We have considered the subject of our present sketch chiefly under one aspect only—as a man of action—and that mainly in connection with the iron trade, and in providing against those reverses to which not only that but other branches of industry were peculiarly liable, more particularly during the latter end of the last and the commencement of the present centuries. Mr. Reynolds, however, has claims no less distinguished under a classification beneath which is frequently found another division of human benefactors. He was not only a man of action—great in dealing with things tangible,—but he was a man of thought and of genius—as quick to devise and to plan as to execute. What is still more rare, he possessed those qualities in proportions so finely balanced, that their happy combination, during a long and active life, gave birth to schemes of noble enterprise, valuable to the district, and important to the nation. That which merited, from vulgar shortsightedness, the epithet of eccentricity, a state of deep and penetrating thought, was oftentimes the conceiving energy of a vigorous mind mastering in the mental laboratory of the brain, plans and schemes of which the noblest movements of the day are the just and legitimate offspring. The schemes he inaugurated were victories won, the improvements he effected were triumphs gained to the nation or for humanity. That quality of mind which too often runs waste or evaporates in wild impracticable ideality, with him found an object of utility on which to alight, and under the magic of a more than ordinary genius difficulties disappeared, formidable obstacles melted into air, and the useful and the true were fused into one. He never felt the fluttering of a noble thought but he held it by the skirts, and made it do duty in this work-day world of ours, if it had relation to the tangible realities of time. “Though I do not adopt,” he writes to a friend, “all the notions of Swedenbourg, I have believed that the spiritual world is nearer to us than many suppose, and that our communication with it would be more frequent than many of us experience, did we attain to that degree of purity of heart and abstraction from worldly thoughts and tempers which qualify for such communion or intercourse.” He was not a man whose soul ran dry in solitude, or that grew melancholy the moment the click of money-making machinery no longer sounded in his ears. He was one of the old iron-kings, ’tis true, but with a soul in harmony with the silvery music of the universe. Often with no companion but his pipe, he retired to some retreat, consecrated perhaps by many a happy thought, and watched the declining sun, bathing in liquid glory the Ercall woods, the majestic Wrekin, the Briedden hills, and the still more distant Cader Idris. A deep vein of genuine religious feeling often appeared upon the surface, and seemed to penetrate reflections of the kind. Speaking of a new arbour he had made, be says—