long, I know not how to translate.

The morning of the fourteenth was very fine. After breakfast I went to
see the Cyfartha Fawr iron works, generally considered to be the great
wonder of the place. After some slight demur I obtained permission from
the superintendent to inspect them. I was attended by an intelligent
mechanic. What shall I say about the Cyfartha Fawr? I had best say but
very little. I saw enormous furnaces. I saw streams of molten metal. 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:
"The hills around the Taf once so green are blackened by the smoke from
the chimneys of Merthyr." The town is large and populous. The
inhabitants for the most part are Welsh, and Welsh is the language
generally spoken, though all have some knowledge of English. The houses
are in general low and mean, and built of rough grey stone. Merthyr,
however, can show several remarkable edifices, though of a gloomy horrid
Satanic character. There is the hall of the Iron, with its arches, from
whence proceeds incessantly a thundering noise of hammers. Then there is
an