We have now briefly surveyed the steps by which the most useful of metals is drawn from its ore and placed at the disposal of man, who is thus furnished with a powerful instrument for gaining higher advances in civilisation. Every stage of the manufacture suggests matter for ample reflection on the numerous agencies by which our race is aided in its progress from rudeness to refinement. That the advance of the human intellect in arts and science materially depends on the use and wise management of a species of clay, is a fact admitted by all, but too imperfectly appreciated by most. How strongly does it illustrate the close connexion of the human mind with the physical forms of nature, that some of the greatest civilizing, and, therefore, moralizing influences, of later ages, arise from the control which man has acquired over a bit of ore!

The numerous forms in which iron everywhere presents itself, and the extensive uses to which it is applied, may suggest some notion of the obstacles to human improvement which the non-existence of the metal must have occasioned, or perpetuated. Probably none can so far transport themselves out of the social system in which they have always lived, as to have a perfect conception of the condition of England at this hour without iron.

What elements of power, of wisdom, of science, at once disappear! steam-engines cease in an instant; the railroad becomes a nullity; the thousand nice operations, requiring the most delicate steel, are no more; and the very constitution of our bodies undergoes a change, the effects of which the most learned chemist may in vain attempt to scrutinize. Thus, on the great boon of iron depends a long series of effects, the range of which comprehends some of the most important matters in the history of man. A piece of iron may therefore suggest to a thoughtful mind considerations of the very loftiest character. Such reflections may be stimulated whilst contemplating the ceaseless fires of the smelting and refining furnaces, or when listening to the din of engines with powerful rolls and gigantic hammers; but they need not depend on such striking operations for their existence ;-the sight of a knife, a lady's needle, the wheel of an engine, or the piston of a boiler, is enough to call up a crowd of similar meditations.

The immense quantity of matter requisite for producing even a small weight of iron, surprises those who have failed to notice the consumption of ore and coal required to make one ton of finished iron before this amount of metal is brought into the market, no less than fourteen tons of material have been used in its manufacture. Thus, to produce a ton of iron, in its first form of the "pig," the workman must get from the earth three tons of ore, to smelt which he requires nearly four tons of coal, reduced to coke; in addition to which another ton is necessary for sundry operations, whilst a ton of limestone is used as a flux to detach the metal from its clay casing. Nine tons of raw material are therefore essential for the production of one ton of the rudest pig-iron. And this must pass through several additional processes, in each of which it loses weight, and requires the consumption of a large store of fuel, so that, before the one ton of finished iron is ready

The bulk of material expended to form the iron for all the railways made during the last twenty years, would thus form a huge mountain of ore. When this is borne in mind, and the numerous labours requisite for each stage of the manufacture are remembered, and also the cost of the powerful machinery employed in the rolling and cutting operations, we might expect that iron would be an exceedingly expensive production. But what metal is so abundant in our towns, or more used in the thousand offices of life? Such a victory has human skill obtained over rude material substances, that this highly elaborated metal has become cheaper than wood for the construction of houses, the building of ships, and the adornment of our cities. Notwithstanding the immense consumption of material, and the labours required in the manufacture, a ton of finished bar iron can sometimes be bought for sums varying from 67. to 71. ; but even the highest prices ever obtained seem low, when the numerous processes through which the metal passes are considered.

A reader may here ask what becomes of all the waste matter; for, as only one ton of iron comes from fourteen tons of other substances, thirteen tons must be dispersed somewhere in the making of every 20 cwt. of finished iron.

The atmosphere receives a large portion of this exhausted matter,―all indeed which partakes of the gaseous nature; and vast volumes of carbonic, oxygenic, and sulphureous vapours, are hourly poured into the air of an iron district. But the solid refuse of all kinds is allowed to accumulate near the works, forming immense heaps, of which a large smelting furnace produces between twenty and thirty tons daily. Such collections give, in the course of years, a volcanic aspect to the region, by no means pleasing to the lover of the picturesque forms of nature, who gazes with disgust on the dreary lava-like heaps, termed by the workmen cinder tips. These hills of scoria have, however, recently engaged the anxious attention of the iron masters, and the scrutiny of chemists; for the immense heaps contain great quantities of iron, more than one-half of their bulk being metal; and to separate this from the valueless matter with which it is united, is one of the great problems proposed for solution to the modern chemist.

