UNDERGROUND.

BELOW THE SURFACE.

In these days of fast presses, cheap books and newspapers, lightning telegraphs, and other disseminators of intelligence, there may be those who doubt the correctness of the adage which says, “One half the world does not know how the other half lives.” Human nature is inquisitive. We are constantly seeking information regarding the affairs of others, and we generally manage in some way to obtain what we seek. We store our minds with useful and useless knowledge of the manners and customs of people in other lands, and of the private lives and histories of our near neighbors. Very often the material we thus lay aside in our mental store-houses does not particularly concern us, but, like Mrs. Toodles, in her purchase of a door-plate bearing the name of Thompson with a p, we think it will be handy to have at some future day, and so we keep it. With a fair devotion to inquiries, and a well-cultivated memory, a life of threescore and ten years ought, at this day, to acquaint its possessor with a general knowledge of the how and why of the existence of at least half the inhabitants of the globe.

But it may be set down as an axiom, that one half the world does not live as the other half does. People’s tastes differ, and there are very few who would wish to live exactly like others, especially if those to whom the choice is offered are richer than the others. There are many who would not change places with their wealthy neighbors, and it is more than probable that their wealthy neighbors would not change places with them. The majority of sailors are not happy when on shore, but are constantly sighing for a wet sheet and a flowing sea, while the majority of landsmen have no desire for such hydropathic experience. When Mungo Park travelled in Africa, the natives expressed great pity for him because he had lost his color; they constantly mourned over the unhappy lot of the white man, and would have been quite unwilling to change complexions with him. Mungo received their sympathy with a countenance becomingly solemn, but the chances are more than even that what they regarded as a misfortune was by him considered a blessing. “Give me a bed of ice and a pillow of snow,” said a moribund Laplander in Italy, “and I shall die happy.” A refrigerating couch of this kind would be comfortless in the extreme to a countryman of Pauline Borghese.

A comparatively small portion of the human race lives, or would wish to live, beneath the surface of the globe. Most of us rarely go there voluntarily, and our first visits of any important duration are made after we have shuffled off this mortal coil and invoked the aid of the sexton. Then we are carried there without protest, and the earth is filled above us in sufficient depth to guard us against ordinary intrusions. We may be certain that none of our friends will come in living flesh to join us, and when death brings them to our side their slumbers will be as long and peaceful as our own. The earth, beneath its surface, is regarded by many, as the dwelling-place of Death, to be contemplated with a shudder, and to be visited only when life has left us.

But have they ever considered how much of life there is which the light of day does not reveal? The plants in our gardens have their roots in the rich soil prepared for their sustenance; remove those roots, and the plants fall and die. The trees of the forest spread their branches and unfold their leaves to sun and storm, but there are other branches spread below which sometimes extend more widely than those above. Through these lower limbs, hidden from the light of the sun and sheltered from the peltings of the pitiless storm, life comes to the trunk and to the upper branches. Lay bare these lower branches, and tear them from the earth, and the tree soon withers and perishes. The grass carpets the meadow, the flowers adorn the hill-sides, wheat and corn grow in the fields, the trees spread their shading limbs and drop their fruits in their season, and without these the world would be desolate. But all have their existence underground, and they cling as tenaciously to the bosom of Mother Earth as the men who walk among or upon them cling to that mysterious element which we call life.

A great portion of the wealth of the globe lies beneath its surface. Gold and silver form the circulating medium of all civilized and many savage people. Their possession is wealth, as the lack of them is poverty; their coming brings happiness, and their departure leaves misery. From the earth they are taken, and in their pursuit men undergo many privations and suffer many hardships. The diamond that sparkles on delicate fingers has been washed from the accumulations which many centuries had piled above it. Iron, copper, tin, and other metals are sought by the light of the miner’s lamp, far away from the rays of the sun, and sometimes in long tunnels pushed beneath the ever-restless ocean. Ages and ages ago the hand of Nature deposited beds of coal in every quarter of the globe, and to-day they afford light and heat to millions of the human race. Down, down, hundreds and thousands of feet below the surface of the earth these coal-beds are spread, sometimes over areas many miles in extent, and promising a supply of fuel for many centuries to come. Thousands of men find profitable employment in these mines; and but for their labors, those of us who live above the surface would often suffer the pangs of cold.

