pain, and
daily mortification, and trial London must be!

But, on the other hand, from the time of Whittington and his cat, London
has abounded with instances showing how, by industry and intelligence,
and--let us trust--honesty, the poorest may rise to the possession of
great wealth and honour. Indeed all the great city houses abound with
examples. Poor lads have come up to town, friendless and moneyless, have
been sober and steady, and firm against London allurements and vices,
have improved the abilities and opportunities God has given them, and are
now men of note and mark. The late Lord Mayor was but an office-lad in
the firm of which he is now the head. Mr. Herbert Ingram, M.P. for
Boston, and proprietor of the _Illustrated News_, blackened the shoes of
one of his constituents. Mr. Anderson, of the Oriental Steam Navigation
Company, and formerly M.P. for the Orkneys, rose in a similar manner.
Sir Peter Laurie was originally in a humble position in life, so was Mr.
Dillon, of the house of Dillon and Co. Our great Lord Chancellor, when
employment was scarce and money ditto, held a post as reporter and
theatrical critic on the _Morning Chronicle_ newspaper. Mr. Chaplin, the
late Salisbury M.P., was an extraordinary instance of a man rising from
the humblest rank. Before railways were in operation Mr. Chaplin had
succeeded in making himself one of the largest coach proprietors in the
kingdom. His establishment, from small beginnings, grew till, just
before the opening of the London and North Western line, he was
proprietor of sixty-four stage-coaches, worked by fifteen hundred horses,
and giving yearly returns of more than half a million sterling. Mr.
Cobden began life in a very subordinate position in a London warehouse.
Sir William Cubitt when a lad worked at his father's flour-mill. Michael
Faraday, England's most eminent chemist, was the son of a poor
blacksmith. Sir Samuel Morton Peto worked for seven years as a
carpenter, bricklayer, and mason, under his uncle, Mr. Henry Peto. The
well-known Mr. Lindsay, M.P. for Sunderland, was a cabin boy. The editor
of one morning paper rose quite from the ranks, and the editor of another
well known journal used to be an errand-boy in the office before, by
gigantic industry and perseverance, he attained his present high
position. Mr. J. Fox, the eloquent M.P. for Oldham, and the "Publicola"
of the _Weekly Dispatch_, worked in a Norwich factory. The great
ware