Charles Talleyrand, Prince of Benevento, and perhaps the greatest diplomat in history.  We have Ben Franklin learning to ink type in his youth and in his maturity teaching the world how to subdue our favorite slave, the lightning.  We have Daniel Webster ploughing on a farm and afterward delighting two worlds with the magic of his voice.  We see John Jacob Astor arrive in America scarcely able to speak English, and die in 1848 worth more than any other man in America at that time.  We see George Peabody at work in a grocery at Danvers.  Years afterward, as a London banker, we chronicle his charities, almost fabulous in their extent:  To Danvers, Mass., two hundred and fifty thousand dollars; to the Baltimore Institute, one million four hundred thousand dollars; to the poor of London, two million five hundred thousand dollars; to the southern negroes, three million five hundred thousand dollars; to eight institutions, three hundred and fifty thousand dollars; to his relatives, five million dollars; We see A.T.  Stewart hard pressed for a dollar, and we find him worth thirty millions when he dies.  We watch

THE WIFE OF ANDREW JOHNSON

teaching him the alphabet, and we listen to his proclamations as President of the United States.  We tell Abraham Lincoln where he can borrow a book that will benefit him, and we pass by his great dust in numbers almost like the stars in heaven.  We see Phineas T. Barnum first humbugging the people with a lemonade-stand worth all told two dollars, and we next see him humbugging the people with the greatest show on earth, worth a million.  We lend Leland Stanford a quarter and he next buys up three or four high-priced legislatures and defies the Constitution of the United States to prevent him levying a tax on “his people” of a million dollars with a stroke of his pen.  We see

ULYSSES S. GRANT

working by the day in a tanyard, and then receiving the sword of a warrior whose name will also echo far out into the “corridors of time,” and then again accepting as the representative of America, the pent-up admiration of the Old World for the New.  We see Jay Gould investing a thousand dollars in a country store and then in turn dictating to all the railroads and controlling all the telegraphs in the greatest empire that has ever existed.  We watch Cornelius Vanderbilt, Sr., begin as a poor lad, save, build, command, and die, leaving to his favorite son

EIGHTY MILLIONS OF DOLLARS!

We see that son, beginning on that paltry patrimony, already the possessor, in a few short years, of seventy millions in addition.  We help Elihu Burritt to say his letters at noon-time in a blacksmith shop, and afterward, lo! he converses in thirty languages.  We see Edgar Poe, dying as poor as man ever died, yet leaving to the world a name as a writer that Europeans persist is as yet the brightest in American literature.  See Horace Greeley, trudging across a State, anxious to get a job for his board and clothes; then listen to his voice in the councils of the President and in the hearts of the people.  Remember Salmon P. Chase, a poor Ohio boy, Governor, Secretary of the Treasury, author of the best currency system so far conceived, and Chief Justice of the Supreme Court.