It does seem tantalizing, that the manufacturer must witness daily the dispersion of such stores of wealth linked in obstinate combination with masses of useless ashes. To feel that one of these hills of cinder is formed of half its bulk of valuable metal, which must be rejected, because the method of extracting the iron remains hidden amongst the discoveries of future years, must be sufficient to stimulate the experiments of the iron manufacturer and of the scientific chemist.

Patents have actually been taken out by some parties for the extraction of the metal, by which it was proposed to use these cinders, instead of the raw ore in the furnaces. But the iron produced was of too inferior a quality for marketable purposes, and hitherto the attempt has exceeded the skill of the manufacturer. This result must be regretted, as this scoria is really much richer in iron than the original ore itself; so that when used in the experiments above mentioned, it was mixed with clay, to make the scoria leaner, and therefore more like the natural ore. The prospect of extracting iron from these heaps, incited numbers to continue the attempt; but, notwithstanding the skill and care employed, the metal produced was so inferior in quality, that most gave up the effort to work the cinder, which had been so long accumulating, and in which some sanguine men had expected to find mines of latent wealth. This failure proves the imperfection of our knowledge in the chemistry of metallurgy. Human skill can bring the metal from its native ore, and draw it by various devices from its hiding-place in the earth,

to the homes of men; but a large and valuable portion of the iron escapes in the passage, like prisoners from the keeping of an escort, and baffles all our efforts to recover the fugitive. The cinder tips laugh at science, and look with an air of quiet challenge towards our schools of chemistry, as if deriding the skill of a Faraday, or the treasured knowledge left by a Davy. The hour will perhaps arrive, when some discovery will supply us with the key for unlocking the whole of the mineral treasures now hidden beneath masses of scoria. The cinders are not, however, quite neglected now, it having been ascertained that some can be safely employed, provided great care be used. But this can only be done when the best iron is not required; for the pigs produced from the fusion of the scoria are often dull, rough, and porous in their texture. All, therefore, that can at present be done, is to use the cinder now produced at the furnaces; thus preventing future accumulations, but leaving the old heaps till greater knowledge enables us to draw forth their latent riches.

We have now marked, step by step, the long process through which iron passes from its original state; and no intelligent reader of these brief sketches can, it is presumed, be unacquainted with the general operations requisite for the production of the finished metal. The coking, with its fields of fire;-the smelting, developing iron in its first state;-the refining, liberating the metal still more from impurities;-the puddling, giving tenacity to the balls;-the shingling, with its combinations of gigantic powers and hammers;-the heating furnaces, forming the last attack on the latent impurities of the material; -and the rolling and cutting, in which the might of the steam engine is called in to complete the long series of labours, have been described. To enter further into the subject, would be useless; for the general reader could feel no interest in minute details, and the manufacturer is fully aware of the whole process. One object of this paper has been, of course, to state the mode in which iron is made, and thus to invest some of the most common articles of daily use with that interest which must attach to the result of so many labours. To know the history of a piece of iron, will suffice to remove it from the circle of the common-place, and thus we shall be taught to deem many things important which are too often left in the tame circle of the uninteresting. The smallest bit of iron has engaged the cares of many heads, and the labours of many hands, and much of human thought is associated with its present existence. To know this, must open a fresh avenue through which numerous associations may enter the mind, and contribute to the increase of our pleasures, and the cultivation of our understandings. Another object of the article is to impress upon each reader, that one fact, or one useful substance, is often a result of multiplied agencies, one depending upon the other, and each in itself a cause and an effect of civilization. Such is the complexity of human progress, that innumerable operations are necessary to secure one result; and thus we may see how deeply laid, and widely spread, are the varied causes which act upon man to increase his know ledge and improve his condition. It is not one effort which produces the piece of cotton, or the bit of iron. Thus, the simplest thing we possess has occupied the careful thoughts of our fellow men in many parts of the land, or it may be of the world; and proves that the human family is linked, through all its tribes and gradations, by necessities which form a band stronger than adamant for forcing into closer fellowship the divided ranks of society, or the separated nations of the earth. Probably no man could by himself produce a piece of iron, no man a yard of cotton. Union and communion seem, then, the law by which civilization proceeds; and a recognition of this fact, and the receiving such a lesson from a bar of iron, may not be useless to us in this present age.

Here the subject, which is "The iron manufacture," might end, were it not that steel may be reckoned by

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The reader will thus see that silicium (the element of flint) and phosphorus are mixed with the iron and carbon. The period when steel was discovered is not known, but it has been manufactured in Styria since the eighth century, and may have been known for ages before.

