There were men reaping and studding the pathway of their sickles through the field with thickly-planted sheaves.
But right under them, a hundred fathoms deep, subterranean farmers were at work, with black and sweaty brows, garnering the coal- harvest sown there before the Flood.

Sickle above and pick below were gathering simultaneously the layers of wealth that Nature had stored in her parlor and cellar for man.
I passed through Barnsley and Wakefield on this day's walk,--towns full of profitable industries and busy populations, and growing in both after the American impulse and expansion.

If the good "Vicar of Wakefield" of the olden time could revisit the scene of his earthly experience, and look upon the old church of his ministry as it now appears, renovated from bottom to the top of its grand and lofty spire, he would not be entrapped again so easily into assent to the Greek apothegm of the swindler.
I lodged at a little village inn between Wakefield and Leeds, after a day of the most enjoyable walk that I had made.

Never before, between sun and sun, had I passed over such a section of above- ground and under-ground industry and wealth.

The next morning I continued northward, and noticed still more striking combinations of natural productions and human industries than on the preceding day.
One small, rural area in which these were blended impressed me greatly, and I stopped to photograph the scene on my mind.