ON quitting the station at Wolverhampton a good view is obtained of the town and fine old Church, with the hills of Rowley Regis in the distance. Tettenhall Wood and the Clee Hills soon add to the beauty of the southward view; and the line is skirted by fine trees and fresh verdant meadows, over which a peep of the distant landscape is gained at intervals. Show Hill, and Low Hill houses are pleasantly situated on the ridge of a hill to the E., and beyond them appears Bushbury Hill, a point of the same elevation, with its old village Church, built about 1460; this is perhaps the most pleasing part of the line we have yet traversed. The Wrekin appears in the distance to the W., and nearer, the lofty and tapering spire of Brewood (or Brood) Church, rises from its girdling woods. Moseley Court, the ancient seat of J. G. Whitgreave, Esq., lies E. of the line, whence but little of the house is visible, being surrounded by stately oak groves. In this venerable mansion, Charles II. was temporarily concealed, when on his way to Bentley. Wrottesley Park, seat of Sir John Wrottesley, Bart., Chillington Park and Hall, the noble residence of T. W. Giffard, Esq., and the village of Codsall, form portions of the scenery to the S.W. All this part of the line from Wolverhampton is on an embankment, which, however, does not exceed fifteen feet at the highest point. On the E. appears Hilton Park, seat of H. E. C. V. Graham, Esq., and on the W., Pendeford Hall. The villages of Shareshill and Featherstone, lie E. of the line. A bridge here crosses it, bearing the felicitous name of “Paradise;” happy mortals, to reach such blessed bourne! But our stay is brief indeed; Paradise is left far behind, and we pass onwards under and over many a bridge of great and small degree; for the railroad even renders a common dirty gutter, a thing of so great importance, that a stately and ponderous arch must be erected for its insignificant accommodation! Verily, we grow aristocratic in our indignation at such upstart doings. The honourable fraternity of Ditch, Gutter, and Co., may, with a good grace, quote the old fable, and exclaim, “How we apples swim;” they are marvellously promoted since “an hundred years ago.” The Stafford Canal passes under, and the railroad over, a handsome iron bridge, between the village of Coven on the W., and Aspley on the E. side of the line. * * * * *