THE GLOWING MOUNTAIN
Our last peep shall be taken in the busy region of South Glamorgan,
where the hills and valleys present a very different scene from
those amongst which we have lately wandered. For here is the home of
coal--that powerful material which produces the force required for
most of the machinery of the world.
Above the vales of Dowlais, Neath, and Taff, over the Rhondda Valley
and the towns of Merthyr Tydvil and Aberdare, hangs a perpetual
smoke-cloud from the vast furnaces which are always busy smelting iron
and steel from the neighbouring coal-fields, or, west of Swansea,
copper imported from abroad. Some of these valleys are simply a
succession of mining villages, the home of strenuous toilers who
all day and all night are working their turns, or “shifts,” some
underground in the mines, some at the furnaces, some sending off the
coal, and iron, and copper to the great port of Cardiff, or the lesser
ones at Swansea or Barry.
There is nothing very picturesque about this region, although it can
boast of the ruins of many strong castles, some interesting churches,
and the beautiful Vale of Glamorgan--a region of meadows and grassy
slopes, upon which feed fat cows and oxen to their hearts’ content.
But this is, perhaps, too tame to be attractive; nor, apart from the
almost terrible interest attached to all coal-mines, is there anything
to keep us lingering in the blackened valleys of the district.
There is one curious feature, however, at which you will like to take
a peep. Borrow, of course, found it out, and called it the Glowing
Mountain.
He was on his way to Merthyr Tydvil when, as it began to grow dark,
he came to the beginning of a vast moor. In the distance he could see
weird blazes and hear “horrid sounds”; and, as he went on up hills and
down dales, night set in, very black and still. Having toiled to the
top of a steep ascent, he stopped to take breath, and saw a glow on all
sides in the heavens except in the north-east quarter.
“Turning round a corner at the top of the hill, I saw blazes here and
there, and what appeared to be a Glowing Mountain in the south-east. I
went towards it down a descent, which continued for a long, long way.
So great was the light cast by the blazes and that wonderfully glowing
object, that I could distinctly see the little stones upon the road.
“After walking for about half an hour, always going downwards, I saw
a house on my left hand, and heard a noise of water opposite to it. I
went to the waterfall, drank greedily, and then hurried on, more and
more blazes and the glowing object looking more terrible than ever.
“It was now above me at some distance to the left, and I could see
that it was an immense quantity of heated matter, like lava, occupying
the upper and middle parts of a hill, and descending here and there
almost to the bottom in a zigzag and winding manner. Between me and the
Glowing Mountain lay a deep ravine. After a time I came to a house,
against the door of which a man was leaning.
“‘What is all that burning stuff above, my friend?’
“‘Dross from the iron forges, sir.’”
“I now perceived a valley below me, full of lights, and, descending,
reached houses and a tramway. I had blazes now all around me ... and
finally found myself before the Castle Inn at Merthyr Tydvil.”
In the morning he revisits the scene.
“The mountain of dross which had startled me on the preceding night
with its terrific glare, 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.”
And so, with Borrow, we will turn our backs on the great Welsh
coal-field, and say good-bye for the present to Wild Wales.
BILLING AND SONS, LTD. PRINTERS GUILDFORD
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