his head.

"No, Atterley," said he, "do not deceive yourself. The duration of every
species of polity is uncertain; the works of nature alone are permanent.
The motions of the heavenly bodies are the same as they were thousands
of years ago. But not so with the works of man. He is the identical animal
that he ever was. His political institutions, however cunningly devised,
have always been yet more perishable than his structures of stone and
marble. This is according to all past history: and do not, therefore,
count upon an exception in your favour, that would be little short of
the miraculous. But," he good-naturedly added, "such a miracle may take
place in your system; and, although I do not expect it, I sincerely
wish it."

We were now able to see one half of the broad expanse of the Pacific,
which glistened with the brightness of quicksilver or polished steel.

"Cast your eyes to the north," said he, "and see where your continent
and mine approach so near as almost to touch. Both these coasts are
at this time thinly inhabited by a rude and miserable people, whose
whole time is spent in struggling against the rigours of their dreary
climate, and the scantiness of its productions. Yet, perhaps the Indians
and the Kamtschadales will be gradually moulded into a hardy, civilized
people: and here may be the scene of many a fierce conflict between your
people and the Russians, whose numbers, now four times as great as yours,
increase almost as rapidly."

He then amused me with accounts of the manners and mode of life of the
Hyperborean race, with whom he had once passed a summer. Glancing my eye
then to the south,--"See," said I, "while the Kamtschadale is providing