University of Virginia Library

15. CHAPTER XV.

For some months after the change of government, Mark
Woolston was occupied in attending to the arrangement
of his affairs, preparatory to an absence of some length.
Bridget had expressed a strong wish to visit America once
more, and her two eldest children were now of an age
when their education had got to be a matter of some solicitude.
It was the intention of their father to send them
to Pennsylvania for that purpose, when the proper time
arrived, and to place them under the care of his friends
there, who would gladly take the charge. Recent events
probably quickened this intention, both as to feeling and
time, for Mark was naturally much mortified at the turn
things had taken.

There was an obvious falling-off in the affairs of the
colony from the time it became transcendantly free. In
religion, the sects ever had fair-play, or ever since the arrival
of the parsons, and that had been running down, from
the moment it began to run into excesses and exaggerations.
As soon as a man begins to shout in religion, he
may be pretty sure that he is “hallooing before he is out
of the woods.” It is true, that all our feelings exhibit
themselves, more or less, in conformity to habits and manners,
but there is something profane in the idea that the
spirit of God manifests its presence in yells and clamour,
even when in possession of those who have not been

trained to the more subdued deportment of reason and
propriety. The shouting and declamatory parts of religion
may be the evil spirits growling and yelling before they are
expelled, but these must not be mistaken for the voice of
the Ancient of Days.

The morals decayed as religion obtained its false directions.
Self-righteousness, the inseparable companion of
the quarrels of sects, took the place of humility, and thus
became prevalent that most dangerous condition of the
soul of man, when he imagines that he sanctifies what he
does; a frame of mind, by the way, that is by no means
strange to very many who ought to be conscious of their
unworthiness. With the morals of the colony, its prosperity,
even in worldly interests, began to lose ground. The
merchants, as usual, had behaved badly in the political
struggle. The intense selfishness of the caste kept them
occupied with the pursuit of gain, at the most critical moments
of the struggle, or when their influence might have
been of use; and when the mischief was done, and they
began to feel its consequences, or, what to them was the
same thing, to fancy that the low price of oil in Europe
was owing to the change of constitution at the Crater,
they started up in convulsed and mercenary efforts to counteract
the evil, referring all to money, and not manifesting
any particular notions of principles concerning the manner
in which it was used. As the cooler heads of the
minority—perhaps we ought to say of the majority, for,
oddly enough, the minority now actually ruled in Craterdom,
by carrying out fully the principle of the sway of the
majority—but, as the cooler heads of the colony well understood
that nothing material was to follow from such
spasmodic and ill-directed efforts, the merchants were not
backed in their rising, and, as commonly happens with the
slave, the shaking of their chains only bound them so
much the tighter.

At length the Rancocus returned from the voyage on
which she had sailed just previously to the change in the
constitution, and her owner announced his intention to go
in her to America, the next trip, himself. His brothers,
Heaton, Anne, their children, and, finally, Captain Betts,
Friend Martha, and their issue, all, sooner or later, joined

the party; a desire to visit the low shores of the Delaware
once more, uniting with the mortification of the recent
changes, to induce them all to wish to see the land
of their fathers before they died. All the oil in the colony
was purchased by Woolston, at rather favourable prices,
the last quotations from abroad being low: the ex-governor
disposed of most of his movables, in order to effect so
large an operation. He also procured a glorious collection
of shells, and some other light articles of the sort, filling
the ship as full as she could be stowed. It was then that
the necessity of having a second vessel became apparent,
and Betts determined to withdraw his brig from the fishery,
and to go to America in her. The whales had been driven
off the original fishing-ground, and the pursuit was no
longer as profitable as it had been, three fish having been
taken formerly to one now; a circumstance the hierarchy
of the Crater did not fail to ascribe to the changes in the
constitution, while the journal attributed it to certain
aristocratical tendencies which, as that paper averred, had
crept into the management of the business.

The vessels were loaded, the passengers disposing of as
many of their movables as they could, and to good advantage,
intending to lay in fresh supplies in Philadelphia, and
using the funds thus obtained to procure a freight for the
brig. At the end of a month, both vessels were ready; the
different dwellings were transferred to new occupants,
some by lease and others by sales, and all those who contemplated
a voyage to America were assembled at the
crater. Previously to taking leave of a place that had become
endeared to him by so many associations and interests,
Mr. Woolston determined to take the Anne, hiring
her of the government for that purpose—Governor Pennock
condescendingly deciding that the public interests would
not suffer by the arrangement—and going in her once more
through the colony, on a tour of private, if not of official
inspection. Bridget, Heaton, Anne, and Captain Betts,
were of the party; the children being left at the crater, in
proper custody.

