The natural propensity of mankind is to settlement and rest, and this principle is still farther strengthened by the influence of local associations over the mind. Every one is strongly attached to the place of his birth, or to the place where he has passed his earlier years, and it may be generally remarked, that, in whatever spot man fixes his abode, there he takes root. Habits and sympathies are created, strong attachments are formed, and the longer he remains in any particular place, his aversion to change grows upon him. The power of early associations over the mind is exemplified by constant experience. How many of those adventurers who, at an early age, had quitted their home and their country in pursuit of fame or fortune, do we see daily returning to revive those local affections which, being deeply impressed on the heart while it was yet warm and susceptible, neither time nor distance has been able to efface? and to the powerful influence of the same tender recollections, are we to ascribe that painful longing and deep despondency to which the Swiss and other nations are liable when they have been long absent from their country and their home. Such being the general disposition of mankind to rest where their lot is cast—such the various and powerful ties by which they are attached to particular spots—and so general their aversion to change, we may fairly conclude, when we see the inhabitants of any country eagerly engaging in projects of emigration, in opposition to their natural attachment to their native land, and in defiance of all the uncertainty and peril of a new settlement on a distant and unknown shore, that their conduct is not the result of choice but of necessity, and that, in thus leaving their kindred and their country, they are flying from the pressure of some great and general misery.

The great and radical evil which afflicts society is the want of food, which necessarily arises from the tendency of mankind to increase faster than the means of subsistence can be provided. The importance of this great law of nature, under which the want of food is every where found to be the grand obstacle to the multiplication of the species, was first duly appreciated by Mr Malthus, who, in his profound and invaluable work On Population, has explained and enforced the principle with such elementary clearness and force, and with such various and striking illustrations, that it is now universally adopted as an indisputable maxim of political science.

According to the simple view of this interesting subject, contained in the work of Mr Malthus, it has been ascertained, from the history of the American and other newly settled colonies, that where there is abundance of food the population has been doubled in some cases in twenty-five, in others in fifteen years; and it is obvious that if 10,000, or any other number of inhabitants can be doubled within fifteen or twenty-five years, 20,000, or 100,000, or any greater number, may be doubled in the same period with equal facility. The increase of population takes place, therefore, according to a geometrical ratio; every successive addition affording the means of a still greater increase, until the earth being at length replenished with inhabitants, room and food are alike wanting for any further addition to the human species.

It is not easy to determine the rate according to which the productions of the earth may be supposed to increase. This will in a great measure depend on accidental circumstances. Where there are extensive tracts of fertile and unoccupied land, food will be produced in great abundance; but after these are all cultivated, and the less fertile parts of the country begin to be settled by its increasing inhabitants, subsistence will be produced at a slower rate, and with greater toil. In this manner we find the population continues to advance according to an accelerated process, the increase of one period only affording the means of a still greater increase during the next, and this without any limit; while the subsistence for this rapidly increasing population, in place of being produced with the same facility, in place of increasing in proportion to the growing wants of the community, is necessarily produced at a slower rate, and with greater toil, at the period when it is most wanted. While the principle of population is yet in full vigour, and is every day acquiring new powers of increase, the produce of the earth is daily procured with greater difficulty. The same causes, therefore, which occasion a continual multiplication of inhabitants, prevent any progressive increase in the supply of provisions. By a long process of skilful cultivation, the earth may at last reach the utmost limits of its productive powers. This state of things, it is supposed, has already taken place in China. No efforts of human industry, however judiciously directed, could ever probably double the produce of this highly cultivated country. But the population could still be doubled in fifteen or twenty years with the same facility as before. All countries which have been long settled and cultivated, are in some measure in a similar condition. No efforts of human skill could possibly draw from Great Britain double its present produce within the period during which its population could be doubled, and in all such countries, therefore, the farther increase of inhabitants is checked by the want of food. It is manifest, indeed, that the number of people in any country, or in the world at large, must be limited by the quantity of subsistence provided for their support.

But though it is certain that the population of every country must be kept within the limits of its food, this object may be accomplished by the operation of two different causes. 1st, General habits of refinement, or prudential motives, such as the fear of bringing children into existence without the means of supporting them, may so far operate on the minds of the labouring classes as to discourage marriage; in which case no superfluous inhabitants will be produced, and the supply of food, though it will admit of no increase, will still be sufficient for the maintenance of the population already in existence. Where the want of food operates in this manner to check the progress of population, Mr Malthus distinguishes it by the appellation of the preventive check. 2dly, So strong, however, is the impulse by which man is prompted to multiply his species, that this preventive check seldom operates with sufficient force to restrain the undue increase of population. In all countries mankind have a perpetual tendency to increase faster than food can be provided, and even when the preventive check operates with most effect, the population frequently presses on the very verge of its subsistence; and is thus exposed, by an accidental failure in the ordinary supply of food, to all the miseries of want. As the number of inhabitants is necessarily restricted by the supply of subsistence, it is certain that, if the population increases beyond this limit, it will speedily be brought down to the level of its food by the operation of famine and disease, which Mr Malthus terms the positive in opposition to the preventive checks to population.

