The scene was really delightful. All were busy—all seemed happy. There was no quarrelling—no grumbling—no idleness. And one curious thing was this: that trade began to spring up, as soon as the division of property was made, and each had received his share. One person found that he had more of a certain article than he wanted, and less of another; so he went round to the neighbors to exchange, or swap, the superfluous articles for such as he needed. This was the beginning of trade.
There was another thing that seemed to promote this: Mr. Bonfils requested Piqué, the fisherman, who had been cast away on the island, to go round and see if he could not find some place where fish could be caught. In this he succeeded. He made hooks and lines with considerable labor, and, with one other person, spent his time in fishing. François undertook to supply the people with goat’s flesh and birds, which he accomplished easily, by means of his pistols. Thus fish, flesh, and fowl were supplied, though scantily at first; and those who supplied them, received such things in exchange as they wanted.
But this mode of bartering soon grew inconvenient. Some of the people wanted fish and meat, but they had nothing to give in exchange, that either François or the fishermen needed. How, then, could they get fish and meat? Mr. Bonfils now saw the necessity of money; but there was none upon the island. No one had brought any thither, and none had been discovered. What then was to be done?
The governor knew that money must consist of something that has value in itself; something that is wanted by all. He knew that salt was used for money in some countries, because all desired it; he therefore requested Brusque to set about manufacturing salt from seawater. This was soon done, and thus the people had salt—and the lumps actually came into use, as money. When a man bought a fish, or a piece of goat’s flesh, he paid so much salt, instead of so much silver.
Ingenious Contrivances of Nature.
The human spine.
I have already spoken of many things which display wonderful ingenuity of contrivance, on the part of the Creator, and, at the same time, attest his wisdom and power. In every department of nature, the mineral, vegetable, and animal, there are contrivances which no human art can rival. Man may make imitations, but he can do no more.
In order to render this skill of the Creator more palpable, let us examine one or two mechanical contrivances in the structure of animals. We will select as our first instance, the human spine, or back bone. This consists of twenty-four bones, joined and compacted together in the most wonderful manner. It is so contrived that while it is firm, and enables the body to support an erect position, it is, at the same time, flexible, so as to bend in all directions. No human art has ever been able to devise a chain that can perform these double offices. Here we see that in mere mechanical contrivance, the works of God defy competition from man.
But this is not all. The spine has still another office to perform. In the centre of this chain of twenty-four bones, and passing through them all, is a tube, containing the spinal nerve. This extends from the brain through the back, and communicates with every part of the body by a thousand small pipes which have the name of nerves.