As the coal burns brightly in our grates and fills our rooms with heat, do we think of the many centuries it has been awaiting our use, and of the toil that has placed it in our control? As we look at the great network of railways, spreading over our continent, bringing north and south, east and west, nearer together, annihilating time and space (and sometimes annihilating people), do we think that but for the mines of coal and iron our country to-day would be little better than it was half a century ago, and much of its area, now rich in commercial and agricultural prosperity, would be little else than a wilderness? To coal and iron the world owes much of its present advancement, and both these substances come from beneath the surface of the earth.

The most valuable minerals, and those which employ the greatest amount of capital, are of comparatively recent exploitation. Iron has done more good to the world than gold, and is many times more valuable; but gold was known and used long before iron was discovered. Coal is more valuable than copper, and gold, and diamonds; the world could go on without these last, as other minerals could take their places, but nothing now known could take the place of coal. From many parts of the globe the forest primeval has been removed, and countries that a few hundred years ago were thickly wooded are now almost denuded of timber. Should the working of coal mines cease to-day, there would speedily ensue a scarcity of fuel, and, if prolonged, this scarcity would result in much suffering and death. The exploitation of coal is one of the great interests of the British Isles, and is of no inconsiderable importance in the United States. More than two thirds of the mining enterprise of the world is devoted to it; yet this substance, possessing no beauty, and to a casual observer devoid of all merit, is included among the most recently discovered minerals. “Time’s noblest offspring is its last.”

To most people the underground life of the miner is a mystery. Comparatively few of those who walk the earth to-day have ever been farther within it than to the bottom of a cellar; and in many localities even this experience has been denied to the inhabitants, for the reason that no cellars are found there. If an enumeration were made to-day of all persons in the United States who have ever been underground more than fifty feet from the surface, and more than one hour at a time, the number would be found surprisingly small. I once accompanied a gentleman from Boston in a descent into a mine a hundred feet in depth, and having a single gallery about eighty feet long, leading from the foot of the shaft. It was an old story to me, but a new one to my Boston friend, who clung to the rope of our bucket as convulsively as a drowning man would clutch a life buoy. When we reached the bottom, and crept along the low gallery, his heart beat violently, and he several times wished himself safe above ground. When we finished our exploration, and returned to the upper air, I asked him what he thought of the mine.

“Most wonderful thing I ever saw,” he replied. “I never knew much about mines, and didn’t suppose they were so deep. Wonderful, certainly.”

“What would you think,” I asked, “if I should take you into a mine twenty times as deep as this, and having miles of galleries underground, where you could walk a whole day without going through all of them?”

His face assumed the most puzzled expression I ever saw on a human being, and he was speechless for a full minute. When he regained his voice, he said,—

“You might tell me of such a mine, and I should be obliged to believe you, though I can hardly conceive one could be made so large. But as for taking me into such a place, you could never do it without tying me and carrying me there. Catch me in such a place as that, never.”

I told him the story of the boy who went from home for the first time in his life to accompany his father to a grist-mill, about three miles away. When the boy returned, he was thoughtful for a long time, and finally remarked that he never supposed the world was so large.

The miner’s life is one of vicissitudes and dangers. He is shut out from the light of day, and depends upon his lamp or candle, instead of the sun and moon. Shut up in the earth, all is night to him; and whether the sun shines or is obscured by clouds, whether the moon is in the heavens, surrounded by twinkling stars, or the whole dome above is wrapped in darkness, makes little difference to him. All is night, and without his artificial light, all is blackest darkness. The changes that follow the earth’s daily revolutions are unknown to the miner as he performs his work, and if he remained continually below, the seasons might come and go without his knowledge. Summer’s heat and winter’s frost do not reach him; there is for him but one season—the season that has endured for millions of years, and may endure for millions of years to come. The temperature of the surrounding earth, unless varied by that of the air driven to him by the machinery of his mine, or by the heat of his lamp, is the temperature in which he performs his labors. Day and night, spring and autumn, new moon and full moon, may come and go, but they extend not their influence to the depths of the mine.