From this view then of the natural and immutable condition of human society, the want of subsistence seems to be a necessary and an inherent evil, under every form of it; to avoid which, mankind, as they begin to increase, are forced to separate in quest of new settlements, in which, the inhabitants being fewer, food is more easily procured. The want of subsistence is therefore the universal and constant cause of emigration, which forces mankind to disperse themselves, and to explore the world for a more desirable abode. It is no love of change or of adventure which prompts them to wander into unfrequented parts. It is the urgent pressure arising from an overcrowded population which impels them from their homes, which breaks the ties of kindred, and forces them to encounter all the hardships and dangers of new and untried scenes. Where a community is happy and prosperous, mankind will follow their natural propensity to settlement and rest; and it is only when this principle is disturbed by an opposite and equally powerful principle, namely, the fear or the actual experience of want, that emigration will be resorted to, as the least of two evils, not from choice but from necessity. It is under the influence of this great law of nature, namely, the tendency of mankind to increase faster than food can be provided for them, that the earth has been overspread with inhabitants. From the original seats of population and improvement, the human race would naturally overflow into other parts. The regions which were most desirable from their happier soil and climate would be first occupied; these being replenished with people, the overflowing stream would naturally reach the less habitable parts; until at length the frozen regions of Emigration. the north and the burning climes of the south would be fully peopled, in proportion to the scanty subsistence to be drawn from them, by an unskilful and barbarous race.

The earth being in this manner filled with people, and no more vacant space remaining for new emigrations, the great check to population, from the want of subsistence, must now be felt in all its force; and it is evident that no farther increase of inhabitants can take place, unless new modes of subsistence be contrived, by which a greater supply of food may be derived from the same extent of territory. The most primitive and barbarous mode of life ever found to prevail among mankind, is, when they depend for subsistence on hunting and fishing, or on a casual supply of such produce as the earth spontaneously yields. From the humble and degraded condition of hunters, they gradually emerge into that of shepherds, and while their flocks and herds afford them a more certain provision, the care of these necessarily calls forth a greater degree of foresight than belongs to the hunting tribes, and the community being also in possession of a stock for their immediate subsistence, are, in every respect, in a superior condition to mere savages. It is in the agricultural state in which a community, adopting all the most ingenious and successful modes of cultivation, and improving, at the same time, in all the arts of commerce and industry, gradually accumulates capital and acquires habits of luxury and refinement, that the earth supports the greatest number of inhabitants, and to this state, therefore, mankind, impelled to improvement by the stimulus of necessity, continually tend. But as the course of improvement is retarded by a variety of causes, it has always happened that, in the general population of the world, three classes have been comprised, who, though variously modified, may be distinguished into those of hunters, shepherds, and agriculturists. When the earth is wholly occupied with these different communities, in each of which the population, according to the great law by which it increases, will soon reach the utmost limit of its food, it is manifest that the great standing cause of emigration will be in constant operation, and in this case there is little doubt that numbers will incur the risks of a removal for the sake of improving their condition.

The inhabitants of a country may emigrate individually, in which case they will be incorporated with the new community into which they enter, and their settlement will be made without violence; or a whole nation may emigrate, with a view of making their way to new settlements by the sword, and of driving out by force the inhabitants of the territory into which their irruption is made. Among civilized nations it is scarcely possible that this mode of emigration can take place. No government would countenance its subjects in any predatory irruption on the territory of another state; neither would the wealth acquired by civilized communities, nor the habits of order, industry, and peace, which wealth necessarily superinduces, at all consist with any such hostile enterprises against the repose of other nations. In an advanced state of society, therefore, the licence of emigration is, in some degree, restrained; mankind emigrate individually, but not in large bodies, and in this manner they are quietly absorbed in the new communities into which they enter, and to the laws and manners of which they necessarily conform. But though the civilized communities of the world never violently emigrate into each other's territories, they frequently invade the domain of the savage, by obtruding new settlers on his uncultivated territories. These emigrating in considerable bodies, and being provided with every necessary implement either of cultivation or of war, take possession of the soil, which they cultivate for their support, and, gradually increasing in proportion as their improved modes of cultivation draw an increased produce from the soil, all the efforts of the original proprietors to dislodge them are found unavailing. From such small beginnings it is that, in modern times, all the flourishing communities of the new world have had their origin.

Among the barbarous nations of hunters and shepherds, emigration necessarily assumes the character of violence. The earth being already occupied with inhabitants, it is manifest that no large body of emigrants can effect a settlement in any territory without displacing an equal proportion of the original inhabitants. These, however, will not yield without a struggle; wars naturally commence, which are carried on with an inveteracy suited to the important object at stake; and while the conqueror occupies the vacant ground, the world is thinned of its superfluous inhabitants in these contests for room and food.

The want of subsistence, which thus excites in mankind a restlessness and an impatience of their condition, and finally impels them to emigration, appears, from the experience of all history, to be a most fruitful cause of war; and, in these struggles, the mere savage has little chance against the more formidable violence either of the pastoral tribes, or of civilized communities. By the first he is driven from his ground whenever it can be occupied with advantage for the purposes of pasture; while the civilized inhabitants of the globe occupy his territories with new settlers, who, spreading cultivation over the desert, and establishing towns with all their refinements of arts and manufactures where there was formerly a wilderness, destroy the hunting-grounds of the savage, and expel him with the wild beasts, his natural prey, from these seats of industry. Thus driven farther into the woods, he is reduced to fight for his subsistence with other tribes in the same condition as himself; and with whom he has more chance of waging an equal war. Room and subsistence being indispensable to the farther multiplication of the species, every combined movement among mankind in quest of these objects is the signal of discord; the savage tribes, confined to the more remote and unfrequented parts of the earth, mutually exterminate each other by their constant and ferocious hostility; and the pastoral nations carry on equally destructive contests with each other, or with more civilized communities. Barbarism and civilization are in this manner the natural enemies of each other; and a most inveterate war is the inevitable consequence of this Emigration. hostility. On the issue of the contest, the very existence of both parties is staked. To the vanquished, nothing remains but to perish by famine or the destroying sword. If the barbarous invaders prevail, all traces of civilization are swept away—the form of society is changed—its institutions destroyed, and the nation itself reduced under the most degrading bondage. If, on the other hand, the barbarians are repelled, they have no refuge from destruction. There is no alternative between victory and death, and thus both parties mutually fight with the fury of desperation. But, where the resources of a civilized state are vigorously called forth for the common safety, those formidable inroads will be generally repelled, and the country saved from the ignominy of a barbarian yoke.

