works of Messrs. Somebody are not far off; and, leaving the pigs to cool at their leisure, while the men are busy charging the furnace for a new litter to-morrow, we follow our willing guide through a few short lanes and turnings, between mountains of dusty fuel and vitrified rubbish, and soon find ourselves in front of some half-dozen pyramidal brick towers, vomiting flames from their summits, amidst a banging, booming, rumbling, roaring, ear-splitting din which no pen can describe. The overpowering glare from such an assemblage of Titanic torches reared aloft, spreads far around a vivid light, which reveals every blade of blighted grass upon the ground, and every the minutest object nestling in the clefts of the uneven soil. Huge solid cylinders of iron, their circumferences grooved and channelled in various eccentric shapes -monster cogged wheels of the same metal-nondescript lumps and masses, fractured and rusty, mingled with beams of timber, mounds of cement, and piles of bricks and stones, are scattered liberally around the outskirts of the noisy domain. Dark forms are flitting rapidly backwards and forwards, now sharply defined before the gleaming mouth of a fiery furnace, now lost in the gloom of the murky shadows.

As we draw nearer, we are in the presence of a band of swart fellows of herculean proportions, working with bare arms, in shirt and trowsers, with an activity that knows no pause, and an earnestness not to be mistaken. One, cautiously lifting, by means of a depending lever, the portcallis which guards the mouth of his furnace, is curiously peering into the glowing dazzling disc of fire upon which we dare not rest our eyes for a moment. Another is occupied in piling up small broken fragments of iron into little heaps something less than a foot square; these are lifted gingerly, and, by means of a long iron rod, are carefully deposited in the very heart of the raging flame. A third, armed with a long hoe-shaped instrument, is furiously raking and plunging in the glowing throat of the furnace, now leaping forward to plant a thrust in the extremest depth, Dow retreating as rapidly from the withering heat, to catch a hasty breath. A fourth is toiling painfally, turning, twisting, and in a manner kneading the shining white metal in the furnace into a rude kind of balls, which others, as fast as they are formed, seize with their long prongs, and drag along the iron-paved floor to where the enormous steam hammer, banging away upon its broad anvil, rains down a torrent of heavy blows which never intermits for an instant. Here each separate hump, twice as big as a man's head, is subjected to the rapid concussion of the ponderous hammer, beneath which it appears almost as soft as butter, and as pliant as the white curd under the hand of the dairy-maid. Ever as the fearful blows descend with a mighty racket and roar, and with a momentum that shakes the solid earth, the workmen, with their long iron prongs fast infixed in the soft mass, twist it and turn and move it hither and thither, subjecting now this side and now that to the fast falling blows, until each has moulded his mass, by dint of the most enormous expenditure of rapid labour, into the required form. These forms are various: some are long parallelograms, others are shorter and nearly solid squares, others again are

considerably flattened and shaped something like a lady's fan; these last are for rolling into boiler plates.

Watching an opportunity to pass unsinged through this very fiery fraternity, we leave the neighbourhood of the formidable forge, beyond which, at the distance of a few paces, a long row of rollers are in full activity, and supplying no small quota to the general uproar. At first view, this startling spectacle looks like a scene of magic and enchantment, where figures are brandishing fiery serpents, which are seen writhing as if in torment. The business is, however, managed in a manner orderly enough. The white-hot masses, or "blooms," being hammered into a convenient shape at the heavy forge, have now to be rolled into bars or sheets. The hard iron rollers, through which they have to be drawn, and which appear to average about fourteen inches in circumference, and to vary in length from about three to five feet, are revolving with great velocity, but each alternate pair in different directions. The rollers which are for the production of sheet metal have plain polished surfaces, while those applied to the production of bars or rods are grooved to the required pattern. The mass of iron to be rolled is seized by a long pair of grips or pincers, in the hands of the workman, and pushed forward up an inclined plane, till one end of it is applied to the groove in the rollers through which it has to be drawn. It frequently happens that this end is too large for the orifice presented to it; but a boy stands by with an apronful of sand; if the red-hot metal grates upon the cylinder without being drawn in, he dashes a few grains upon it, and in a moment it bites and is drawn through. It is instantly seized by a workman on the other side, and returned through a smaller orifice in the next pair of rollers. It is now four times the length it was originally, and bent in the form of a serpent; with singular rapidity and dexterity, it is immediately despatched again through the third pair of rollers, returns as quickly through the fourth, and is finally disposed of by a passage through the fifth, after which it is allowed to cool, during which operation it is flattened into the form of a bar of iron some twenty feet in length, perhaps three inches in width, and not one inch in thickness. But, of course, it may happen to be of a very different shape and length, as both are dependent upon the form and capacity of the grooves in the cylinders between which it is drawn. The apparent ease with which the workmen toss about these unwieldy lumps and lengths of red-hot metal is not the least remarkable feature of this, to a stranger, astonishing process. The rolling of iron into sheets or boiler-plates is managed in a manner very similar, the thickness of the plates being regulated by the distance between the surfaces of the revolving cylinders.

