The use of coals has now extended, not only over the civilised world, but in its potent form of steam has reached most of the remoter regions. From Suez to Singapore are steam vessels already in course of passage, and the line will soon be carried to Australia. When the American locomotives have made their way to the shores of the Pacific, their vessels will be ready to carry onward the traffic to China and the Indian Islands from the east; “and thus,” as writes a learned critic, discoursing of the virtues of steam-coal, “complete the circuit of the globe.” Whereby, “a steam voyage round the world will in a few years, be so practicable, that the merchant and tourist may make the circuit within a year, and yet have time enough to see and learn much at many of the principal ‘stations’ on his way.” All rightful honour, then, to these priceless Diamonds—whether they be black spirits or furnace-white, flame-red spirits, or ashy-grey—whether cannel coal and caking coal—cherry coal and stone coal—whether any of the forty kinds of Newcastle coal, or any of the seventy species of the great family, from the highest class of the bituminous, down to the one degree above old coke. CHAPTER III.—THE COAL EXCHANGE. Near to the Custom House rises one of the most ornate edifices in the metropolis,—the Coal Exchange of London,—in which is carried on one of our most stupendous trades. It is Wednesday—a market day—we ascend the steps of a beautiful sort of round tower, and pass through the folding swing-doors of the principal entrance. The space here, or little vestibule, forms the base of the centre of a well-staircase of iron. You look up, through the coiling balustrades as they climb up to the top, and at the very top you see a painting in the Rubens style of colouring, (though a long way _after_ Rubens in other respects,) of the figure of a prodigal lady, who is upsetting a cornucopia, full—_not_ of coals—but of all the most richly coloured fruits of Italy and the East, which seem about to descend straight through the centre of the well-staircase, and shower down upon your wondering and expectant head. Cupids—or, at least, little chubby boys, tumbling in the air—are also in attendance on this theatrical Goddess of Abundance.