CHAPTER XXIII. ON MINES IN GENERAL.

Previous

Perils of the Miner’s Life—Number of Casualties in British and Foreign Coal Mines—Life in a Mine—Occurrence of Ores—Extent and Depth of Metallic Veins—Mines frequently discovered by Chance—The Divining Rod—Experimental Borings—Stirring Emotions during their Progress—Sinking of Shafts—Precautions against Influx of Water—Expense—Shaft Accidents—Various Methods of working Mineral Substances—Working in Direct and Reverse Steps—Working by Transverse Attacks—Open Quarry Workings—Pillar and Stall System—Long Wall System—Dangerous Extraction of Pillars—Mining Implements—Blasting—Heroes in Humble Life—Firing in the Mine of Rammelsberg—Transport of Minerals Underground—Modern Improvements—Various Modes of Descent—Corfs—Wonderful Preservation of a Girl at Fahlun—The Loop—Safety Cage—Man Machines—Timbering and Walling of Galleries—Drainage by Adit Levels—Remarkable Adits—The Great Cornish Adit—The Georg Stollen in the Harz—The Ernst August Stollen—Steam Pumps—Drowning of Mines—Irruption of the Sea into Workington Colliery—Hubert Goffin—Irruption of the River Garnock into a Mine—Ventilation of Mines—Upcast Shafts—Fire Damp—Dreadful Explosions—The Safety Lamp—The Choke Damp—Conflagrations of Mines—The Burning Hill in Staffordshire.

Few metals are found in a native state, nor are they commonly scattered in loose masses, nuggets, grains, or scales over the surface of the earth. Hence the seeker’s trouble is by no means confined to the task of gathering these masses, or of separating them by washing from the alluvial sand or gravel with which they are mixed; much more frequently they are chemically combined with other substances from which a far advanced state of science is alone able to separate them, or deeply imbedded in subterranean mines, often so difficult of access as to tax for their working all the energies of man and all the resources of his metallurgic skill. The labours of the miner require indeed no less courage and presence of mind than those of the mariner. He no more knows whether he shall ever return from the pit into which he descends in the morning for his hard day’s work than the sailor knows whether he shall ever revisit the port which he is leaving. He is perpetually at war with fire and earth, with air and water, and this eternal strife levies a no less heavy tribute of death and suffering than the storms of the raging seas.

In the year 1867, 1,190 persons perished in our 3,192 collieries, which employ a total of 333,116 workmen. Of these, 286 were killed by explosions; 449 by falls of rock; 211 by other subterranean causes; 156 in the shafts; and 88 above ground. In the same year, 293 lives were lost in the Prussian collieries, where 102,773 workmen find employment. Of these, 39 perished by fire-damp; 106 by fall of roof; 65 in shafts; 74 by casualties under ground; and 9 by casualties above ground. These melancholy lists may give us some idea of the number of serious but non-fatal accidents which are not mentioned in the official accounts. Every visitor to a coal-mine will meet with many pit lads who have been ‘lamed’ (or injured) several times in a few years, and who reckon events by the mournful chronology of their various ‘lamings.’ Collieries, as will be seen in the sequel, are indeed peculiarly liable to frightful accidents; yet the number of lives lost in the inspected ironstone mines of Great Britain, in 1866, amounted to 81. Extending our view to the mines of Austria and Russia, of France and Belgium, of Mexico and Peru, &c., &c., where the same dangers cause, no doubt, an equal amount of death or suffering, we may justly conclude that not a day, probably not an hour, passes that does not doom more than one miner to an untimely grave or to permanent mutilation.

But if mining is attended with a lamentable amount of individual suffering, the benefits derived from it by mankind in general are so important that the whole fabric of modern civilisation may be said to rest upon its basis.

Coal and the useful metals rule the world. Wherever they occur in large masses they establish the prosperity of a people on the surest foundations; and England is in a great measure indebted for her high station among the nations of the earth to the treasures hidden beneath her soil.

A large mine displays unquestionably some of the most interesting scenes of human activity. The restless industry pervading its subterranean caves and galleries impresses the visitor with feelings of wonder akin to those which he experiences when he first sets foot on a man-of-war; and if he feels giddy on seeing the sailor climb the loftiest masts, the sight of the yawning abyss into which the miner undauntedly descends seems terrible to his unaccustomed eye; and as he penetrates further and further into the recesses of this unknown world, his sensations are not rendered more agreeable.

The intricate passages branching out into a mysterious distance; the vaults and high halls faintly illumined here and there by a glimmering lamp; the dark forms emerging every now and then from some obscure recess, and then again plunging into night, like demon shades; the clanking of hammers, the rushing of waters, the creaking of wheels, the monotonous sound of machinery, or the loud explosion which, repeated by subterranean echoes, rolls like muttering thunder from vault to vault, the oppressive air in the low galleries, through which he can only move in a stooping position; the fear of being crushed any moment by a falling rock, or shivered to atoms by fire-damp combustion,—all combine to produce an impression which can seldom be made by any scenes above ground.

The admiration which this imposing spectacle necessarily calls forth in his mind increases when he reflects how much skill and experience was required, and how many improvements and inventions had to be made, before mining could be brought to its present state of perfection.

Ores sometimes occur, like coal, in layers or beds, running parallel with the strata of the inclosing rocks, or in prodigious irregular masses. Most commonly, however, they are found in veins traversing the rocks in every conceivable direction, and filling the crevices and chasms which former terrestrial revolutions have rent in the hard stone. From the wild and titanic powers that have here been at work, it may easily be imagined how irregular the direction of these veins must be, and under how many various forms they must appear. Here they are horizontal, there vertical; here they form thin layers, there they fill chasms several hundred feet thick. Sometimes they split into several minor branches, or make abrupt bends, and frequently they have been rent, torn, or displaced in every possible manner by subsequent revolutions.

Their length is as various as their thickness or their direction. Some are short, while others traverse the rocks to a distance of many miles. Thus the argentiferous veins in the neighbourhood of Clausthal, in the Harz, are three leagues long, and the famous Veta Madre, or chief lode of Guanaxuato in Mexico, has been traced for a length of eight miles.

With regard to depth, the lower extremity of hardly a single mineral bed or vein of any note has as yet been pointed out, though many have been worked to a considerable depth. Thus, one of the pits of St. Andreasberg, in the Harz, is 2,485 feet deep, though, on account of its high situation in the mountains, not much more than 280 feet below the surface of the sea, while, in the coal mines of Valenciennes and LiÈge, the deepest shafts are sunk from 1,300 to 1,600 feet below the level of the ocean. The shaft of the colliery of SacrÉe Madame, near Charleroi, is 800 yards deep, and that of Dukinfield Colliery 2,050 feet.

The great difficulty of carrying on mining operations at great depths will, probably, for ever prevent most metalliferous veins from being followed to their origin in the bowels of the earth; for while on high mountains the rarefaction of the atmosphere prevents respiration, the increasing pressure or impurity of the air at a depth of four or five thousand feet below the level of the sea must necessarily hinder the free expansion of the lungs. The weakness of our organisation soon sets limits to our progress, whether we wish to rise into the air or to penetrate into the interior of the earth; and it is only on spiritual wings that we soar aloft to the stars, or wander through the mysterious depths of our planet.

How have the ores been collected or precipitated in the veins or strata where they are often found in such enormous quantities? Partly they ascended as vapour from unknown depths, and then were condensed in the crevices, mixing with the gangue or the stones which filled the volcanic chasms; and partly their solutions, of which the mineral springs of the present day afford us so many examples, permeated the porous rocks, and saturated them on cooling, or were forced to relinquish their valuable contents by some more powerful chemical affinity. Thus, numberless years before man appeared upon the stage of his future empire, the means were provided without which it would never have been possible for him to establish his dominion over the earth, and to make himself master of the treasures it bears on its surface.

