about the low door-ways, with haggard looks, and faces begrimmed with smoke-the pictures of wea riness-for the whole night has seen their labor at the mouth of the furnace stirring the molten masses of iron.

I begin to understand as the road lengthens into miles, shut in on either side by the white-washed cottages, how the forty thousand of workers in the mines find in the town a home. And at an occasional break of the line, I could see beyond, the heated and fuming tops of new furnaces breathing out cinders and heated air for years without a stop;

acres of green turf, and piled upon every day by the plodding carmen with their trays.

So you might add with truth more horrible than was in the thought of Virgil, Letumque, Laborque! At nine, I said, the matter was not half out of and beside them the mountains of scoriæ covering my mind; and I sat in the coffee-room of the "Castle," thinking of it all, and wondering if any painter had ever dared, or ever would dare to execute such All this comes by glimpses: for, unfortunately, scene-or even the red gouts of flame that spout- the valley beside which the road goes up to the ed out of the tall chimney tops, into the black east of Wales, and all its sights, are the opposite heavens at night, blinding the stars, and making side of the way from that on which I sit, and with dimly visible the outline of the hills that leaned a most provoking pertinacity, the old woman keeps over the valley-when the coach from Swansea her black bonnet bobbing directly between me and came rattling up in the rain. the window. A cruel but effectual expedient occurs to me to be rid of the annoyance. By opening the window next me, I throw such a draft of damp air upon the old lady's head that she is fain to withdraw it into the corner of the coach.

Out run Boots, and the waiter to catch the new comers with their never-ceasing civilities. In ten minutes more the fresh horses are on, and the Abergavenny goers crawling in the shower to the top. I go into the coach office, next door, where a fat lady in a turban presides over waybills and punch, and put my name down for an "inside." The back seat (your English coach you know has but two) is full! A youngish woman with a young baby in her arms, neatly dressed and fair looking enough, occupies one corner, and beside her is a little Welch girl of ten summers, modest and pretty.

me,

But who can reckon on a woman's submission? She asks me, in her broken English, to draw up the glass; it is easy for me to misunderstand, and reaching across to shut the opposite window. The old lady, indeed, interposes a "nah--nah ;" and the woman with the baby giggles, and the little maid opposite, looks very willing, but afraid, to laugh outright. I sit gazing steadfastly through the glass upon the enlarged prospect:-not wholly with a conscience void of offence, yet satisfied that the end justified the means.

Presently the hat box, which had filled the vacancy beside and which I had anticipated as affording the most agreeable companionship of all, shadows between them darker. The country is -For the hills are growing larger, and the gives place to a Merthyr granny in a heavy home-covered with broken stones and a rough dwarf spun cloak, and black bonnet tied round her head, furse --here and there the prospect changed by the with a white neckcloth spotted with crimson. Was there ever an old woman in a cloak, with a handintervention of some new mining village, with its kerchief tied around her bonnet-be she English, of coal and ore, and the white steam from its enrange of cottages, its blazing furnace, its long trains American, Dutch, or Jew,--who could be content that her luggage was safe? The Welch neighbor skirts of one of these little villages at the sign of gine puffing against the black clouds. In the outof mine on the front seat of the fast coach "Busy the "Collier's Arms" we leave the woman with the Bee" was as bad as all heavy cloaked women in babe. Her opposite neighbor in the big cloak takes other parts of the world. the vacant seat, and now that I have closed my At length the whip snapped; the old lady flung window against the scudding drops of rain,-opens herself back with an "oh, dear," and the coach her own with a self-satisfied smile, and taking from rattled away from the Castle Inn door, where the the basket at her feet, a huge loaf of cake—a bit of stout "boots" (I had given him a shilling) stood penknife from her pocket, which she opens daintily touching his crop-crowned hat for a parting adieu. with her teeth, she proceeds earnestly with her The little houses of the miners, and the iron dejeuner. The little girl looks all the while furworkers fleet along on either side. From some the tively, and with humoursome glances at me, upɔn bare-armed and fair-haired Celtic girls are stealing the zeal of the old lady.

a look, or tall women, balancing great lumps of Nor can I forget the bright-eyed, and ruddycoal upon their heads are marching along the nar-cheeked boy in a tasselled cap, and nice linen gown row sideways, or full grown men hang slouchingly over his blue clothes, who was waiting for the little

Welch maid at the "Beaufort Arms" in the beau- leaving the valley leaping after us, and the water tiful valley town of Clydarch. shouting in it.

