The Underground World: A mirror of life below the surface (part 2 of 5)

Preface

The chief intent of this work is the plain, sufficient, and entertaining description of the marvelous lives not only of miners, but of all whose lot or choice it is to “delve and dare” underground. That its object is secured, the author is flatteringly assured by acknowledged critics,—travelers and book-men themselves, like the writer, most of them. The narratives of the book are not merely dry relations of scientific facts freighted with unnecessary technical terms, as might possibly be suspected from a cursory glance at the list of the topics treated, but statements of most important and curious deeds, and descriptions of hidden localities and lives, interspersed with lively anecdote and “incidents with souls in them,” it is believed, and the greater part herein for the first time given to the public. The table of contents will suffice to show how wide and varied has been the author’s scope of observation and comment, covering all the most important parts of the globe.

But he has not been satisfied with relying wholly upon his own observations and world-studies. No man, however active and industrious, can collate and digest all the interesting information which may cluster about any important subject. The average life is too short for the performance of such exhaustive study. The author has therefore consulted many works upon mining and kindred subjects, adding their funds of knowledge to his own researches, in order, so far forth as possible, to perfect his work. Besides, he is specially indebted to Professor Simonin, author of La Vie Souterraine, and has relied upon him for many facts and figures, particularly in regard to the coal mines of France and other countries. Many individuals, professionally conversant with the subjects discoursed of, have also been personally consulted in various countries; while several literary gentlemen of eminence have kindly lent the author their aid. Among the latter it is permissible to mention Mr. Junius Henri Browne, of New York, and the late Col. Albert S. Evans, of San Francisco.

In preparing the matter for the press, it has been found convenient to make use of words borrowed from the French and other languages, and also of terms more or less technical in their character. They are not numerous, and are so well understood either by context or by popular use that a glossary is not considered necessary.

The author takes this opportunity to thank the newspaper press and the public for the generous reception accorded to his previous publications, hoping, in the language of the business card of the times, to merit a continuance of the same.

T. W. K.

I.

BELOW THE SURFACE.

DIFFUSION OF KNOWLEDGE.—WHAT THE WORLD BELIEVES.—MUNGO PARK IN AFRICA.—WHY THE NATIVES PITIED HIM.—EXTENT OF UNDERGROUND LIFE.—DISTRIBUTION OF THE EARTH’S WEALTH.—VALUE OF MINES.—THEIR EXTENT AND IMPORTANCE.—COAL AND IRON.—MYSTERIES OF MINES.—EXPERIENCE WITH A NOVICE.—CHANGES OF SEASONS TO A MINER.—DANGERS IN MINES.—LIFE IN CAVERNS.—UNDERGROUND IN METAPHOR.—SOCIAL MINING.—OBJECT OF THIS VOLUME. Page 27

II.

DISCOVERY OF COAL.

SAVAGE THEORIES ABOUT COAL.—EXPERIENCE OF A SIBERIAN EXPLORING PARTY.—BURNING BLACK STONES.—MINERAL FUEL AMONG THE ANCIENTS.—THEIR MOTIVE POWER.—CHINESE TRADITIONS.—CHINESE GAS WELLS.—HISTORY OF COAL IN ENGLAND.—A ROYAL EDICT.—CURIOUS STORY OF THE MINER OF PLENEVAUX.—EXTENT OF COAL FIELDS THROUGHOUT THE GLOBE.—THE QUAKER AND THE YANKEE PEDLER.—THE FIRST ANTHRACITE.—BELLINGHAM BAY AND THE CHINOOKS.—HOW COAL WAS FORMED.—INTERVIEWING A REPTILE.—THEORIES OF THE ANCIENTS.—RIVERS OF OIL OF VITRIOL.—ANCIENT AND MODERN FIRE WORSHIPPERS. 37

III.

BORINGS AND SHAFTS.

