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terrible giant has thrust himself, and makes it his business to seize upon honest travellers and fatten them for his table with plentiful meals of smoke, mist, moonshine, raw potatoes, and sawdust. He is a German by birth, and is called Giant Transcendentalist; but as to his form, his features, his substance, and his nature generally, it is the chief peculiarity of this huge miscreant that neither he for himself, nor anybody for him, has ever been able to describe them. As we rushed by the cavern's mouth we caught a hasty glimpse of him, looking somewhat like an ill-proportioned figure, but considerably more like a heap of fog and duskiness. He shouted after us, but in so strange a phraseology that we knew not what he meant, nor whether to be encouraged or affrighted.

It was late in the day when the train thundered into the ancient city of Vanity, where Vanity Fair is still at the height of prosperity, and exhibits an epitome of whatever is brilliant, gay, and fascinating beneath the sun. As I purposed to make a considerable stay here, it gratified me to learn that there is no longer the want of harmony between the town's people and pilgrims, which impelled the former to such lamentably mistaken measures as the persecution of Christian and the fiery martyrdom of Faithful. On the contrary, as the new railroad brings with it great trade and a constant influx of strangers, the lord of Vanity Fair is its chief patron, and the capitalists of the city are among the largest stockholders. Many passengers stop to take their pleasure or make their profit in the Fair, instead of going onward to the Celestial City. Indeed, such are the charms of the place that people often affirm it to be the true and only heaven; stoutly contending that there is no other, that those who seek further are mere dreamers, and that, if the fabled brightness of the Celestial City lay but a bare mile beyond the gates of Vanity, they would not be fools enough to go thither. Without subscribing to these perhaps exaggerated encomiums, I can truly say that my abode in the city was mainly agreeable, and my intercourse with the inhabitants productive of much amusement and instruction.

Being naturally of a serious turn, my attention was directed to the solid advantages derivable from a residence here, rather than to the effervescent pleasures which are the grand object with too many visitants. The Christian reader, if we have had no accounts of the city later than Bunyan's time, will be surprised to hear that almost every street has its church, and that the reverend clergy are nowhere held in higher respect than at Vanity Fair. And well do they deserve such honorable estimation; for the maxims

of wisdom and virtue which fall from their lips come from as deep a spiritual source, and tend to as lofty a religious aim, as those of the sagest philosophers of old. In justification of this high praise I need only mention the names of the Rev. Mr. Shallow-deep, the Rev. Mr. Stumble-at-truth, that fine old clerical character the Rev. Mr. This-to-day, who expects shortly to resign his pulpit to the Rev. Mr. That-to-morrow; together with the Rev. Mr. Bewilderment, the Rev. Mr. Clog-the-spirit, and, last and greatest, the Rev. Dr. Wind-of-doctrine. The labors of these eminent divines are aided by those of innumerable lecturers, who diffuse such a various profundity, in all subjects of human or celestial science, that any man may acquire an omnigenous erudition without the trouble of even learning to read. Thus literature is etherealized by assuming for its medium the human voice; and knowledge, depositing all its heavier particles, except, doubtless, its gold, becomes exhaled into a sound, which forthwith steals into the everopen ear of the community. These ingenious methods constitute a sort of machinery, by which thought and study are done to every person's hand without his putting himself to the slightest inconvenience in the matter. There is another species of machine for the wholesale manufacture of individual morality. This excellent result is effected by societies for all manner of virtuous purposes, with which a man has merely to connect himself, throwing, as it were, his quota of virtue into the common stock, and the president and directors will take care that the aggregate amount be well applied. All these, and other wonderful improvements in ethics, religion, and literature, being made plain to my comprehension by the ingenious Mr. Smooth-it-away, inspired me with a vast admiration of Vanity Fair.

It would fill a volume, in an age of pamphlets, were I to record all my observations in this great capital of human business and pleasure. There was an unlimited range of society-the powerful, the wise, the witty, and the famous in every walk of life; princes, presidents, poets, generals, artists, actors, and philanthropists,-all making their own market at the fair, and deeming no price too exorbitant for such commodities as hit their fancy. It was well worth one's while, even if he had no idea of buying or selling, to loiter through the bazaars and observe the various sorts of traffic that were going forward.