When we consider the frequent upheavings and subsidences of the earth-rind and the denuding power of water, which, in the long series of ages, cuts deep ravines into the mountains and washes away whole strata, we cannot wonder that many metalliferous veins emerge or crop out on the surface of the earth, so that a fortunate chance sufficed for their discovery. Thus, a poor Indian looking for wood first found the rich deposits of silver that had so long been buried in obscurity under the sterile soil of Copiapo in Chili (1632). Partridges, in whose stomachs grains of gold were found, are said to have led to the discovery of the rich mines of Kremnitz and Schemnitz in Hungary; and Ramm, a huntsman of the emperor Otho the Great, having bound his horse to a tree in a forest near Goslar in the Harz Mountains, the fretful steed, stamping with impatience and tearing up the soil, pointed out the celebrated lode of the Rammelsberg, which is still worked to the present day.

But if in these and similar instances the treasures of the subterranean world have revealed themselves spontaneously to man, in many other cases laborious and costly investigations have been found necessary for their discovery.

As civilisation advanced, and the value of the metals, of coal and salt, came to be more and more appreciated, nothing could be more natural than the desire of no longer relying upon the discoveries of chance or upon the mines bequeathed by former ages, but of sounding the mysterious recesses of the earth, and forcing her, by dint of patient exploration, to reveal the riches she conceals under her surface.

Thus, as far back as the eleventh century, the divining rod came into practice, and found full credence in a superstitious age. A forked branch of the hazel-tree, cut during a peculiar phase of the moon, was the means employed in Germany for the discovery of buried treasures, of veins of metal, of deposits of salt, or of subterranean sources. But the miraculous rod did not indiscriminately show its powers in every hand; it was necessary to have been born in certain months, and soft and warm—or, according to the modern expression, magnetic—fingers were indispensable for handling it with effect. The diviner possessing these necessary qualifications took hold of the rod by its branches so that the stem into which they united was directed upwards. On approaching the spot where the sought-for treasure lay concealed, the magical rod slowly turned towards it, until finally the stem had fully changed its position and pointed vertically downwards. To increase the solemnity of the scene, the wily conjurors generally traced magical circles that were not to be passed, burnt strong smelling herbs and spices, and uttered powerful charms to disarm the enmity of the evil spirits that were supposed to guard the hidden treasures.

At present, the divining-rod has lost its old reputation, and more rational means are employed for the discovery of mineral wealth. Relying on experience, tact, and geological knowledge, the investigator carefully examines the country where ores or coal are supposed to be concealed, and having fixed upon an appropriate spot, has recourse either to experimental digging or to boring for testing the truth of his opinion. These expensive explorations, though often unsuccessful, frequently prove highly remunerative, and many a saline spring, or coal seam, or metallic vein would, without their assistance, have remained unknown and unproductive.

Boring through hard stone is necessarily a very tedious work, but as it proceeds it awakens not only in those who are directly interested in its success, but in every intelligent witness, all the stirring emotions of a game of chance. ‘Of all branches of business,’ says Williams, a thoroughly devoted miner—‘of all the experiments that a man of sensibility can be engaged in, or attend to, there is, perhaps, none so amusing, so engaging, and delightful as a successful trial upon the vestigia, or appearances, of a seam of coal, or other mineral discoveries. When you are attending the people who are digging down or forward upon the vestige of the coal, and the indications are increasing and still growing better under your eye, the spirit of curiosity and attention is awakened, and all the powers of expectation are elevated in pleasing hopes of success. And when your wishes are at length actually fulfilled—when you have discovered a good coal of sufficient thickness, and all circumstances are favourable, the heart then triumphs with solid and satisfactory joy.'

In a mining country like England, where the spirit of enterprise is continually on the look-out for new sources of profit, it may naturally be supposed that searches for coal or metallic ore must be frequently undertaken. Thus in all our mining districts there are professional master-borers, who engage for a fixed price to drill the hardest rock to any depth that may be required.[35] Their chief implements are boring-rods, made of the best and most tenacious Swedish iron; chisels fitted with screws, tipped with good steel, with a face of two and a half to three and a quarter inches, and generally eighteen inches in length; and a wimble, which is a hollow iron instrument like an auger, whose cavity is from six to ten inches in length, with an opening up at one side, with partial overlap, the better to receive and hold the chopped strata.

When the bore is intended to penetrate to a considerable depth, a lofty triangle of wood is set above the bore-hole. In boring, the lowermost rod is the chisel, which continually operates on the rock or stratum. The uppermost rod terminates in a stout ring, through which passes a cross-piece held by two men in working, and which is also suspended to a springing pole by a chain. One or more rods being pushed into the ground, two men on a wooden stage take hold of a cross stave at the end of the springing pole and work it steadily up and down, while two men below, by means of the cross-piece, at the same time heave the suspended rods a few inches, and then allow them to fall by their own weight, walking slowly round the hole. By these combined operations of chopping and scooping the workmen make slow but sure way through whatever substance may be in contact with the chisel. When the hole is too deep, and the added rods become too heavy to be conveniently lifted by manual labour, a brake or lever, or a horse-gin or steam-engine, is employed. As the boring proceeds, it is also frequently necessary to lower pipes into the hole made, to prevent the falling of fragments from the sides of the cylinder.

PROCESS OF BORING.

When the position of a mineral vein is ascertained, its direction known, and some reasonable conjecture made concerning its extent, thickness, and value, measures must be taken to obtain, by subterraneous excavation, the buried mineral, and for this purpose vertical pits or shafts must be sunk, and horizontal galleries, or, as they are sometimes called, levels, must be driven, to prepare the way for its convenient extraction, and at the same time to carry off, so far as may be, the water which either rises into the mine from springs, or drains into it from the surrounding strata. Some idea may be formed of the extent of these works in many of the more considerable mines, when we learn that the total amount of sinking in the Consolidated Mines in Cornwall is stated to amount to more than twelve miles of perpendicular depth (including, of course, the winzes or underground shafts), and that the horizontal galleries extend to as much as forty miles in length. A mine like this is, in fact, a large subterranean town, with numerous lanes and avenues, passages and thoroughfares.

SECTION OF A LEAD MINE IN CARDIGANSHIRE.
a. Shafts. b. Levels.

In sinking a shaft, danger is to be apprehended both from the falling in of loose and incoherent strata, and from the lateral springs, which sometimes empty themselves into the workings to an extent which it would at first appear hopeless to contend against. In such cases there is no safety to be obtained without walling the shaft with brick or stone, or securing it by timber or metal tubbing. For this purpose many of our coal pits were formerly lined throughout with three-inch boards, nailed to a circular wooden framework called a crib, which was firmly attached to the sides of the pit at convenient distances. But this method, although it has been known to keep out a pressure of water equal to 100 pounds on the square inch, is not considered so safe as the metal tubbing now adopted in all difficult works. In comparatively solid ground the cast-iron tubs are forced down the shaft, but in soft ground they sink by their own weight. As they descend, fresh tubs are added, until the work is finished. When we consider that, in the coal-pits in the north of England, many shafts have a diameter of as much as fifteen feet, that in some cases they are sunk to a depth of nearly 300 fathoms, and that, under the most favourable circumstances, even where tubbing is not required to guard against the influx of springs, it is necessary to line almost the whole of the interior with bricks, to prevent the loose strata from falling or being washed in, we cannot wonder that as much as 100,000l. and ten years of labour have, in some cases, been expended before the seam of coal has been reached that was to repay all this vast outlay of capital and time. Unsightly and filthy as such a shaft may be, it is in reality a great triumph of architectural skill.

In most of our collieries one shaft serves for winding up the coal, for the passage of the men up and down, for ventilation, and for drainage by means of the engine-pumps. To answer these various purposes it is subdivided or bratticed by brick or wooden partitions into two, three, or four compartments; but this arrangement is very defective, for the safety of the workmen requires that in every large coal-pit, and indeed in every mine, there should be at least two separate shafts. When the partitions of the single shaft become injured or burnt, which has not unfrequently been the case, the ventilation of the pit may suddenly be deranged, and many lives have thus been endangered. The obstruction of a shaft by the breakage of an engine has caused some of the most appalling tragedies in mining history. On January 10, 1862, the beam of the pumping engine broke at the Hartley Colliery in the Newcastle coalfield, and striking, like a huge catapult, with its enormous weight of forty tons, against the sides of the shaft as it descended, accumulated an enormous mass of rubbish and broken timbers at the depth of 138 yards from the surface. Two hundred and four colliers were thus shut out from all hope of rescue, for no exertion could possibly remove, in time enough to save them, the vast pile of ruins that obstructed their escape to the upper world.

