Or, the ethnologist may turn to the study of the practical life of men; and relying upon the inherent conservatism and small inventiveness of untutored mankind, he may hope to discover in manners and customs, or in weapons, dwellings, and other handiwork, a clue to the origin of the resemblances and differences of nations.  Or, he may resort to that kind of evidence which is yielded by history proper, and consists of the beliefs of men concerning past events, embodied in traditional, or in written, testimony.  Or, when that thread breaks, archaeology, which is the interpretation of the unrecorded remains of man’s works, belonging to the epoch since the world has reached its present condition, may still guide him.  And, when even the dim light of archaeology fades, there yet remains paleontology, which, in these latter years, has brought to daylight once more the exuvia of ancient populations, whose world was not our world, who have been buried in river beds immemorially dry, or carried by the rush of waters into caves, inaccessible to inundation since the dawn of tradition.

Along each, or all, of these paths the ethnologist may press towards his goal; but they are not equally straight, or sure, or easy to tread.  The way of palaeontology has but just been laid open to us.  Archaeological and historical investigations are of great value for all those peoples whose ancient state has differed widely from their present condition, and who have the good or evil fortune to possess a history.  But on taking a broad survey of the world, it is astonishing how few nations present either condition.  Respecting five-sixths of the persistent modifications of mankind, history and archaeology are absolutely silent.  For half the rest, they might as well be silent for anything that is to be made of their testimony.  And, finally, when the question arises as to what was the condition of mankind more than a paltry two or three thousand years ago, history and archaeology are, for the most part, mere dumb dogs.  What light does either of these branches of knowledge throw on the past of the man of the New World, if we except the Central Americans and the Peruvians; on that of the Africans, save those of the valley of the Nile and a fringe of the Mediterranean; on that of all the Polynesian, Australian, and central Asiatic peoples, the former of whom probably, and the last certainly, were, at the dawn of history, substantially what they are now?  While thankfully accepting what history has to give him, therefore, the ethnologist must not look for too much from her.

Is more to be expected from inquiries into the customs and handicrafts of men?  It is to be feared not.  In reasoning from identity of custom to identity of stock the difficulty always obtrudes itself, that the minds of men being everywhere similar, differing in quality and quantity but not in kind of faculty, like circumstances must tend to produce like contrivances; at any rate, so long as the need to be met and conquered