influence which may be regarded as one of
the greatest commercial triumphs of this our
England.

The coal-fields of the United States of
America are upwards of fourteen times larger
extent than ours; yet, in 1845, while the
American coal-mines produced 4,400,000 of
tons, the coal mines of England produced
upwards of 32,000,000 of tons. In the same
year, our production of iron was more than
four times the American amount. Moreover.
—and here may the gravest historian exalt
his pen, and yet be accounted no flourisher.—
we have for some years past been able to
supply coals to all the great powers of the
globe. In 1842, England exported 60,000 tons
of coals to the United States of America:
88,000 tons to Russia; 111,000 tons to Prussia;
515,900 tons to France;—not to speak of the
hundreds of thousands of tons exported in the
same year to Germany collectively, to Holland,
to Denmark, Sweden, the East Indies and
China, &c., &c.

The use of coals has now extended, not
only over the civilised world, but in its potent
form of steam has reached most of the
remoter regions. From Suez to Singapore are
steam vessels already in course of passage, and
the line will soon be carried to Australia.
When the American locomotives have made
their way to the shores of the Pacific, their
vessels will be ready to carry onward the
traffic to China and the Indian Islands from
the east; "and thus," as writes a learned
critic, discoursing of the virtues of steam-coal,
"complete the circuit of the globe."
Whereby, "a steam voyage round the world
will in a few years, be so practicable, that the
merchant and tourist may make the circuit
within a year, and yet have time enough to
see and learn much at many of the principal
'stations' on his way."

All rightful honour, then, to these priceless
Diamonds—whether they be black spirits or
furnace-white, flame-red spirits, or ashy-grey
—whether cannel coal and caking coal—
cherry coal and stone coal—whether any of
the forty kinds of Newcastle coal, or any of
the seventy species of the great family, from
the highest class of the bituminous, down to
the one degree above old coke.

CHAPTER III.—THE COAL EXCHANGE.

NEAR to the Custom House rises one of the
most ornate edifices in the metropolis, —the
Coal Exchange of London,—in which is carried
on one of our most stupendous trades.

It is Wednesday—a market day—we ascend
the steps of a beautiful sort of round tower,
and pass through the folding swing-doors of
the principal entrance. The space here, or
little vestibule, forms the base of the centre
of a well-staircase of iron. You look up,
through the coiling balustrades as they climb
up to the top, and at the very top you see a
painting in the Rubens style of colouring,
(though a long way after Rubens in other
respects,) of the figure of a prodigal lady, who
is upsetting a cornucopia, full—not of coals
—but of all the most richly coloured fruits of
Italy and the East, which seem about to
descend straight through the centre of the
well-staircase, and shower down upon your
wondering and expectant head. Cupids—or,
at least, little chubby boys, tumbling in the air
—are also in attendance on this theatrical
Goddess of Abundance.

Passing from this entrance into the grand
central market, you find yourself in a circular
area boarded with oak planks of a light and
dark hue, arranged in a kind of mosaic of
long angles, which converge to a centre-piece,
wherein a great anchor is inlaid. Beside
this, there is a wooden dagger, to the blade
of which a legend of no interest is attached.
Three ranges of cast-iron galleries rise all
round, terminating above in a large glass
dome, with an orange-coloured centre of
stained glass. Around the floor of the area,
at due intervals, long desks of new polished
oak, with inkstands let into the wood, stand
invitingly ready for the transaction of business.
The City Arms, on a series of small shields,
is the simple adornment of the outer balustrade-work
of the three galleries,—except,
also, that these galleries often have many
lady-visitors who lean over and contemplate
the 'dark doings' of the busy black-diamond
merchants who congregate below.

But let it not be supposed that the ornaments
of the Coal Exchange of London are
confined to the City Arms, or even the beauty
of the lady-visitors. Private offices, and
recesses for business, having the most neat,
orderly appearance, even to a primness and
propriety worthy of the Society of Friends,
are observable round the area, beneath the
galleries; but the panels of the woodwork
that separate these offices, rejoice in the most
lively adornments, à la Jullien. They are
covered with emblematic, fanciful, and not
very characteristic pictures and designs, all in
the brightest hues; and, being painted on a
light ground, they have a look of gaiety and
airiness quite of a continental character. The
weight and gravity of the City has, for once—
and by way of smiling antagonism to what
every one would expect of a coal-market—
determined to emulate the gayest places of
public amusement in France or Germany.
Restaurants, cafés, dancing-rooms—and oh!—
shall we say it—a touch of Cremorne! In
one panel you see a figure of Watchfulness,
typified by a robed lady, with a wise-faced
owl at her side. The river Severn is typified
by Naïads and a dolphin—by a little poetic
licence. In another panel we have Charity,
bearing a couple of children, with a figure of
old Father Thames sitting among rushes
below. Then, we have Perseverance for the
Avon, emblemed by a snail at the foot of a
brunette lady with black eyes,—the favourite
style of beauty of the artist, Mr. Sang. The
Trent and the Tyne are similarly illustrated,