The methods of working, winning, or excavating mineral substances naturally vary, according to the magnitude and direction of the beds, lodes, or seams in which they are contained. With a vein of moderate width, as soon as the preparatory labours have brought the miners to the point of the vein from which the ulterior workings are to ramify, the first object is to divide the mass of ore into solid rectangular compartments by means of oblong galleries, generally pierced ten fathoms below one another, with pits of communication opened up, thirty, forty, or fifty yards asunder, which follow the slope of the vein. These galleries and shafts are usually of the same breadth as the vein, unless when it is very narrow, in which case it is necessary to cut out a portion of the roof or the floor. Such workings serve at once the purposes of mining, by affording a portion of ore, and for the complete investigation of the nature and riches of the vein, a certain extent of which is thus prepared before removing the cubical masses. It is proper to advance first of all in this manner to the greatest distance from the central point which can be mined with economy, and afterwards to remove the rectangular blocks in working back to that point. This latter operation may be carried on in two different ways, by attacking the ore from above or from below. In either case the excavations are disposed in steps, similar to a stair, upon their upper or under side. The first is styled a working in direct or descending steps; the second a working in reverse, or ascending steps. By this method a number of miners are able to proceed simultaneously without interfering with each other.

In rich lodes and in the case of thick masses, the system of working in large chambers or extensive excavations, or by transverse attacks, is employed. Superficial deposits are worked like open quarries.

In British practice, coal is generally worked on the post (or pillar and stall) system, or on the long-wall system.

The pillar and stall principle is carried out in the working away of a certain portion of the coal as a first measure, and in leaving the remainder in pillars, which are either to serve permanently for the support of the roof, or to be at some future time partially or totally removed. In the North of England, where this system has been brought to perfection, it is also named panel-work, because the whole area is divided into quadrangular panels, each panel containing an area of from eight to twelve acres, and round each panel is at first left a solid wall of coal of from forty to fifty yards thick. Through the panel walls roads and air-courses are driven in order to work the coal contained within these walls. Thus all the panels are connected together with the shaft as to roads and ventilation, and each district or panel has a particular name, so that any circumstance relating to the details of the colliery can be readily referred to a specified place.

PART OF A COLLIERY LAID OUT IN FOUR PANELS.

A. Engine shaft: divided into three compartments, an engine pit and two coal pits. F, G. Two panels completed as to the first work.
B, C. Dip head level. D. Panel, with the rooms a a in regular progress to the rise.
A, E. The rise or crop gallery. H. Panel fully worked out.
K, K. Panel walls.

By this plan, of which the above illustration gives a distinct idea, the pillars of a panel may be worked out at any time most suitable for the economy of the mine, and the loss of coal amounts to no more than about a tenth, instead of a third or a half by the old methods.

When the pillars of a panel are to be worked out, the most distant range is first attacked, and as the workmen cut away the furthest pillars, props of wood are placed between the pavement and the roof, within a few feet of each other, as shown by the dots at I. This is continued till an area of one hundred square yards is cleared of pillars. This operation is termed ‘working the goaf.’ The only use of the prop-wood is to prevent the stratum which forms the ceiling over the workmen’s heads from falling down and killing them by its splintery fragments. Experience has proved that before proceeding to take away another set of pillars, it is necessary to allow the last made goaf to fall. The workmen then begin to draw out the props. This is a most hazardous employment. Knocking down the more remote props one after another, they quickly retreat under the protection of the remaining props. Meanwhile the roof stratum begins to break by the sides of the pillars and falls down in immense pieces; while the workmen still persevere, boldly drawing and retreating till every prop is removed. Nay, should any props be so firmly fixed by the top pressure that they will not give way to the blows of heavy mauls, they are cut through with axes, the workmen making it a point of honour to leave not a single prop in the goaf. If any props are left, it causes an irregular subsidence of the strata, and throws more pressure on the adjacent pillars. The miners next proceed to cut away the pillars nearest to the sides of the goaf, setting prop-wood, then drawing it, and retreating as before, until every panel is removed excepting small portions of pillars which require to be left under dangerous stones, to protect the retreat of the workmen. While this operation is going forward and the goaf extending, the superincumbent strata, being exposed without support over a larger area, break progressively higher up; and when strong beds of sandstone are thus giving way, the noise of the rending rocks is very peculiar and terrific; at one time loud and sharp, at another hollow and deep. As the pillars of the panels are taken away, the panel walls are also worked progressively backwards to the pit-bottom, so that only a small portion of the coal is eventually lost.

When mines are fully worked, the main shaft is frequently continued down to other seams of coal, which are excavated in the same way as the first seam. In such cases the workings communicate with each other by shafts called ‘staples,’ which are sunk at intervals between the seams of coal.

GENERAL VIEW OF MINING OPERATIONS.

The principle of long-wall working (Shropshire and Derbyshire method) is the extraction of all the available coal by the single process of first working, maintaining the roads by means of stone-walls or wooden props. This system is applicable with advantage only to thin seams which lie near to the surface, and in which the workings may be of a very limited extent.

TOOLS USED BY MINERS IN CORNWALL.
a. Pick. b. Gad. c. Shovel. d. Mallet. e. Borer. f. Claying-bar. g. Needle or nail. h. Scraper. i. Tamping-bar.

According to the various hardness of the minerals or of the rocks in which they are embedded, different means and implements for dividing the masses are employed. In loose earth, sand, and clay, shovels and scrapers suffice; in gypsum, coal, and rock-salt, the pick becomes necessary; in many hard slates, gads must be driven into the small openings made with the point of the pick. In still harder stones, forming the great majority of those which occur in veins and strata, recourse must be had to the explosive power of gunpowder, which is also largely employed in our coal-mines. The tools used for this purpose are the borer, an iron bar tipped with steel, formed like a thick chisel, which is held by one man straight in the hole with constant rotation on its axis, while another strikes the head of it with the iron sledge or mallet; the scraper for clearing out the hole from time to time; the claying-bar, a tapering iron rod, which, after the introduction of some tenacious clay into the cavity, is forced into it with great violence, and, condensing the clay into all the crevices of the rock, secures the dryness of the hole; and the nail, a small taper rod of copper, which, after the charge has been introduced, is inserted to reach the bottom of the hole, which is now ready for tamping. For this purpose, any soft species of rock free from flinty particles, which might provoke a premature explosion, is introduced in small quantities at a time, and rammed very hard by the tamping bar, which is held steadily by one man and struck with a sledge by another. The hole being thus filled, the nail is withdrawn by putting a bar through its eye and striking it upwards. Thus a small perforation or vent is left for the safety fuse, a woven cylinder containing gunpowder, and protected by a coating of tar. The fire being applied, the men retire to a safe distance.

Often, in order to lose as little time as possible, a number of shots are fired together, so that the explosions, pouring out their tongues of flame in rapid succession, and awakening the subterranean echoes far and wide, afford a highly interesting spectacle. But woe to the miner if he be too hasty to return to his post, for it often happens that a treacherous shot goes off several minutes after being lighted, and, exploding in the face of the imprudent workman, disfigures him for life, or kills him on the spot.

Accidents in blasting arise also from other causes, such as a negligent handling of the powder while preparing the charge, or some delay in retiring after the fuse has been kindled. It was an incident of the latter kind which some years back called forth the following instance of heroism.

‘In a certain Cornish mine,’ says Thomas Carlyle,[36] ‘two miners, deep down in the shaft, were engaged in putting in a shot for blasting; they had completed their affair, and were about to give the signal for being hoisted up. One at a time was all their coadjutor at the top could manage, and the second was to kindle the match and then mount with all speed. Now it chanced, while they were still below, one of them thought the match too long, tried to break it shorter, took a couple of stones, a flat and a sharp, to cut it shorter, did cut it off the due length, but, horrible to relate, kindled it at the same time, and both were still below. Both shouted vehemently to the coadjutor at the windlass, both sprang at the basket; the windlass-man could not move it with them both. Here was a moment for poor miner Jack and miner Will! Instant horrible death hangs over both, when Will generously resigns himself. “Go aloft, Jack, and sit down. Away! In one minute I shall be in heaven!” Jack bounds aloft, the explosion instantly follows, bruises his face as he looks over; he is safe above ground; and poor Will? Descending eagerly, they find poor Will, too, as if by miracle, buried under rocks which had arched themselves over him, and little injured; he too is brought up safe; and all ends joyfully, say the newspapers, which have duly specified the event.

