance of noxious herbs which spring up and check the growth of the useful kinds: instead of that delicate enamelled turf, which may be considered as the down of the earth, they are covered over with coarse vegetables and hard prickly plants, which are so interwoven, that they appear to have more connection with each other, than with the soil; and by a constant and successive generation at length form a kind of rough mat several feet thick. In these uncultivated and desolate regions, there is no road, no communication, and no vestige of intelligence. Man, when seeking to destroy the wild beasts, is compelled to follow their tracks, and to be constantly on the watch, lest he should become a victim to their savage fury; alarmed and terrified by their frequent roarings, and even awed by the profound silence of those dreary solitudes, he shrinks back and exclaims; "Uncultivated Nature is hideous and unflourishing; it is I alone who can render her agreeable and vivacious. Let us drain the marshes, and give animation to the waters, by converting them into brooks and canals; let us make use of that active and devouring element, whose