It was into this mine, now considered perfectly safe, that Mr. Bryden conducted me. Seated upon a square block of wood on the bottom of one of a train of mine cars, in the attitude of a toad, each with a torch in his hand, we entered an aperture at the base of the mountain, by the side of the canal. The cars (five in a train), running upon iron rails, and drawn by a horse, are three feet long and two feet wide at top, tapering to the bottom. Thus boxed up, and our heads bowed in meek submission to the menaces of the low roof, of the passage, we penetrated the mountain nearly half a mile, when we came to an inclined plane. There the horse that took us in was attached to a loaded train that had just descended, and went back to the entrance. The darkness was so profound, that objects could be seen by the light of our torches only a few feet from us, and on all sides were the black walls of anthracite, glistening in some places with water that trickled through the crevices. At the foot of the inclined plane we were one hundred and seventy feet beneath the surface of the earth. Up the rough steep, seven hundred and fifty feet, we clambered on foot, and, when half way to the summit, we saw the cables moving and heard the rumble of a descending train. * The passage is so narrow that there is very little space on each side of the cars. We were, therefore, obliged, for our safety, to seek out one of the slippery ledges of anthracite wide enough to sustain us, and, while thus "laid upon a shelf," the vehicles, with their burden, thundered by.
A little beyond the inclined plane is the region of the fall. Here the roof is lower than in other parts. Crushed timbers and pulverized anthracite, the remains of the supporters of the chambers, are seen for some distance; and the filled-up avenues that led to other chambers, where some of the bodies remain buried, were pointed out to me. We at length reached the chambers where men were working, each with a lamp suspended by a hook from the front of his cap. So intense was the darkness, that, when a little distance from a workman, nothing of him could be seen but his head and shoulders below the lamp. The coal is quarried by blasting with powder; and the sulphurous vapor that filled the vaults, and the dull lights, with hideous-looking heads, apparently trunkless, beneath them, moving in the gloom, gave imagination free license to
* There is a double track upon the inclined plane, and, by means of cables and pulleys, the loaded train hauls up the empty one by force of gravity. From the main entrance many avenues are seen that extended to other chambers now exhausted. As fast as these avenues become useless, the rails are taken up and they are filled with the slate or other impurities of the mines.
Fossils—. Ascent from the Mine.—Night Ride.—A Grumbler.—Change in the Coal Region.
draw a picture of the palace of Pluto. Added to the sight was the feeling of awe which the apparent dangers of the place engendered, as the recollection of the tragedy just recorded was kept alive by the identification of localities connected with the event, by my guide.
After collecting a few fossils, * we sought the "wind entrance," and, ascending a flight of steps about twenty-five feet, we stood high upon the mountain overlooking Carbondale, three quarters of a mile from the place of our entrance. Notwithstanding the air is comparatively pure within, except in the working chambers at the time of blasting, I breathed much freer when standing in the sunlight, and removed from all danger. Hastening down the mountain to the canal, I washed my fossils and hurried to the stage-office in the village, where I arrived just in time to hear the provoking rattle of the coach-wheels half a mile distant, on the road to Honesdale, leaving me to decide the question whether to remain over a day, or, departing at nine in the evening, ride all night. I chose the latter alternative, and passed the remainder of the afternoon among the mines and miners.
I left Carbondale at nine in the evening, and arrived at Cherry Hill, thirteen miles distant, at one in the morning. The road was exceedingly rough and the coach rickety. I had but a single fellow-passenger, and he was as deaf as a post. He was a grumbler of the first water, and his loud thoughts so amused me that I had no inclination to sleep. At Cherry Hill we awaited the coach from Honesdale. Informed that its arrival would be two hours later, we took beds; but the first dream had scarcely begun, when the wooden voice