‘Such a piece of manly promptitude and salutary human heroism was worth investigating. It was investigated and found to be accurate to the letter, with this addition and explanation, that Will Verran, an honest, ignorant, good man, entirely given up to Methodism, had been perfect in the “faith of assurance;” certain that he should get to heaven if he died, certain that Jack Roberts would not, which had been the ground of his decision in that great moment; for the rest that he much wished to learn reading and writing, and find some way of life above ground instead of below. By aid of the Misses Fox and the rest of that family, a subscription (modest Anti-Hudson Testimonial) was raised for this Methodist hero; he emerged into daylight with fifty pounds in his pocket; did strenuously try, for certain months, to learn reading and writing; found he could not learn those arts, or either of them; took his money and bought cows with it, wedding at the same time some likely milkmaid.’

Several attempts have recently been made to diminish the dangers of blasting, by substituting gun-cotton or nitroglycerine for gunpowder; or by firing charges by means of the electric battery, but hitherto without much success.

An enormous quantity of gunpowder is consumed for blasting in many of the larger mines. In 1836, 64,000 pounds were used in the Consolidated Mines in Cornwall, and 90,100 pounds in the Fowey Consolidated Copper Mines. The total amount of gunpowder consumed in the Cornish and Devonian Mines in the year 1837 reached 300 tons, which cost 13,200l. This one item may serve to give some idea of the enormous working expenses of a large mining concern.

Sometimes the rock is so tenacious as to render boring too tedious and expensive an operation, and fire becomes necessary for subduing the solidity of the stone. In this manner the ancient mine of Rammelsberg, near Goslar, is forced to yield its treasures, and whole forests are annually consumed in order to loosen the hornstone and indestructible spar of its metalliferous veins. Every Saturday morning the fire is applied to the numerous piles of billets and faggots that have been distributed throughout the course of the week. Those in the upper floors of exploitation are first burned, in order that the inferior piles may not obstruct by their vitiated air the combustion of the former. Thus at four o’clock in the morning the fires are kindled in the upper ranges, and then from pile to pile the firemen descend towards the lower floor, which occupies them till three o’clock in the afternoon. The vaults of Rammelsberg now afford a truly magnificent spectacle. The rising flames, flickering against the walls of the vaults, and ascending in broad sheets towards their roof; the dense clouds of smoke rolling towards the air vents; the crackling of the wood; the loud detonations of the stones rent by the expansive force of heat from the primitive rock; the lurid glare of the conflagration; the naked workmen with their mighty stirring-poles, flitting like dark spirits before the blazing pile; the intense heat, and the air loaded to suffocation with sulphurous fumes,—all combine to produce a picture worthy of Dante’s ‘Inferno.’ During the Sunday the noxious vapours engendered by the conflagration have time to disperse; and on the Monday morning the workmen detach, with long forks of iron, the ores that have been loosened by the flames.

The ore being extracted from its bed, it becomes necessary to bring it to the light of day, an operation which is of course of the greatest importance, and not seldom requires the aid of complicated machinery, particularly in coal mines, where large masses have to be conveyed as economically and speedily as possible to the upper world.

A great improvement has been effected of late years in the facility of transporting minerals underground, by the introduction of small tramroads, and the saving of expense thus effected sometimes amounts to one-half the former cost. Many of our larger mines are provided with miles of this subterranean railroad, and the advantage is greater, because for the most part there is a slight descent from the workings to the bottom of the shaft, to allow of a more complete system of drainage than could otherwise be attained. But frequently where the galleries are low, narrow, and crooked, the carriage is still effected by means of sledges, barrows, or little waggons, which are with difficulty dragged or pushed along, over planks or uneven and muddy roads; and sometimes even the interior transport of the ore is executed on the backs of men—a most disadvantageous practice, which is gradually wearing out.

CONVEYANCE OF MINERALS UNDERGROUND.

In great mines, such as the coal and salt mines of Great Britain, the salt mines of Wielitzka, the copper mines of Fahlun, the lead mines of Alston Moor, horses have long been introduced into the workings, to drag heavier waggons, or a train of waggons attached to one another. In some cases these animals are brought to the surface at stated intervals, but generally when once let down the pit they for ever bid adieu to the light of day. Strange to say, this unnatural mode of existence, which would soon undermine the vigour and spirits of man, agrees admirably well with their health, of which the greatest care is taken, as their useful services are duly appreciated by their owners. They are abundantly fed with hay and oats of the best quality; their stalls are large and well ventilated; and as they labour in a mild and equable temperature, they remain free from many complaints to which horses are liable. Their good condition and sleek, shining coats prove that they have no sentimental longing for green fields or the bright sunshine. In a few of the largest collieries it has been found advantageous to establish underground stationary engines, which bring the trains of waggons, by means of an endless rope, along the galleries to the bottom of the shaft. In other mines, such as those of Worsley in Lancashire, subterranean canals are cut, upon which the mineral is transported in boats.

In the European mines, the ores are usually lifted from the bottom of the shaft to the surface by steam-power, or horse-gins; but in Spanish America, men, and even women, are employed for this purpose. The steep ladders which they ascend with heavy weights upon their backs, consist merely of the thick trunks of fir-trees, into which, at intervals of every ten or eleven inches, deep notches have been cut; but these rude steps are mounted with perfect security and ease by the sure-footed Indians.

In many European mines, where the workmen are let down or raised by means of ropes, wire cables, or chains, they sometimes sit on transverse round pieces of wood or in a kind of chair, consisting of two strong leather belts, one of which serves as a seat, and the other for supporting the back. In Wielitzka ten of these chairs are attached to the cable at distances of seven or eight feet one from another. The persons seated in the uppermost and lowest chairs direct the descent, and take great care to prevent the conveyance grazing against the sides of the shaft, for were it to be hooked fast by a nail or any other projection, a fall into a deep precipice of several hundred feet would be the almost inevitable and fatal consequence. The old method of descending into a colliery was by a corf or strong basket, hooked on by a chain to the rope that hung down the shaft. Stepping into this, the men would swing down the dark hollow, gaily and readily, but not always safely.

Thus, in the year 1835, in a colliery near LiÈge, seven workmen were already seated in a corf that was about to descend into the shaft, when one of their comrades, anxious to seize the opportunity, came hurrying along, and, in spite of all remonstrances, jumped into it; but the rope, unable to bear the shock and the increased weight, suddenly snapped, and all eight were precipitated into the abyss, from which not one of them came forth alive.

In the Swedish mines small barrels or tuns are generally used as vehicles of descent, and the workmen are uncommonly dexterous in preventing their little aËrial skiff from striking against the rugged rock-walls, when it would run the danger of being wrecked. Women, and even children, who find occupation in the mines, are often seen standing on the narrow edge of one of these swinging, turning, or oscillating tuns, with an arm slung round the rope; and such is the power of habit that they will quietly knit where even a stout-nerved man would be appalled by the frowning cliffs above or the black abyss below.

In the year 1785 a girl, descending alone into the pit of Fahlun, and unable to direct the tun, could not prevent it from striking against a rock. Jerked out of her conveyance by the violence of the shock, she fell upon a narrow ledge, about one hundred feet from the bottom of the pit, to which she clung with all the energy of despair. Her position was indeed terrific, for the least motion would have precipitated her into the dark grave which seemed to yawn for her reception, and to have given her but a momentary respite in order to make her feel more bitterly the pangs of approaching death. Already her strength was giving way, already a cloud swam before her eyes, when some bold miners, venturing their own lives in the hazardous undertaking, succeeded in rescuing her from her awful position, and snatching her as it were from the very jaws of death.

Another method much adopted, and preferred by the pitmen in our collieries, was passing down and up in the loop. The pitman inserted one leg into a loop formed by curving the terminal chain and hooking it back upon an upper link, and then twined his arm tightly round the rope above. In this way he descended through any depth, and, as he alleged, with greater safety than in a bucket, out of which he might be ejected, while nothing except the breaking of the rope could harm him in loop.