There are dangers from falls of rock and earth, which may cause immediate death, or enclose their victims in a living tomb. There are dangers from water, which may enter suddenly, flood the mine, and drown all who cannot reach the opening in time to escape. There are dangers from the atmosphere, which may become foul, and leave him who breathes it lying dead, far away from those who would gladly assist him, but would lose their lives should they go to his rescue. His light grows dim, and warns him of his peril; as he starts for a place of safety the light goes out, and in blackest darkness he falls and dies, unless speedily rescued. There are dangers from fire, where the atmosphere becomes charged with inflammable gas; it is lighted by an accident, and an explosion follows, in which dozens and sometimes hundreds of men are killed. There are dangers from fire outside the mine, as in the horrible affair of Avondale. There are dangers from the breaking of ropes, and the derangement of machinery, from the carelessness of those whose duty it is to exercise the utmost caution, and from other causes to be hereafter enumerated. And yet with all these perils there is no lack of men ready to meet them, as there is no lack of men ready to meet the perils and dangers of all branches of industry. Laborers can always be found for any honest employment, and too often for employment quite outside the bounds of honesty.

The earliest life underground was in caves of natural formation. All over the globe there are caverns where men have lived, sometimes under concealment, sometimes for sanitary reasons, and sometimes because they saved the labor of constructing houses. Some of these caverns are of great dimensions, and could furnish shelter for thousands of men, while others are adapted to the wants of only a few persons. Many caverns and caves are not available as dwelling-places, but are visited only from motives of curiosity on the part of travellers, or from a desire for gain on the part of those who seek whatever may be valuable. Many caves have histories romantic or tragic, and some of them combine romance and tragedy in about equal proportions. Tales of love and war, of fidelity and treachery, and of all the contending passions and experiences of human nature, can be found in the histories of these excavations which have been made by no mortal hands.

Metaphorically, there is a great deal of underground life above the surface of the earth. Men devote time, and patience, and study to the acquisition of wealth by measures that are as far removed from the light of honesty as the tunnel the miner drives beneath the mountain is removed from the light of the sun. One builds a reputation which another burrows beneath and destroys, as the engineers at Hell Gate undertook to destroy the rocky reef which sunk the ships of many a navigator, from the days of Hendrick Hudson to Gen. Newton. Hope springs eternal in the human breast, but it is not always hope for better things.

Dishonest men hope for wealth, they care not how obtained, and in its pursuit they frequently imitate the labors of the miner. Shafts are sunk and tunnels are driven; the pick, the drill, and the powder-blast perform their work; operations are silently and secretly conducted, and all unknown to the outer world; dangers of falls of earth, of floods of water, of choke-damp, and fire-damp, are unheeded, and by and by the prize may be obtained. A great city, in its moral or immoral life, is cut and seamed with subterranean excavations more extensive than those of the richest coal-fields of England or Belgium. Wall Street is a mining centre greater than the whole of Pennsylvania, and to one who knows it intimately it reveals daily more shafts and tunnels than can be found in Nevada or Colorado. The career of a politician is not unlike that of the miner, though it is frequently much more difficult to follow. The miner may be tracked and found, but there is many a politician whose devious windings would baffle the keenest detective that ever lived.

To describe underground life in its many phases is the object of this volume. The experience of the miner is full of adventures of an exciting character; so exciting, indeed, that there is no occasion to use fiction in place of fact. The hardships, the difficulties, and the dangers that surround him who labors beneath the earth’s surface might form the basis of a story more interesting than the most skilfully constructed romance ever printed. It is an old adage, that Truth is stranger than Fiction: the experience of the miner affords better illustrations of the correctness of this adage than does that of any other laborer. Especially is this the case if we consider Underground Life in its metaphoric as well as in its literal sense, and note the devious and hidden ways in which many of our fellow-men pass the greater part of their existence.

