HOW THEY GO DOWN.

most the water is kept under by means of powerful steam-pumps, which in some instances pump out more than a million gallons a day.

A more terrible thing than either chokedamp, fire-damp, or flood, is what is called a "crush "" "sitt." or a This is the falling in of a portion of the roof of the mine owing to the weakness of the pillars or supports. When a crush takes place, the only thing the poor miners can do is to run for their lives to the bottom of the shaft and make signals to those above to hoist them out as fast as possible. Those who are working immediately under are often killed before they have time to take to flight; while others in other parts of

the mine have their means of escape cut off by the huge masses of rock, and coal, and loose earth which have fallen in and blocked up all the passages leading to the shaft. When those who have escaped to the surface find that any of their number are missing when the names are called over, the first thing they do is to set about rescuing them from the pit in which they are buried-it may be alive, it may be dead. This cannot be attempted without the greatest peril, but brave men are ever ready to risk the danger. What they have to do is to dig through the fallen mass in the direction of their missing comrades, and as they dig they make good their way by props and supports lest a second fall should bury them also. The efforts made never stop or pause for a moment night or day; but when one set of men are worn out, others take their place One of our pictures represents a father being drawn up to the surface with his little boy in his arms. The boy had been buried alive with four others, owing to the sudden falling-in of the mine, and after languishing for five days and nights in the dreary darkness, with only the food they had carried down for one day's meals, the whole of them were brought out alive through the unwearied exertions of their heroic comrades.

Alas! it sometimes happens that all such self-devoted efforts are vain. Such was the case in the calamity which befel the miners of the Hartley New Pit, in Northumberland, on January 16th, 1862. On the morning of that day more than two hundred men and boys descended that mine who were destined never to return. They perished not by any of the causes mentioned above, but owing to the breaking of a large iron beam, weighing some forty tons, which fell down the shaft, smashing to fragments the timbers and masonry of which it was formed, and causing such destruction as to block up the pas sage entirely, besides killing several miners who were being at the moment drawn up to the surface. The attempts to rescue these two hundred men were continued without interruption for seven days and nights, but without the success so ardently desired. When at length they were reached, it was found that all had perished.

Not very many years ago the miners of this country, though living in the teeth of perils even greater than they now incur, were notorious for their reckless, vicious, and ungodly lives. We are happy in believing that such is no longer the case. There is testimony now to the existence of a more hopeful state of things in the mining listricts. Lord Kinnaird, who has been long engaged in examining into the condition of miners, describes them as the most religious class of working men he ever met. He says, "they are among the most courteous, the most well-behaved, the most temperate men I have ever seen, and at

A CRUSH IN THE PIT.

the same time many are most earnestly religious men. While down in the mines I never heard an oath, I never heard a ribald jest; indeed, life is looked upon by these men as a solemn business. They know the danger they incur underground; they know that they are not to live long; and their thoughts are frequently directed to eternity." This evidence is corroborated by others, and is also borne out by what we know of the last hours of the poor Hartley miners, which, as appears from a memorandum found in the pocket of one of them, were passed in exhort ing and comforting one another, and in united

prayer.

SAFELY BROUGHT UP.

GABRIEL THE STONE-BREAKER.

"THE

wind blows cold," said old Samuel Benson to Gabriel North, a whiteheaded man, sitting behind the shelter of his wheelbarrow, and eating his bread and bacon.

"North-east, I fancy," said Gabriel. "Keen enough for it," said Benson, whose blue face showed that he felt it.

"There aint a bit of a shelter on this bleak road," said Gabriel; "but get you off your heap of stones, and sit behind it. My barrow is better than nothing, and your heap would do as well."

So Benson got down, saying he might have thought of that sooner. "It's set all my teeth chattering," he cried, as he tried to bite his hard crust first on one side and

then on the other. "I think my dinner'll be master of me; I can't eat it for pain."