At present the safety-cage is generally used. This is simply a vertical railway carriage running down and up upon guides, and thereby introducing into the shaft the improvements of the iron road. Into one of its square narrow compartments two or three men crouch together, others get into an upper compartment, and down the cage moves easily and safely, the men needing only to take care that hands or fingers do not hang beyond the edge, while four or five minutes of easy motion carry them down a thousand or fifteen hundred feet below the surface of the earth.

MINERS DESCENDING SHAFT IN OWEN’S SAFETY CAGE.

In many mines the workmen climb up and down the shafts on fixed ladders, with landing-stages for resting; and it may easily be imagined how severely their strength must be taxed when, after their hard day’s labour, they have still to ascend step by step a thousand or even two thousand feet, before they can return to their families. Some of the Cornish mines require a full hour to rise from the lowest depths to ‘grass,’ and besides this considerable loss of time, diseases of the lungs and heart, which often terminate fatally, or prematurely make the miner an invalid, are the consequence of these fatiguing journeys.

‘O thou grumbling clerk in London city,’ exclaims the author of ‘Cornwall and its Mines,’[37] ‘whose daily fatigues only extend to the ascent into and descent from the trim omnibus that takes you to or from Peckham or Kennington! Only think for a moment of travelling some four or five times the height of St. Paul’s daily—before and after work! O thou querulous socialist, demagogue, or artisan, who canst sit in a comfortable coffee-house, under a flaming gas-light, immediately before and after work—or in your own snug parlour, by your own fireside or murmuring kettle—do but think for a moment of the Cornish miner, and what he must do before he can reach home or house! I fully believe that the best cure for discontent and gloom in fortunate workmen would be to put them upon the treadmill of a deep Cornish mine—for a temporary treadmill it is.’

It had long been deemed of the utmost importance to devise some easier mode of locomotion; but it was not till 1833 that the circumstance of two water-wheels having been thrown out of work by the opening of the deep Georg Adit in the Hartz mines suggested the idea of employing the pump-rods for aiding the ascent of the miners. The trial was first made with a portion of one hundred fathoms. This was divided into twenty-two portions; and on each portion iron steps were fixed, at intervals of four feet, while hand-holds were fixed at convenient distances. A reciprocating motion of four feet was given to each rod, and the miners stepped to and fro from a bracket or ledge on one rod to the parallel one on the other. As one rod is always descending while the other is ascending, and vice versÂ, it is easy to understand how this alternate stepping on to the little platforms must lead to the ascent or descent of the miner. At the division between each two of the twenty-two portions, there is a larger platform on which he may rest awhile; and nothing is lost by his rest, for the reciprocal motion goes on, and is ready again for his use when he is ready for it. This first machine surpassed expectation. Short as the length of ascent was, many invalids of the district were now able to resume their underground labours, as the fatigue of mounting or descending was reduced, by the alternate action of the machinery, to a mere easy lateral motion.

The advantages of this new method in saving both time and power were so obvious that it was soon imitated in the other deep metalliferous veins of the Hartz; and at present power-ladders or man-engines of an improved construction, such as the substitution of a single rod for the double apparatus above described, are in very general use over the Continent, whence they have passed in a modified form into Cornwall, where they are worked by steam. In Fowey Consols Mine the machine extends to a depth of 1,680 feet. The rod is eight inches square, with twelve-inch platforms at intervals of twelve feet; and there are stationary platforms equidistant at the side of the shaft. When a miner is about to descend the steps on a movable platform, the rod descends and carries him down twelve feet; he steps upon a fixed platform while the rod rises again; he then steps upon another movable platform, and descends another twelve feet, and so on to the bottom. In ascending, there is simply a reversed process. It is a very interesting sight to witness the ascent or descent of bodies of miners at certain hours of the day and night. You see them passing each other in the shafts, in a kind of zig-zag course, of as great regularity as any zig-zag will permit. As one miner steps off the rod platform to one fixed platform, another steps on to it from another fixed platform on the other side. Thus there are two streams of miners moving in opposite directions along the same rod at the same time, and this curious spectacle is rendered doubly pleasing when we consider how much distressing toil has been alleviated by the employment of the man-engine. Machinery constructed on the same principle has been latterly adopted in the mines of Anzin, for transporting the coal step by step to the surface; and it is evident that when coal mines are worked at greater depths than at present, ropes, however strong, will no longer be able to sustain even their own weight, and the whole transport up and down a shaft of perhaps 3,000 or 3,500 feet must be performed by means of similar machines.

TIMBERING OF A MINE.

Wherever the excavated rock is not hard or solid enough to bear the superincumbent weight, the galleries of a mine must necessarily be supported by timbering or walling. Timbering is most used, frequently in the form represented in the annexed woodcut; and when we consider how miles upon miles of galleries are thus supported, we can easily imagine that whole forests must be engulfed in our mines. It has been calculated that for the total quantity of timber in use for mining purposes in Cornwall, it would require no less than 140 square miles of forest of Norwegian pine, averaging a growth of 120 years. The expense thus incurred is enormous; the cost for timber, duty free, in Cornish and Devon mines, amounted in 1836 to 94,138l. and is probably still larger at the present time. For timbering, no tree is more esteemed than the larch or the Norwegian pine, on account of its great durability in the wet; but whatever wood may be employed, it is necessary to peel off the bark, experience having shown that unless this is done the wood rots much more easily, as the fibres of the rind attract a far greater quantity of moisture than the smooth surface of the splint. Like the potato and the grape, subterranean timbering is exposed to the attacks of a fungus, producing what is called dry-rot. The parasite germinates in the sap which remains in the wood, or at least derives its nourishment from it. Its vegetation is at first scarcely perceptible; but soon its white fibres multiply, and form at length small sponges on the surface. The decomposition of the wood now advances with rapid strides, and terminates at last in the total destruction of the ligneous fibres. Not satisfied with depriving the roof of its support, the dry-rot likewise produces a vitiation of the air, so that wherever timbering is employed, it is reckoned among the great enemies of the mine and of the miner. Many remedies have been recommended, among which kyanizing, or saturating the wood with a solution of corrosive sublimate, is one of the most efficacious, though unfortunately too expensive to be of universal use. Mushrooms of various kinds likewise flourish upon the moist surface of the spars, and various insects collect near this parasitic vegetation.

TRANSVERSE SECTIONS OF WALLED DRAIN GALLERIES.

The timbering of a mine also affords very convenient lurking-places to the numerous rats which are met with underground, where they contrive to live upon the crumbs or offal of the miners’ meals, or upon candle-ends and remains of wicks. Not seldom the timbering of a gallery, weakened by rot, gives way under the pressure of the roof, which falls in with a tremendous crash, and sometimes buries the unfortunate miner under its ruins. Another disadvantage attending timbering is its liability to catch fire, and thus, wherever the cost is not found too great, the chief galleries of a mine are now usually constructed of stone. Sometimes the two sides of a gallery are lined with vertical walls, and its roof is supported by an ogival vault or an arch. If the sides of the mine are solid, a simple arch is sufficient to sustain the roof; and at other times the whole surface of a gallery is formed of a single elliptic vault, the great axis of which is vertical, and the bottom is surmounted by a wooden plank, under which the waters run off.

DRAINAGE OF A MINE BY ADIT LEVELS.
a. Shaft. b. Shallow adit. c. Deep adit. d. Mineral lode.

The miner is generally in a state of perpetual warfare with the water, which threatens to inundate the scene of his labours; and as in a leaky ship the pumps must be kept continually working to prevent the vessel from sinking, so here also perpetual efforts are necessary to keep off the encroachments of this never-tiring foe. When a mine is situated above the level of a valley or of the neighbouring sea, its drainage may be effected in a comparatively easy manner by means of sloping galleries, dry-levels or adits, which in many cases serve also for the transport of the ore or coal. In some mines these drainage levels are executed on a truly gigantic scale. Thus the Great Cornish Adit, which extends through the large mining district of Gwennap, begins in the valley above Carnon, and receives the branch adits of fifty mines in the parish of Gwennap, forming excavations and ramifications which have an aggregate extent of between thirty and forty miles, and which are in some places 400 feet below the surface of the ground. The longest branch is from Cardrew mine, and is five and a half miles in length. This great adit opens into the sea at Restronget Creek, and empties its waters into Falmouth Harbour.

