Crops short, Russian war, blockade,
and so on. Capital will run up prices, till news of new harvest are
known; and then they will come down by the run. He deliberates,
reasons, and decides. Now, the last Liverpool paper gives the price
current. It advises all, and governs all. Any blockhead can be a
merchant now. Formerly, they poked sapey-headed goneys into
Parliament, to play dummey; or into the army and navy, the church, and
the colonial office. But they kept clever fellows for law, special
commissioners, the stage, the "Times," the "Chronicle," and such like
able papers, and commerce; and men of middlin' talents were resarved
for doctors, solicitors, Gretna Green, and so on.
But the misfortinate prince-merchants now will have to go to the
bottom of the list with tradesmen and retailers. They can't have an
opinion of their own, the telegraph will give it. The latest
quotations, as they call them, come to them, they know that iron is
firm, and timber giving way, that lead is dull and heavy, and coal
gone to blases, while the stocks are rising and vessels sinking, all
the rest they won't trouble their heads about. The man who trades with
Cuba, won't care about Sinope, and it's too much trouble to look for
it on the map. While the Black Sea man won't care about Toronto, or
whether it is in Nova Scotia or Vermont, in Canada or California.
There won't soon be a merchant that understands geography.
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