only about a mile away. Beyond, on a gentle eminence, Coleshill
was distinctly visible, and in the far distance the tower of
St. Mary's Church at Coventry reared to the dim and hazy sky its
exquisitely tapered and most graceful spire.

I stood within this upper room, a few years ago, on a pleasant evening
in the summer-time. From its windows there is still a very extensive
view, but how changed! On all sides but one there is nothing to be
seen, under the dingy cloud of smoke, but a weary, bewildering mass of
dismal brick and mortar; and even on the north-west, where there are
still a few green fields and pleasant gardens in the neighbourhood
of the two reservoirs, the eye, reaching beyond there, comes upon the
dark and forbidding regions to the west of Dudley. As on that glorious
evening I turned my telescope to this point, I was startled by a very
curious sight. I had placed the instrument in such a manner that its
"field" was completely filled by the ruby-coloured disc of the setting
sun. As I looked, I saw the singular apparition of a moving "whimsey"
at the top of Brierley Hill, dark and black against the shining
surface. It was an extraordinary illusion, for it looked exactly as if
the rising and falling beam of the engine were attached to the surface
of the sun itself.

On the same side, I saw, almost at the foot of the tower on which I
stood, a little enclosed garden. It contained at one end a long, low,
pavilion-like building, and, here and there, some pleasant alcoves
and garden seats. I heard the sound of merry voices, and, I saw two or
three sets of gentlemen playing the game known by the unpoetical name
of "quoits." Upon inquiry I was told that this was the private ground
of the Edgbaston Quoit Club, a select body, consisting mainly of
well-to-do inhabitants of that pleasant suburb. By the courtesy of
one of the members, I was a few days afterwards conducted over these
premises. It was not a club day, so we were alone. The low pavilion,
was, I found, the dining-room of the club--for on club days the
members met to dine, as a preliminary to the play. It was plainly and
very comfortably furnished, and every arrangement seemed to have been
made that could conduce to the convenience of the members. At one end
was a long row of hat-pegs, and upon these, at various angles, hung a
singular assortment of garden hats and caps, of every imaginable shape
and colour. They were the _neglige_ head-coverings of the member