I lost sight of her as she stepped out of the coach, and the groom closed the door; but, through the window, I could see the arch and proud look of the boy, as he ran his eye restlessly over the lookers-on, or suffered it to rest, as seemed to me, upon some object about his own height, with a most intense gaze, which some sudden fancy would instantly divert. I remember too the rich suffusion of color that ran over his face, as he once or twice caught my gaze in his furtive glances.

-Oh, boyhood, that it might not last!—that it is so soon gone! What joys, what hopes, what affections expire with it forever!

Presently a pair of pattering feet-two pairs walked round the coach, and out of hearing. The eyes of the fat coachman, and the groom, followed the sounds and there were sly nods passed between them.

dishes

But the country had before this become the great attraction. We had been all the time rising: there had been valleys, but they were mere green in the sides of the mountains. There had been streams and pools of water, but they were the mere leakage of the hills.

-Now came on the descent. The rain was

pouring in torrents. I pushed my head through the window to have one glimpse below-the glimpse lasted only a second-it filled hours of feeling. The road twinkled along the edge of a ravine, filled with green trees and gray rocks dripping

with moisture.

The tall chimneys of a furnace, and the iron arches of a large smithy, I remember grouped upon a ledge half down the road, and remember vividly the images of the swart workers crowding round the furnace doors, and their bent forms, and extended arms swinging the red-hot bars of iron-the vexed motion of levers and cranks, and the slow ponderous roll of the great water-wheel-all coming through the coach window like a picture, and as quick giving place to the natural beauties around.

At length the scene grew broader the stream flowed leisurely under wooded banks: the hills which were big enough to be valleys in England— kept back, and divided for half a dozen little dells, to peep out upon the broad, rich basin, on which lay spread like a map, the lanes, and enclosures, and roofs of the old town of Abergavenny.

the bonnet tied down with the neckcloth spotted As for my neighbor with the heavy cloak, and with crimson, I do not know what became of her, or but that she may be riding in the "Busy Bee" until now. I could have wished for something of a half tragic interest to enliven my story of the ride-even at the expense of the old Merthyr granny, but the spirit of truth has led me-as I pray Heaven it may ever lead me to the recital of what was real, though simple.

I

spent a sunny Sunday ;—and about the little par-About the cosy inn of Abergavenny, where or they gave me up stairs, with an old harpsichord

in the corner; and how the inn-keeper's daugh-Down the valley ran, itself a hill, and descendter-a pretty Welch girl of some seventeen years, ed swiftly to where the shower grew in the dis-glided in now and then, to see that the cloth was tance to gray lines of clouds, hiding individual features of the scene, yet permitting to pass through, like the blushes of a veiled bride, a rich sea of verdure.

Three or four loaded waggons were toiling up below us. I had caught a glimpse of them, as I cast my eye out of the window of the coach, and now at a full trot we were upon them: there was a crash and a sudden stop. The iron shoe was chained to the wheels. The great horses of the coal waggon were led frightfully near the edge of the precipice; the wheels became unlocked: a snap and down we thundered-the fire flashing from the shoe; the valley growing deeper and deeper the rain faster than ever.

Speedily the old ravine towered behind us the bridge, which had been from above only a gray stripe swimming in the green, was now a light stone arch springing from cliff to cliff far over our heads. The little house whose roof had been under us, now seemed perched at the top of the hills.

not awry upon the table, or to brush off a few ashes that had fallen on the hearth;-and how nearly every time she forgot something, that she would remember in a very few minutes afterwards;—and how the drawers of the little work-stand in a corner, were in such terrible confusion, that she could never find anything, until she had taken everything out, and put them back again;-and how very steadfastly I kept an old newspaper before my eyes, without knowing a word of what was in it ;—and how she, (in her Sunday dress, with a sprig of geranium in her hair,) did'nt care a penny whether I was looking at her, or reading the newspaper;— and how she said, when I came away, with the prettiest smile in the world, that she would give me a little bunch of flowers she had tied up with a pink ribbon, as a keepsake, of all this, I shall say nothing-however good a story it might make,because it has nothing to do with my Ride in the Rain.

-There is no reason in the world, however, why Down we went the Merthyr granny, the I should not make of it all a separate chapter bycoachman, and I,-full four miles of such descent, and-by.

