THE DUDLEY COAL-FIELD. 403 



mingles with one's other complaints, one is exceedingly 

 dependent on what sort of a sky chances to be over- 

 head ; it is well to be out-of-doors getting strong and 

 all that, but when Nature's face is as gloomy as one's 

 own, as if she too had nerves, the mere sense of duty 

 lacks strength to drag one out. It cost me no effort, 

 however, to get out yesterday morning. I took coach 

 for the Leasowes, where I spent some hours in re-ex- 

 ploring, and then, passing through Hales Owen, walked 

 on to the Clent Hills, through a picturesque country, 

 rich in historic associations. Then descending on 

 Hagley, I walked on to Stourbridge, a considerable 

 town, and as the evening was darkening, took coach 

 for Dudley, a ride of a peculiar sort of interest. The 

 coal-field to which this part of the country owes its 

 prosperity, and which has made it the workshop of the 

 Empire in whatever is wrought in iron, is of no great- 

 extent, but of astgnishing richness. One of its seams, 

 known as the Ten-yard coal, is actually thirty feet in 

 thickness, thrice that of the next best seam in Britain, 

 and the tract of country over it is studded as seen last 

 night, I should rather say, spangled with furnaces. The 

 view on both sides, as seen from the coach-top, had, if I 

 may venture on such a combination, an infernal beauty ; 

 it seemed, at least, a bit of the scenery described by 

 Milton. The darkness was sprinkled thick with roar- 

 ing, flickering, comet-like fires, and the heavens above 

 glowed in the reflected light a blood red. 



' To-day I have spent very agreeably in exploring the 

 caves and the ruins of the Castle Hill of Dudley, and in 

 geologizing at \heJVrens-nest, a very singular hill rich in 

 the Silurian fossils and honey-combed to a vast depth 

 by lime workings. I spent some time, too, in examining 

 the Dudley museum, a well-arranged collection, con- 