To this principle, namely, the disproportion between the increase of subsistence and of population, we may trace that spirit of emigration and of conquest which prevailed universally among all the pastoral nations of the ancient world. The character and manners of those rude tribes has been powerfully delineated by the eloquent historian of the Roman Empire; and Mr Malthus has added a fine historical sketch of the rise and progress of those emigrations which, after a long train of political convulsions, terminated at length in the subversion of the Roman power. It appears, that all that vast portion of the earth, from the Danube and the shores of the Baltic to the confines of China, was formerly occupied by a population of shepherds. These, though distinguished into separate nations, possessing a strong principle of unity in the common tie of their congenial manners, easily coalesced under an enterprising leader for any scheme of emigration or conquest. Deriving their subsistence from pasture and the chase, their ordinary life was one of constant migration, in which they were inured to fatigue, and instructed in the use of all warlike weapons; they were skilful horsemen—expert in archery and in throwing the lance, and extremely active in all their movements. In this wide ocean of barbarism, the stream of emigration was either impelled eastward, as accidental circumstances directed, against the flourishing empires of Asia, or westward against the Roman empire, within whose precincts the whole civilization of the western world was comprised, and alternately, as it reached either of these empires, their whole collected strength was found necessary to withstand the shock. Of the great empires of Asia some were subverted by the formidable inroads of those wandering tribes; and in Europe, the doubtful balance of the world's destiny frequently trembled between barbarism and civilization. At an early period, Rome was assailed by the inroads of the barbarians, and an irruption of the Gauls had well nigh crushed her rising power. In after times, the Cimbri, emigrating in quest of new settlements, were, after they had destroyed five consular armies, arrested in their victorious career by Marius, when the whole nation almost was exterminated. The subsequent contests of Julius Caesar, of Drusus, Tiberius, and Germanicus, with the Gauls and Germans, still attested the superiority of the Roman arms, and impressed upon the barbarians a salutary terror of the Roman name. Repelled from the Roman frontier, their superfluous resources would naturally be consumed in intestine wars with each other for room and subsistence, until the power of population renewing the strength of those warlike communities, prepared them for fresh conflicts with the civilized world. Accordingly, we find them, in the decline of the empire, renewing their irruptions on the Roman territory. During the successive administration of a series of feeble princes, the empire was assailed by new swarms, and the degenerate Romans had recourse to the dangerous policy of bribing the enemy whom they could no longer conquer. This fatal disclosure of wealth and weakness soon excited the cupidity of new enemies, who broke through the ill-guarded frontier, and spread terror to the gates of Rome. The country became one universal scene of rapine and oppression, and it was only by the vigour and activity of Aurelian, Probus, and Diocletian, that the tottering empire was saved from its final overthrow. During this interval, the barbarians wasted their population in bloody hostilities with each other, until nature, more powerful to renovate than war to destroy, recruiting their numbers, enabled them to set out on new emigrations, with undiminished strength. During the reign of Constantine, the whole power of the empire was again called forth to repel a new invasion of those destroying hordes. They were vanquished on every side, and driven into the mountains, where it is calculated that about 100,000 of them perished from cold and famine. Other invaders now arose, who were routed and dispersed with great slaughter by the warlike Julian, and pursued into the gloomy recesses of the German forests; but those signal successes obtained for the declining empire no relief from incessant attacks, and the reign of Valentinian was one continued contest with the invading hosts. "The fate of Rome," Mr Malthus observes, "was at length determined by an irresistible emigration of the Huns, from the east and north, which precipitated on the empire the whole body of the Goths;" and the nations of Germany, goaded on by this powerful impulse, were driven, en masse, on the Roman provinces. "An emigration," Mr Malthus continues, "of 400,000 persons issued from the same coast of the Baltic which had poured forth the myriads of Cimbri and Teutones during the vigour of the republic. When this host was destroyed by war and famine, other adventurers succeeded. The Suevi, the Vandals, the Alani, the Burgundians, passed the Rhine never more to retreat. The conquerors who first settled were expelled or exterminated by new invaders. Clouds of barbarians seemed to collect from all parts of the northern hemisphere. Gathering fresh darkness and terror as they rolled on, the congregated bodies at length obscured the sun of Italy, and sunk the western world in night."