"Dip it in a drop of this," said Gabriel, holding out a tin mug of coffee; "it'll make it more manageable. I've done with crusts these two years, and always sop

Benson accepted the offer, saying that Gabriel was well off to have meat every day. 'Oh, but I don't, I can assure you," said Gabriel. "This lump of bacon was given. me, and as I wasn't very stout after the ague, I thought it would be best to treat myself to a bit for dinner till I got stronger; but I can make a very relishable meal on good bread and an onion when I am well and hungry."

"Ah, when infirmities of age come on," sighed Benson, "we mustn't look for many days of feeling well and hungry; but it seems hard that when we get too old to be able to enjoy ourselves we should be forced to work; don't you think so?"

"But I am not too old to enjoy myself, and don't expect ever to be," answered Gabriel smartly.

"Well, anyhow," answered Benson, "you

can't say you enjoy yourself breaking stones in a north-east wind."

Breaking stones is about the best work for me," replied Gabriel; "and as to the wind, why that only blows upon times."

"You haven't got any pity for yourself nor nobody else," said Benson, getting rather cross.

"Oh, but I have," answered Gabriel; "them that have nothing to do, or think so, I do pity them."

"I pity 'em so much as I wish I was in their place," said Benson.

"Well," said Gabriel, getting up with some trouble, for he was very stiff with sitting, "I count it among my many mercies that my Heavenly Father has let me work on, in such work as I can do, till this age. There's great temptation to fret when you're laid aside useless, depend on that, Samuel; and many more years we can neither of us look for, so we shan't have a long time of that affliction."

So, taking out his red handkerchief, and tying it over his old hat to keep his ears warm and save his teeth, he went to work again, wheeling the stones to the ruts and spreading them about.

Benson sat watching him after he was gone from his side, and felt half vexed that he should look so happy and be so cheerful. "He's a softish chap," he said, "but that's uncommon nice bacon. I'm glad I had it," and folding up the cheese he had left with the resolution that he would follow Gabriel's advice and toast it for supper, he took up his hammer and went to his heap.

There was but little talk between them for a time. Benson sat with his usual discontented look, slowly doing his work; Gabriel rattled backwards and forwards as nimbly as he could with his barrow, and looked carefully, as he raked the stones, that looked carefully, as he raked the stones, that every hollow should be filled and all should lie even.

Towards three o'clock the wind changed and fell, the sun came out, and the bleak morning was followed by a lovely afternoon.

"Eh, dear!" said Gabriel, "how pleasant; I like things to change for the better, and I

do love sunshine."

"I think you were mighty pleased with the wind; I wonder you are so glad of the sun; I can't see how you can like both," said Benson with a sneer; "for my part, I'd rather not have it quite so strong in my eyes; and if it comes right hot weather I don't know how one is to bear sitting out in this unsheltered road, and my eyes weak too."

Gabriel had sat down on his barrow to take off his red handkerchief, and smiled at Benson, and answered, "If I'm too easy to please, it can't be said you are.”

66

"It's nothing to any body but myself, I suppose, whether I'm pleased or not," said Benson in a sullen tone.

"If not, it's more to you than you seem to think," said Gabriel.

"How can I be pleased when I've got nothing but hardships ?" asked Benson.

"I don't believe you'd be a bit better pleased if you had all my lord's money and lived at the park-I don't, indeed, Sammy," said Gabriel earnestly.

"Oh, don't you! only let me try."

"I'm sure I'm right," said Gabriel; "it's something in you, you want. I know what makes you unhappy, and it would do the like if you could be a king instead of my lord."

"Go on with your compliments," said Benson, "what is it?-oh, I shan't be affronted-let us hear it."