DISCOVERY OF COAL.

In the autumn of 1865, a small party connected with the survey of a telegraph route through North-eastern Asia, was landed at the mouth of the Anadyr River, near Behring’s Straits. Another party was landed in Kamchatka, and proceeded over land towards the north. They made constant inquiries about the Anadyr party, and at last learned from a band of wandering aboriginals that some white men had been left by a fire ship (steamer) near the mouth of the river, and were living in a small house which they had constructed partly of boards, partly of bushes, and partly of earth. The savages described them as the most wonderful white men they had ever seen. “They have,” said one of the savages, “an iron box, and they burn black stones in it to make a fire.” These savages had never seen a stove, and they had never seen coal. To their untutored minds the work of the white men was something wonderful.

It is probable that the comparatively recent discovery of mineral coal is due in a great measure to its close resemblance to stone. A savage or civilized man knows that an ordinary stone, whether white, red, blue, green, or gray, will not burn; then why should he suppose that a black stone will burn? Until a comparatively recent date there has been no great demand for coal as fuel. Many parts of the world at the present day are covered with immense forests, and for a hundred and perhaps thousands of years there will be no occasion in these localities to make use of the mineral fuel.

It is supposed that the Greeks and Romans had some knowledge of fossil fuel, but they made very little use of it, partly for the reason that they did not know the proper way to burn it, and partly because the forests in those days furnished all the fuel needed for industrial purposes. There were no manufactories and smelting establishments, and the working of metals was carried on in a very primitive way. Wood and charcoal were the only fuel, and most of the countries inhabited at that early day were favored with a warm climate, that for the most part of the year was comfortable enough by day, while blankets and other bed-clothing gave sufficient warmth by night. The laws of heat were not known; the pressure of vapor was not even thought of, or suspected; and mechanical force was derived from wind, from water, and from animated beings.

When the winds did not blow the galleys were rowed by convicts, and in the absence of a stream of water, animals, and sometimes men, turned the mill.

Occasionally in building aqueducts, large beds of coal were laid bare, but no attention was paid to them. In making one aqueduct, a branch of a canal was cut through a bed of rock, and at the bottom of that bed a valuable seam of coal was found, but nobody appears to have troubled his head about it. It is supposed by most writers that the discovery of coal occurred in the East. The Chinese have been credited with the discovery and invention of nearly everything in the world except the discovery of America and the invention of the electric telegraph. It is pretty certain that they were acquainted with mineral fuel from a very remote antiquity. They knew how to work it, and apply it to industrial uses, such as baking porcelain, drying tea, and the like. The Chinese, for hundreds of years, used to bake porcelain with mineral coal. It is only recently that mineral coal has been substituted for charcoal for this very same purpose in France, and it has been found to be quite economical.

The Chinese knew how to collect the gases which came from coal, and they used them for illuminating. The accounts of the early missionaries state that from time immemorial the Chinese used to bore into the earth in search of gas, and when they found it they conveyed it in pipes to the places where it was wanted. Gas was not used for illuminating in Europe until quite recently.

Historians also say that for many centuries mines of coal have been worked in the Celestial Empire, but that the working was in a very barbarous fashion. Many of their coal mines consist of open cuttings; when they went underground they took but little care to construct drains or support the subterranean ways, and they took no precaution whatever against explosions of fire-damp, which often proved fatal. Their working of mines to-day is in the same barbarous fashion of centuries ago, and one might be pardoned for thinking, like the boy who was trying to learn the alphabet, that it was hardly worth while to go through so much to accomplish so little.

In England there are evidences to show that coal was known to the Romans, and possibly to the Britons before the Roman invasion; but it was only worked at the outcrops of the coal seams. No mention is made of coal until the time of Henry II. In 1259 a charter was granted to the Freemen of Newcastle, giving them the liberty “to dig for cole,” and a few years later coal was carried to London.