The above brief sketch of the three ceremonies of smelting, puddling, and rolling, may serve to give the inexperienced reader some idea of the manufacture of what is widely known in the commercial world as British bar iron. He is not however to suppose that an article thus produced would be any great credit to the manufacturer. Bars but once rolled as above described, though they are exported to some extent, are considered in the

light of most cheap articles, and would require to undergo at least a repetition of the process before they are fit for the home market. For this purpose the No. 1, or puddled bars, as they are called, are cut up into lengths, and exposed in the furnace to a welding heat; they there lose a portion of the impurities yet remaining in the iron, and which runs from them in a fluid state. When heated to the welding temperature, they are taken to the rollers, passed through as before, with perhaps an additional pressure from a finishing roller, which gives them their most perfect form and dimensions. For the manufacture of best iron, however, the bars are again cut into lengths, again welded in the furnace, and again rolled-after which it is supposed to be susceptible of no further improvement by these processessupposing always that it has been made from the best materials and without any mixture of cinder in the smelting or puddling furnaces; which is perhaps a rare occurrence, seeing how easy it is for the puddler to augment the yield by the introduction of cinder from the forge into the furnace.

It may be readily conceived, that by means of the steam forge and the rolling-mills, workers in iron are enabled to accomplish many things which were impracticable before the introduction of these modern inventions. Sixty years ago it was never attempted to forge anything exceeding one hundred weight under the hammer; at the present time anchor shanks and steam-engine shafts weighing from two or three to six or seven tons are fashioned at the forge. It is by means of the rolling mills that iron and all other metals are prepared at a comparatively small expense, in forms the most convenient for the manufacturers of different articles. Bars, flat, curved, or angular, cylindrical rods, railway bars, plates, and sheets of any width or thickness-all are readily producible by rolling -the pattern depending upon the grooves cut in the rollers. The rollers themselves are of various sizes, from five or six feet in length, and eighteen inches in diameter, to a length of little more than a foot and a diameter of less than four inches. They require to be cast of the best materials, and carefully finished off in the lathe; the smaller and finishing rollers especially have to be fitted up with the greatest accuracy; and a steam-engine of from 80 to 100 horse-power is necessary to drive them in a factory where the average production of finished iron is about 200 tons a week.

On leaving the dazzling glare and roasting atmosphere that surround the mills and furnaces for the cold and gloomy aspect of a November night, it is some time before we recover our powers of vision. Our way leads again over narrow muddy pathways and tramways, bounded on all sides by mountainous masses of slag and refuse from the smelting houses. We cannot help speculating as we wander after our guide upon the possibility that the ingenuity of man may one day discover the means of turning these tremendous accumulations of rubbish to some profitable purpose. We may be laughed at for the notion, but that does not render it really absurd; many an idea, which served as a laughing-stock at first, has proved a general benefaction in the end.

Many centuries ago the Romans, and after them

the Danes, made iron in this country; they left behind them immense accumulations of scoria, which, owing to the insufficiency of their means of manufacture, yet contained from 30 to 40 per cent. of iron. In after years, when the modes of manufacture had improved, and more powerful furnaces were constructed, it was found profitable to resmelt this rubbish of a former age, and a new species of property was thus created. A mine of Danish and Roman cinders was as good or better than one of unworked ore; companies were formed, and vast deposits of scoria, which had lain concealed for ages beneath decayed forests were dug out and thrown again into the fire. It has been calculated that in the Dean Forest alone twenty furnaces were in operation for a period of more than three hundred years, making iron from the cinders left by the Romans and the Danes, instead of from iron ore. We are far from supposing that the mountains of slag which cover the surface of the Iron Country in every direction could be profitably made to produce more iron; but it appears not altogether impossible that, in combination with some other substance, it may at some future day be found applicable to useful purposes.

