In these various cosmogonies we find childish tales on the one hand and philosophical abstractions on the other; and were we obliged to choose between them, it would be better to adopt the former.

In order to distinguish, among a number of paintings, the original from the copy, we must look for that which, in its ensemble or in the perfection of its parts, exhibits the genius of the master. Now, this is precisely what we find in the book of Genesis, which is the original of the representations met with in popular traditions. What can be more natural, and at the same time more magnificent, what more easy of conception, or more consonant with human reason,-than the Creator descending into the realms of ancient night and producing light by the operation of a word? The sun, in an instant, takes his station in the heavens, in the centre of an immense dome of azure; he throws his invisible network over the planets, and detains them about him as his captives; the seas and forests commence their undulations on the globe, and their voices are heard for the first time proclaiming to the universe that marriage in which God himself is the priest, the earth is the nuptial couch, and mankind is the progeny.1

CHAPTER II.

THE FALL OF MAN-THE SERPENT-A HEBREW WORD.

WE are again struck with astonishment in contemplating that other truth announced in the Scriptures:-man dying in consequence of having poisoned himself from the tree of life!—man lost for having tasted the fruit of knowledge, for having learned

The Asiatic Researches confirm the truth of the book of Genesis. They divide mythology into three branches, one of which extended throughout India, the second over Greece, and the third among the savages of North America. They also show that this same mythology was derived from a still more ancient tradition, which is that of Moses. Modern travellers in India everywhere find traces of the facts recorded in Scripture. The authenticity of these traditions, after having been long contested, has now ceased to be a matter of doubt.

too much of good and evil, for having ceased to resemble the child of the gospel! If we suppose any other prohibition of the Deity, relative to any propensity of the soul whatever, where is the profound wisdom in the command of the Most High? It would seem to be unworthy of the Divinity, and no moral would result from the disobedience of Adam. But observe how the whole history of the world springs from the law imposed on our first parents. God placed knowledge within his reach; he could not refuse it him, since man was created intelligent and free; but he cautioned him that if he was resolved on knowing too much, this knowledge would result in the death of himself and of his posterity. The secret of the political and moral existence. of nations, and the profoundest mysteries of the human heart, are comprised in the tradition of this wonderful and fatal tree.

Now let us contemplate the marvellous consequence of this prohibition of infinite wisdom. Man falls, and the demon of pride occasions his fall. But pride borrows the voice of love to seduce him, and it is for the sake of a woman that Adam aspires to an equality with God-a profound illustration of the two principal passions of the heart, vanity and love. Bossuet, in his Elevations to God, in which we often perceive the author of the Funeral Orations, observes, in treating of the mystery of the serpent, that "the angels conversed with man in such forms as God permitted, and under the figure of animals. Eve therefore was not surprised to hear the serpent speak, any more than she was to see God himself appear under a sensible form." "Why," adds the same writer, "did God cause the proud spirit to appear in that form in preference to any other? Though it is not absolutely necessary for us to know this, yet Scripture intimates the reason, when it observes that the serpent was the most subtle of all animals; that is to say, the one which most aptly represented Satan in his malice, his artifices, and afterward in his punishment."

The present age rejects with disdain whatever savors of the marvellous; but the serpent has frequently been the subject of our observations, and, if we may venture to say it, we seem to recognise in that animal the pernicious spirit and artful malice which are ascribed to it in the Scriptures. Every thing is mysterious, secret, astonishing, in this incomprehensible reptile. His

movements differ from those of all other animals. It is impossible to say where his locomotive principle lies, for he has neither fins, nor feet, nor wings; and yet he flits like a shadow, he vanishes as by magic, he reappears and is gone again, like a light azure vapor, or the gleams of a sabre in the dark. Now he curls himself into a circle and projects a tongue of fire; now, standing erect upon the extremity of his tail, he moves along in a perpendicular attitude, as by enchantment. He rolls himself into a ball, rises and falls in a spiral line, gives to his rings the undulations of a wave, twines round the branches of trees, glides under the grass of the meadow, or skims along the surface of water. His colors are not more determinate than his movements. They change with each new point of view, and like his motions, they possess the false splendor and deceitful variety of the seducer.

Still more astonishing in other respects, he knows, like the murderer, how to throw aside his garment stained with blood, lest it should lead to his detection. By a singular faculty, the female can introduce into her body the little monsters to which she has given birth. The serpent passes whole months in sleep. He frequents tombs, inhabits secret retreats, produces poisons which chill, burn, or checquer the body of his victim with the colors. with which he is himself marked. In one place, he lifts two menacing heads; in another, he sounds a rattle: He hisses like the mountain eagle, or bellows like a bull. He naturally enters into the moral or religious ideas of men, as if in consequence of the influence which he exercised over their destiny. An object of horror or adoration, they either view him with an implacable hatred, or bow down before his genius. Falsehood appeals to him, prudence calls him to her aid, envy bears him in her bosom, and eloquence on her wand. In hell he arms the scourges of the furics; in heaven eternity is typified by his image.

