capital must be employed; our population must be kept
at work; if we hesitate a moment, otber nations now hard
pressing us will get ahead, and national ruin will follow.”
Some of this is true, some fallacious. It is undoubtedly
a difficult problem which we have to solve; and I am
inclined to think it is this difficulty that makes men conclude
that what seems a necessary and unalterable state of
things must be good—that its benefits must be greater
than its evils. This was the feeling of the American
advocates of slavery ; they could not see an easy, comfortable
way out of it. In our own case, however, it is to be
hoped, that if a fair consideration of the matter in all its
bearings shows that a preponderance of evil arises from
the immensity of our manufactures and commerce—evil
which must go on increasing with their increase—there is
enough both of political wisdom and true philanthropy in
Englishmen, to induce them to turn their superabundant
wealth into other channels. The fact that has led to these
remarks is surely a striking one : that in one of the most
remote comers of the earth savages can buy clothing
cheaper than the people of the country where it is made ;
that the weaver’s child should shiver in the wintry wind,
unable to purchase articles attainable by the wild natives
of a tropical climate, where clothing is mere ornament or
luxury, should make us pause ere we regard with unmixed
admiration the system which has led to such a result, and
cause us to look with some suspicion on the further extension
of that system. It must be remembered too that our
commerce is not a purely natural growth. It has been
ever fostered by the legislature, and forced to an unnatural
luxuriance by the protection of our fleets and armies. The
wisdom and the justice of this policy have been already
doubted. So soon, therefore, as it is seen that the further
extension of our manufactures and commerce would be an
evil, the remedy is not far to seek.
After six weeks’ confinement to the house I was at
length well, and could resume my daily walks in the
forest. I did not, however, find it so productive as when
I had first arrived at Dobbo. There was a damp stagnation
about the paths, and insects were very scarce. In
some of my best collecting places I now found a mass of
rotting wood, mingled with young shoots, and overgrown
with climbers, yet I always managed to add something daily
to my extensive collections. I one day met with a curious
example of failure of instinct, which, by showing it to be
fallible, renders it very doubtful whether it is anything more
than hereditary habit, dependent on delicate modifications
of sensation. Some sailors cut down a good-sized tree, and,
as is always my practice, I visited it daily for some time in
search of insects. Among other beetles came swarms of
the little cylindrical wood-borers (Platypus, Tesserocerus,
T 2