and salubrious mixtures of animal and vegetable substances, in which every thing is employed to the greatest advantage in an economical view, and the palate and digestion are equally consulted.

The use of condiments or seasonings to food, though much abused to the purposes of luxury and intemperate gratification, has, however, a place in simple cookery. I have already given you some account of salt, the principal of these articles, which few nations who have been acquainted with it have failed to employ in some manner in their diet. The people of Otaheite were found to have the practice of setting by them a vessel of sea-water, into which they dipped each morsel before swallowing it. Even sheep and cattle, whether in a wild or tame state, show a great fondness for salt, and will lick lumps of it with great relish. A small proportion of salt is supposed to assist the dissolution of food in the stomach, besides giving a taste to things of themselves insipid. The warm aromatic vegetables, such as mustard, horse radish, pepper, and other spices, are useful in correcting the cold and windy

nature of certain foods, and impart vigour to the stomach. It seems extraordinary that the natives of the hottest climates are most fond of spices, which they mix in such quantities with their food, as would absolutely fire the mouth and throat of one unaccustomed to them. This is owing to the relaxing power of heat, which renders the strongest stimulants necessary to rouse the languid organs to exertion. The Greenlander and Samoiede, on the other hand, think train oil, of which they can procure ample supplies from the marine animals around them, the finest of all sauces to their dried fish or flesh, and are able to digest a full meal of whale's fat. Oily matters have besides the very valuable property to the inhabitants of the frigid zone, of serving as a kind of fuel, by which the animal heat is supported, and the flame of life kept in, as it were, both in the human species and in those creatures which, like the Greenland bear, lay themselves up for the winter in a torpid state.

Thus wisely does providence suit its gifts to the several necessities of all its children! Adieu.

LETTER XI.

ON THE ARTS RELATIVE TO CLOTHING.

MY DEAR BOY,-I am now to introduce you to another division of the arts of life, the necessity of which you will not question-those by which man provides himself with that covering for his body with which nature has omitted to furnish him. This necessity, indeed, is less universal than that for procuring food, since there are climates in which clothing is scarcely requisite, except as far as the purposes of decency demand. Within the tropics, the black colour of the natives, and the natural oiliness of their skins, increased by the use of unguents and paint, sufficiently protect them against the ordinary inclemencies of the weather. Yet even in those countries the practice of going entirely unclothed is extremely rare, and where it exists is the sign of a state little advanced beyond the savage;

and some kind of apparel is usually worn by the superior classes as a mark of distinction. In all the cold and temperate parts of the globe, the want of clothing begins at the instant of birth, and seems one of the most urgent. Yet such is the power of accommodating himself to all temperatures and all circumstances, in which man has been made to excel his fellow denizens of earth, that a tribe of savages almost totally destitute of clothing has lately been observed on the coast of Terra del Fuego; one of the rudest climates of the whole world, being nearly an incessant alternation of storm, rain, frost, and fog. Their dwellings, if so they may be called, are nothing more than a few boughs bent into a kind of arbour, and nature herself seems to have denied them every material for clothing. Their dreary and unproductive forests are so destitute of living creatures, that they have no knowledge of any quadruped capable of supplying them with a fur cloak; the fish which form their sole sustenance yield them nothing of this kind, and they have not found means to avail themselves of the bark of trees or even of their leaves. Canoes and fishing

tackle seem their sole possessions; they contrive however to exist,-wretchedly no doubt.

The first covering to the body in warm climates may probably have been the large leaves of trees fastened together by the fibres of the same; but this must have been so slight and little durable, as soon to be set aside for better contrivances. To interweave the long and narrow leaves of plants of the grass or reed tribe in the form of a mat would be a pretty obvious expedient; and to this day we find that some savage tribes have proceeded no further. Yet, simple as this contrivance may seem, it is the origin of the art of weaving. A kind of clothing still more simple probably occurred to the inhabitants of colder countries, namely the skins of slain animals, those very coverings bestowed by nature upon them, and denied to man. The savage hunter who had killed a bear, at the same time made a display of his prowess and enjoyed the reward of it, by wrapping round him the shaggy spoils of his game. You have read, perhaps, of the lion's skin of the renowned Hercules, which, with his club, are all the accessories usually given