The Sun.
London, England, 1860-09-18 00:00:00

TIM BLACK COUNTRY.

Once across the Edgbaston viaduct, which bestrides the
ancient Incknield-street, and we are hurried into the Black
Country.
The name is eminently descriptive, for blackness every-
where prevails; the ground is black, the atmosphere
is black, and the underground is honey-combed by
mining galleries stretching in utter blackness for
many a league. The scene is marvellous, and
to one who beholds it for the first time by night, terrific.
Then the roaring-furnaces are seen for miles around pour-
ing forth their fierce throbbing flames like volcanoes • then
the hundred chimneys of ironworks display their blazing
crests, or sheafs of fiery tongues; then the dull gleam of
heaps of roastingc, ironstone makes you fancy that the
old globe itself is here smouldering away; overhead dense
clouds of smoke reflect a lurid light, rolling fitfully before
the wind; while the hissing and rushing of steam, the
clang and clatter of machinery, the roaring blasts, and the
shock of ponderous hammer-strokes, all intensified by the
presence of night,' complete an effect which amazes alike
the eye and the ear. The effect is one that vividly excites
the imagination, and is not easily forgotten.
By day, as the train speeds across, you hear the same
noises, and see the fires divested of their nightly terrors, yet
find it difficult to believe that a scene of so much havoc and
seeming confusion represents prosperous industry, and one
of the most important departments of British trade. Per-.
haps for, the first time you become aware of the omnipo-
tence of coal and iron. Even the stations walls, and
bridges are built of bricks, and have the appear-
ance of iron. You catch glimpses of smoking
heaps, of muddy canals, complications of locks, bridges,
tramways; boats moving, trains rolling; of coal-pits
where the iron arm projects from the little engine-house
working busily up and down, while the. whimseys creak as
the long rope passes over; of abandoned workings where
office and engine-house are in ruin, and scraps of ragged
hedge-row look very miserable, and the tall posts stand up
skeleton-like, and fragments of machinery lie about de-
voured by rust; of heaps, nay hills, that resemble brick
rubbish, of gigantic oyster-shells which a lady's hoop
would hardly encircle, and big slaty-looking slabs—accumu-
lations of refuse which cover the ground. And amid all
this are the cottages' of artisans and miners : English
homes, whence sun and stars are seen darkly, situate in a
region devoid of repose and beauty, which looks as if smit-
ten by desolation, notwithstanding that here and there
grow patches of wheat and plots of potatoes. And so it
continues for thirteen miles, all the way from Birmingham
to Wolverhampton ; but whatever may be the gloom,
havoc, and confusion elsewhere, you only see the worst
when passing Bilston.
The potteries of the Swadlincote district also fur-
nish some interesting details, and perhaps the reader
may look with more respect on the common yellow
ware which is the principal staple of these works,
when he learns the various processes through which
it has to go. " A whole book," says our author,
" might be written in description of all the potter's
ingenious devices." A very good general idea of
the proceedings may, however, be gathered from
his pages. Indeed his descriptions of the various
manufactures are among the most interesting por-
tions of the book. Here is an account of his visit
to the plate-glass works at Smethwick and the
operation of