In 1306 Parliament petitioned the king to prevent the importation of coal, and Edward I. issued a proclamation forbidding the use of mineral fuel. Coal was worked to some extent in the thirteenth, fourteenth, fifteenth, and sixteenth centuries, and by the beginning of the seventeenth century the English coal mines were in full operation. In 1615 four thousand English ships were employed in the coal trade. The coal mines of Belgium were opened about the same time as those of England. The Belgian coal miners tell a curious story of the discovery of coal, in the twelfth century, at the village of Plenevaux, near Liège. One of the old chroniclers gives the account as follows:—

“Houillos, a farrier, at Plenevaux, was so poor as not to be able to earn enough for his wants, not having sometimes bread enough to give to his wife and children. One day, being without work, he almost made up his mind to put an end to his life, when an old man, with a white beard, entered his shop. They entered into conversation. Houillos told him his troubles; that, being a disciple of St. Eloi, he worked in iron, blowing the bellows himself to save the expense of an assistant. He could easily realize some advantages if charcoal was not so dear, as it was that which ruined him.

“The good old man was moved even to tears. ‘My friend,’ said he to the farrier, ‘go to the neighboring mountain, dig up the ground, and you will find a black earth suitable for the forge.’

“No sooner said than done. Houillos went to the spot pointed out, found the earth as predicted, and having thrown it into the fire, proceeded to forge a horseshoe at one heating. Transported with joy, he would not keep the precious discovery to himself, but communicated it to his neighbors, and even to his brother farriers. A grateful posterity has bestowed his name to coal, which is called, in French, Houille.

“His memory is still cherished by all the miners of Liège, who frequently tell the story of the honest collier, or of the old coal miner, as they delight in calling him. The miners say it was an angel who showed him the spot where the coal was.”

It is not positively known when the first discovery of coal was made in the United States. Some historians say that it was before the Revolutionary war, while others say it was since that time. It is certain that coal mining has not been extensively prosecuted on the American continent until within the past fifty years.

There is an old story told somewhere of a discovery of coal in Pennsylvania by one of the Quaker settlers in the mountains, not far from where Scranton now stands. According to the story-teller,—but I cannot vouch for his correctness,—the Quaker settler, who was familiar with coal in England, discovered a peculiar stone, which seemed to him almost identical with the substance which he had used in England for fuel. He carried some of it home, and threw it in the fire. He found that it became red, and was consumed, but that it would only ignite when there was a very hot fire of wood around it. The coal with which he had been familiar would burn quite readily, and gave off a thick black smoke; but the substance which he had discovered gave neither smoke nor flame. He wondered at this, and concluded that the substance which he found was worthless.

One day a traveller, whom the story-teller converts into a Yankee pedler, came along. As they sat by the evening fire, the Quaker told him of the peculiar region they were in, and of the remarkable stones which he had discovered. He threw a few fragments upon the fire, and in a little while they became red and were consumed.

The traveller insisted that the substance was valuable; that it was probably good coal, but the great difficulty was to make it burn. After gossiping a while about the matter, the traveller went to bed.

During the night he pondered over the matter, and in the morning asked his Quaker friend to take him to the spot where he had found the black stone. The spot was shown him; he examined the substance carefully. The Quaker carried to the house a considerable quantity of the substance, and then the Yankee said,—

“I think we can make this stuff burn if we can only draw a fire through it. Now, what we want to do is to fix up something so as to make the fire go where we want it to.”

The Quaker assented to the proposition, and asked if it were possible.

The Yankee said, “Yes. I know how it can be done; but before I tell you I want to buy half of the land where you found that stone.”

A bargain was struck very speedily, and the Yankee hunted around the establishment, and found a piece of sheet iron, which he fashioned into a blower. He then built up a small, narrow fire-place, and fitted his blower to the front. “The next thing,” said he, “is to make something like a grate;” and they took some rods of iron and fashioned them into a rude grate.