Some of the purchasers, I thought, made very foolish bargains. For instance, a young man having inherited a splendid fortune, laid out a considerable portion of it in the purchase of diseases, and finally spent all the

was reminded of it, however, by the sight of the same pair of simple pilgrims at whom we had laughed so heartily when Apollyon puffed smoke and steam into their faces at the commencement of our journey. There they stood, amidst the densest bustle of Vanity; the dealers offering them their purple and fine linen and jewels, the men of wit and humor gibing at them, a pair of buxom ladies ogling them askance, while the benevolent Mr. Smooth-it-away whispered some of his wisdom at their elbows, and pointed to a newly erected temple; but there were these worthy simpletons, making the scene look wild and monstrous, merely by their sturdy repudiation of all part in its business or pleasures.

One of them his name was Stick-to-theright-perceived in my face, I suppose, a species of sympathy and almost admiration, which, to my own great surprise, I could not help feeling for this pragmatic couple. It prompted him to address me.

rest for a heavy lot of repentance and a suit | The place began to seem like home; the idea of rags. A very pretty girl bartered a heart of pursuing my travels to the Celestial City as clear as crystal, and which seemed her was almost obliterated from my mind. I most valuable possession, for another jewel of the same kind, but so worn and defaced as to be utterly worthless. In one shop there were a great many crowns of laurel and myrtle, which soldiers, authors, statesmen, and various other people pressed eagerly to buy; some purchased these paltry wreaths with their lives, others by a toilsome servitude of years, and many sacrificed whatever was most valuable, yet finally slunk away without the crown. There was a sort of stock or scrip, called Conscience, which seemed to be in great demand, and would purchase almost any thing. Indeed, few rich commodities were to be obtained without paying a heavy sum in this particular stock, and a man's business was seldom very lucrative unless he knew precisely when and how to throw his hoard of conscience into the market. Yet, as this stock was the only thing of permanent value, whoever parted with it was sure to find himself a loser in the long run. Several of the speculations were of a questionable character. Occasionally a member of Congress recruited his pocket by the sale of his constituents: and I was assured that public officers have often sold their country at very moderate prices. Thousands sold their happiness for a whim. Gilded chains were in great demand, and purchased with almost any sacrifice. truth, those who desired, according to the old adage, to sell any thing valuable for a song, might find customers all over the Fair; and there were innumerable messes of pottage, piping hot, for such as chose to buy them with their birthrights. A few articles, however, could not be found genuine at Vanity Fair. If a customer wished to renew his stock of youth the dealers offered him a set of false teeth and an auburn wig; if he demanded peace of mind, they recommended opium or a brandy bottle.

In

"Sir," inquired he, with a sad, yet mild and kindly voice, "do you call yourself a pilgrim ?"

"Yes," I replied, "my right to that appellation is indubitable. I am merely a sojourner here in Vanity Fair, being bound to the Celestial City by the new railroad.

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Alas, friend," rejoined Mr. Stick-to-theright, "I do assure you, and beseech you to receive the truth of my words, that that whole concern is a bubble. You may travel on it all your lifetime, were you to live thousands of years, and yet never get beyond the limits of Vanity Fair. Yea, though you should deem yourself entering the gates of the blessed city, it will be nothing but a miserable delusion."

"The Lord of the Celestial City," began the other pilgrim, whose name was Mr. Foot-it-to-heaven, "has refused, and will ever refuse, to grant an act of incorporation for this railroad; and, unless that be obtained, no passenger can ever hope to enter his dominions. Wherefore every man who buys a ticket must lay his account with losing the purchase money, which is the value of his own soul."

Tracts of land and golden mansions, situate in the Celestial City, were often exchanged, at very disadvantageous rates, for a few years' lease of small, dismal, inconvenient tenements in Vanity Fair. Prince Beelzebub himself took great interest in this sort of traffic, and sometimes condescended to meddle with smaller matters. I once had "Poh, nonsense!" said Mr. Smooth-itthe pleasure to see him bargaining with a away, taking my arm and leading me off, miser for his soul, which, after much ingeni- "these fellows ought to be indicted for a ous skirmishing on both sides, his highness libel. If the law stood as it once did in succeeded in obtaining at about the value Vanity Fair we should see them grinning of sixpence. The prince remarked, with a through the iron bars of the prison winsmile, that he was a loser by the transaction. dow." Day after day, as I walked the streets of Vanity, my manners and deportment became more and more like those of the inhabitants.