The first visit was paid to Rancocus Island. Here the
damage done by the pirates had long been repaired; and
the mills, kilns and other works, were in a state of prosperous

industry. The wild hogs and goats were now so
numerous as to be a little troublesome, particularly the former;
but, a good many being shot, the inhabitants did not
despair of successfully contending with them for the possession
of the place. There were cattle, also, on this island;
but they were still tame, the cows giving milk, and
the oxen being used in the yoke. These were the descendants
of the single pair Woolston had sent across, less than
twelve years before, which had increased in an arithmetical
proportion, care having been taken not to destroy any.
They now exceeded a hundred, of whom quite half were
cows; and the islanders occasionally treated themselves to
fresh beef. As cows had been brought into the colony in
every vessel that arrived, they were now in tolerably good
numbers, Mark Woolston himself disposing of no less than
six when he broke up his farming establishment for a visit
to America. There were horses, too, though not in as
great numbers as there were cows and oxen. Boats were
so much used, that roadsters were very little needed; and
this so much the less, on account of the great steadiness
of the trades. By this time, everybody understood the
last; and the different channels of the group were worked
through with almost the same facility as would have been
the case with so many highways. Nevertheless, horses
were to be found in the colony, and some of the husbandmen
preferred them to the horned cattle in working their
lands.

A week was passed in visiting the group. Something
like a consciousness of having ill-treated Mark was to be
traced among the people; and this feeling was manifested
under a well-known law of our nature, which rendered
those the most vindictive and morose, who had acted the
worst. Those who had little more to accuse themselves
of than a compliant submission to the wrong-doing of
others, in political matters everywhere the most numerous
class of all, received their visiters well enough, and in
many instances they treated their guests with delicacy and
distinction. On the whole, however, the late governor
derived but little pleasure from the intercourse, so much
mouthing imbecility being blended with the expressions of
regret and sympathy, as to cause him to mourn over the

compliance of his fellow-creatures, more than to rejoice at
their testimony in his own favour.

But, notwithstanding all these errors of man, nature and
time had done their work magnificently since the last
“progress” of Woolston among the islands. The channels
were in nearly every instance lined with trees, and the
husbandry had assumed the aspect of an advanced civilization.
Hedges, beautiful in their luxuriance and flowers,
divided the fields; and the buildings which contribute to
the comforts of a population were to be found on every
side. The broad plains of soft mud, by the aid of the sun,
the rains, the guano, and the plough, had now been some
years converted into meadows and arable lands; and those
which still lay remote from the peopled parts of the group,
still nine-tenths of its surface, were fast getting the character
of rich pastures, where cattle, and horses, and hogs
were allowed to roam at pleasure. As the cock crowed
from the midst of his attendant party of hens and chickens,
the ex-governor in passing would smile sadly, his thoughts
reverting to the time when its predecessor raised its shrill
notes on the naked rocks of the Reef!

That Reef itself had undergone more changes than any
other spot in the colony, as the Peak had undergone fewer.
The town by this time contained more than two hundred
buildings, of one sort and another, and the population exceeded
five hundred souls. This was a small population
for so many tenements: but the children, as yet, did not
bear a just proportion to the adults. The crater was the
subject of what to Mark Woolston was a most painful lawsuit.
From the first, he had claimed that spot as his private
property; though he had conceded its use to the public,
under a lease, since it was so well adapted, by natural formation,
to be a place of refuge when invasions were apprehended.
But the crater he had found barren, and had rendered
fertile; the crater had even seemed to him to be an
especial gift of Providence bestowed on him in his misery;
and the crater was his by possession, as well as by other
rights, when he received strangers into his association.
None of the older inhabitants denied this claim. It is the
last comers who are ever the most anxious to dispute ancient
rights. As they can possess none of these established

privileges themselves, they dislike that others should enjoy
them; and association places no restraints on their cupidity.
Pennock, once in the hands of “the people,” was
obliged to maintain their rights, or what some among them
chose to call their rights; and he authorized the attorney-general
to bring an action of ejectment against the party
in possession. Some pretty hard-faced trickery was attempted
in the way of legislation, in order to help along
the claim of the public; for, if the truth must be said, the
public is just as wont to resort to such unworthy means to
effect its purposes as private individuals, when it is deemed
necessary. But there was little fear of the “people's”
failing; they made the law, and they administered it,
through their agents; the power being now so completely in
their hands that it required twice the usual stock of human
virtue to be able to say them nay, as had formerly been the
case. God help the man whose rights are to be maintained
against the masses, when the immediate and dependent
nominees of those masses are to sit in judgment! If the
public, by any inadvertency, have had the weakness to
select servants that are superior to human infirmities, and
who prefer to do right rather than to do as their masters
would have them, it is a weakness that experience will be
sure to correct, and which will not be often repeated.

