of the mast. Now just listen to a description of the
operation, and reflections thereupon, and tell us whether you ever read
any thing more "perfectly _French_."

"The first who attempt the ascent look for no honor; their office is to
prepare the way, and put things in train for their successors: they rub
off the grease from the bottom, the least practicable part of the pole. In
every thing the first steps are the most difficult, although seldom the
most glorious; and scarcely ever does the same person commence an
enterprise, and reap the fruit of its accomplishment. They ascend higher
by degrees, and the expert climbers now come forth, the heroes of the
list: they who have been accustomed to gain prizes, whose prowess is
known, and whose fame is established since many seasons. They do not
expend their strength in the beginning; they climb up gently, and
patiently, and modestly, and repose from time to time; and they carry, as
is permitted, a little sack at their girdle, filled with ashes to
neutralize the grease and render it less slippery.

"All efforts, however, for a long time prove ineffectual. There seems to
be an ultimate point, which no one can scan, the measure and term of human
strength; and to overreach it is at last deemed impossible. Now and then a
pretender essays his awkward limbs, and reaching scarce half way even to
this point, falls back clumsily amidst the hisses and laughter of the
spectators; so in the world empirical pretension comes out into notoriety
for a moment only to return with ridicule and scorn to its original
obscurity.

"But the charm is at length broken: a victorious climber has transcended
the point at which his predecessors were arrested. Every one now does the
same: such are men: they want but a precedent: as soon as it is proved
that a thing is possible, it is no longer difficult. Our climber continues
his success: farther and farther still; he is a few feet only from the
summit, but he is wearied, he relents. Alas! is the prize, almost in his
grasp, to escape from him! He makes another effort, but it is of no avail.
He does not, however, lose ground: he reposes. In the mean time,
exclamations are heard, of doubt, of success, of encouragement.

"After a lapse of two or three minutes, which is itself a fatigue, he
essays again. It is in vain! He begins even to shrink: he has slipped
downward a few inches, and recovers his loss by an obstinate struggle
('_applause_!'--'_sensation_!