This incident made a considerable impression on my mind, and contributed with other circumstances to indispose me to a perma

"Is that," inquired I, "the very door in the hill-side which the shepherds assured Christian was a byway to hell?"

nent residence in the city of Vanity; al- Far up the rugged side of a mountain I perthough, of course, I was not simple enough ceived a rusty iron door, half overgrown to give up my original plan of gliding along with bushes and creeping plants, but with easily and commodiously by railroad. Still, smoke issuing from its crevices. I grew anxious to be gone. There was one strange thing that troubled me. Amid the occupations or amusements of the Fair, nothing was more common than for a per- "That was a joke on the part of the son-whether at feast, theatre, or church, or shepherds," said Mr. Smooth-it-away, with trafficking for wealth and honors, or what- a smile. "It is neither more nor less than ever he might be doing, and however unsea- the door of a cavern which they use as a sonable the interruption-suddenly to van- smoke-house for the preparation of mutton ish like a soap-bubble, and be never more secn of his fellows; and so accustomed were the latter to such little accidents that they went on with their business as quietly as if nothing had happened. But it was otherwise with me.

Finally, after a pretty long residence at the Fair, I resumed my journey towards the Celestial City, still with Mr. Smooth-it-away at my side. At a short distance beyond the suburbs of Vanity we passed the ancient silver mine, of which Demas was the first discoverer, and which is now wrought to great advantage, supplying nearly all the coined currency of the world. A little further onward was the spot where Lot's wife had stood for ages under the semblance of a pillar of salt. Curious travellers have long since carried it away piecemeal. Had all regrets been punished as rigorously as this poor dame's were, my yearning for the relinquished delights of Vanity Fair might have produced a similar change in my own corporeal substance, and left me a warning to future pilgrims.

The next remarkable object was a large edifice, constructed of mossgrown stone, but in a modern and airy style of architecture. The engine came to a pause in its vicinity, with the usual tremendous shriek.

"This was formerly the castle of the redoubted giant Despair," observed Mr. Smooth-it-away; "but since his death Mr. Flimsy-faith has repaired it, and keeps an excellent house of entertainment here. It is one of our stopping-places."

"It seems but slightly put together," remarked I, looking at the frail yet ponderous walls. "I do not envy Mr. Flimsy-faith his habitation. Some day it will thunder down upon the heads of the occupants."

"We shall escape, at all events," said Mr. Smooth-it-away, "for Apollyon is putting on the steam again."

hams."

My recollections of the journey are now, for a little space, dim and confused, inasmuch as a singular drowsiness here overcame me, owing to the fact that we were passing over the enchanted ground, the air of which encourages a disposition to sleep. I awoke, however, as soon as we crossed the borders of the pleasant land of Beulah. All the passengers were rubbing their eyes, comparing watches, and congratulating one another on the prospect of arriving so seasonably at the journey's end. The sweet breezes of this happy clime came refreshingly to our nostrils; we beheld the glimmering gush of silver fountains, overhung by trees of beautiful foliage and delicious fruit, which were propagated by grafts from the celestial gardens. Once, as we dashed onward like a hurricane, there was a flutter of wings and the bright appearance of an angel in the air, speeding forth on some heavenly mission. The engine now announced the close vicinity of the final station house by one last and horrible scream, in which there seemed to be distinguishable every kind of wailing and woe, and bitter fierceness of wrath, all mixed up with the wild laughter of a devil or a madman. Throughout our journey, at every stopping-place, Apollyon had exercised his ingenuity in screwing the most abominable sounds out of the whistle of the steam engine; but in this closing effort he outdid himself, and created an infernal uproar, which, besides disturbing the peaceful inhabitants of Beulah, must have sent its discord even through the celestial gates.