So long as such an extensive space of Europe and Asia was occupied by these pastoral tribes, the repose of the civilized world was constantly assailed by their barbarous invasions; and, in the course of their various expeditions, the finest countries of Europe were taken possession of and plundered. The same principle of increase, which was the ori- ginal cause of all these movements, still continued to operate with undiminished force; but while the central countries of Europe remained in possession of their recent conquerors, there was little chance of easily wresting from them what they had so hardy won; and the spirit of emigration being therefore checked and confined for a time within narrower limits by land, the barbarous nations of the north found vent for their overflowing numbers by sea. During the distractions which ensued in Europe subsequent to the reign of Charlemagne, their maritime enterprises were prosecuted with great vigour, and they spread their devastations over Lower Saxony, Friesland, Holland, Flanders, &c. They ravaged the coasts of France, pillaging and burning her finest towns, and at length obtained possession of some of her finest provinces. The British isles were for 200 years exposed to their ravages; and, during the eighth, ninth, and tenth centuries, their plundering expeditions were directed against all the most powerful nations in Europe, until at length the improving powers of these countries, developed by civilization, and directed by policy, were found sufficient to repel all such irregular inroads. It was in this manner the growing strength of the European states, that laid the foundation for that important change of manners among the northern nations, under the influence of which habits of emigration and plunder has been superseded by the peaceful pursuits of agriculture. From this period, the repose of the civilized world has never been seriously endangered by the migrations of any barbarous nation; and it is not likely that such contests will ever be renewed. The pastoral tribes were formidable from the vast space over which they were allowed to range. They are now reduced within much narrower limits. Most of them have been reclaimed from their rude habits and trained to industry. What has been thus lost to savage life has been gained by civilization. The resources of the one have been increased as those of the other have diminished. It does not appear, therefore, from the present aspect of the world, that civilized man has any farther injustice to dread from his savage brethren. These views are eloquently enforced by Gibbon, in the philosophical and striking view of the leading causes which conduced to the fall of the western empire, with which he closes his history. "Such formidable emigrations," he observes, "can no longer issue from the North; and the long repose, which has been imputed to the decrease of population, is the happy consequence of the progress of arts and agriculture. Instead of some rude villages, thinly scattered among its woods and morasses, Germany now produces a list of two thousand three hundred walled towns; the Christian kingdoms of Denmark, Sweden, and Poland, have been successively established; and the Hanse merchants, with the Teutonic knights, have extended their colonies along the coast of the Baltic, as far as the Gulf of Finland. From the Gulf of Finland to the eastern ocean, Russia now assumes the form of a powerful and civilized empire. The plough, the loom, and the forge, are introduced on the banks of the Volga, the Oby, and the Lena; and the fiercest of the Tartar hordes have been taught to tremble and obey. The reign of independent barbarism is now contracted to a narrow span; and the remnant of Calmucks or Uzbecks, whose forces may be almost numbered, cannot seriously excite the apprehensions of the great republic of Europe."

In modern times, since the progress of improvement has restrained the licence of those rude tribes, the more the spirit of emigration and conquest has chiefly appeared among the civilized inhabitants of the world, by whose encroachments the barbarous nations have been oppressed. The discovery of the immense continent of America, which was chiefly overspread with savage tribes, or with nations in the infancy of improvement, presented a vast outlet to the overflowing population of civilized Europe, and the reputed wealth of those newly discovered countries, which were found to contain abundance of the precious metals, soon attracted crowds of adventurers from every quarter. The first expeditions of the Spaniards to the New World were for the undisguised purposes of rapine and conquest. They were purely military, not so much with a view to settlement as to plunder; and it was only after the first race of adventurers had perished that the emigrants began to establish themselves permanently in the country. With this view they resorted to such measures of violence and cruelty, that, in most cases, they either extirpated the original inhabitants, or brought them under the most galling bondage, and in those parts of the country where they fled into the deserts beyond the reach of their oppressors, and where they subsist in savage independence, the cruel injuries which they originally suffered is still attested in their inveterate hostility to the Spanish settlers. The settlements of the European states in North America were not planned upon exactly the same principles of open violence. The savage tribes, by which this portion of the continent was inhabited, presented no such temptations to the avarice of civilized nations, and the first emigrants who were sent out had nothing else in view but to cultivate the country for their subsistence. Agriculture and not conquest was their original object. They offered no violence to the native tribes. All they required was a space of unoccupied territory on which to settle, which was generally procured without any difficulty. But, as the colony grew and flourished, and began to require an extension of territory, the rude inhabitants of the country quickly perceived that they would soon be dispossessed of their hunting-grounds by the gradual increase of the new settlers. They had committed the capital error of allowing the colonists to take root in the country, and they now endeavoured to correct this error, when it was too late. They accordingly entered into combinations for the purpose of exterminating the invaders of their country, and those infant establishments were alternately assailed by secret treachery or open violence. An equally inveterate warfare was in this manner begun with those who settled for the purposes of agriculture, as with those who had commenced their career with open violence, and the object of contest was the possession of the country. From the rapid multiplication of the new settlers, it was obvious that Emigration, the land would be speedily overspread with their increasing numbers, and the whole being converted to the purposes of agriculture, there would be no room for the hunting tribes. This was the plain and obvious principle of the war which was now commenced. But the issue of a contest between the civilized inhabitants of the globe, assisted by the modern improvement of fire-arms, and the mere hunter of the desert, could not be for a moment doubtful. The arts and policy of Europe accordingly proved too powerful for the Indian savage. He has been gradually pushed back, by the progress of the European colonies, into his native deserts; and though he has occasionally disturbed their progress by his predatory inroads, yet the inveterate warfare in most cases subsisting between the aborigines and the new settlers, by saving all perplexing or fruitless negotiations respecting the cession of territory, and by reducing the matter to the plain issue of force, has, upon the whole, favoured the progress of the civilized encroacher on the territory of the savage. The war of extermination which was commenced between the two classes was sure to end in the destruction of the native inhabitants. A quicker process, indeed, could scarcely have been devised for clearing the country of its barbarous incumbrances; and, however cruel and unjust this may appear, such are unquestionably the harsh means by which the improvement of the North American continent has been brought about. The poor savage has been driven from his territory and his home to make way for the industrious tiller of the ground. The boundaries of the wilderness have been gradually narrowed by the progress of cultivation,—the country has been cleared of its forests and of its inhabitants by the same merciless process of destruction; and upon the ruins of this state of society the system of social improvement has been reared. To the doubtful frontier of the American territory, where civilized gives place to savage life, it is well known, that crowds of adventurous emigrants resort, dispensing with the advantages and exempted from all the restraints of social life. Here they act in the double capacity of cultivators and huntsmen, partly civilized and partly savage, until, by the advance of new emigrants, they are gradually surrounded with improvement on every side, and are at length brought within the pale of order and law. Tired of this control, and anxious to resume their free and licentious habits, they dispose of their lands to emigrants of a more settled character, and again take their station on the verge of the desert, there to bear the brunt of savage hostility, to hunt and to cultivate, and by their resolute and ferocious habits, to repress the inroads of the exasperated Indians, and to act the part of successful pioneers, in clearing the way for the great mass of the American population. It is in this manner that the country gradually assumes the aspect of civilization—that the fields are cultivated, and that the dwellings of men are seen to take place of the haunts of wild beasts. It is certain, indeed, that the policy of the American government, in regard to the native tribes, has uniformly been humane and enlightened; their original right of occupancy has always been respected, and the cession of their territory has generally been procured in lieu of some satisfactory equivalent offered and received. But the licentiousness and cruelties under which the Indians have been oppressed were committed by individuals beyond the precincts of law or government—they were besides glossed over under the specious disguise of legitimate hostility; and there was no one to plead the cause of the oppressed Indians. In these circumstances, the power of government could be exerted with little effect in favour of the native tribes; and, accordingly, it is matter of history that many of the finest parts of the American territory were with difficulty wrested from their original possessors, after a most severe and sanguinary struggle.