The process by which iron is converted into steel must now be described. The metal used for this pur pose is not of English manufacture, but principally Swedish or Russian, which is produced from ore more pure than our common ironstone, and smelted in charcoal furnaces. That from Sweden sells at a high rate, sometimes 351. per ton, and is principally introduced into England by the Hull merchants; the best being from the mines of Danemora.

The iron bars are placed in vessels about twelve feet long, the bottoms being covered with charcoal to the depth of an inch, upon which a row of iron bars is placed, and over these another stratum of charcoal. Thus a layer of bars alternates with a layer of charcoal, till the vessel is full, which is then completely covered up by a thick bed of stones. All being ready, the furnace itself is also closed on every side with clay, and the fire being kindled, the vessels are left exposed to the heat for about six days, when a bar is drawn out from one of the closed vessels to test the progress of When the iron has become comthe steeling process.

pletely carbonized, the furnace is covered up with pow dered coal, and left to burn out, and become cool, which requires a space of about fourteen days.

The great object in this process is to keep the vessels containing the bars perfectly air-tight, which requires the greatest care, as the intense heat tends to enlarge the minutest opening, and this would prevent the carbonization. The exact quantity of carbon required for the steeling process must neither be exceeded nor diminished, or the desired quality of steel will not be obtained. When the bars are withdrawn from the vessels, each is covered with blisters, which are, however, no proof of the superior quality of the iron, but rather an indication of defects, so that this blistered steel is not so much desired as formerly.

Those bars which are free from defects and blisters! are at once rolled to the sizes required for the manufacturer. When the steel is required to possess a very fine texture, several of the steel bars are placed in a

furnace, and when softened are welded together, after which the combined mass is rolled into the shape wanted, and called shear steel, from which instruments requiring a fine edge are made.

Cast steel is now much used, instead of the shear steel, on account of its superior qualities: the manufacture of this is a modern discovery, the invention of Mr. Huntsman, about the year 1770, since which it has been extensively made. It is produced by melting bars of steel in a crucible, and pouring the fluid steel into moulds, after which the cold ingots are rolled into plates of the thickness wanted. The cakes of steel which come from India under the name of wootz, are an inferior kind of cast steel, the defects of which arise from the clumsy manner of conducting the casting

process.

It is probably known to some readers that steel is hardened by plunging the heated bars into a cold fluid; and when the bars are raised to the greatest heat, and the fluid is very cold, the hardness will be of the highest degree. Thus, when extreme hardness is required, the heated bars are plunged into quicksilver, which being a rapid conductor of heat, produces the most sudden cooling of the metal. The numerous purposes to which steel is applied, renders it of the greatest importance that the utmost variety of hardness should be within the manufacturer's power to produce; and this is secured by the simple process of alternate heatings and coolings just described. Thus, in the steel plates used for engraving, the metal is softened, then graven, and afterwards hardened; by which process the labour of the engraver is made easier, for he has soft steel to work upon; and the durability of the plate is secured by the subsequent hardening. Some of the plates thus worked have been known to give 500,000 impressions; and, though this is a rare case, yet the average number of impressions, between 50,000 and 100,000, proves the great hardness of well tempered steel. Steel plates are, however, often used for engraving without the subsequent hardening, and are found sufficiently durable for common work, some of such plates producing 25,000 impressions. The method of first softening to receive the device of the workman, and the subsequent hardening, has been used in the Birmingham and Sheffield works for articles of furniture made from cast steel. These are softened to admit of receiving ornament, and afterwards tempered to the point required, by which an immense saving in labour is effected, and the durability of the article secured. We may, in conclusion, call the reader's attention to the beautiful and various colours exhibited by steel at different heats, and by which the operative formerly guided the duration of the tempering process. When steel is raised to the temperature of 300° Fahrenheit, it exhibits a pale straw colour, which passes into a yellow at 470°, and this to a brown at 500°; whilst a purple flush covers the steel at 530°, and a deep blue when raised to 600°.

Here must terminate our survey of the iron manufacture, all the great operations having now been detailed, from the first roasting of the ore to the production of the finest steel.

To enter upon the prospects of the British iron trade, and compare the products of the foreign forges with our own, is not within the scope of this article; but we cannot conclude without expressing our conviction that the greatest care is requisite to preserve our hold upon the markets of other countries, which have already commenced the manufacture for themselves. The advantage is, of course, on the side of the English manufacturer, who has his works and furnaces with all the organization of a long established system; and the researches of our chemists may probably lead to the discovery of further means for perfecting the various operations, and thus improving the quality, whilst they increase the quantity, of British iron. W. D.