HOW COAL MINES ARE DISCOVERED.—OUTCROPPINGS.—SCIENTIFIC RESEARCHES.—HOW A MARBLE QUARRY WAS FOUND.—BORING A WELL, AND WHAT CAME OF IT.—A LOCAL DEBATING SOCIETY.—INTIMATE RELATIONS OF COAL MINES AND THE STEAM ENGINE.—STRIKING OIL.—“DAD’S STRUCK ILE.”—THE UNHAPPY MAIDEN’S FATE.—COAL INSTEAD OF WATER.—THE TOOLS TO BE USED.—A DEEP HOLE.—TERRIBLE ACCIDENT, AND A MINER’S COOLNESS.—SINKING SHAFTS.—AN INGENIOUS APPARATUS.—ACCIDENTS IN SHAFTS.—REQUIREMENTS OF THE LAW. 53

IV.

ACCIDENTS IN SHAFTS.

ADVENTURE OF THE AUTHOR DESCENDING A SHAFT.—A MINUTE OF PERIL.—LIFTED THROUGH A SHAFT BY ONE LEG.—A COLLISION IN MID-AIR.—SENSATIONS OF THE DESCENT.—A MINER’S VIEWS OF DANGER.—PICTURESQUE SCENE AT A DESCENT.—OFFERING PRAYERS.—SCENE AT A RUSSIAN MINE.—SAFETY CAGES.—THEIR CONSTRUCTION.—A LUDICROUS INCIDENT.—HOW A MAN FAILED TO KEEP AN ENGAGEMENT.—DOWN IN THE SALT MINES OF POLAND.—A PERILOUS DESCENT.—“PLENTY MORE MEN.”—ACCIDENT NEAR SCRANTON.—“PUTTERS.”—HOW GIRLS WERE USED IN SCOTLAND.—MAN ENGINES.—THE LEVELS.—AN ACCIDENT CAUSED BY RATS.—THRILLING AND FATAL ADVENTURE OF TWO PENNSYLVANIA MINERS.—A FEARFUL FALL OF ROOF.—CARRYING A DYING COMRADE TOWARD THE LIGHT OF DAY.—EIGHT HOURS OF MORTAL AGONY. 65

V.

SILVER MINES AND MINING.

ANTIQUITY OF SILVER.—REAL ESTATE AND SLAVE PURCHASES IN BIBLICAL TIMES.—SOLOMON AND HIS SILVER SPECULATIONS.—ABUNDANCE OF SILVER AMONG THE ANCIENTS.—THE EARLIEST MINES.—ORIENTAL EXAGGERATION.—SPANISH MINES AND THEIR HISTORY.—MEXICAN MINES.—A NONDESCRIPT ANIMAL.—NOVEL WAY OF OBTAINING A PIGSKIN.—PERU AND ITS SILVER.—A HIGH-TONED CITY.—ARIZONA.—BEAUTIES OF ARIZONA CIVILIZATION.—MINES OF UTAH AND NEVADA.—SAD RESULTS OF A SPECULATION. 82

VI.

SILVER MINING IN NEVADA.

HOW GOLD WAS DISCOVERED IN NEVADA.—A PECULIAR “BLACK SAND,” AND WHAT CAME OF IT.—SILVER CURSED AND THROWN AWAY.—ACCIDENTAL DISCOVERY OF THE VALUE OF THE ORE.—H. T. P. COMSTOCK.—THE COMSTOCK LODE.—HOW MINING RECORDS WERE KEPT.—YIELD OF THE NEVADA MINES.—BONANZA AND BORRASCA.—THE BIG BONANZA.—THE GRAVE OF THE FORESTS.—“WASHOE ZEPHYRS.”—PAY ROLLS OF THE MINING COMPANIES.—INTERESTING DETAILS. 97

VII.

SPECULATIONS IN NEVADA MINES.

MINING SPECULATIONS.—SWINDLERS IN NEW YORK AND BOSTON.—THE AUTHOR’S EXPERIENCE.—HOW HE WAS CAUGHT.—THE HOOK AND THE WAY TO BAIT IT.—LIMITED INVESTMENT.—THE ADVENTURER’S STORY.—FACTS AND FIGURES.—THE ROMANCE, AND THE SUBSEQUENT REALITY.—ONE HUNDRED PER CENT. A MONTH.—IRISH DIVIDENDS.—EXPLOSION OF THE BUBBLE.—THE VICTIMS AND THEIR FATE.—NANKEEN TROUSERS IN WINTER.—AN ADVENTURER’S EXPERIENCE IN LONDON.—HOW HE CAUGHT A CAPITALIST.—HELD BY THE GLITTERING EYE. 108

VIII.