In its present condition, America presents a grand America, outlet to the surplus population of Europe. It is the great natural asylum of all those who are flying in quest of subsistence from the over-crowded communities of the old world. The inhabitants of America have before them an untouched and fertile country, about 2000 miles in extent (counting from their most remote settlements to the Pacific Ocean), in which for centuries to come their population will have full scope to expand. Here there is an ample supply of fertile and unoccupied land, which yields abundance of food, while its cultivation gives rise to a constant demand for new labourers. Wages are consequently high, the labourer lives in comfort; and if he is industrious, he becomes in his turn a purchaser of land, from the savings which he accumulates. If, from the rapid increase of population, the demand for labour should be satisfied, and wages should fall, this is the signal for new emigrations, and for the occupation of an additional portion of the uncultivated territory; and thus the abundance of land, and the constant demand for labour in the western districts, maintains it at a high price in every part of the United States. In these circumstances, it is manifest that a labourer, provided he can transport his labour from the overstocked market of Europe to the understocked market of America, will dispose of it to better advantage. He will unquestionably improve his condition if he can but once reach this advantageous market for his labour. But if he is already sinking under the miseries of his condition in Europe, the expense of a voyage to America, and even if this could be borne, the farther expense of a long journey inland, before he reaches the western provinces, forms, in most cases, an insuperable bar to his emigration; and, if the attempt is made with insufficient means, it becomes an extremely hazardous experiment, and may ultimately increase, in place of alleviating, the miseries of the emigrant. That the inland states of America afford extraordinary encouragement to labourers, is a point established beyond all dispute; but the difficulty still remains of reaching this desirable country; and to this, which is the important question, the attention of emigrants should be directed. It is their business to reflect, not merely whether it would be desirable to reach America, but whether they have the means of transporting themselves to so great a distance.

Besides those in the condition of labourers, there is another class of adventurers, to whom emigration to the western states of America presents a Difficulties and Hazards attending Emigration. favourable chance of improving their condition. These are farmers with a moderate capital. An allotment of land may be purchased in the unsettled parts of the country, at the government price of two dollars per acre; and an emigrant who can afford to buy and to cultivate 100 or 200 acres, and acts with due discretion and skill, may not only promise himself a sure asylum from want, but, in the course of a few years, the country being settled all around him, and his property rapidly improving in value, he will realize an independent provision for himself and family. A removal to America, however, like every other important step in human life, should be gone about with caution; it should be undertaken, not upon any romantic fancies of ideal happiness, which are sure to be disappointed, but on sober calculations of prudence. Consequences must be coolly considered—opposite inconveniences deliberately balanced—sanguine expectations must be tried by the test of experience—fancy must give place to reality, and what is calmly planned must be vigorously executed. It is only in this manner, when emigration is deliberately chosen, that it promises to be a beneficial measure; and, even in this case, there are many difficulties and discouragements which the emigrant will have to encounter. These consist chiefly in the difficulty of effecting a settlement, and of subsisting until the land yields its first produce—in the herculean labour of clearing ground which is covered with a thick forest—in the danger to a European constitution from the laborious drudgery of felling trees, and afterwards pursuing game in the woods for a scanty subsistence, during which the exhausted body is exposed to the cold dews of night—and finally, in the unhealthiness of the country in the vicinity of the navigable rivers, where the choicest land is chiefly to be found. All these disadvantages and dangers should enter into the estimate of the emigrant, that, when they occur, they may be resolutely met. From the concurring accounts of all those who have lately visited the United States, it appears that no other class, excepting country labourers, mechanics, and farmers, could be at all certain of improving their condition by emigration. There may occasionally be a favourable opening for the employment of capital in manufactures or in commerce; but opportunities of this sort cannot be reasonably calculated on by those who are at a distance; and emigration with any such views would be a rash and highly ineligible experiment. In the American community, there are no vacancies for professional men of any description.