The trial of this cause kept the Woolstons at the crater
a week longer than they would have remained. When the
cause was submitted to the jury, Mr. Attorney-General had
a great deal to say about aristocracy and privileged orders,
as well as about the sacred rights of the people. To hear
him, one might have imagined that the Woolstons were
princes, in the full possession of their hereditary states,
and who were dangerous to the liberties of the mass, instead
of being what they really were, citizens without one
right more than the meanest man in the colony, and with
even fewer chances of maintaining their share of these
common rights, in consequence of the prejudice, and jealousy,
and most of all, the envy, of the majority. Woolston
argued his own cause, making a clear, forcible and manly
appeal to the justice and good sense of the jury, in vindication
of his claims; which, on every legal as well as
equitable principle, was out of all question such as every

civilized community should have maintained. But the
great and most powerful foe of justice, in cases of this
sort, is SLANG; and SLANG in this instance came very near
being too much for law. The jury were divided, ten going
for the `people,' and two for the right; one of the last being
Bigelow, who was a fearless, independent fellow, and
cared no more for the bug-bear called the `people,' by the
slang-whangers of politics, than he did for the Emperor of
Japan.

The day after this fruitless trial, which left Mark's claim
in abeyance until the next court, a period of six months,
the intended travellers repaired on board ship, and the brig,
with her party, went to sea, under her owner, captain Betts,
who had provided himself with a good navigator in the
person of his mate. The Rancocus, however, crossed over
to the Peak, and the passengers all ascended to the plain,
to take leave of that earthly paradise. Nature had done so
much for this place, that it had been the settled policy of
Mark Woolston to suffer its native charms to be marred as
little as possible. But the Peak had ever been deemed a
sort of West-End of the Colony; and, though the distribution
of it had been made very fairly, those who parted with
their shares receiving very ample compensations for them,
a certain distinction became attached to the residence on
the Peak. Some fancied it was on account of its climate;
some, because it was a mountain, and was more raised up
in the world than the low islands near it; some, because it
had most edible birds, and the best figs; but none of those
who now coveted residences there for their families, or the
name of residences there, would allow even to themselves,
what was the simple fact, that the place received it highest
distinction on account of the more distinguished individuals
who dwelt on it. At first, the name was given to several
settlements in the group, just as the Manhattanese have
their East and West Broadway; and, just for the very same
reasons that have made them so rich in Broadways, they
will have ere long, first-fifth, second-fifth, and third-fifth
avenue, unless common sense begins to resume its almost
forgotten sway among the aldermen. But this demonstration
in the way of names, did not satisfy the minor-majorrity,
after they got into the ascendant; and a law was

passed authorizing a new survey, and a new subdivision
of the public lands on the Peak, among the citizens of the
colony. On some pretence of justice, that is not very
easily to be understood, those who had property there
already were not to have shares in the new lottery; a lottery,
by the way, in which the prizes were about twice as
large as those which had originally been distributed among
the colonists.

But, Mark and Bridget endeavoured to forget everything
unpleasant in this visit to their much-loved home.
They regarded the place as a boon from Providence, that
demanded all their gratitude, in spite of the abuses of
which it was the subject; and never did it seem to them
more exquisitely beautiful, perhaps it never had been more
perfectly lovely, than it appeared the hour they left it.
Mark remembered it as he found it, a paradise in the
midst of the waters, wanting only in man to erect the last
great altar in his heart, in honour of its divine creator.
As yet, its beauties had not been much marred; though
the new irruption menaced them with serious injuries.

Mr. and Mrs. Woolston took leave of their friends, and
tore themselves away from the charming scenery of the
Peak, with heavy hearts. The Rancocus was waiting for
them, under the lee of the island, and everybody was soon
on board her. The sails were filled, and the ship passed
out from among the islands, by steering south, and hauling
up between the Peak and the volcano. The latter
now seemed to be totally extinct. No more smoke arose
from it, or had indeed risen from it, for a twelvemonth. It
was an island, and in time it might become habitable, like
the others near it.