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While we were pondering such probabilities, or improbabilities, as the reader may choose to consider them, the old nailor suddenly stopped, and pointing in the direction of a small heap of broken bricks and mingled lath and plaster, demanded in a rather significant tone of voice, if we knew what that was. Not being able to answer his question, save by a negative, he proceeded to explain that that little heap of rubbish was all that remained of a handsome house, surrounded by a neat garden, which had been the pride of the owner, who built the one and laid out the other but a few years ago. By way of distinction he had called his mansion The Villa," by which title for three or four short years it was known in the neighbourhood. One sunny afternoon, however, while the proprietor was quietly and comfortably seated in his arbour, with his eyes complacently fixed on his dulce domum, the walls of the edifice suddenly dissolved partnership; the drawing-room floor made a descent into the parlour, while the chimneys came toppling over upon the grass-plot. The worthy owner had hardly time to protest against these proceedings, when he found his pipe extinguished, and himself sitting up to his neck in water, and it was with no small difficulty that he scrambled into the road which bordered his domain. The house was a complete ruin before night; the garden sunk six feet beneath the surface of a stagnant pool, and the family, happily uninjured, was driven to seek another shelter. The best part of the building materials had been carted off to erect a new residence, but enough yet remained to serve as a memorial of the place, and a warning to future speculators. The nailor's explanation of the disastrous pheno menon was simple enough: "the land had crowned in," he said; "it warn't wise to put up a great house like that over an old mine.' He gave us further to understand that "land for building may be had here very cheap; you may buy the surface, if you only want that, or you may buy the old mine too; but it don't do to put much load upon the land without shoring up below."

But we are at the railway station-the bell is

THE TWO GRAVES.

HERE is an open grave waiting for its tenant. A grave in sunny France; but there is no sunshine around it-no words of hope graven upon its granite-no comfort in the mocking wreath of yellow amaranth. It is the grave of a moman. See how the senseless dust is hurried from yonder regal pile, amidst storm and rain. Hark to a jesting File:Madame la Marquise has rainy weather for this her last journey." Alas the change! But a few years since, that voice was the voice of a lover; but a little while since, that clay was a living, breathing, sparkling beauty; but a day since, and her word was still law: she commanded and was obeyed. That stately pile is Versailles, so joyless now in its grandeur, so artificial in its nature, that one almost marvels how the little birds can sing, how the flowers can give out fragrance, how the waters can reflect the sun-light. Once, however, it was thronged with gay crowds and beautiful pageants; once the shrouded corpse of that narrow home was foremost amidst them all, with her rare and varied beauty,-her graceful step in the dance-her jest in the merry laughter her voice in the sweet song. Once, too, she had been a wife, the beloved wife of her husband, but she wrenched the tie asunder, and became the guilty favourite of a king. Then, though ber diadem was of gold, it had not even the dim jewel Shame in it: she knew no shame, for she lacked no reverence; the "chere amie" of an Empress,t-the idol of a Monarch the arbitress of destinies, and dynasties-all around bowed to her will, and lauded her words, as if she had been a crowned wife.

Not one of the listless butterflies of fashion, this woman was diligent. In what? "From the time she became the king's mistress, to the epoch of her death, to please and amuse her royal lover was the sole study of her life." To consolidate her power, and render her talents, as well as her charms necessary to Louis xv, she kindled the sparks of the Seven Years' War, which scathed and shamed the land, and she linked the houses of France and Austria in the union afterwards so fated and so fatal.§ Son, however, there came a change over the dream, and turned to dread reality. The loveliness faded, and the arch's so-called-love faded with it. In her despondency e said, that "for a beautiful woman to lose her beauty was worse than death." Then, too, the strength failed.No longer able to contend with the cares and disappointments, and toilsome pleasures of her almost regal life, it is little wonder that she named it "a continual death." Then also might be heard the precursors of the storm, the mutterings of the distant thunder; for the miseries of France had already found a voice, not loud, but deep," and Louis, are fondly named by his people, "le bien-aimé," and she, his guilty counsellor, were hated and abjured; but no matter,-"after us the deluge." Alas! she forgot the more immediate deluge which awaits the impenitent soul, even the hail and the overflowing waters, which sweeps ay every refuge of lies. (Isa. xxviii. 17.) Bereaveat was not awanting in the cup of retribution-and sonl devouring ennui," perhaps a worse affliction to a Frenchwoman than all else beside.-At last Death came, from the name and thought of which she had ever shrunk with horror and disgust. He came, and would not depart, and so she died; and none wept over the grave of

MADAME DE POMPADOUR.