It has been already stated, that the great cause of emigration is the want of subsistence, and that where a community is prosperous and happy, mankind will follow their natural propensity to settlement and rest. But this general cause is frequently aided by other causes, originating in those changes of manners, to which the progress of society is constantly giving rise. In consequence of that great revolution which took place in modern manners, when the feudal system was superseded in Europe by the progress of commerce and industry, the numerous retainers of the great landed proprietors were thrown loose upon society, and reduced to quit their former abodes in quest of a new settlement. Prior to the improvement of industry, there was no way in which the proprietors of the soil could consume their surplus produce, but in maintaining a retinue of idle dependants, who repaid, by their fidelity in war, the bounty on which they subsisted during peace. No equivalent existed for which they would exchange their revenues, which were accordingly wasted in the most profuse hospitality, and in these times a train of idle retainers was the never-failing appendage of wealth and greatness. But when commerce and industry began to supply the landed proprietors with a new equivalent in which their surplus produce could be expended, their idle retainers were gradually dismissed, and the surplus produce of the soil, by which they were supported, was now laid out by the landlord in expensive luxuries and refinements. In the more improved parts of the country, all those changes have already taken place. The land is invariably let for the highest rent that can be procured, and the superfluous population from which it has been freed is absorbed in the general mass of society. But, in the Highlands of Scotland, these changes are not yet fully accomplished. Traces are still to be discerned of that ancient state of manners which was formerly prevalent all over the country, but which are now fast disappearing before the progress of improved cultivation. Until about the year 1745, the landed estates in the Highlands of Scotland were occupied by tenants, who paid for the possession of the land rather in military services than in money; and though, after this period, these services were of little use to the proprietors, yet from habit, and the influence of old attachments, the tenantry were still continued on their lands. The obvious interest of the proprietor in letting his lands to the best advantage has gradually broke the force of these old feudal connections, and the hereditary occupants of the Highland estates are now ejected by the landlord, to make way for a more improved mode of cultivation, and for more profitable tenants. Under the old system, as many inhabitants were settled on the land as it could maintain; under the new system, no more hands are maintained on it than can be profitably employed; and the superfluous labourers or tenants, who are thus removed from the spot which their families have possessed for centuries, naturally turn their views to America, where there are boundless tracts of unoccupied land ready to receive them. Their early habits and mode of life entirely disqualify them for mercantile business. Ejected from their hereditary possessions, they are in a manner outcasts in their native land, and, in search of some new place of rest, they voluntarily quit their kindred and their home. Lord Selkirk, in his able publication On the State of the Highlands of Scotland, points out the strong motives which prompt the Scotch Highlander to emigration, in preference to settling at home as a day-labourer or a manufacturer. "The manners of a town," he observes, "the practice of sedentary labour under the roof of a manufactory, present to the Highlander a most irksome contrast to his former life. The independence and irregularity to which he is accustomed, approach to that of the savage: his activity is occasionally called forth to the utmost stretch, in conducting his boat through boisterous waves, or in traversing the wildest mountains amidst the storms of winter. But these efforts are succeeded by intervals of indolence equally extreme. He is accustomed to occasional exertions of agricultural labour, but without any habits of regular and steady industry; and he has not the least experience of sedentary employments, for which, most frequently, the prejudices of his infancy have taught him to entertain a contempt."

The emigrations from the Highlands of Scotland have always kept pace with the progress of improvement, and, from about the year 1773, they have been continued with little intermission. Of all those who were thus compelled to quit their native land, America became the natural asylum; and to different points of this extensive continent they were attracted by circumstances in a great measure accidental. The first emigrations were undertaken under all the disadvantages and anxiety of imperfect information. But these having succeeded, a more secure foundation was laid for future enterprises of the same nature; and the Highlanders, who were disposed to emigrate, naturally chose the spot where their friends were already settled. In this way, they are scattered throughout different parts of the American continent. Some have formed settlements in the state of New York, on the Delaware, the Mohawk, and the Connecticut, while others have gone to Georgia and to North Carolina, or to the more northerly climate of Canada and Nova Scotia. Their choice of a settlement appears to have been dictated by the natural wish of being near their friends, by whose experience and advice they would be assisted through all the difficulties of a first establishment. A mode of conduct more rational, more calculated for social comfort and for ultimate success, can scarcely be imagined; and if the interest of the emigrant had been alone considered, no other plan would ever have been adopted.