MINES AND MINING ENTERPRISES OF NORTH AFRICA.

MINING AMONG THE MOORS, BERBERS, AND ARABS.—THE FRENCH CONQUEST.—GEOLOGICAL SURVEYS.—MINERAL WEALTH OF ALGERIA.—A WONDERFUL IRON MINE.—MOKTER-EL HADID.—HOW THE MINE IS WORKED.—VISIT TO A MOUNTAIN OF SALT.—A REMARKABLE FORMATION.—ARTESIAN WELLS IN THE DESERT.—SCENE AT THE OPENING OF ONE.—EFFECTS ON THE PALM-TREE.—A PROPOSED INLAND SEA.—THE SUEZ CANAL AND ITS HISTORY.—HOW IT WAS MADE.—ADVANTAGES TO THE WORLD’S COMMERCE. 118

IX.

ADVENTURES OF DIVERS.

GOING UNDER WATER.—PEARL DIVING.—COSTUME OF THE DIVERS.—HOW THEY DESCEND.—OBTAINING THE PEARL OYSTERS.—DIVING-BELLS.—HOW THEY ARE MADE.—ADVANTAGES AND DISADVANTAGES.—ADVENTURES IN DIVING-BELLS.—SUBMARINE ARMOR.—ITS CONSTRUCTION AND USE.—A DIVER’S ADVENTURE.—A HORRIBLE SIGHT.—THE DIVER’S STORY.—A PEARL DIVER AND A SHARK.—A NARROW ESCAPE.—STRATEGY IN THE WATER.—PEARL DIVING.—PREPARATORY STEPS TO BE TAKEN.—PREPARING FOR THE SEVERE TASK.—TRAINING THE PAPOOSES IN MEXICO.—A PEARL DIVER AND A SHARK.—HOW TO AVOID SHARKS AND DOG-FISH.—THE WAYS THAT ARE DARK, AND THE TRICKS THAT ARE VAIN. 129

X.

RUSSIAN MINES AND MINING.

EXTENT OF THE EMPIRE.—ITS MINERAL RESOURCES.—PETER THE GREAT, AND WHAT HE DID.—NIKITE DEMIDOFF.—THE DEMIDOFF ESTATES.—IRON MINES AND A VISIT TO THEM.—WHERE RUSSIA SHEET-IRON IS MADE.—COPPER AND MALACHITE.—A WONDERFUL SIGHT.—STRANGE STORY OF AN EMERALD NECKLACE.—GOLD MINING IN SIBERIA.—HARDSHIPS OF THE MINER.—HOW THEY ARE TREATED.—MODE OF MINING. 145

XI.

A DAY IN POMPEII.

A VISIT TO POMPEII.—NEAPOLITAN HACKMEN.—AN INTERESTING ADVENTURE.—HOW TO AVOID A QUARREL.—BEGGARS.—BEGGARY AS A FINE ART.—A PICTURESQUE SCENE.—MAKING MACARONI.—TRICKS OF AN OLD ROOSTER.—POMPEII.—ITS HISTORY.—DISCOVERY OF THE BURIED CITY.—A SCENE IN THE STREETS.—AN ANCIENT BAKERY.—HOW THE MILLS WERE TURNED.—INVESTIGATING AN OVEN.—A WONDERFUL DISCOVERY.—PRESENT CONDITION OF THE HOUSES.—ADVERTISING IN OLD TIMES.—POMPEIIAN PERSONALS.—A PICTURE OF THE DESTRUCTION.—OBSCENE OBJECTS IN THE CITY. 157

XII.

VESUVIUS AND ITS ERUPTIONS.