Off Cape Horn the Rancocus spoke the Dragon; Captain
Betts and his passengers being all well. The two vessels
saw no more of each other until the ship was coming out
of the Bay of Rio, as the brig was going in. Notwithstanding
this advantage, and the general superiority of the
sailing of the Rancocus, such was the nature of the winds
that the last encountered, that when she passed Cape May
lights the brig was actually in the bay, and ahead of her;
This circumstance, however, afforded pleasure rather than
anything else, and the two vessels landed their passengers

on the wharves of Philadelphia within an hour of each
other.

Great was the commotion in the little town of Bristol at
the return of all the Woolstons, who had gone off, no one
knew exactly whither; some saying to New Holland;
others to China; and a few even to Japan. The excitement
extended across the river to the little city of Burlington,
and there was danger of the whole history of the
colony's getting into the newspapers. The colonists, however,
were still discreet, and in a week something else
occurred to draw the attention of the multitude, and the
unexpected visit was soon regarded like any other visit.

Glad enough, notwithstanding, were the near relatives of
Bridget and Anne, in particular, to see those two fine young
women again. Neither appeared much more than a twelvemonth
older than when she went away. This was owing
to the delicious, yet not enervating climate, in which both
had lived. They were mothers, and a little more matronly
in appearance, but none the less lovely; their children,
like themselves, were objects of great interest, in their respective
families, and happy indeed were the households
which received them. It in no degree lessened the satisfaction
of any of the parties, that the travellers had all returned
much better off in their circumstances than when
they went away. Even the two younger Woolstons were
now comfortable, and early announced an intention not to
return to the islands. As for the ex-governor, he might be
said to be rich; but his heart was still in the colony, over
the weaknesses of which his spirit yearned, as the indulgent
parent feels for the failings of a backsliding child. Nevertheless,
Bridget was persuaded to remain with her father a
twelvemonth longer than her husband, for the health of the
old gentleman had become infirm, and he could not bear
to part with his only child so soon again, after she had
once been restored to his arms. It was, therefore, decided,
that Mr. Mark Woolston should fill the Rancocus with
such articles as were deemed the most useful to the colony,
and go back in that vessel, leaving his wife and children
at Bristol, with the understanding he would return and
seek them the succeeding summer. A similar arrangement
was made for the wife and children of Captain Betts,

Friend Martha Betts being much in the practice of regulating
her conduct by that of Friend Bridget Woolston.
Betts sold his brig, and consented to go in the Rancocus
as a passenger, having no scruples, now he had become
comparatively wealthy, about eating with his old shipmate,
and otherwise associating with him, though it was always
as a sort of humble companion.

The Heatons determined to remain in America, for a
time at least. Mr. Heaton felt the ingratitude of the colonists
even more keenly than his brother-in-law; for he
knew how much had been done for them, and how completely
they had forgotten it all. Anne regretted the
Peak, and its delicious climate; but her heart was mainly
concentred in her family, and she could not be otherwise
than happy, while permitted to dwell with her husband
and children.

When the Rancocus sailed, therefore, she had no one
on board her but Mark Woolston and Betts, with the exception
of her proper crew. Her cargo was of no great
intrinsic value, though it consisted in articles much used,
and consequently in great demand, in the colony. As the
vessel had lain some months at Philadelphia, where she
had been thoroughly repaired and new-coppered, she
sailed well, and made an excellent run to Rio, nor was
her passage bad as far as the straits of La Maire. Here
she encountered westerly gales, and the Cape may be said
to have been doubled in a tempest. After beating about
for six weeks in that stormy ocean, the ship finally got
into the Pacific, and went into Valparaiso. Here Mark
Woolston received very favourable offers for most of his
cargo, but, still feeling desirous to serve his colony, he
refused them all, setting sail for the islands as soon as he
had made a few repairs, and had a little refreshed his
crew.

The passages between Valparaiso and the Crater had
usually consumed about five weeks, though somewhat dependent
on the state of the trades. On this occasion the
run was rather long, it having been attempted to find a
new course. Formerly, the vessels had fallen in with the
Crater, between Betto's group and the Reef, which was
bringing them somewhat to leeward, and Mr. Woolston

now thought he would try a more southern route, and see
if he could not make the Peak, which would not only
bring him to windward, but which place was certainly
giving him a more striking object to fall in with than the
lower islands of the group.