RAMBLES IN BELGIUM.

No. III. GHENT.

GHENT, though abounding in picturesque houses, quaint and fanciful decorations, and other illustrations of a city of the olden time, is not so strikingly and decidedly antique in its appearance as Bruges. There is more of life, too, in its streets. More business is stirring, more traffic, and more pleasure. In it are the same old and odd-looking squares and avenues, and the canal meanders on through its streets. The Hôtel de Ville is a handsome mixed Gothic building, but is inferior to the town-halls of Brussels or Louvain. Near the Fish-market stands a ruin of an old gateway, which was formerly a part of the castle of the Counts of Flanders, and in which the famous John of Gaunt, or Ghent, was born. On a house in the Padden-hoek is an inscription, which reminds the reader of the stormy days of Ghent. Here it was that the great Jaques Van Artavelde lived, and was murdered by the infuriated populace, whom he had so often studied to please. There is an immense cannon in the Marché de Vendredi, which the worthy host of the Hôtel Royal told me was called Mad Margaret. It is truly large enough to depopulate many a fair city, and must have been no small undertaking to move about from pillar to post.

It

One of my first visits was to the Cathedral of St. Bavon. The interior of the building is of very excellent proportions: on the altar are four candlesticks which were once the property of Charles the First; they are very large, and executed in copper, bearing the arms of England on their front side. There are a great many chapels in the aisles, in all of which are many very interesting specimens of the Flemish artists. St. Bavon renouncing a soldier's life, in order to enter a convent, is a chef d'œuvre of Rubens. The composition and general tone of the colouring in this picture may rank as amongst the finest efforts of this great master. The Adoration of the Lamb, by the brothers Van Eyck, is a most extraordinary painting. The immense number of personages grouped together are finished with a wonderful minuteness, that no description of mine can by any means portray. occupied a good hour inspecting the works of art in this cathedral. I cannot forgive the authorities for having placed a statue of St. Bavon on the altar, and fixing their fine Rubens in the situation it is now in; it is a change for the worse. The information I received on quitting the cathedral, determined me to direct my steps at once to see a collection of flowering shrubs, chiefly American, which adorned a garden in the suburbs. The azaleas were very fine, and some amongst them larger than any which are generally exhibited at Chiswick. Unfortunately, this tribe were all out of flower; so that I could not see the Azalea Tricolor in all its glory, or witness the beauties of their pink and striped varieties. The rhododendrons were not nearly so large as specimens to be seen on many an English lawn; while the Andromedas were miserably poor in comparison with the commonest sorts in our own gardens. How true is that axiom which cannot fail to come home and make itself felt to every roving heart! "We never value our own possessions till we have travelled and returned home;" true and just in every sense of the expression.

Returning to mine inn, and despatching an excellent repast at the table d'hôte, I made up my mind, in company with some young Englishmen out on their adventures, to pay a visit to the famous Béguinage, a convent founded in the thirteenth century, and differing in many very remarkable respects from any other religious establishment. The nuns are at liberty to reenter the world at any time after their profession: it is right to state, that no example of such a departure

