!
Neither is this, Sir, as I take it, the Extent of their Malevolence. For, when any of these Bands, or States as you call them, have conquered or slaughtered all around them, they never fail, for want of Employment, to fall out among themselves, and cut the Throat of their very Confederates; and this puts me in mind of what is said by the Prince of Peace,
the Prince of this World cometh and has no Part in me.
And again he says to the Purpose, that Fathers and Sons, and Mothers and Daughters shall be divided against Each Other, and that
a Man's Enemies shall be those of his own Household.
I lately met with a Fragment of an epic Poem, it struck me wonderfully at the time, and I recollect some of the Lines that contain, in my Opinion, the most genuine, the truest Picture that ever was drawn of the state of Mankind.
 � Man comes into this passing World in Weakness,
 � And cries for Help to Man, � for feeble is he,
 � And many are his Foes. Thirst, Hunger, Nakedness,
 � Diseases infinite within his Frame,
 � Without, Inclemency, the Wrath of Seasons,
 � Famines, Pests, Plagues, devouring Elements,
 � Earthquakes beneath, the Thunders rolling o'er. him;
 � Age and Infirmity on either Hand;
 � And Death, who shakes the certain Dart behind him!
 � These, surely, One might deem, were Ills sufficient.
 � Man thinks not so; on his own Race he turns
 � The Force of all his Talents, exquisite
 � To shorten the short Interval, by Art,
 � Which Nature left us � Fire and Sword are in
 � His Hand, and in his Heart are Machinations,
 � For speeding of Perdition.  �  Half the World,
 � Down the steep Gulf of dark Futurity,
 � Push off their Fellows, pause upon the Brink���
 � And then drop after.
Say then, my dearest Father, tell me, whence comes this worse than flinty, this cruel Heartedness in Man? Why are not All like You? Why are they not happy in communicating Happiness? If my Eyes did not daily see it, in Fact, as well as in History, I should think it impossible that any One should derive Pleasure from giving Pain to Another. Can it be more blessed to destroy than to preserve, to afflict than to gladden, to wound than to heal? My Heart wrings with Regret for being cast into a World, where Nation against Nation, Family against Family,