It was on the morning of one of the most brilliant days
of those seas, that Captain Saunders met the ex-governor
on the quarter-deck, as the latter appeared there for the first
time since quitting his berth, and announced that he had
just sent look-outs aloft to have a search for the land. By
his reckoning they must be within twelve leagues of the
Peak, and he was rather surprised that it was not yet visible
from the deck. Make it they must very shortly; for
he was quite certain of his latitude, and did not believe
that he could be much out of the way, as respected his
longitude. The cross-trees were next hailed, and the inquiry
was made if the Peak could not be seen ahead. The answer
was, that no land was in sight, in any part of the
ocean!

For several hours the ship ran down before the wind,
and the same extraordinary vacancy existed on the waters!
At length an island was seen, and the news was sent down
on deck. Towards that island the ship steered, and about
two in the afternoon, she came up close under its lee, and
backed her topsail. This island was a stranger to all on
board! The navigators were confident they must be
within a few leagues of the Peak, as well as of the volcano;
yet nothing could be seen of either, while here was
an unknown island in their places! This strange land
was of very small dimensions, rising out of the sea about
three hundred feet. Its extent was no great matter, half
a mile in diameter perhaps, and its form nearly circular.
A boat was lowered, and a party pulled towards it.

As Mr. Woolston approached this as yet strange spot,
something in its outlines recurred to his memory. The
boat moved a little further north, and he beheld a solitary
tree. Then a cry escaped him, and the whole of the terrible
truth flashed on his mind. He beheld the summit
of the Peak, and the solitary tree was that which he had
himself preserved as a signal. The remainder of his paradise
had sunk beneath the ocean!

On landing, and examining more minutely, this awful
catastrophe was fully confirmed. No part of Vulcan's
Peak remained above water but its rocky summit, and its
venerable deposit of guano. All the rest was submerged;
and when soundings were made, the plain, that spot which
had almost as much of Heaven as of earth about it, according
to the unenlightened minds of its inhabitants, was
found to be nearly a hundred fathoms deep in the ocean!

It is scarcely possible to describe the sickening awe
which came over the party, when they had assured themselves
of the fatal facts by further observation. Everything,
however, went to confirm the existence of the dire catastrophe.
These internal fires had wrought a new convulsion,
and the labours and hopes of years had vanished in
a moment. The crust of the earth had again been broken;
and this time it was to destroy, instead of to create. The
lead gave fearful confirmation of the nature of the disaster,
the soundings answering accurately to the known formation
of the land in the neighbourhood of the Peak. But,
in the Peak itself, it was not possible to be mistaken:
there it was in its familiar outline, just as it had stood in
its more elevated position, when it crowned its charming
mountain, and overlooked the whole of that enchanting
plain which had so lately stretched beneath. It might be
said to resemble, in this respect, that sublime rock, which
is recognised as a part of the “everlasting hills,” in Cole's
series of noble landscapes that is called “the March of
Empire;” ever the same amid the changes of time, and
civilization, and decay, there it was the apex of the Peak;
naked, storm-beaten, and familiar to the eye, though surrounded
no longer by the many delightful objects which
had once been seen in its neighbourhood.

Saddened, and chastened in spirit, by these proofs of
what had befallen the colony, the party returned to the
ship. That night they remained near the little islet; next
day they edged away in the direction of the place where
the volcano had formerly risen up out of the waves. After
running the proper distance, the ship was hove-to, and her
people sounded; two hundred fathoms of line were out,
but no bottom was found. Then the Rancocus bore up
for the island which had borne her own name. The spot

was ascertained, but the mountain had also sunk into the
ocean. In one place, soundings were had in ten fathoms
water, and here the vessel was anchored. Next day, when
the ship was again got under way, the anchor brought up
with it, a portion of the skeleton of a goat. It had doubtless
fallen upon the remains of such an animal, and hooking
it with its flukes thus unexpectedly brought once more
to the light of day, the remains of a creature that may have
been on the very summit of the island, when the earthquake
in which it was swallowed, occurred.