what the others put in. Mary longed to see little Bessie able to understand the privilege of adding any mite which she might possess, and was constantly explaining to her the use and purpose of old Robert's box, as well as the duty, that all ought to feel it to be, to contribute. When a little better able to comprehend all she was told, the child gratified Mary's desire. The latter was one morning seated at the window watching the child, who was playing by the gate, when she observed a gentleman stop and speak to Bessie; he seemed struck with her laughing, merry little face, and when he passed slipped something into the child's hand. She instantly ran into the cottage, went straight to the box, and put in what she had received; she had not observed Mary, and returned with increased glee to play in the garden. Mary's heart beat with gratitude at the child's unhesitatingly parting with the first money she had ever possessed, while she knew she was fully aware of the indulgences it would have procured her, as she had often begged for some trifle when anything in the shop windows in the town tempted her. Bessie could not be expected to understand the full meaning of what she had done; she could not yet feel the advantages of the rich rewards so mercifully promised to those who attend to this most happy and delightful duty, for His sake who gives us the will and the power to serve Him. Mary wished to teach her the privilege and honour of being permitted to offer the first fruits of all our possessions to Him who, for our sakes, became poor; she rejoiced that the child had so early been led to practise what she had learnt, and dared to hope that at some future time she would make her offerings systematically -not from impulse or feeling, but acting conscientiously on the heavenly encouragements and motives held out in the Bible, with thankfulness and self-denial, persevering amidst the ridicule of others, and viewing charity and almsgiving not as a merit, but a high favour allowed us by God. Mary wished much to know what the child had contributed, but would not question her about it, as she had believed herself unseen. The day was not very distant when the collection was to be carried to Mr. Beverley, and she then thought she might discover. From the sound of the coin when it dropped into the box, it appeared smaller and lighter than halfpence, and was most likely to be silver. Mary carefully watched the children who crowded round to examine the treasure when the box was broken open, and observed that little Bessie took more interest than she had ever done before. Robert was astonished to find silver, and when he took out the sixpence they all seemed surprised at it. It was a larger sum than they generally had at their command. None of the children suspected Bessie, the youngest of the party; but Robert checked all inquiries, as it was a rule never to discuss what each had contributed. Mary saw that Bessie's cheek glowed, and she seemed relieved when all the money was put by to be carried to the parsonage. Mary cherished with gratitude these signs of Bessie's character, and fondly hoped she would continue a blessing to them all. Although Mary's attention was much engaged by her duties at home, she was not so entirely engrossed with the child to forget what concerned others; and for some little time past had observed that Miss Stanmore walked less frequently to their cottage; and, when a fine day tempted them any distance from home, she generally seemed too much fatigued to enjoy their rambles. This change in her friend made Mary very uneasy; but, as no one else seemed to notice it, she hoped there was no great cause for alarm. Her fears were, however, one morning confirmed by a visit from Mrs. Stanmore. She seldom came so far; and as she placed a chair for her, Mary anxiously inquired how Ellen was.

"It is on her account I have come. I have often observed lately, that my dear child did not appear as healthy as usual, but, as she did not complain of any malady, I fear I have allowed her to neglect her health

too long: a medical man who came to see me yesterday pronounces her to be very delicate, and I have come to you, Mary, to beg your assistance during her illness." Not to be ready to do all in her power to benefit Ellen seemed impossible; and she would instantly have promised to do all required of her had not Mrs. Stanmore gently stopped her.

"You must first listen to what I propose. Change of climate has been recommended to Ellen, and I shall start as soon as I can to spend the ensuing winter in Italy. My daughter is much averse to the separation from her home and friends for such a length of time, but readily accedes to my wishes. I am very anxious that you should come with us, Mary, and, by the affectionate care and attendance which I know you would give, assist Ellen to bear the separation from all whom she leaves in England."

Mary was too much perplexed and surprised to answer; and Mrs. Stanmore, desirous of giving her time to recover herself, turned to Robert, and urged him to agree to her request. The old man seemed nearly as much affected as Mary. The news of Ellen's illness grieved them both, but he quickly regained his composure, and refused to influence Mary by his opinion: he declared that she should decide for herself entirely. "She shall certainly do so; but I must explain to you my intentions. Money would, I am sure, be the least attraction to either of you, but I am so well aware of what I should take from you, that, besides a handsome remuneration to Mary for her services while with me, I propose, Robert, to leave a sum of money in your hands to obtain the necessary assistance you would require in the house, and the care of Bessie."

As the child's name was mentioned, she ran into the room, respectfully answered Mrs. Stanmore's kind notice, and, jumping into Mary's arms, asked why she did not come to her in the garden. The presence of the child completely roused her affectionate nurse, and she eagerly begged Mrs. Stanmore not to tempt her to forsake the motherless little being who claimed her presence and

Old Robert affectionately pressed her hand as she finished speaking, and Mary felt now quite reconciled to her determination. Mrs. Stanmore appeared disappointed, but told Mary she should be glad to see her again on the subject the next day. "I cannot, Mary, so easily relinquish a plan that would be so great a delight to Ellen, and in which no pains should be spared to give you enjoyment."

"I do not doubt your indulgence, my dear madam; but I think I shall decide in the same way to-morrow. Do not let Miss Stanmore think I slight her friendship."

"She does not know that I am come here. I purposely avoided mentioning my intentions to her until I had seen you."

Mary was quite right in her belief that she should not change her opinion. The next day, she felt then even firmer in her resolution, although at times she longed to be able to go; the reflection that her care might lighten her friend's sufferings, was very tempting; the opportunity was presented when she might prove the sincere gratitude and affection that she felt towards her benefactress. Such thoughts agitated her, but she would not permit her mind to dwell on them, and, when she arrived at Mrs. Stanmore's, she firmly repeated her determination not to forsake Bessie. Tais kind lady would not press her again. She felt sorry for the pain which it gave the girl to refuse, and could not but