A similar great drain is Nent Force Level, in the north of England, which drains the numerous mines in Alston Moor. It consists of a stupendous aqueduct nine feet broad, and in some places from sixteen to twenty feet high. For more than three miles it passes under the course of the river Nent, to Nentsbury engine-shaft, and is navigated underground by long narrow boats. At the distance of a mile in the interior, daylight is seen at its mouth like a star, and this star is continually enlarging upon you until you find yourself in open daylight. The ramifications of the Great Adit Levels of the mines of Freiberg in Saxony have a total length of seventy-two miles; but the most stupendous works of this description are those in the district of Clausthal and Zellerfeld, in the Hartz, where, as the mining operations have been carried on deeper and deeper, adits have been successively driven below adits. Four of these levels date from times previous to the seventeenth century; but, as they were found insufficient, the famous Georg Stollen was added to their number in 1777. This gigantic tunnel, which, piercing the hard rock, required twenty-three years for its completion, is above five miles long, and passes 900 feet below the church of Clausthal. It serves the double purpose of a draining gallery and of a navigable canal. The water is always kept at a height of from fifty to sixty inches; and the boats, which carry about five tons, are propelled by means of a chain attached to the vault, along which the boatmen drag or push them forward. In this economical manner about 20,000 tons of ore are annually brought to daylight. The boats are made and repaired in a subterranean wharf, which, though far from being one of the largest, may probably boast of being the deepest.

Until 1851 the Georg Stollen answered all the purposes for which it was constructed, but at the end of that period the increased depth and extension of the mines rendered necessary the addition of a new great adit level, which has been named the ‘Ernst August Stollen,’ in honour of the late king of Hanover. In spite of its vast dimensions, this magnificent work, which is six and three-quarter miles long, about ten feet high, and six and a half broad, required only thirteen years for its completion, and may justly be considered as one of the triumphs of modern engineering. The excavation was begun simultaneously at ten different points, and such was the admirable precision of the plans that all the junctions of the different sections of the gallery fitted accurately into each other.

Below the Ernst August Gallery (437 yards), the form of the country allows no deeper adit level to be driven; but to provide for the increasing vertical extension of the workings, a new underground gallery, without any opening to the surface, and at a depth of 262 yards below the former, is already in contemplation. The water is to be raised to the Ernst August Level by a special hydraulic machine placed in a vertical shaft, which will serve at the same time for raising the ore and for the passage of the miners. The expense is calculated at about 60,000l. but will be amply repaid by the new field of mineral wealth which it will open. Thus in the Hartz one magnificent work is but the precursor of another.

When a mine is so situated that drainage galleries cannot be established, engines must be employed for pumping up the waters. Thus, in Cornwall, where most of the copper mines open almost at the sea level, an enormous influx of water can be kept in check only by an equally enormous steam-power. In the United and Consolidated Mines between Truro and Redruth, seven steam-pumps, working with the united strength of 2,000 horses, are kept constantly in motion, and raise above 2,500,000 gallons of water in twenty-four hours.

In 1837 the whole quantity of water pumped out of the earth by sixty Cornish engines attained the amazing aggregate of close upon thirty-seven millions of tons; but since then mining has been carried on more extensively and deeper, and consequently additional steam-power has become necessary to keep pace with the increasing waters.

‘Even to the eye of an observer who is practised in machinery[38] of great magnitude, the first sight and the subsequent examination of such engines is very gratifying. To watch the labour of a giant would be interesting; but to see the giant not only labouring at ease amidst his enormous work but at the same time at the command of a child, who should be able to stop him at any moment—this would be doubly interesting. Such is the case with the great Cornish engines, for even the largest of them may be stopped by a child of ten or twelve years of age. Another peculiar feature, too, of these engines is this, that they work with a quietness—or absence of clash and clatter—which is in the inverse ratio of their magnitude. The water makes a great rush in the pumps, but the engine itself is calm and comparatively noiseless—like a great mountain reposing in calm greatness while a perpetual spring brawls at its feet.’

In the coal-fields of the North equally gigantic efforts must be made to keep down the water.

In sinking to the coal at Dalton-le-Dale, eight or nine miles from Durham, the borers penetrated the vast bed of sand beneath the magnesian limestone, which appears to contain the chief subterranean water-stores of the district. In this case their outburst was truly terrific, amounting, on June 1, 1840, to the enormous quantity of 3,285 gallons every minute. To oppose this formidable enemy the spirited proprietors of the mine at once proceeded to erect the necessary steam-power for pumping off 3,000 or 4,000 gallons a minute; but, the waters still increasing, it became necessary to meet them with a double and treble force, so that finally the floods had to be kept down by steam engines of an aggregate power equivalent to 1,584 horses and setting twenty-seven sets of pumps in motion.

Sometimes the influx of water into a coal mine is so enormous that no human contrivance can oppose it, and man is obliged to give up the conflict in despair. During the progress of the attempted winning of a pit at Haswell in the county of Durham, the engine power erected pumped out the water to the amount of 26,700 tons per day; but still the floods came in, and at last won the victory.

From the same cause many collieries have been closed, of late years, on the banks of the Tyne, and among these the famous Wallsend Colliery, which has given its name to the best kinds of coal.

The drowning of a coal mine not seldom occurs from the irruption of water accumulated in old wastes or ancient workings occupying a higher level in the vicinity. The growing pressure of such a body of water upon the beds or barriers below becomes enormous; and then the water, testing every weak point of the body opposed to its escape, at length unexpectedly rushes into the space which it finds open before it. All the works below are completely filled, and the mines are for a time rendered useless, or, it may be, for ever abandoned. This was the cause, in 1815, of the celebrated accident at Heaton, near Newcastle-on-Tyne, in which ninety lives were lost. The water flowed from two adjoining old collieries which had been abandoned seventy years before. A barrier of six feet withstood a pressure of thirty fathoms of water. But an irruption was aided at last by a natural fissure of the rock, and the catastrophe followed before any adequate protection could be interposed.

About thirty years later a tremendous calamity of the like kind, after an outlay of 100,000l., totally ruined the Baghilt coal mines, in Wales. The water came from adjoining mines, which had been long abandoned.

If correct plans and descriptions of all the ancient workings had been preserved, these accidents, which happen frequently, might easily be prevented, as an exact knowledge of the localities would enable the owners to leave sufficiently strong barriers in parts where they are now often most inadequate. Such is the importance of accurate mining records that thousands of pounds would be freely given at this moment by many owners for a knowledge of old works of which no plan exists and which no memory can now recall. Fortunately, the legislature has now taken steps to introduce a system of registration such as has already existed long ago in Prussia, Austria, and Belgium, and which, at least, will answer the purpose of obtaining greater security for the future.

Sometimes an enormous fall of rain, descending on the neighbouring country, finds its way into the mines through fissures in the ground or by breaking through galleries, and causes irreparable mischief; sometimes even a whole river bursts into the works and ruins them for ever. Thus, in 1856, the South Tamar Consols, in Devonshire, was flooded by the giving way of the bed of the Tamar, under which the workings were carried.

Even the Sea has been known to take fatal vengeance for the undermining of her domain.

Workington Colliery extended to the distance of 1,500 yards under the Irish Channel, and the workings, being driven considerably to the rise, were brought at length within fifteen fathoms of the bottom of the sea. The pillars of coal which supported the overlying strata were hardly strong enough to support the roof, but the imprudence of a manager eager to produce a larger quantity of coal weakened even this insufficient support by working it partly away. Heavy falls of the roof, accompanied by discharges of salt water, gave repeated warnings of the impending catastrophe, which took place on July 30, 1837. So violent was the irruption that many persons at a distance of hundreds of yards observed the whirlpool commotion of the sea as it rushed into the gulf beneath. Some few workmen near the shaft had time to escape, but thirty-six men and boys and as many horses were destroyed by the waters, which in a few hours entirely filled the excavations, the extension of which had tasked the labour of years.

