"From the fertile bottoms of the Himalayas to the Indian ocean on one side, and from the Burmese boundary to wherever British rule extended on the other, there spread out the same sickly prospect. There, resigned, stood outlined the same apathy of spirit, the same result of misgovernment--the same soul-degrading influences; the same rebuking spectacle; the result of the same wealth-dredging principles practiced by a few. Cotton, corn, and sugar, would have repaid the hand of the husbandman tenfold, nature having given it germ for that purpose; but jungle grew in their stead, while bad government rioted in its follies. Nationality had no soul, energy no lifesprings, progress no railroads to move onward. The honorable John, having conquered, and very modestly enthroned himself, was strong to maintain his centralizing power, from which point he would make effectual his blighting policy. Notwithstanding this, John would have us believe him world-wide in his kindness, desire his power made known to mankind in general, and stood ever ready to have his philanthropy and his tears spent upon the sorrows of the American slave. Were they not more needed in his own Indian dominions? A peasant clothed in rags picks his little spot of sickly cotton as it falls from the bowl; but how valueless is it to the poor wretch ignorant of the first principles of trade! Yet, instead of providing for his improvement, this honorable dredging machine which so disgracefully governs a people flatters him into contentment with promises it never intended to fill. With his bag of cotton gathered, the humble subject is pointed to a path through a country infested by dangerous bands, over which he may seek a market some hundred miles distant. In its crude state he roughs it, and sweats it, puts it through--without a gin to give it market value!--all the various processes of damaging during the transit, and is surprised that India, with the best soil and climate in the world for such an object, cannot raise a good and sufficient supply of the raw material. What a look of pity the wretch might bestow upon the board of directors, sitting in pompous conclave in Leadenhall street! Happy is he, Jonathan, who, contented, knows not the things at his hand by which his own condition may be bettered. And how blind is that rule, which, having the power to do good, contents itself with dragging eagerly away the first compensation. The penalty of the crime of not developing what is given us by nature for a nation's good is the sacrifice of a people's happiness. My friend John reluctantly acknowledged the delinquency. Mark the contrast! Had this all-bountiful India been ours, a more liberal policy would have produced results widely different. No oligarch could have sacrificed it to its own avarice; associations would have sprung up for developing industry; a policy to make the resources of the state serve general interests would have been established, and the good of the