The Rancocus next shaped her course in the direction
of the group. Soundings were struck near the western
roads, and it was easy enough to carry the vessel towards
what had formerly been the centre of those pleasant isles.
The lead was kept going, and a good look-out was had for
shoals; for, by this time, Mr. Woolston was satisfied that
the greatest changes had occurred at the southward, as in
the former convulsion, the group having sunk but a trifle
compared with the Peak; nevertheless, every person, as
well as thing, would seem to have been engulfed. Towards
evening, however, as the ship was feeling her way
to windward with great caution, and when the ex-governor
believed himself to be at no great distance from the centre
of the group, the look-outs proclaimed shoal-water, and
even small breakers, about half a mile on their larboard
beam. The vessel was hove-to, and a boat went to examine
the place, Woolston and his friend Betts going in
her.

The shoal was made by the summit of the crater;
breakers appearing in one or two places where the hill
had been highest. The boat met with no difficulty, however,
in passing over the spot, merely avoiding the white
water. When the lead was dropped into the centre of the
crater, it took out just twenty fathoms of line. That distance,
then, below the surface of the sea, had the crater,
and its town, and its people sunk! If any object had
floated, as many must have done, it had long before drifted
off in the currents of the ocean, leaving no traces behind
to mark a place that had so lately been tenanted by human
beings. The Rancocus anchored in twenty-three fathoms,
it being thought she lay nearly over the Colony House,

and for eight-and-forty hours the exploration was continued.
The sites of many a familiar spot were ascertained,
but nothing could be found on which even a spar might
be anchored, to buoy out a lost community.

At the end of the time mentioned, the ship bore up for
Betto's group. There young Ooroony was found, peacefully
ruling as of old. Nothing was known of the fate of
the colonists, though surprise had been felt at not receiving
any visits from their vessels. The intercourse had not
been great of late, and most of the Kannakas had come
away. Soon after the Woolstons had left, the especial
friends of humanity, and the almost exclusive lovers of the
“people” having begun to oppress them by exacting more
work than was usual, and forgetting to pay for it. These
men could say but little about the condition of the colony
beyond this fact. Not only they, but all in the group,
however, could render some account of the awful earthquake
of the last season, which, by their descriptions,
greatly exceeded in violence anything formerly known in
those regions. It was in that earthquake, doubtless, that
the colony of the crater perished to a man.

Leaving handsome and useful presents with his friend,
young Ooroony, and putting ashore two or three Kannakas
who were in the vessel, Woolston now sailed for Valparaiso.
Here he disposed of his cargo to great advantage,
and purchased copper in pigs at almost as great. With
this new cargo he reached Philadelphia, after an absence
of rather more than nine months.

Of the colony of the crater and its fortunes, little was
ever said among its survivors. It came into existence in
a manner that was most extraordinary, and went out of it
in one that was awful. Mark and Bridget, however, pondered
deeply on these things; the influence of which coloured
and chastened their future lives. The husband
often went over, in his mind, all the events connected with
his knowledge of the Reef. He would thus recall his shipwreck
and desolate condition when suffered first to reach
the rocks; the manner in which he was the instrument in
causing vegetation to spring up in the barren places; the
earthquake, and the upheaving of the islands from out of
the waters; the arrival of his wife and other friends; the

commencement and progress of the colony; its blessings,
so long as it pursued the right, and its curses, when it
began to pursue the wrong; his departure, leaving it still
a settlement surrounded with a sort of earthly paradise,
and his return, to find all buried beneath the ocean. Of
such is the world and its much-coveted advantages. For
a time our efforts seem to create, and to adorn, and to
perfect, until we forget our origin and destination, substituting
self for that divine hand which alone can unite the
elements of worlds as they float in gasses, equally from
His mysterious laboratory, and scatter them again into thin
air when the works of His hand cease to find favour in
His view.

Let those who would substitute the voice of the created
for that of the Creator, who shout “the people, the people,”
instead of hymning the praises of their God, who
vainly imagine that the masses are sufficient for all things,
remember their insignificance and tremble. They are but
mites amid millions of other mites, that the goodness of
providence has produced for its own wise ends; their
boasted countries, with their vaunted climates and productions,
have temporary possessions of but small portions
of a globe that floats, a point, in space, following the
course pointed out by an invisible finger, and which will
one day be suddenly struck out of its orbit, as it was originally
put there, by the hand that made it. Let that
dread Being, then, be never made to act a second part in
human affairs, or the rebellious vanity of our race imagine
that either numbers, or capacity, or success, or power in
arms, is aught more than a short-lived gift of His beneficence,
to be resumed when His purposes are accomplished.