It is thus that our market has been overstocked with great men. The state labors under their weight and totters beneath their violent conflicts. They jostle each other in the high road to fame, and shake realms and empires with their jars." Like the fabulous offspring of the dragon's teeth, they rage with implacable hostility, and it would

Suo

Marte cadunt subiti per mutna vulnera fratres.

and expand with a rapid growth, a rank luxuriance, |roving mechanic into an able debater a drunken almost outstripping the fabulous bean of the nur-bully into a rival of the Gracchi. We see chansery tale. The stuff, of which statesmen and senges constantly in progress more incredible than the ators are made now-a-days, is no less common than marvels of Ovid's metamorphosis. clay in the hands of the potter, and may be moulded as readily into vessels, adapted to the vilest, as well as the most useful purposes. Once, indeed, it was supposed that rulers and legislators should be compounded of the porcelain clay of the earthof the purest and most precious metal; but, in this age of cheap fabrics and labor-saving invention, we have fortunately discovered, that the leaders be fortunate for the repose of our community, if of mankind may be formed of baser and less costly matter. The supply of the raw material is thus found to be inexhaustible, and we have proceeded, with our usual vigor, to manufacture such a prodi- But they multiply with such preternatural fecungious number of heroes, orators, lawgivers, and dity, that we can scarcely hope for a consummastatesmen, sometimes to order, and sometimes for tion so devoutly to be wished, and all that is left the general market, that they have overspread the us, is to divert this growing and portentous evil land like a flood-they swarm along all the aven- into a different channel. In the sequel I propose nes to preferment, and they threaten, like an irrup- to suggest a remedy fully adequate, in my judgtion of army worms, to devour the substance of ment, to the cure of the distemper; but before I the body politic. These young ravens cry contin- do so, I design to inquire how this countless brood ually for food, because we have not wherewithal of great men has been produced: for the skilful to glut their cormorant appetites. Hence our pro-physician always ascertains the origin and diagverbial eagerness for office-hence the rivalship nostics of the disease, before he compounds his that disturbs the harmony of our political parties. medicines. All would be leaders--all are fit to fill the chief parts in the drama, and none are willing to officiate as prompters, candle-snuffers, and scene-shifters. Let no snarling cynic insinuate, that these eager candidates for renown desire office for office' sake. Oh no! Their sublimated patriotism is tainted by no such ignoble and sordid views. They seek

power and place, truly, that they may have a fit arena for the exercise of their talents--that "the divinity, which stirs within them," may expand in a congenial atmosphere-that their powers may not rust in inglorious inactivity--that their country may enjoy the usufruct of their new-found energies and capacities.

To be born great, or to have greatness thrust upon them, is the destiny only of the gifted few. Those spirits, who take their patent of nobility from nature, ascend by their own buoyant and elastic force to the summit of human affairs.

Ignea convexi vis et sine pondere cœli
Emicuit, summaque locum sibi legit in arce.

Such men, instinctively, assuine their natural position in society, and to obstruct their rise, were as vain an effort, as an attempt to fetter the expansive energies of the atmosphere. My remarks have no application to these prodigies of nature. It is the man of moderate stature, who has contrived by It is possible to have too much of a good thing-- stuffing and padding to swell himself into the dia plethora of the bounties of fortune. Our galaxy mensions of a Lambert, whose career shall be the of great men is obscured, like Butler's moon, with subject of my analysis, and, perhaps, in the process, a veil of light. They cluster together in such I may chance to furnish some valuable hints to that numbers, that our political firmament is filled with numerous class, whose ambition outstrips their carebulæ, instead of distinct stars of the first mag-pacity. I write for the multitude-for the "roll of nitude. To be eloquent is as easy as lying, and common men," upon the great utilitarian principle only a more brilliant phasis of the same talent. of "promoting the greatest happiness of the greatTo be a hero is a very common affair-indeed, est number." And, certainly, if Jeremy Bentham nothing but the sublimation of simple rowdyism. could have invented an infallible method of conThat Cincinnatus should have been transferred verting little men into great men, he would have from the plough to supreme power, and the com- realized the practical fulfilment of that celebrated mand of armies, is no longer a legend, that startles dogma, to whose illustration he devoted so many our faith in the annals of primitive Rome. No years of solitary meditation. I flatter myself that sceptic Niebuhr can discredit the transformations this adventure has been reserved for me, and that, verified by our daily experience, and which the in the following essay, I have furnished every thing bards of the eternal city never equalled in their necessary to complete the system of that profound wildest inventions. In the twinkling of an eye an philosopher by showing how aspiring mediocrity obscure citizen starts up into a great general--a 'may attain the most brilliant distinctions. Let me,

