sleep in them. As the fact is, their presence only served to strengthen
the presumption that not merely their offices but that of Royalty itself
is an anachronism, and all should have deceased with the era to which
they properly belonged. It was well indeed that Paxton should have a
proud place in the procession; but he held it in no representative
capacity; he was there not in behalf of Architecture but of the Crystal
Palace. To have rendered the pageant expressive, congruous, and really a
tribute to Industry, the posts of honor next the Queen's person should
have been confided on this occasion to the children of Watt, of
Arkwright and their compeers (Napoleon's _real_ conquerors;) while
instead of Grandees and Foreign Embassadors, the heirs of Fitch, of
Fulton, of Jacquard, of Whitney, of Daguerre, &c., with the discoverers,
inventors, architects and engineers to whom the world is primarily
indebted for Canals, Railroads, Steamships, Electric Telegraphs, &c.,
&c., should have been specially invited to swell the Royal cortege. To
pass over all these, and summon instead the descendants of some dozen
lucky Norman robbers, none of whom ever contemplated the personal doing
of any real work as even a remote possibility, and any of whom would
feel insulted by a report that his father or grandfather invented the
Steam Engine or Spinning Jenny, is not the fittest way to honor
Industry. The Queen's Horticulturists, Gardeners, Carpenters,
Upholsterers, Milliners, &c., would have been far more in place in the
procession than her "gold stick," "silver stick," and kindred
absurdities.

And yet, empty and blundering as the conception of this pageant may seem
and is, there is nevertheless marrow and hope in it. "The world _does_
move," O Galileo! carrying onward even those who forced you to deny the
truth you had demonstrated! We may well say that these gentlemen in
ribbons and stars cannot truly honor Labor while they would deem its
performance by their own sons a degradation; but the grandfathers of
these Dukes and Barons would have deemed themselves as much dishonored
by uniting in this Royal ovation to gingham weavers and boiler-makers as
these men would by being compelled to weave the cloth and forge the iron
themselves. Patience, impetuous souls! the better day dawns, though the
morning air is chilly. We shall be able to elect something else than
Generals to the Presidency before this century is out, and the Right of
every man