"Then if you won't be affronted, it's ingratitude-it really is, Sammy-ingratitude to our kind God and Father; hasn't he given us many years of youth and manhood when we were able to be happy with our families? hasn't he spared us from those diseases that lay old people helpless on their beds? hasn't he given us bread to eat and raiment enough? and if he sends a cold wind in the morning any time, doesn't he give a bright sunshine after it? and, above all, isn't he leading us on to the happy day when we shall leave all our infirmities in the grave and rise with glorified bodies?

they will never know an ache or pain, and never grow old! O Sammy, surely if you loved him for his unspeakable gift, the gift of his dear Son, you wouldn't go grumbling on as you do."

As Benson didn't answer, Gabriel said again, "Coming so close as we are to him, Sammy, it isn't becoming to carry a sour look; how shall we go into his presence with it? Won't it be like saying, 'He has done us no good-has been a hard master-no Father?' How ashamed we should be when we saw what was prepared for his people in heaven."

"I don't murmur-I said I didn't-I know we must rest content," answered Benson, in a peevish tone.

"That's not enough, Sammy. The patriarch Jacob didn't stop there; he said, 'The God which fed me all my life long to this day, the angel which redeemed me.' That's it, to worship him for providence, to worship him for redemption. Now I'll take upon me to say if you, or any body, does that out and out, he'll have no time nor taste for grumbling."

Benson was still silent, so Gabriel took up his barrow and went off, thinking it best to say no more; but he made up his mind to remember poor Sammy in his prayers that night, and before his day's work was over,

"Well, Sammy," replied Gabriel, "you must make haste and get pleased in earnest, for you haven't much time left to do it in."

vals singing to himself as he raked away: "In hope of that immortal crown, I would not now complain; But gladly wander up and down, And smile at toil and pain."

IN

N the first years of infancy a child's life, health, and mental powers very much depend on the mother's care to feed and cherish its tender frame, to guard its feeble limbs against hurtful accidents,-to keep its brain from injury, agitation, and fright,-to teach it to speak aright, and to learn to supply its own wants. But how can this be done when the mother goes out all day to work in factories or fields, leaving the children to get on as they can? To say nothing of the loss of early training, and the exposure to evil, there is an amount of misery and suffering, of disease and actual death, caused by the practice to these little ones, of which few working-men's wives have any conception.

In one of our large manufacturing towns it is stated that there is a child burned or scalded to death every day, from being thus left to itself, the ages of the sufferers varying from six months to seven years. Only think, three hundred and sixty-five children in one town thus sacrificed every year! Many more in all England must be added to this number. Moreover, it was remarked that during the misery arising from the cessation of the ribbon trade in Coventry in 1860, the number of deaths among children diminished so remarkably, that the Registrar General himself wrote, "The neglect of their homes by mothers at work in these manufactories is apparently more fatal than starvation." "In other words," added the Times, as soon as women could no longer go out to work, since work had ceased, they could stay at home and look after their children, and this natural superintendence saved more lives than famine destroyed."

It is pitiable to see children of seven and eight years old tottering under the heavy weight of some miserable unwashed baby, or driving along two or three dirty crying little ones, while their mother is away; and on her coming to the comfortless home at night there is not time or strength to repair the lack of attention during the day. Strong is then the temptation, and frequent the habit, to administer some soothing potion to quiet the wailing infant, or dull its craving appetite. We should be afraid to name the quantities of narcotic poison which, under the title of "comfort" and "cordial," are each year dispensed in pennyworths to poor mothers in every town, who by this means are ignorantly destroying their children's health. By this practice they lay By this practice they lay the foundation for rickety limbs, idiocy, or madness, should they live to grow up, and often entail upon their children's children disease and misery beyond calculation. Dr. Taylor, the Medical Officer of the Privy Council, has recently directed the attention of the Government to the extent to which opium is thus used in the marsh districts and in manufacturing towns. The case is probably far the worst in the marsh districts. "There can be no doubt," it is said, "of the horrid statement, made by almost every surgeon in the Marshland, that there was not a labourer's house in which there was not a bottle of opiate to be seen, and not a child who did not get it

