"Feeble work of my hands, I owe thee nothing, and I give thee life; the
world wherein I placed thee was not made for thee, yet I give thee the
use of it; thou wilt find in it a mixture of good and evil; it is for
thee to distinguish them; for thee to guide thy footsteps in a path
containing thorns as well as roses. Be the arbiter of thine own fate; I
put thy destiny into thine own hands!"

Yes, man is made the architect of his own destiny; he, himself, hath
been the cause of the successes or reverses of his own fortune; and if,
on a review of all the pains with which he has tormented his own
life, he finds reason to weep over his own weakness or imprudence
yet, considering the beginnings from which he sat out, and the height
attained, he has, perhaps, still reason to presume on his strength, and
to pride himself on his genius.



CHAPTER VI.

THE PRIMITIVE STATE OF MAN.


Formed naked in body and in mind, man at first found himself thrown, as
it were by chance, on a rough and savage land: an orphan, abandoned by
the unknown power which had produced him, he saw not by his side beings
descended from heaven to warn him of those wants which arise only from
his senses, nor to instruct him in those duties which spring only
from his wants. Like to other animals, without experience of the past,
without foresight of the future, he wandered in the bosom of the forest,
guided only and governed by the affections of his nature. By the pain of