While the horrid clamor was still ringing in our ears, we heard an exulting strain, as if a thousand instruments of music, with height, and depth, and sweetness in their tones, at once tender and triumphant, were struck in unison, to greet the approach of some illustrious hero, who had fought the The road now plunged into a gorge of the good fight and won a glorious victory, and Delectable Mountains, and traversed the field was come to lay aside his battered arms forwhere in former ages the blind men wandered ever. Looking to ascertain what might be and stumbled among the tombs. One of the occasion of this glad harmony, I perthese ancient tombstones had been thrust ceived, on alighting from the cars, that a across the track by some malicious person, multitude of shining ones had assembled on and gave the train of cars a terrible jolt. the other side of the river, to welcome two

poor pilgrims, who were just emerging from its depths. They were the same whom Apollyon and ourselves had persecuted with taunts, and gibes, and scalding steam, at the commencement of our journey—the same whose unworldly aspect and impressive words had stirred my conscience amid the wild revellers of Vanity Fair.

"How amazingly well those men have got on," cried I to Mr. Smooth-it-away. "I wish we were secure of as good a reception." "Never fear, never fear!" answered my friend. "Come, make haste; the ferry boat will be off directly, and in three minutes you will be on the other side of the river. No doubt you will find coaches to carry you up to the city gates."

A steam ferry boat, the last improvement on this important route, lay at the river side, puffing, snorting, and emitting all those other disagreeable utterances which_betoken the departure to be immediate. I hurried on board with the rest of the passengers, most of whom were in great perturbation; some bawling out for their baggage; some tearing their hair and exclaiming that the boat would explode or sink; some already pale with the heaving of the stream; some gazing affrighted at the ugly aspect of the steersman; and some still dizzy with the slumberous influ

ences of the Enchanted Ground. Looking back to the shore, I was amazed to discern Mr. Smooth-it-away waving his hand in token of farewell.

"Don't you go over to the Celestial City?" exclaimed I.

"Oh, no!" answered he with a queer smile, and that same disagreeable contortion of visage which I had remarked in the inhabitants of the Dark Valley. "Oh, no! I have come thus far only for the sake of your pleasant company. Good by! We shall meet again."

And then did my excellent friend Mr. Smooth-it-away laugh outright, in the midst of which cachinnation a smoke-wreath issued from his mouth and nostrils, while a twinkle of lurid flame darted out of either eye, proving indubitably that his heart was all of a red blaze. The impudent fiend! To deny the existence of Tophet, when he felt its fiery tortures raging within his breast. I rushed to the side of the boat, intending to fling myself on shore; but the wheels, as they began their revolutions, threw a dash of spray over me so cold-so deadly cold, with the chill that will never leave those waters until Death be drowned in his own river— that, with a shiver and a heartquake I awoke. Thank heaven it was a Dream!

MR. BRONTE, the father of the Bronte Sisters, whose remarkable lives were made known to the world through Mr. Gaskell's biography of the author of Jane Eyre, has at last yielded to his increasing infirmities, and preached his last sermon at Haworth Church, (where Charlotte Bronte lies buried), on the 21st ultimo. He will be succeeded by his assistant minister, Rev. M. Nicholl, the husband of Charlotte Bronte, and will himself live in repose from active duty among the people whose pastor he has been for so many years.

|tiful language, and, of course, wholly extempo raneous. A more affectingly beautiful sermon it would be difficult to hear, and the fact of the then recent afflictions to which Mr. Bronte had been subjected, in the loss of his last and most celebrated daughter, gave a peculiar effect to the words on which he particularly dwelt: "And I said my strength and my hope is perished from the Lord; remembering mine afflctions and my misery, the wormwood and the gall. This I recall to mind; therefore have I hope, for it is of the Lord's mercies we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not.”—New York Evening Post.

This old minister was a very effective, if not a brilliant, pulpit orator. We heard him in his church at Haworth some two years ago, and the picture he presented was curious and striking. WE understand that Miss Warner, author of He wore a huge white cravat, completely bury-"The Wide, Wide World," has recently bought ing his chin as well as his neck, and absolutely Warner's Island, where her family now reside, hiding the lower part of his face. In the old for $11,000. This purchase is one of the fruits pulpit, stuck up against the side wall of the of her remarkably successful literary career. church, only the top of his head was visible when Warner's Island lies in the middle of the Hudhe was seated. His text was taken from vari-son, between West Point and Cold Spring, and ous passages in the Lamentations of Jeremiah, is one of the most attractive features of that inwhich he read from a pocket-bible, explaining comparable river. Henceforth it will share with them as he proceeded. His paraphrases of the Sunnyside and Idlewild the interest of tourists scriptural verses were couched in the most beau-on the Hudson.-New York Evening Post.

