The daily dispatch. [volume] (Richmond [Va.]) 1850-1884, 1883-11-04
BLACK COUNTRY WRONGS.
sAvAoEs AND SUFFERING THAT AP-
PEAL TO CHRISTIANS.

!.
PEAL TO CHRlsTIANs.
More I'm need Of Help than FOREIGN
Hsathen-Grim and PtcturssQue
eights-Riots Past and Future.
A Birmingham (England) correspondent
writes Birmingham or Madagascar
which shall put first, or rather, which
lastf Inever think OF my travels In the
"iron region" OF South Stafordshire
without recalling P,ncRs famous cartoon
al the two wretched little English street.
bows saying 10 the passing missionary :
{" Please, sir. amt we dirty and heathenish
enough 10 be taken care OF, tooV III
few OF those honest British zealots who
are so eager TO "convert the heather " by
adding the vices Of civilization to those
OF barbsrism would only take the trouble
TO walk across the I" Black Country AS
did some time ago-from the border OF
Warwickshire to that OF Cheshire, and 10
keep their eyes open on the way, tney
would see quite enough to convince them
that its gloomy title Is amply deserved and
that there Is a plenty OF the heathen IN
"Cbrlstian England who stand 10 need
OF help and teaching fully as much as the
idolaters Of the Ganges or the fanatics OF
the Nile.
The long war Of labor and capital has
been fought out upon many diverse 'lelds,
but never has II chosen a spot more grimly
appropriate than the scene OF the recent Ia
Dor riots around Birmingham and Wolver-
hampton. The line OF the Great Western
railway from the Mersey to the Thames,
though beginning and ending with true
| English scenery in its most charming form,
passes midway, like Bunyan's pilgrim,
through the Valley OF the Shadow oil Death.
At first starting you are among green Che
shire meadows dotted with grazing cattle
and tall hedperows and clustering trees,
and passing glimpse OF ancient Chester
looking down with its grim old ramparts
and dark-red cathedral tower upon the
broad. smooth curves Of the Dee. Then
come the grassy slopes and dark woodlands
OF the Welsh border, and the houses OF
oueenly Shrewsbury, the city OF the
"proud Salopians," massing themselves
along the heights that overhang its wind
ing river. on whose banks, nearly five GEN.
turtles ago, Prince Henry charged, and
Falstaff tested, and Douglas battled, and
Hotspur died.
| But as soon rs you begin TO near the fatal
| border all the freshness, and brightness,
and beauty dies out OF the landscape at once,
Just as the reeds and grass whirled down
| into the Dead sea by the Jordan shrivel up
and perish the moment they touch the dead
! lv smoothness OF the lake. Even the glo-
rious July sunshine cannot pierce the
| league broad veil OF smoke which Is the
standard hoisted by the Iron King over bis
own chosen capital. The whole fifteen
miles between Wolyerhampton and Biz.
mingham make one huge, soOty. filthy,
hideous town. Biston, Dudley. Upton,
sInethwick. West Bromwich, Wednesday,,
form continuous chain OF outposts, so
10 speak, between The two great central
camps, and from first to last you never
once escape from the endless labyrinth OF
blackened bricks and mortar. Sorely
changed indeed is south Sta6Ordshire-and
this particular district OF ii most OF all
since the far-off DAYS when this mighty
town, with its roaring fires and changing
engines, was only the quiet little village OF
Bromwickam, whose name still lives In
that Of the suburb of West Bromwich, and
in the popular corruption Of Birmingham
into Brlmmagem.
Ht OAu lOht VI bi-id'VANt VIZ
was "mighty good-looking in the dark F"
is but too sadly true OF this dismal region.
The only time TO see il to advantage is at
night, when all ITS filth and disorder are
hidden, and when the transformed piano.
rama assumes ghastly picturesqueness
worthy OF Dante himself. The midnight
sky il all ablaze with countless furnaces,
against the red glare Of which the tall
factory chimneys stand out black and grim,
while the stagnant pools around are
changed TO lakes OF blood, and the weird,
misshapen figures that pass and repass look
quite unearthly beneath that internal splen-
DOR But by day the dreary landscape lies
unredeemed in all its savage deiormity.
Huge, unsightly buildings, grimed with
SCOT and dirt, great black chimneys, out
lined in all their gaunt ugliness against a
smoky, sunless sky. masses OF broken tim
Der rotting in pools OF 9Th, black dust and
cinders covering the earth and tllmg
the very air, green, shiny bitches fostering
under the shattered windows OF tumble
down novels. hideons ceits and rents scar
ring the earth in all directions, cranes and
pit-scaifolds starting up amid mountains OF
rubbish like the haif-buried skeletons OF
primeval monsters, and everywhere, as far
as the eye can reach. smoke above and
ashes below, Till the whole scene looks (ss
its ragged children will tell you, with
grim, unconscious poetry,) :" like hell with
the fire burnt out"
This Wild region is peopled with inhabi-
tAnts as wild as itself. The colliers Of Dur
ham and Wigan are not more emphatically
distinct race than the nailers, puddlers,
chair-makers, &C., OF Birmingham and
WOlverhsmpton. They have their own
customs, their own rules, their own super
stitions. their own physical conformation
and cast Of features, and even their own
language, for their rough, strong vernacular
is barely Ineligible to a "Lunnon
chap" the name by which they stigma
TIE every outsider, whether he be FROM
London or not. When a clever, ambitious
young man called Benjamin Disraeli de-
scribed the ordinary life OF these people In
bis novel of "Sybil," years ago, many OF
his readers persistently regarded that ap-
palling description as a mere flight OF fancy,
amusing enough In its way, but as little
akin to sober fact as the travels Of Gull
liver, or the battles Of Gargantua. In
reality, you can hardly walk a hun
bred yards among the Statfordshire fur
uaces without meeting the shock-headed,
grimy lad who chad no name as he
knowed Of" but was nicknamed Devils
dust " by his comrades, and the deiormed
girl who had "been TO Sunday school I"
aud knew all about "our Lord and Sa-
yiour, Pontius Plate" At all events, it
was do imaginative novelist, but an OBJ
servant and busiress-like witness, who, in
the fall OF 1879. saw women working at the
Jorge sixteen hours a day for wages aver.
aging about five iarthings "a cents) per
hour.
"Such cases are exceptional. and not to
be argued upon" cry the philanthropists
Of that comfortable class whose beneyo-
lence consists In making out that uniortu-