THE GREAT ERUPTION OF VESUVIUS.—WHAT IT DID.—THREE CITIES WIPED OUT.—LAVA AND ITS CHARACTER.—GOING TO THE MOUNTAIN.—SKIRMISHING WITH GUIDES AND BEGGARS.—ARCHITECTURAL STEEDS.—A HORSE WITH A HAND RAIL AROUND HIM.—COAT-HOOKS TO LET.—A MOTLEY CROWD.—HOW AN AMERICAN WAS MOUNTED.—A NEW MODE OF SPURRING.—THE ROAD FROM RESINA.—BURNING LAVA.—CROSSING THE LAVA BEDS.—CLIMBING ON FOOT.—HAPS AND MISHAPS.—AN ENGLISHMAN’S ACCIDENT.—LIGHTING A CIGAR AT THE CRATER.—SUFFOCATED BY SULPHUR FUMES.—DOWN AMONG THE ASHES.—A LONG FALL AND SLIDE.—IN HERCULANEUM.—UNDERGROUND BENEATH THE CITY.—“LOOK HERE.”—HOW THE CITY WAS DISCOVERED.—THE ERUPTION OF 1872.—HORRIBLE SCENES.—EXTENT OF THE DESTRUCTION. 178

XIII.

THE CAVERNS OF NAPLES.

EXCAVATIONS NEAR NAPLES.—POZZUOLI.—VISIT TO THE CAVE OF THE CUMEAN SIBYL.—ACCIDENT TO AN ENGLISH TRAVELLER.—HUMAN PACK-HORSES.—DARKNESS AND TORCHES.—THE LAKE OF AVERNUS.—DROWNED IN BOILING WATER.—A DANGEROUS WALK.—IN NERO’S PRISON.—INSTRUMENTS OF TORTURE.—USE OF THE RACK.—THE IRON BEDSTEAD.—BROILING A MAN ALIVE.—TREATMENT OF PRISONERS.—AN ANCIENT FUNERAL.—VIRGIL’S TOMB.—CONSTRUCTING WINE CELLARS.—NOVEL PLAN OF ROBBERY. 205

XIV.

THE EXCAVATIONS OF DR. SCHLIEMANN, AT MYCENÆ (GREECE).

HIS EARLY LIFE AND IDEAL.—THE TREASURES OF PRIAMUS.—DESCRIPTION OF THE SPOT.—EARLY HISTORY OF MYCENÆ.—PAUSANIAS, THE ANCIENT ARCHÆOLOGIST.—WHERE THE EXCAVATIONS WERE COMMENCED.—THE TOMB OF AGAMEMNON AND HIS FAITHFUL WARRIORS.—DESCRIPTION OF THE TREASURES FOUND.—PROOFS OF THE IMMENSE ANTIQUITY OF THE TOMBS.—RECENT PORTRAITS TAKEN OF HEROES OF ANCIENT GREECE.—HOW IT WAS DONE.—THE VALUE OF THE DISCOVERIES REGARDING ART MATTERS.—HERACLES STRUGGLING WITH THE LION.—DR. SCHLIEMANN’S HEROIC WIFE.—DISCOVERY OF THE TEMPLE OF ÆSCULAPIUS.—A BYZANTINE CAVE UNDER THE ROCK.—A DISCOVERY WHICH FILLS ATHENS WITH JOY.—THE STATUE OF VICTORY FOUND IN ALMOST PERFECT CONDITION. 221

XV.

MEXICO AND ITS MINES.

THE USES OF SILVER.—COIN AND ITS ABUNDANCE.—PUZZLES OF POLITICAL ECONOMISTS.—WONDERFUL SKILL OF THE SILVER-WORKERS.—THE SILVER PRODUCT.—THE MINES OF MEXICO.—THEIR EXTENT AND RICHNESS.—GUANAJUATO AND ITS MINES.—THE VETA MADRE.—VISIT TO THE SERRANO MINE.—UNDERGROUND PYROTECHNICS.—THE _VETA GRANDE_.—THE PACHUCA MINE.—AN OFFER TO THE KING.—THE GROUND PAVED WITH SILVER.—SULPHUR MINERS.—ASCENT OF A MEXICAN MOUNTAIN. 236

XVI.

