"Sir," said the old man, as he turned his gaze upon Henry, and wiped some tears from his eyes, "it must be that mining is blessed by God; for there is no art, which renders those who are occupied in it happier and nobler, which awakens a deeper faith in divine wisdom and guidance, or which preserves the innocence and childlike simplicity of the heart more freshly. Poor is the miner born, and poor he departs again. He is satisfied with knowing where metallic riches are found, and with bringing them to light; but their dazzling glare has no power over his simple heart. Untouched by the perilous delirium, he is more pleased in examining their wonderful formation, and the peculiarities of their origin and primitive situation, than in calling himself their possessor. When changed into property, they have no longer any charm for him, and he prefers to seek them amid a thousand dangers and travails, in the fastnesses of the earth, rather than to follow their vocation in the world, or aspire after them on the earth's surface, with cunning and deceitful arts. These severe labors keep his heart fresh and his mind strong; he enjoys his scanty pay with inward thankfulness, and comes forth every day from the dark tombs of his calling, with new-born enjoyment of life. He now appreciates the pleasure of light and of rest, the charms of the free air and prospect; his food and drink are right refreshing to one, who enjoys them as devoutly as if at the Lord's Supper; and with what a warm and tender heart he joins his friends, or embraces his wife and children, and thankfully shares the delights of heart-felt intercourse." "His lonely occupation cuts off a great part of his life from day and the society of man. Still he does not harden himself in dull indifference as to these deep-meaning matters of the upper world; and he retains a childlike simplicity, which recognises the interior essence, and the manifold, primitive energies of all things. Nature will never be the possession of any single individual. In the form of property it becomes a terrible poison, which destroys rest, excites the ruinous desire of drawing everything within the reach of its possessor, and carries with it a train of wild passions and endless sorrows. Thus it undermines secretly the ground of the owner, buries him in the abyss which breaks beneath him, and so passes into the hands of another, thus gradually satisfying its tendency to belong to all.