From The N. Y. Evening Post, 24 Aug. POLITICS AS A PROFESSION IN THE UNITED STATES.

NATHANIEL P. BANKS has signified his intention not to accept a renomination to the office of Governor of Massachusetts. His chief reason for withdrawing from a position which was rarely, if ever, so satisfactorily filled before, and to which he would be recalled almost by acclamation, is, we believe, the primary duty of making more satisfactory provision for his family than a political career, with his notions of official propriety, will admit of. With these views he has accepted the position of resident director of the Illinois Central Railroad, and henceforth, at least for a period of years, his home will be in the State of Illinois. Of course this involves his entire withdrawal from political life, for the post to which he is invited is one which could neither be conferred nor accepted upon any other condition.

The step which Mr. Banks has taken is suggestive of profitable meditations to the young men of his generation. Here is a gentleman in the very prime of his manhood, who has won more popular distinctions, and, at the same time, has more of them now within the legitimate range of his aspirations, than any American of his age, living or dead. Though but forty-three years old, and the graduate of a New England factory, Mr. Banks' life has been, politically speaking, an uninterrupted series of triumphs, without one single reverse. He was repeatedly chosen to the Massachusetts Legislature, and twice its speaker; he was a delegate to the convention for revising the state constitution, and was also called with great unanimity to preside over its deliberations. Three times in succession he was chosen to the House of Representatives, and once its speaker, when the Republican party achieved, under his lead, its first memorable victory in the federal arena; he has since been twice elected to the office of governor, which he now holds; there is no position, however exalted, under the next administration, if Republican-and there is little doubt, we believe, that it will be-to which he would not be esteemed an acquisition; and yesterday there was probably no man in the country, except Mr. Lincoln, who would not gladly exchange with him his chances for the highest office in the gift of the American people.

After such a career of uninterrupted and honorable successes, with every thing behind to flatter and encourage him, and all that is most dazzling and seductive in front to tempt his ambition; just as he seems to

have reached the foot of the bow of promise towards which he has been so rapidly travelling, and where the treasure which politicians most covet is supposed to be buried, he deliberately drops his mattock, turns his back upon it all, and prefers to any distinction which political life can afford, an honorable alliance with the great industrial interests of his country.

Such a phenomenon-no feebler term would properly characterize it-in the horizon of American politics is full of instruction to those who know how to turn it to proper account. It is the most exalted testimony we have ever been able to quote in confirmation of the doctrines we have frequently professed in these columns, that popular governments, that is, governments resting upon a broad suffrage basis and a free press, cannot permanently retain in their service the best men of the country. As the stream will not rise higher than its fountain, so a representative government, in the proper acceptation of that term, will only attract to its service the average talent and morality of the people represented. We have been feeling for years the silent operation of this law upon every department of our government, state and national. Every one who has made the effort knows how hard a thing it is to get our more worthy and capable citizens to accept political trusts of any description. To find America's great men we must seck the shades of professional life, or the great centres of material industry. We take little risk in saying that there are more of the higher qualities of manhood employed in directing the productive industry of this country than in all the executive departments of the federal government combined.

Of course we must not be understood to intimate that first-class men are never to be found in political life among us, for the very statesman who has awakened these reflections would be a living and conclusive testimony against us. It cannot be disguised that many of the cleverest men this country has produced have devoted the best energies of their lives to political employments. So we often see men in other professions who waste a large portion of their abilities from never discovering until it is too late that they were out of place. We only speak of the tendency of our institutions to attract the average virtue and intelligence into the public service, and when it does attract a higher grade of men, it is, as a general thing, their misfortune; it conduces neither to their happiness nor to their usefulness, and, in nine cases out of ten, discharges them from its service disappointed if not broken-hearted.

The reasons why the best order of men

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