CORAL REEFS AND CAVES IN THE PACIFIC.

THE ISLANDS OF THE PACIFIC.—HOW THEY HAVE BEEN FORMED.—WHAT THE CORAL IS.—THE WONDROUS ARCHITECTS OF THE SEA.—WHAT A UNITED STATES STEAMER SAW.—HOW THE CORAL IS FISHED FOR.—ROMANTIC STORY OF A CAVERN.—HOW IT WAS DISCOVERED.—AN ELOPEMENT AND EXERCISE IN DIVING.—LOVE AND TURTLES.—A BATTLE IN THE WATER.—KILLED BY SHARKS.—A MAIDEN’S GRIEF.—THE PERIL OF A LOVER.—SURPRISING A FATHER-IN-LAW.—END OF A SUBMARINE COURTSHIP. 248

XVII.

BURGLARS AND BURGLARIES.

REMARKABLE BURGLARIES.—UNDER GROUND FOR DISHONEST PURPOSES.—WONDERFUL ADROITNESS OF BURGLARS.—A REMARKABLE ROBBERY.—OCCUPATION OF A LAWYER’S OFFICE.—LABOR UNDER DIFFICULTIES.—A TROUBLESOME POLICEMAN.—STRANGE SCENE IN COURT.—THE CULPRIT’S REPLY.—ROBBERY BY COUNTERFEIT POLICEMEN.—THE OCEAN BANK ROBBERY.—RAPID AND THOROUGH WORK.—AN ASTONISHED WATCHMAN.—BAFFLING THE POLICE. 264

XVIII.

THE EARLIEST EXCAVATIONS.

GRAVES AND THEIR CONSTRUCTION.—DIFFERENT MODES OF BURIAL.—TOMBS.—THE MOST EXTENSIVE TOMBS.—OBJECT OF THE PYRAMIDS OF EGYPT.—A VISIT TO THE GREAT PYRAMID, AND ITS DESCRIPTION.—DIFFICULTIES OF CLIMBING.—THE TOMBS OF THEBES.—A FAT AMERICAN’S ADVENTURE.—ENTERING THE TOMB OF ASSASSEEF.—RECITING POETRY UNDER DISADVANTAGES.—SWALLOWING A BAT.—JACK’S DISGUST.—FATE OF A FAT MAN.—STUCK IN A PASSAGE-WAY.—HOW THE ARABS REMOVED HIM. 277

XIX.

EXPERIENCES IN WILD LIFE.

NECESSITIES OF TRAVELLERS IN WILD COUNTRIES.—CONCEALING DOG FOOD.—DEFENCES AGAINST WILD ANIMALS.—HONESTY OF CERTAIN NATIVES.—THE AUTHOR’S EXPERIENCE WITH SIBERIAN KORAKS.—CONCEALING FOOD IN ICEBERGS.—BARON WRANGELL AND DR. KANE.—STORY OF BLANKETS AND BLANKET STRAPS.—A CACHE.—WHAT IT IS.—AUTHOR’S FIRST ACQUAINTANCE WITH ONE.—A FRAUDULENT GRAVE.—CACHE OF A WHISKEY KEG, AND HOW IT WAS MADE.—“TWO-BOTTLE CAMP.”—CONSOLATION OF A HARD DRINKER.—AN EXTENSIVE CACHE.—HOW THE INDIANS FOUND IT, AND WHAT BECAME OF THEM.—JIM FOSTER AND HIS TENDER HEART. 292

XX.

THE GREEN VAULTS OF DRESDEN.