“Now,” said the Yankee to the Quaker, “build a good fire of wood, so that it will fill the bottom of that grate.”

The Quaker followed the directions, and when the fire was well started, the Yankee threw a peck or so of the coal on the top and put up the blower. The fire was drawn directly among the fragments of coal; in a little while the blower was removed, and the coal was found to be a red, burning mass, which threw off an intense heat.

Both were delighted with the discovery; and thus was opened the first anthracite coal mine in America.

A story was once told to me, on the Pacific coast, concerning the discovery of coal at Bellingham Bay, in British Columbia. The narrator said that a party of men connected with the Hudson Bay Company’s service, was at one time in the camp of a family of Chinook Indians. The Indians told them that a few days before, in a locality which they had visited, they had attempted to build a fire. The wind was blowing, and in order to shield their fire they piled some stones around it. Among these were two or three large black stones, which they had picked up on the surface. Great was their astonishment, when the fire was under way, to see these black stones ignite and burn. They thought it something mysterious, and immediately ascribed it to the work of the devil, just as a great many savage and civilized people are inclined to attribute anything they do not understand to His Satanic Majesty. Next day they guided the white men to the spot. It was found that a vein of coal outcropped upon the surface, and gave sure indications of a rich deposit below.

The annual production of coal throughout the entire world is roughly estimated at about two hundred millions of tons. More than half of this coal is produced in Great Britain. About twenty millions of tons are mined in North America, and the rest mainly in Belgium, France, and Prussia. The production of other countries is comparatively insignificant. Coal is the most valuable mineral substance known. The amount of coal taken from the earth every year is double the value of all the gold, silver, and diamonds annually produced. In the great World’s Fair of London in 1851, when the famous Kohinoor diamond attracted thousands of curious spectators, there was one day a lump of coal placed near the case containing the Kohinoor. The lump bore this brief label: “This is the real Kohinoor diamond.”

America to-day is of far less importance as a coal producer than Great Britain, but she is destined to become eventually the great coal producer of the world. At the present time there is much anxiety in England about the exhaustion in a few hundred years of the coal fields in the British Isles. The United Kingdom contains nine thousand square miles of coal fields; France, Belgium, Spain, Prussia, and other German states, together, about two thousand seven hundred square miles of coal fields; other countries, not including America, contain about twenty-nine thousand, while North America, including the British colonies, contains about one hundred and eighty thousand square miles of coal fields. It will thus be seen that the area of the North American coal fields is four times as great as all those of the other countries of the globe. Of this immense extent of coal deposits, a very small portion has yet been touched, and consequently for thousands of years to come our country can supply the world.

Coal was formed at a very remote geological period. Scientific men differ as to the exact age of this substance. Their differences are trivial, however, being only a few millions of years; but they all agree that at the time coal was formed there were wide jungles and swamps that covered a large portion of the earth’s surface. The atmosphere was very moist, and probably contained a much larger proportion of carbonic acid than at the present time. This gas is one which especially promotes the growth of plants. It is, and was, probably unfavorable to the existence of animal life; and it has been suggested that the gradual withdrawal of the carbonic acid by the growth of vegetation of that period slowly purified the atmosphere, and brought it to the condition in which we now find it. The earth at that time was not fitted for the habitation of man. If man had existed at that period, he would have needed fins in the place of hands and feet, and would have required lungs like those of fishes, instead of those which he now possesses. There was an abundant population of reptiles and of insects, and there was a liberal supply of fishes.

Many of these fishes, reptiles, and insects are unknown at the present day. They performed their work, if work they had to do, and disappeared. Their remains are found in the coal seams and in the rocks which lie above or beneath the coal, and form an interesting subject of study.

Some of the reptiles were enormously large. Remains have been found of a lizard more than one hundred feet long, with an open countenance, that could have taken in an ordinary man about as easily as a chicken swallows a fly. The skeletons of these reptiles are found, and I think that most people who examine these skeletons are inclined to give a sigh of relief when they remember that such creatures are now extinct. They would be very disagreeable travelling companions, and one might be very much disinclined to meet them in a narrow lane on a dark night.