however, warn those, who may seek to avail them-instruction must be obvious to the meanest appreselves of my researches, to grope their way cau- hension. When he attempted to vie with the ox, tiously; for though the mousing owl may some- the frog of the fable might have escaped the tra times perch with the eagle, he incurs the risk of gic issue of his ambitious efforts, had he formed a blindness by venturing without due preparation into proper estimate of his own capabilities of expan those regions of light, where that noble bird soars sion, or had he known, that, by an optic illusion, he undazzled. might have increased his apparent bulk without any actual enlargement. Nor would this, though wonderful, be a greater miracle, than science exhibits in the hydrostatic balance. In that ingenious machine, we see a small amount of fluid bal ance a much larger quantity; but our astonishment at this paradox vanishes at once, when we observe a parallel phenomenon constantly occurring in the political world, where the greatest genius and learning, added to eminent public services and

When the melancholy Jaques exclaimed, that "all the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players," he announced a maxim familiar to the philosophy of all ages. The totus mundus agit histrionem of the Roman satirist contains the same striking truth, and evinces a remarkable uniformity in the character and usages of mankind during the lapse of eighteen centuries. It is, therefore, the concurrent testimony of ancient and modern times, that life is nothing but a dramatic tried integrity, are not only balanced, but outweighexhibition-that we all appear in assumed charac-ed by cunning, noise and effrontery.

ters, and that he is the ablest performer, who practises most successfully the arts of delusion. In that sense Pope justly said,

Act well your part, there all the honor lies: for, as the world goes, it is only by the most consummate acting, that the "scutcheon," honor, can ever be acquired. Indeed the real difference between men consists, not so much in their natural powers, as in their ability to counterfeit those qualities, which, by common consent, have received the appellation of greatness. The bulk of men judge by the outside, and when the vizard is skilfully adjusted, few have penetration enough to distinguish the genuine from the spurious. The ass, clothed in the lion's skin, would have been as terrible to the multitude as the veritable king of beasts, had not his voice betrayed him; and Goose Gibbie might have passed muster as a warrior, had not his unruly steed so unluckily expelled him from his martial accoutrements. Sir John Falstaff would scarcely have escaped the jealous vigilance of Master Brook under the disguise of the "maid's aunt of Brentford," had not the imputed witchcraft of his prototype diverted the suspicion awakened by the huge peard, which honest Sir Hugh Evans "spied under his muffler." Such is the importance of dramatic consistency.

There is one objection which, perhaps, the man of science may allege against my classification. I find it impossible to distinguish the various species by any marked specific difference, because the qualities, peculiar to each, are frequently blended in the individuals of every class: yet it seems essential to a clear and complete analysis of the habits of these kindred tribes, that some division should be made. At the risk, then, of incurring the reproach of scientific inaccuracy, I shall proceed in my undertaking; and, should I be deficient in logical precision, I pray the learned to consider how difficult it is to discriminate species, whose properties run into each other like the contiguous colors of the rainbow.

The Trophonians hold a prominent place in this country among the multitudes struggling for fame and power. The owl, from the imperturbable gravity of its visage, has been aptly styled the bird of wisdom, and the individuals of this tribe often acquire the reputation of capacity by affecting a similar solemnity of aspect. They imagine, and with some reason, that the whole mystery of greatness consists in the artifices of external deportment. The veil of Mokannah, the nod of Burleigh, are assumed, on system, to deceive the unthinking multitude, always prone to believe that something extraordinary is shrouded under so imposing an exterior. These are the men, whose faces, as Gratiano says, “ Do cream and mantle like a stand

He is Sir Oracle, And when he opes his lips let no dog bark.

To reduce my remarks on this interesting subject to a scientific form, I shall attempt to classify, according to a nomenclature of my own invention, ing pool," and whose important air in the utterance the various descriptions of men, who achieve great- of the most simple observation declares, that ness, rather by histrionic skill, than intellectual superiority. The advantages of such an arrangement in facilitating the acquisition of knowledge has been conspicuously shown in several depart- At first view, this might be mistaken for the flimsy ments of science, and I see no reason why it may disguise with which a silly vanity labors to connot be profitably used in teaching mankind an easy ceal its conscious imbecility; but, in truth, it is way to gratify that ambition, which, according to the offspring of a deep policy, founded on a thorough Milton, is always "the infirmity of noble minds," knowledge of human nature. The principle on but which Pope, with more truth, pronounces the which it proceeds is embodied in those two old universal passion. The immense utility of such sayings, that "too much familiarity breeds con