The heroic devotion of a miner has invested with a more than ordinary interest the inundation of the mine of Beaujonc, near LiÈge, which took place on February 28, 1812. One hundred and twenty-seven persons were in the pit when the waters burst in from some old workings. Thirty-five had time to make their escape through the shaft; twenty-two were drowned in their eagerness to reach it; the majority, severed from the upper world by an impassable gulf, remained behind. Hubert Goffin, the overman, could have ascended in the tub; but, though the father of six children, his sense of duty would not allow him to desert his post, and he resolved to save all his men or to perish with them. As the rising waters forced the prisoners to seek a higher level, the boys burst out weeping and the boldest began to despair; but Goffin revived their courage by reminding them that their friends without would make every effort to save them. As one day after another passed, the prisoners suffered all the horrors of hunger, which some of them endeavoured to appease by devouring the candles they had brought with them. Others went to the water in the hopes of finding the body of some drowned comrade. Two of the pitmen quarrelled, and were on the point of coming to blows. ‘Let them fight,’ said the others; ‘if one of them is killed we will eat him’—a declaration which at once put an end to the dispute. To satisfy their thirst they had nothing but the foul water of the pit. Some made vows to all the saints, others complained in their delirium that they had to wait for their meals. In the midst of these scenes of horror, Goffin alone retained his courage, and, exhorting, consoling, encouraging, and reproving on all sides, appeared as the guardian angel of his despairing comrades.

Meanwhile every effort was being made from without to bring them succour. Although as soon as the accident took place the pumps were incessantly at work, the water had risen to a height of 14 metres in the shaft on the following morning, and as it was still rising there was reason to fear that the captives, blocked up in a constantly narrowing space, would soon be suffocated. It was resolved to strike a gallery from the neighbouring pit of Mamouster to Beaujonc, a distance of 175 metres. Unfortunately, only two men could hew at a time, but such was the ardour with which the work was prosecuted that on the morning of March 4 a shout of triumph announced that the longed-for communication was effected, and that the prisoners were alive. Crawling through the narrow passage, they were wrapped up in woollen blankets and strengthened with soup and wine before being hoisted to the surface. Goffin and his son, a lad of twelve, were the last to leave the pit; as a brave sea captain, after some great catastrophe, never thinks of his own safety till he has satisfied himself of that of his men. With the exception of those who were drowned immediately after the accident took place, all were saved. The joy of some families, the despair of others, may be imagined when the final count was made. As a reward for Goffin’s admirable conduct, he was decorated with the cross of the Legion of Honour and received a pension of 600 francs. Nine years later he was killed by an explosion of fire-damp, and thus the hostile elements with which he had so long waged a successful war triumphed over him at last.

The sudden irruption of an immense body of water into a mine naturally causes a compression of the air in those galleries which are cut off from all communication with the shaft. This pressure, which may rise to three or four atmospheres—or, in other words, may be three or four times greater than that of the external air—not only produces symptoms of suffocation and cerebral congestion in the unfortunate miners who are exposed to it, but, forcing its way through fissures in the roof or violently rupturing it, sometimes produces the effect of an explosion of gunpowder, throwing the earth to a distance, and even overturning houses. One of the most interesting of the accidents of this kind on record occurred in 1833, in an extensive Scotch colliery, into which the waters of the river Garnock had broken through a cavity in its bed. As the stream poured into the mine the opening gradually enlarged, until at length the whole body of the river plunged into the excavations beneath. The river was affected by the tides, and this engulfment took place at low water; but as the tide rose the sea entered with prodigious force, until the whole workings, extending for many miles, were completely filled. No sooner, however, had this taken place, than the pressure of the water in the pits became so great that the confined air, which had been forced back into the high workings, burst through the surface of the earth in a thousand places, and many acres of ground were seen to bubble up like the boiling of a cauldron. Great quantities of sand and water were also thrown up, like showers of rain, during a period of five hours, and an extensive tract of land was laid waste.

Besides the danger of being crushed to death by a fall of rock, or immured in a living tomb by an obstruction of the shaft or an irruption of water, the miner has another, and often still more formidable, enemy to encounter in the noxious gases frequently evolved in coal-pits. Thus in all well-regulated mines the greatest attention is paid to ventilation, so that no part of the workings may be left without a proper supply of air. In ordinary cases the natural currents, which set in different directions through the shafts and galleries, may sufficiently purify the atmosphere; but in the coal mines which are peculiarly subject to the evolution of foul gases, artificial or mechanical means must be resorted to for driving away the hurtful vapours as quickly as they form. To establish a proper air current, the usual method is to keep a large fire continually burning at the bottom of one of the two shafts of the pit, or of one of the two compartments of the single shaft, and the difference of temperature thus caused between the column of air of the upcast shaft and the downcast becomes the motive power which impels or drags the air current in obedience to it.[39] Yet this meets but half the difficulty; for the air current, which naturally tends to the shortest passage, must be forced to do its duty in every corner of the pit, and not suffered to escape through the upcast shaft before it has performed the longest circuit. For this purpose a great number of mechanical contrivances are adopted, in the shape of ‘stoppings,’ of brick, or wood, or stone, all so placed as to divert

and drive the air current into the several galleries of the pit, and to make it perform every kind of complex movement, from turning back upon its own right or left to turning over in a somersault upon itself. The most curious and admirably simple contrivance is that of splitting the air by means of a wooden erection, which meets and cuts the current in two, and sends one part on the one hand and another on the other hand. In fact, what is commonly practised in minutely irrigating a meadow is also effected in thoroughly airing a mine. We may form some idea of the underground travels which the air is thus obliged to perform, by being forced along from split to split, when we hear that at Hetton Colliery the ventilating current in the total equals no less than 196,000 cubic feet of air per minute circulating through the mine at a velocity of 18 feet 3 inches per second.

The foul gases or damps evolved in mines are either heavy or light. The most remarkable of the former is the choke-damp, or black-damp, the name given by the miners to carbonic acid gas. From its great specific gravity (1·527), this gas rests on the floor of the mine and gradually accumulates, having no tendency to escape beyond a slow mixture which takes place with atmospheric air; while the light fire-damp, or carburetted hydrogen, which, though not immediately fatal when breathed, explodes on the slightest contact with flame, tends to rise to the surface. The quantity of fire-damp which is poured out into the workings of some mines is very considerable, and constantly varying. Some seams of coal are much more full of it than others, and in working these, which are technically called fiery seams, it is not uncommon for a jet of inflammable air to issue out at every hole made for the reception of the gunpowder before blasting.

In the celebrated Wallsend Colliery, in an attempt made to work the Bensham Seam (an attempt which ended in a fearful accident), Mr. Buddle said, in evidence before a committee of the House of Commons:—‘I simply drilled a hole into the solid coal, stuck a tin pipe into the aperture, surrounded it with clay, and lighted it. I had immediately a gas light. The quantity evolved from the coal was such that in every one of those places I had nothing to do but to apply a candle, and then could set a thousand pipes on fire. The whole face of the working was a gas-pipe from every pore of coal.’

The force with which the gas escapes on some occasions from clefts or joints is so great as to prove much previous compression. These sudden outbursts are locally termed blowers. Their issues and effects are surprising. In one minute they have been known to foul the air to a distance of 300 yards, and their noise is described as like that of rushing waters, or the roar of a blast furnace. They are not merely dangerous from their inflammable vapours, but also from the pieces of coal which their tension not seldom forces from the roof, and whose fall maims or kills the unfortunate workmen beneath.

The fire-damp is very liable to accumulate in old workings, or goaves, which thus, unless completely isolated by stone and mortar, become a highly dangerous neighbourhood to the other parts of the mine. The immense quantity of gas evolved from a goaf of about five acres in Wallsend old pit affords a striking example of the danger of all such accumulations. A four-inch metallic pipe was conducted from the bottom of the pit to the surface of the ground and a few feet above it, when, a light being applied, a hissing streamer of flame flashed forth and burned night and day. The amount of gas thus drawn off from the mine was at first computed at about 15,000 hogsheads in twenty-four hours. Long did the little pipe continue to pour out in streaming flame thousands upon thousands of hogsheads of escaping fire-damp. The total issue might have illuminated a little town.