Some years ago I examined the skeleton of a reptile discovered in the Mississippi Valley, and though the bones were cold and motionless, I had the wish to keep at a respectful distance from them. He had a mouth that reminded one of the extension top of a patent carriage; and when his jaw was pushed back, it seemed to me that he could have walked down his own throat without the slightest difficulty.

The most plausible and reasonable theory of the formation of coal seems to be that it is for the most part the remains of vegetable matter which had become decomposed and changed to mineral on the spot where it remained and is now found. The fibrous tissues of the aquatic vegetation flourished like a thick carpet on the moist surface. It became mingled and matted together, as we now find turf and peat in peat bogs, and in swamps and marshes. On the borders of great lakes, which in time were built up and became swamps, these plains extended, and underwent slow depression. Layers of sand and other substances were carried down below the level of the sea, which we now find among and alternating with the coal seams in the shape of beds of shales and sandstones. Then another system of lagoons formed above them, and allowed new jungles to spring up and new marshes to be formed. These were in turn depressed and covered by the waters. In this way, step by step, the coal beds were built up. According to geologists, each coal seam represents a depressed swamp, while the intervening strata of sandstone, and shale, and clay, mark the various sediments which were brought together by the action of the waters.

The coal beds contain many impressions of plants and portions of plants, so that geologists have been able to determine the nature of the vegetation of that period. There are a great many mosses and ferns, some of the latter having thick, broad stems, and long and heavy leaves. One geologist says there are one hundred and seventy-seven specimens of plants found in single coal beds. He says there are no palms, nor grasses, nor flowering plants; and for this reason he considers that the coal beds were formed from plants of a marshy growth.

The layers of peat, after being covered by shales, sandstone, and limestone, were compressed beneath the enormous weight of the over-lying strata, and while undergoing this compression, there was a sort of distillation and purifying process going on. In this way the plants and peat, originally loosely matted together, became more and more compressed, and by means of the heat and pressure were entirely decomposed. Ultimately the substance was turned into what we now find it, and the coal was stored up for future ages.

The ancients had curious theories in regard to the formation of coal. They regarded it as streams of bitumen, which had become petrified, or had impregnated certain very porous kinds of rock. Another theory which they entertained was, that forests had been carbonized on the spot where they grew, or had been transformed by streams of sulphurous acid, which possesses the property of hardening and carbonizing wood. It is easy to attribute the origin of coal to the agency of rivers of bitumen, and oil of vitriol; but it is not easy to say where those rivers came from.

The Chinese have a theory that coal is a species of plant of which the seed was deposited in the earth ages and ages ago, and that it grew and spread in different parts of the empire where it is now found, in order that the Chinese of to-day might have a sufficient supply of fuel. They attribute the streams of inflammable gas, which they collect and utilize, to the breathings of an immense monster below the surface of the earth, and in some localities they call him the first cousin of the God of Fire. The God of Fire is one of the Chinese deities. He occupies a prominent place in the temples, and is worshipped with great solemnity. In other parts of the world these streams of gas are worshipped, and in localities along the coast of the Caspian Sea, streams of burning gas are constantly rising, and their sources are known as sacred wells. They are visited by thousands of devotees every year, and are regarded with the greatest reverence.

Wells of similar character exist in the United States, but they are mostly of artificial origin. They are found in the vicinity of Oil Creek, and that region of Western Pennsylvania which has been baptized as Petrolia. Thousands of devotees have worshipped in the vicinity of these wells, and many of them owe their fortunes to the modern God of Fire; but it is doubtful if many of them worship the wells with that religious devotion and reverence which are found among the fire worshippers of the far east.