In the emigrations planned by Lord Selkirk, other views were, however, mingled with the original and simple purpose of these expeditions. In place of assisting the Highlanders in their own natural and rational plan of joining their friends already settled on the other side of the Atlantic, his purpose, as he himself states, was to detach them from those natural ties; to counteract the motives which induced them to follow their friends and relations; and to collect them into a new settlement, under the dominion of the mother country. After pointing out the strong inducements which the emigrants have to collect in particular spots, to which the presence of their friends and connections impart the attraction almost of another home, he observes, that, to overcome these motives, it is indispensable that "some strong inducement should be held out to the first party, who will settle in the situation offered to them. To detached individuals," he continues, "it would be difficult to offer advantages sufficient to counterbalance the pleasure of being settled among friends, as well as the assistance they might expect from relations. But a considerable body of people, connected by the ties of blood and friendship, may have less aversion to try a new situation." Lord Selkirk objects to emigration, where the adventurers are allowed to follow their own notions, and settle in detached bodies in different parts of the American territory, because it scatters the national resources, which he proposes to keep together, by inducing the emigrants to settle in the British colonies, "where," he observes, "they would be of national utility," and where all the peculiarities of their language and manners might be preserved. He seems also to imagine, that, if the Highlanders were settled on the Canadian frontier, they would form an admirable outpost to guard the colony from the intrusion of American settlers, and from the worse plague of American principles, of which he entertains a great dread, and against which he considers the inveterate loyalty of the Highlanders as an admirable barrier. In pursuance of those views, a colony of Highlanders was induced, by Lord Selkirk, to settle in Prince Edward's Island, in the Gulf of St Lawrence, where an establishment was formed, and where, in the course of about two years, a supply of subsistence was produced equal to the wants of the settlers. Another colony was afterwards conducted to the western parts of Upper Canada. Of the progress of this colony, different and contradictory accounts have been circulated. Thus far, we believe, however, is certain, that Lord Selkirk's projects gave rise from the first to a deep-rooted jealousy on the part of the North-west Canadian Fur Company; and that, after various acts of hostility and sanguinary outrage, the settlement was attacked by a body of their servants, who barbarously put to the sword the greater part of the settlers, and nearly extirpated the colony. From this calamity it is said to have revived, and, from the accession of new settlers, its inhabitants are reported to amount to about 500.

To the plans of emigration, set on foot by Lord Selkirk, there is this strong and general objection, that they propose to accomplish objects, in which the emigrant has not the most remote interest, and for which all the comfort, as well as the solid advantages which he would derive from the intercourse of his relations and friends, are uselessly sacrificed. The sole purpose for which he quits his country, is to procure a settlement in another on the most easy and advantageous terms; this is his only motive for embarking in so hazardous an enterprise; and whatever is unconnected with his ultimate prosperity and happiness, is entirely foreign to the main object of his voyage. To settle among friends and relations, whose comfort and assistance is material to the emigrant, or in a country which has the benefit of a free and enlightened government, where he is sure of protection, and where, as much as possible, he may have all the helps of civilization to facilitate his progress, is wise and rational; and there is something unnatural, as well as revolting, in the notion of extinguishing all those social feelings, which bind the emigrant to his friends and relations, and which revive, even on a foreign shore, the image of his native land. According to Lord Selkirk's plan, the emigrant is deprived of all those consolations; and he is tempted to try a new situation, for the vague and chimerical purpose of concen- migration-trating, for the benefit of the mother country, resources which would be otherwise scattered; or for the still more chimerical purpose of guarding the Canadian frontier from the inroad of American principles. These are political objects in which the emigrant has not the most remote interest. Formerly, the emigrants from the Highlands had almost the whole continent of North America open to their choice. They could settle among their countrymen and relations, amid the blessings of civilization and of regular government. According to Lord Selkirk's plan, they are thrown upon precisely the very worst portion of the American continent—withdrawn from the more genial climes of the South—exposed to the long rigours of a Canadian winter, and separated from their friends. The first body of emigrants, who accompanied Lord Selkirk, were settled on an island in the Gulf of St Lawrence, in a desolate spot, thirty miles from any habitation, "in circumstances scarcely more favourable," as he himself observes, "than if the island had been completely desert." His second colony was established on the continent, far to the westward of any settlement, and wholly without the precincts of civilization or regular government. It was accordingly either altogether or nearly crushed by violence; and this fatal catastrophe is a suitable commentary on the original impolicy of chusing the desert for a settlement, and of relinquishing the protection of government, with all the other advantages of a more improved state of society. The happiness and comfort of the colonists, which is the fundamental principle of all colonization, was made subservient, in those plans, to other objects, in the highest degree absurd and chimerical; other interests were allowed to mingle with that great and radical interest; and useless hazards were incurred,—hazards which were avoided so long as the emigrants were allowed to follow the sure and unerring instincts of their own individual prudence.

The emigrations to America, which were formerly confined to the Highlands of Scotland, or to some parts of Ireland, have of late years become general throughout the kingdom. The cause has been, as usual, a want of subsistence, originating in the want of employment for the labouring classes. The wars and devastations which had prevailed in Europe for about twenty-five years prior to the last peace,—the unprecedented acrimony of the hostilities waged by the different belligerents against each other's trade,—the interruption, in consequence, of their commercial intercourse, and a complication of other causes of mischief, into which it is foreign to our present purpose to inquire, though they were long borne up against by the enterprise and industry of individuals, appear to have at length terminated in a complete and general relaxation of all the great springs of the mercantile community. In these circumstances, numbers emigrated to America with various success, artisans and labourers as well as substantial farmers. Among others Mr Birkbeck, an English farmer, having sold his effects, embarked with his family for America, and purchased a large tract of uncultivated territory on the Wabash, a branch of the Ohio. Having formed an establishment in this remote and sequestered spot, he published, for the benefit of such as were disposed for similar enterprises, an account of his journey and subsequent proceedings, in which he sets forth, in glowing colours, all the advantages of emigration. Other publications followed of an opposite tendency, and a controversy was in this manner begun on this important question. That certain classes of persons will improve their condition by a removal to America, cannot be doubted. But it is equally certain, that the emigrant must lay his account with many difficulties and discouragements, and these perhaps Mr Birkbeck has rather thrown into the shade. It must be recollected that he is himself a successful emigrant; perfectly satisfied both with the step he has taken, and with the country; and this disposition of mind, communicating itself to his descriptions, is apt to excite fanciful anticipations, which the event may not realize.