The explosion of inflammable gas is the most fearful enemy the collier has to encounter. Three or four cubic inches of carburetted hydrogen, when ignited, produce a detonation like that of a pistol-shot; half a cubic foot, enclosed in a bottle and set fire to, shivers the bottle into fragments; hence we may judge how terrific the effects must be when a blower pours forth its thousands of cubic feet into the galleries of a mine, and the careless approach of a light lets loose the demons of destruction. The explosion of a large subterranean powder magazine would not be more terrific. Often without a moment’s warning the unfortunate pitman is scorched and shrivelled to a blackened mass, or is literally shattered to pieces against the rugged sides of the mine.

SAFETY LAMP.

It may easily be imagined that many efforts have been made, and many contrivances suggested, to disarm the fire-damp of its terrors; but Sir Humphry Davy’s safety-lamp was the first invention which successfully coped with it. The power of the safety-lamp lies in the non-communication of explosions through small apertures, and the discovery of this natural law, as well as its practical application, is one of the greatest exploits of Sir Humphry Davy. A cylinder an inch and a half in diameter and seven inches long, formed of wire gauze, with 784 apertures to the square inch, surrounds the light of the lamp. When the miner, armed with this apparatus, enters an atmosphere tainted with fire-damp, a light blue flame fills the cylinder; but, as if chained by some magic power, it is unable to transgress its bounds; and as in our Zoological Gardens we quietly view the beasts of the forest behind their iron grating, so the miner looks calmly upon his powerless foe.

Unfortunately, the negligence or the obstinate and blind perversity of the miner too often renders even this splendid invention ineffectual.

The safety-lamp requires to be kept in perfect order, and unless certain precautions are taken while using it, it loses its protecting power. Thus, although perfectly secure when at rest, it seems certain that the rapid motion communicated by the swing of the arm during a hurried transit through the mine has in many cases produced an explosion. Blowing out the lamp is likewise attended with danger, as the flame is then easily driven through the gauze, and, like a tiger escaping from his den, may spread terror and havoc around; but the chief cause of accidents consists in the small quantity of light diffused by the safety-lamp, and the consequent dislike acquired by the miners to its use.

Though in all well-regulated coal-pits one or several workmen are exclusively employed in keeping the lamps in the most perfect order, though they are handed to the miners burning and well closed, and fines are imposed upon any attempt to remove the gauze, yet the best regulations cannot possibly exclude the chance of accident resulting from the almost inconceivable carelessness of men whose daily tasks lead them into imminent danger. Thus it is a melancholy but unquestionable fact that the number of accidents from fire-damp since the introduction of the Davy lamp has been many more in a given number of years than before that invention. This has, no doubt, partly arisen from the larger number of persons employed on the whole; but it is to be feared that it has chiefly happened from dangerous portions of a mine being taken into work which without the Davy could not have been attempted, and partly also from the extreme carelessness of the workmen in removing the wire gauze.[40]

Unfortunately, the fatal effects of this rashness are not confined to the foolhardy miner who thus casts away the shield that preserves him from danger, but generally extend to many of his innocent comrades. In the year 1856 an explosion which took place in the Cymmer coal-pit killed 110 persons, and in the year 1857 170 workmen in the Lundshill colliery were swept from life to death with the rapidity of lightning. In the year 1858 the fire-damp levied a contribution of 215 victims in the coal-pits of England, while in 1859 it was satisfied with 95. But in 1860, as if to make up for this deficiency, it raged with double violence; for, after having already claimed a tribute of 80 lives, the dreadful explosion which took place in the Risca Colliery on December 1 destroyed no less than 142 men and boys. The fire-damp explosion which occurred at the Oaks Colliery in 1866 swept away the unprecedented number of 361 victims, and in the same year 91 workmen perished from the same cause at Talk-o’-th’-Hill Colliery.

In these dreadful catastrophes the most terrible agent of destruction is not always the burning and concussion of the actual blast of fire-damp, but the choke-damp which succeeds the explosion. For the carbon of the inflammable gas, uniting with the oxygenoxygen of the air, produces that deadly poison, carbonic acid gas, which, from the disturbed ventilation of the pit, soon spreads far and wide through the galleries; so that the poor colliers who are caught in an exploded pit have two chances of death against them—one from burning, and the other from suffocation. The effect of death by the one gas or the other is very distinctly seen in the countenances of the dead. The men killed by the fire-damp are marked with burns and scorching, and their features are more or less distorted or disfigured. On the other hand, where men have been suffocated by choke-damp, their features are placid and simply inanimate. The fragile and faulty separations (whether doors or stoppings of any kind) having been broken down, there is an end to a hope of safe retreat even for men totally unharmed by the flames, for at once the air takes the shortest course between the entrance and exit, and leaves the shattered parts unventilated. Whatever after-damp is then and there generated exerts its effects in full, and those who cannot rush to the shaft are suffocated. In the explosion at Risca it was declared by the surgeon to the pit that of those who were killed no less than seventy persons died from the effects of after-damp who had not been near the fire. In the great Haswell explosion, several years since, seventy-one deaths out of ninety-five were occasioned by choke-damp; and at the explosion in the Middle Dyffryn Pit in 1852 no less than seven-eighths of the deaths proceeded from this cause. Persons of great experience attribute at least seventy per cent. of the deaths in fiery mines to after-damp, while some advance them even to ninety per cent.

After relating so many frightful disasters, too frequently caused by imprudence and rashness, it is a more pleasing task to mention a few instances of warnings taken in time. At Walker Colliery on the Tyne, in the year 1846, a huge mass of coal weighing about eleven tons was forced from its bed, and a great discharge of gas succeeded. Two men who were furnished with Davy lamps were working where this discharge took place; one of them had his lamp covered with the falling coal, and the other had his extinguished. They groped their way to warn the other miners, and then all, extinguishing their lamps as they went, safely escaped to the bottom of the shaft, and were drawn up.

A few months after a second discharge from another part of the same colliery took place. A bore-hole having been made, a violent noise like the blowing off of steam was heard, and a heavy discharge of gas filled the air courses for a distance of 641 yards and over an area of 86,306 cubic feet. At 400 yards from the point of efflux a mining officer met the foul air, felt it blowing against him, saw the safety-lamp in his hand enlarge its flame, and drew down the wick. Still the gas continued to burn in his lamp for ten minutes, making the wires red hot, and then the light went out—a hint not lost on the owner, who quickly followed its example. At a distance of 641 yards from the efflux of the gas he met four men and boys whose lamps were rapidly reddening. At once they had the self-possession to immerse them in water, and thus escaped all danger of explosion.

The disastrous effects of the fire-damp are not confined to the loss of human life; they are also extremely injurious to the workings, tearing up galleries, shattering machinery, or even setting fire to the mine—an accident which may also be caused by spontaneous combustion[41] or by the negligence of the workmen. These fires are often subdued by isolating the burning coal seam, by means of dams or clay walls, or by filling the mine with water; but not seldom they last for years, and assume dimensions which mock all human efforts to extinguish them.

At BrÛlÉ, near St. Etienne, a coal mine has been on fire for ages. The soil on the surface is barren and calcined, and the dense sulphurous fumes, escaping from innumerable crevices, give the country a complete volcanic aspect.

In the carboniferous basins of Staffordshire and of SaarbrÜck and Silesia there are likewise coal mines which have been on fire for a long period. At Zwickau in Saxony the first accounts of one of these subterranean conflagrations date as far back as the fifteenth century, and the fire still burns on. The hot vapours which rise from the surface have since 1837 been put to an ingenious use. Conducted through pipes into conservatories, they ripen the choicest fruits of the south, and produce a tropical climate under a northern sky.

In a Staffordshire colliery which had been on fire for many years, and which was called by the inhabitants Burning Hill, it was noticed that the snow melted on reaching the ground, and that the grass in the meadows was always green. Some speculators conceived the idea of establishing a school of horticulture on the spot, and imported colonial plants at a heavy expense. These flourished for a time, but one day the subterranean fire went out, and as the heat it had imparted to the soil gradually diminished and departed, the exotic vegetation likewise drooped and died.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

Clyx.com


Top of Page
Top of Page