Here is another grave-not in France, but in England—

diligent in her calling. She was a dress-maker at Yarmouth not one praised by the titled and the beautiful; not one whose work enfolded graceful forms; nor one of the interesting and oppressed dress-makers commemorated in songs and novels. No; she was only an industrious welldoing seamstress in a provincial town. But she had a higher calling, in which she diligently laboured; she ministered unto the hungry and the thirsty, the naked, the sick, and the prisoner. She did more than feed the body, and visit fettered limbs. She led many hungry, destitute, captive souls to the cross of Christ, and God gave her saved sinners, both young and old, as her hope and crown of rejoicing. It was a life of self-crucifixion;-taking up the cross daily, and following Jesus-pleasing him, and not pleasing men; for she had no renown, and little praise, yet she could say, "My own path was bright from first to last, in the knowledge of God, and the smile of His favour." Every Sabbath-day she went to the prison, and four or five days in the week beside-reading, and praying, and exhorting, and teaching. For three and twenty years she endured an amount of fatigue, which her delicate frame was little fitted to bear: keeping accounts, cutting out clothes for the unclothed, writing, preparing the prisoners' copy books, keeping a watchful eye upon the liberated as well as those still in prison, and labouring with her needle in the materials for her own support, and the means of administering to others. At last the frail tabernacle began to dissolve, and pain came in violent agonies; in a few moments of ease she thus writes: "I am so slow a scholar in the school of love and mercy, that my dear Redeemer cannot allow me to go home yet, but He will soon 'perfect that which concerneth me.'

"In pain to-day, these words came from heaven to my soul: 'Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world.' 'Yes, my Father,' I replied, 'I do behold the Lamb.' "Oh the beauty of His spotless righteousness! A spotless robe, and the blood, the precious blood, the peacemaking blood!"

The beautiful description of the Christian-"not one who looks up from earth to heaven, but one who looks down from heaven on earth"-became increasingly descriptive of her state. She shrank more and more from the society of those who did not love Jesus; and wherever she went her proposal was,-"Let us read God's word together." The furnace of bodily pain was heated sevenfold, yet was she calm and joyful; and when told that death was just approaching she said, "Thank God! Thank God!" The prayer contained in her own touching verses was tenderly fulfilled

"I am a stranger in this world;

When shall I rise to dwell with thee? When shall the friendly hand of death Set my imprison'd spirit free?

"The threatening skies are dark; the storm Seems gathering o'er my drooping head; Lat hope divine, let joy be pour'd

On one to this world's pleasures dead.

"Show me at once, by that pure light
Which meets the soul from heav'n to earth,
That by thy word these lowering clouds
Shall to a brighter scene give birth.

" Now worn with conflict in the war, Though victory still shall crown my days, More of thy presence give, and fill

My heart with love, my lips with praise."

How sweet and tender will be the voice which she is yet to hear, "Come, thou blessed of my Father!" and how blissful, doubtless, has already been the meeting between the kindred spirits of John Howard, Elizabeth Fry, and SARAH MARTIN!

THE House of Lords is constituted on the great principle of the perpetuation of hereditary distinction and power. "It forms," said Charles 1, "an excellent screen between the prince and the people, to protect each against the encroachments of the other." The crown, being the source of honour, can alone confer rank or precedence. It has unlimited authority in the creation of peers, and, indeed, of creating temporal peers for life; but it has only been exercised so far as by calling up the eldest sons of peers, an operation which merely adds to the numbers of the upper house during the lives of the individuals. The only restriction upon the power of creation refers to the Irish peerage of which there are twenty-eight members

No. 55.

S PRICK Id. STAMPED 2d.