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

dazzling Flora,who had really nothing but her pretty
face, devoid of all intellectal and softening attrac-
tions to add to her gifts, the brightness without
which they would seen be lustreless to the eye of
refinement, and the influence which could alone

impress the beholder worth caring for. Mr. Mor-
daunt does not appear very prominen fly; his brightest
moments are certainly his last on the scene of
action, when he appears suddenly before the trea-
cherous girl, and surprising her in all the trumpery
of her fancy-dress, as she prepared to depart for a
hall which she had promised not to attend, as one
ill suited for one about to become the wife of a cler-
gyman. In the few brief but impressive words there
delivered, Henry Mordaunt redeems in some mea-
sure his previous folly and weakness, and vindicates
his strength of purpose and clearness of perception.
In the zeal for his outraged dignity, iu the noble
scorn for the weak and wicked pleasure-seeker
beside him, he rises to the height that is due, and
rebukes in the offended majesty of an outraged faith
the girl who had appropriated his affections to
trample them in the dust. She had hard work in:
all her pride to rush to the scene of vanity in be-
coming spirits, and conscience whispered that her
good angel was bidding her farewell. This is a
very effective story, and well exemplifies the object
proposed. We meet with variety of subjects for
contemplation; from the tranquil scenes of the
Rectory to the bustle and excitement of the gay city
of Bath. A solemn warning is brought before us
of the vanity of all mortal triumphs, when the poor
old lady of fashion, Lady Cramptcn, is struck by
paralysis in the midst of a brilliant ball in the
Assembly-rooms, and is borne senseless in ler
rouge, point lace, and diamonds through the giddy
throng of dancers, who thus had forced upom them,
as by the apparition at the Egyptian feasts of old,
the ghastly reflection "To this complexion must
we come at last." " Carsdale• Rectory" is a novel
that contains much to amuse the reader, and also
much to arouse the attention and awaken thought.
Many may ask themselves, how many prototypes to
Flora Lonsdale are being trained up in what are
vaunted as the bright and blessed homes of Eng-
land, to go forth to shine one fitful moment,
and then retire in the shade to mourn the
waste of life and dread the coming of death P
How few Eleanor Stuarts may be found in the
walks of life, who will enter on every gay scene
to please others and amuse herself, but who is ever
ready to hurry away to the couch of the sick and
the chamber of the dying. Only those like her
can bear to think that one day such a scene
will be enacted by them, and that if they are long
spared they must stand aside and let fairer and
younger creatures claim their honours. In the
-dignity of their lives and the elevation of their
feelings they can look back without regret to the
lost brightness of youth; or, if they must mourn
over the past, still their sorrow is not embittered
by angry recollections of envy and hatred. This
work is in its way a successful attempt to stigma-
tise the folly and wickedness of those who foster
the young in such paths, instead of holding them
back and directing their energies to safer courses.
It is said that Mrs. George Lonsdale, when she
listened in delight to the parting words of Mor-
daunt and Flora, should have heard ringing in
her ears the fatal denunciation that shall remain
valid and lasting till time shall be no more—
" Cursed is he who maketh the blind to go out of
his way." It will be found, therefore, that there
is ample scope for entertainment in these volumes,
and abundant matter for interest in the discussion
of their eventful pages. Some passages express
deep feeling, and present striking instances of the
melancholy results of over-ambition, and the sad
end that waits on the efforts of those who build
their edifices on the shifting sands of worldly
plans and projects. It is not likely that it wilt
result in failure, with such excellent principles to
give it stability, and such attractive materials to
work out its designs.

All Round the Wrekin. By Walter White, author
of "A Londoner's Walk to the Land's End," &e.
Chapman and Hall.

Mr. White's pleasant annual volumes of travel
are now one of the recognised features of the autumn
book season,. Year by year he takea his month's
pedestrian trip, penetrating odd localities, where
guide books scorn to linger, and exploring
quiet nooks and shady byeways, where
railways are unknown. Most of his excursions
have been among our English shires, and it is not
too much to say that he has done more than any
other writer of the day to familiarise Englishmen
with the local features of their own country. He
has told us of the rough miners of Cornwall, and
the half civilised denizens of the Scilly Islands ; of
the sturdy Yorkshiremen, with their shrewd heads
and broad tongues; of the collieries of Newcastle,
and the quaint and lonely lives of the shepherds on
the border; taking us, too, on some occasions across
the channel, and introducing us to the homely and
simple ways of the peasants of the Vatei-land. He
takes the title of his present work from a Shrop-
shire proverb, but he does not confine himeelf
to the immediate vicinity of the stately
old hill, for many of his chapters are
devoted to Birmingham, and the trades of that
busy city fill a great part of his book. We have
accounts of wire-drawing and hook and eye making,
descriptions of brass and iron foundries, visits to
steel-pen and plate-glass works, and many other
manufactures. The writer has evidently watched
the processes carefully, and has described them very
fully for the benefit of the uninitiated. He gives
us, too, a vivid picture of the Black Country, which
we transcribe :

THE BLACK COUNTRY.
Once across the Edgbaston viaduct, which bestrides the
ancient Inckuield-strcet, 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 fcr
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 roasting 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 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 desolution, 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 Sinethwick and the
operation of