It is singular, that the emigration of inhabitants from one country to another, should, in most cases, be regarded by those who are left behind with the most decided marks of disapprobation. To such length has this spirit been carried, that laws have been passed, obstructing emigration, as if it was an evil; and, with a view of still farther discouraging all such schemes, the most exaggerated accounts have been studiously circulated of the distresses and difficulties in which the poor emigrant involves himself by rashly removing to a foreign land. In the Highlands of Scotland emigration has always been viewed by the landed proprietors with the most extreme jealousy and aversion, although it plainly has its origin in the measures adopted by themselves for the improvement of their own estates. The first step to an improved mode of cultivation is to clear the land of all its useless inhabitants; and the discarded tenants are compelled to seek in a distant land that subsistence which they can no longer find at home. Emigration is the sad alternative which they embrace from necessity; they quit the cherished spot on which their family has been settled for ages, because they can no longer remain, and to refuse them this resource appears both cruel and unreasonable. Under the influence of those prejudices, a law was passed in 1803, for the ostensible purpose of securing to the emigrant good treatment during his voyage, but really with a view, it should seem, of obstructing it altogether. By this law, the most extravagant allowances are prescribed to him both as to room and food, and these he is not at liberty to dispense with. Its effect is consequently to enhance the expense of the voyage, and to obstruct emigration, or, when this consequence does not follow, to waste the stock of the emigrant, by involving him in useless expences, and to land him on a foreign shore with diminished resources. It tends, in this manner, like all the other laws which, in the management of private concerns, officiously substitute loose and inapplicable rules for the prompt sagacity of individual prudence, to injure those whom it is intended to serve. By other laws, emigration, to certain classes, is actually prohibited under severe penalties. An artificer who attempts to emigrate "with the intention of devoting his knowledge for the benefit of foreign countries," is liable to punishment, as well as any agent by whom Emigration he is encouraged to such an attempt; and, upon this very absurd law, two convictions actually took place at the Old Bailey in 1809; the one of a master who had offered an artificer advantageous terms to emigrate to the United States, and the other of the artificer who, having no work at home, had accepted of those terms. It deserves to be remarked, that the judge who tried the case, forsaking his own proper province of merely administering the law, commended highly its policy, and dwelt at great length on the mischievous crime with which the prisoners stood charged, as deservedly and severely punishable by law. It is justly observed by Dr Smith, that the industry of an artificer is his only inheritance, and that to prevent him from disposing of it to the best advantage is an unwarrantable act of power. The object of such regulations is to depress the art and industry of other nations, in order to monopolize for our own industry the market of the world. But this project, which originates in mercantile rivalry of the most pitiful description, is as unjust as it is impolitic. We may indeed prevent, by particular laws, the exportation and importation of certain sorts of produce. But no laws can bind up the inventive powers of man, nor can any partial enactments of particular countries retard the improvement of the world. If the general increase of wealth requires a supply of the finer manufactures, and the proper reward is offered, the art and industry necessary to produce them will be called forth, in spite of the regulations which any one state may pass to the contrary. The law, besides, admits of the following simple evasion: The artificer who intends to emigrate takes his passage as a labourer, and, in this character, he is suffered to depart without farther question.

Although the emigrations which have of late years taken place were manifestly occasioned by the total want of employment and subsistence, owing to the lamentable derangement of commerce, an outcry was, nevertheless, raised against the emigrants by those whom their happier destiny had enabled to remain at home. This is the more extraordinary, seeing that the country is crowded with labourers who cannot find employment, and that it is obvious, that, if there is too little either of subsistence or of employment, the emigration of those who require both to be employed and to be fed, will leave a greater supply for those who remain behind. Wherever there is a greater number of labourers than can be employed,—where wages are consequently low and general distress prevails, emigration is precisely the most effectual remedy for the evil. In proportion as superfluous labourers are withdrawn from the over-crowded communities of Europe, those who are left behind will enter into more full employment and better pay, and will live comfortably in place of starving as before. Whatever may become of the poor emigrants themselves, the country from which they emigrate must be benefited by the quantity of labour thus withdrawn from the market. In place, therefore, of seeking to arrest the progress of emigration, it would be wiser to encourage it, and rather to give facilities to those who wish to convey their labour from Europe, where the market is overstocked, to those countries where there is more demand for it. We are happy to add, that, in pursuance of those maxims, a plan has lately (June 1819) been adopted by the British government for encouraging emigration to the Cape of Good Hope, and that a grant of L. 50,000 has been voted by Parliament, to be laid out in carrying it into effect. A small deposit of money is required from the emigrant before leaving this country, which is returned to him on arriving at the Cape, with all his other expences.

(o.)