in some form." It is not only that the same reason exists for drugging the children as in the manufacturing towns. The diseases common in marsh districts, which have been freely treated by the use of opium, have familiarized the people with the use of the drug. Immense quantities are sent to these districts, and the retail druggists often dispense as much as 200 pounds a year. In one district the average annual consumption is calculated to be at least 100 grains per head. It is sold in pills or penny sticks, and a well-accustomed shop will serve with it as many as 300 or 400 customers on Saturday night. A man in South Lincolnshire has complained that his wife had spent £100 in opium since she married. To infants it is administered under the form of "Godfrey's Cordial," a mixture of opium, treacle, and in

THE RIGHT WOMAN IN THE RIGHT PLACE

fusion of sassefras. This mixture varies with different shops, each selling its own "Godfrey;" and when the mother, going to field work, deposits her infant with a nurse, she always leaves her own bottle. "It has not unfrequently happened that the nurse has substituted her own 'Godfrey' for the mother's, and, frightened at its effects, has summoned the surgeon, who finds half-a-dozen babies, some snoring, some squinting, all pallid and eyesnoring, some squinting, all pallid and eyesunken, lying about the room, all poisoned." To put out of question the actual number of deaths due to this reckless use of a poisonous drug, who shall estimate the extent of injury which is inflicted on the health and vigour of a population thus nourished?

In Edinburgh a poor little boy was left day after day locked up in a dark cellar, without food, fire, or clothes, while his father and mother were out. He looked like a mere

bundle of rags when he was discovered, quite paralyzed, and was taken to the Children's Hospital. There he lay for a week on one of the hospital beds without stirring, his eyes closed, and his lips never uttering a sound, so that his attendants supposed him to be both deaf and dumb. At length, in the feeblest voice, he did utter one word, and when the nurse bent down to listen, she found it was a call for "whisky"! Gradually wholesome food and patient care revived him sufficiently to reveal his early habits; but his first efforts were to sing a whisky song! He told the matron that "he had hardly tasted anything but whisky since he could remember!" And how many more poor children are thus sated with drams instead of being fed with wholesome milk and bread can only be guessed at by those who have an opportunity of watching the daily visitors to any common gin shop in town or country.

Doctors are in despair, as they go from cottage to cottage, and see the neglect, and the mistakes which prevent the remedies for sickness being of any use among children whose mothers are all day away from home. Instead of nursing their little ones, and preparing proper food and clothing for them, they leave them to devour from sheer hunger half-cooked potatoes and raw indigestible fruit, which cannot nourish them; while late in the evening the children may be seen in every court, dropping asleep on the damp stones or dirty floor, instead of being washed and laid comfortably in clean though humble beds when the birds go to roost. The wonder is that so many escape crooked limbs or fatal illness.

"For every shilling earned abroad," says a medical man who has long visited among the poor, "I am sure a poor mother loses eighteenpence at home in breakage to her furniture, or injury to her children." "A child left to himself bringeth his mother to shame," saith the Bible. "Train up a child in the way he should go." But how can habits of industry, order, and thrift be taught where there is no one to teach them? If the father is unable alone to be the "bread-winner" of the family, it is far better for the mother to take in work at home -washing, ironing, mangling, making, or mending, and let the children help in the

house-work under her own eye, than to go abroad "charring;" unless she can send all her children to school, or leave them under grandmother's or a kind neighbour's care during her absence.

We know that there are exceptions. There are widows and deserted mothers, so poor, and so ignorant of needlework, that their only choice is to go out to farm or factory work, or die with their families of starvation; and these poor creatures can only pray for God's protection over their little ones, and take them to work with themselves as soon as they are old enough.

"Where there's a will there's a way." So, dear friends, ponder this subject in your minds; and by all means let the women try and follow the Apostle Paul's advice, and, wherever it is possible, "be helpers at home," to "guide the house," and "bring up the children in the nurture and admonition of the Lord."