I Saw A Long Ductile
Piece Of Red-Hot Iron Being Operated Upon.
I saw millions of
sparks flying about.
I saw an immense wheel impelled round with
frightful velocity by a steam-engine of two hundred and forty horse
power. I heard all kinds of dreadful sounds. The general effect
was stunning. These works belong to the Crawshays, a family
distinguished by a strange kind of eccentricity, but also by genius
and enterprising spirit, and by such a strict feeling of honour
that it is a common saying that the word of any one of them is as
good as the bond of other people.
After seeing the Cyfartha I roamed about, making general
observations. The mountain of dross which had startled me on the
preceding night with its terrific glare, and which stands to the
north-west of the town, looked now nothing more than an immense
dark heap of cinders. It is only when the shades of night have
settled down that the fire within manifests itself, making the hill
appear an immense glowing mass. All the hills around the town,
some of which are very high, have a scorched and blackened look.
An old Anglesea bard, rather given to bombast, wishing to extol the
abundant cheer of his native isle said: "The hills of Ireland are
blackened by the smoke from the kitchens of Mona." With much more
propriety might a bard of the banks of the Taf, who should wish to
apologise for the rather smutty appearance of his native vale
exclaim:
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