A novelty in the way of carrying coal may be seen at the Harewood coal mine, at Nanaimo, British Columbia. The mines are situated at a considerable elevation above the sea-level, and the intermediate ground is covered with trees and rocks, while several deep ravines intercept the grounds. Under such circumstances, the construction of a railway would be costly and require much time, as several viaducts would be required, and the road at some places would have to make considerable curves. The proprietor of the mines therefore decided to avoid all these difficulties, on putting up a wire tramway in a direct line from the mine to the port, by means of which the ravines could be spanned without expense, and the timber on the ground could be converted into the necessary posts.

There are in all ninety-seven posts, put up to such a height that the wire spanned over them forms a softly inclining plane. The distance between them is from 150 to 250 feet. The wire rope is of the best crucible steel, specially made for the purpose, and is 6-1/2 miles in length; each post having a pair of groove-pulleys two feet in diameter, over which the wire moves. The rope is driven at the lower end by an engine of 20 horse-power, which is sufficient to drive the line when carrying 12 tons per hour.

The driving machinery is fitted with drums 10 feet in diameter; at the mine the rope simply passes round a 10-foot drum. Two hundred and fifty iron buckets, each with a capacity of 2 cwt. of coal, are fitted with a patent hanger and box-head, by means of which all jolting, when passing over the supports, is avoided. This tramway has been transporting, during eight months, about 120 tons of coal per day, and no accident or stoppage has occurred.

Many other tramways of the same nature have been recently put in operation in various parts of the world, as, for instance, in Mauritius, where they have been successfully applied to the carriage of sugar-cane; also in New Zealand, where they are used for carrying manganese ore.

This means of conveyance is certainly a very practical and inexpensive one; it does away with railroad material, engines, engineers, the consumption of coal, etc., and may be applied over the deepest ravines, where it would almost be an impossibility to build a railroad, unless a bridge were built, at enormous expense and labor. Let us conclude this article by giving the following estimate, in round numbers, of the world’s present annual production of coal. It is taken from various sources, and may be considered approximately correct.

BORINGS AND SHAFTS.

Until the beginning of the present century coal mines were discovered more by accident than in any other way. The coal seams make their appearance at the surface, that is, they “crop out,” or “come to grass,” as the miners say. Coal on the surface is generally of a poor character, for the reason that it has been for many hundreds of years subject to the action of the elements; but on digging down a few feet, or a few dozen feet, the quality is found to be greatly improved. When coal is thus found at the surface, a preliminary examination is conducted by cutting trenches, galleries, and pits, and if the conditions are favorable, the actual working of the mine can begin. Sometimes the mine is operated by a few cuttings, like the works of an ordinary stone quarry.

Most coal mines have been discovered and opened in this way; but when the coal is concealed beneath the soil, and nothing is observed on the surface, it is discovered by chance, or by geological indications. At the present day many coal mines are discovered by means of railway cuttings, or in sinking wells. Other mines are discovered in this way. Some twenty years ago, while a railway was constructing in Vermont, the workmen came upon a bed of marble, and it was found to be quite extensive. Speculators bought the land in the vicinity, and thus the Vermont marble quarry came into existence.

In 1813 a well was sunk at La Sarthe, in France. Amongst the rubbish a black earth was noticed, which was sent to a provincial debating society at Le Mans. An extraordinary meeting of the society was called, and somebody suggested that this black earth might be coal. It was immediately tried in the stove in the room where the meeting was held, and it was found that the earth burned readily. An investigation followed. Careful examinations were made, and valuable coal mines were opened in the vicinity.

Some of the mines in the United States have been discovered in places where burrowing animals had thrown up the earth. Decomposed coal retains its original blackness; in several instances where it was found in the earth thus thrown up, careful observations were made, and work was immediately begun in search of coal. Some valuable mines have been opened in this way.

Many of the coal mines in France and Belgium, and also in other countries, have been found in consequence of the explorations of geologists. In the year 1716 a very skilful coal miner in Belgium made a series of explorations, and discovered very valuable mines. Under his direction they were explored for several years, but the works were at length abandoned, in consequence of the accumulation of water. In all parts of the world miners have always found great difficulty in proceeding in consequence of the interruptions caused by water, and until the steam engine was invented there was an absence of sufficient power for its removal.