As this part of the description is so very extraordinary, it may appear to want confirmation. "Mr. de Beauvois, as related in the American Philosophical Transactions, declared himself an eye-witness of such a fact as is above stated. He saw a large rattlesnake, which he had disturbed in his walks, open her jaws, and instantly five small ones, which were lying by her, rushed into her mouth. He retired and watched her, and in a quarter of an hour saw her again discharge them. The common viper does the same." See Shaw's General Zoology, vol. iii. pp. 324, 374. K.

He possesses, moreover, the art of seducing innocence. His eyes fascinate the birds of the air, and beneath the fern of the crib the ewe gives up to him her milk. But he may himself be charmed by the harmony of sweet sounds, and to subdue him the shepherd needs no other weapon than his pipe.

In the month of July, 1791, we were travelling in Upper Canada with several families of savages belonging to the nation of the Onondagos. One day, while we were encamped in a spacious plain on the bank of the Genesee River, we saw a rattlesnake. There was a Canadian in our party who could play on the flute, and to divert us he advanced toward the serpent with his new species of weapon. On the approach of his enemy, the haughty reptile curls himself into a spiral line, flattens his head, inflates his cheeks, contracts his lips, displays his envenomed fangs and his bloody throat. His double tongue glows like two flames of fire; his eyes are burning coals; his body, swollen with rage, rises and falls like the bellows of a forge; his dilated skin assumes a dull and scaly appearance; and his tail, which sends forth an ominous sound, vibrates with such rapidity as to resemble a light vapor.

The Canadian now begins to play on his flute. The serpent starts with surprise and draws back his head. In proportion as he is struck with the magic sound, his eyes lose their fierceness, the oscillations of his tail diminish, and the noise which it emits grows weaker, and gradually dies away. The spiral folds of the charmed serpent, diverging from the perpendicular, expand, and one after the other sink to the ground in concentric circles. The tints of azure, green, white, and gold, recover their brilliancy on his quivering skin, and, slightly turning his head, he remains motionless in the attitude of attention and pleasure.

At this moment the Canadian advanced a few steps, producing with his flute sweet and simple notes. The reptile immediately lowers his variegated neck, opens a passage with his head through the slender grass, and begins to creep after the musician, halting when he halts, and again following him when he resumes his march. In this way he was led beyond the limits of our camp, attended by a great number of spectators, both savages and Europeans, who could scarcely believe their eyes. After witnessing this wonderful effect of melody, the assembly unani

mously decided that the marvellous serpent should be permitted to escape.1

To this kind of inference, drawn from the habits of the serpent in favor of the truths of Scripture, we shall add another, deduced from a Hebrew word. Is it not very remarkable, and at the same time extremely philosophical, that, in Hebrew, the generic term for man should signify fever or pain? The root of Enosh, man, is the verb anash, to be dangerously ill. This appellation was not given to our first parent by the Almighty: he called him simply Adam, red earth or slime. It was not till after the fall that Adam's posterity assumed the name of Enosh, or man, which was so perfectly adapted to his afflictions, and most eloquently reminded him both of his guilt and its punishment. Perhaps Adam, when he witnessed the pangs of his wife, and took into his arms Cain, his first-born son, lifting him toward heaven, exclaimed, in the acuteness of his feelings, Enosh, Oh, anguish! a doleful exclamation that may have led afterward to the designation of the human race.

CHAPTER III.

PRIMITIVE CONSTITUTION OF MAN-NEW PROOF OF

ORIGINAL SIN.

WE indicated certain moral evidences of original sin in treating of baptism and the redemption; but a matter of such importance deserves more than a passing notice. "The knot of our condition," says Pascal, "has its twists and folds in this abyss,

1 In India the Cobra de Capello, or hooded snake, is carried about as a show in a basket, and so managed as to exhibit when shown a kind of dancing motion, raising itself up on its lower part, and alternately moving its head and body from side to side to the sound of some musical instrument which is played during the time. Shaw's Zoology, vol. iii. p. 411.

The serpentes, the most formidable of reptiles, as they make a most distinguished figure in natural history, so they are frequently the subject of description with naturalists and poets. But it would be difficult to find, either in Buffon or Shaw, in Virgil, or even in Lucan, who is enamored of the subject, any thing superior to this vivid picture of our author. K.