THE RICHEST TREASURY IN THE WORLD.—HOW THE SAXON PRINCES ACQUIRED IT.—THE DIFFERENT CABINETS, AND WHAT THEY CONTAIN.—WONDERFUL CARVINGS, MOSAICS, AND CURIOSITIES.—SPLENDID GOLD AND SILVER PLATE.—MAGNIFICENT ROYAL REGALIA.—A LUXURIOUS AND GALLANT MONARCH.—ROMANTIC ADVENTURES.—A MARVELLOUS TOY.—DAZZLING EMERALDS, PEARLS, RUBIES, AND DIAMONDS.—THE LARGEST AND MOST PRECIOUS GEMS ON THE GLOBE.—INGENIOUS AND DESPERATE ATTEMPTS TO ROB THE VAULTS.—A THIEF WALLED UP ALIVE.—EFFECT OF EXPOSING HIS SKELETON.—ARE THE PRICELESS JEWELS FALSE?—WHAT AN ENTERPRISING SCOUNDREL MIGHT ACCOMPLISH. 302

XXI.

THE CATACOMBS OF PARIS.

THE FAIR CAPITAL UNDERMINED.—HISTORY OF THE VAST GRAVEYARD.—SIX MILLIONS OF SKELETONS.—A JOURNEY THROUGH THE CITY OF THE DEAD.—HORRIBLE SENSATIONS OF BEING LOST THERE.—GHASTLY DISPLAY OF SKULLS AND BONES.—TRAGIC AND COMIC INCIDENTS.—TERRIBLE EXPERIENCE IN THE MIGHTY CHARNEL-HOUSE.—SCENES NEVER TO BE FORGOTTEN. 314

XXII.

PETROLEUM.

OIL SPRINGS.—THE FIRE FIELD OF THE CASPIAN.—THE FIRE WORSHIPPERS.—THE RANGOON DISTRICT.—FIRE WELLS OF THE EAST.—PETROLEUM IN AMERICA.—ITS DISCOVERY AND HISTORY.—OIL FEVER.—ANECDOTES OF SPECULATION.—FORTUNES WON AND LOST.—EXTRAVAGANCES OF THE NOUVEAU RICHE.—THE STORY OF JOHN.—HOW TO GET UP A PARTY. 331

XXIII.

WINE AND BEER CELLARS.

WINE CELLARS.—HOW THEY ARE MADE.—PLACES FOR STORING BEER.—THEIR EXTENT.—THE GREATEST WINE CASK IN THE WORLD.—ITS CAPACITY.—PECULIARITIES OF WINE AND BEER VAULTS.—VISITING A CELLAR IN POLAND.—CURIOUS SIGHTS.—THE ANTIQUITY OF THE BOTTLES.—WHAT A VISITOR DID.—THE RESULT OF TOO MUCH WINE.—A DANGEROUS BRIDGE. 346

XXIV.

THE BASTILLE.

ITS HISTORY AND CONSTRUCTION.—THREE AMERICANS SEARCHING FOR IT.—A FRENCH JOKE AT THEIR EXPENSE.—HOW PRISONERS WERE RECEIVED AND TREATED.—HORRIBLE DUNGEONS.—THE OUBLIETTES.—CRUELTIES OF THE BASTILLE.—THE MAN IN THE IRON MASK.—HIS ROMANTIC STORY.—DESTRUCTION OF THE BASTILLE. 356

XXV.

DIAMONDS AND DIAMOND MINES.

HOW DIAMONDS ARE OBTAINED.—THE COUNTRIES THAT PRODUCE THEM.—MODES OF SEEKING THEM IN BRAZIL.—CURIOUS PRECAUTIONS AGAINST THEFT.—HOW A SLAVE IN BORNEO ROBBED HIS EMPLOYER.—FAMOUS DIAMONDS AND THEIR HISTORY.—THE REGENT, THE ORLOFF, AND THE KOHINOOR.—FIDELITY OF A SERVANT.—THE STAR OF THE SOUTH.—A SHARP TRICK OF AN AMATEUR GAMBLER. 372

XXVI.

THE DIAMOND FIELDS OF SOUTH AFRICA.

MODE OF REACHING THEM.—THEIR EXTENT AND RICHNESS.—THE YIELD OF THE MINES.—CHARACTER OF THE AFRICAN DIAMONDS.—MODE OF WORKING.—THE NEGROES AND THEIR PECULIARITIES.—DU TOIT’S PAN.—KIMBERLEY.—COLESBERG KOPJE.—LIFE IN THE FIELDS.—DUST STORMS AND HEAVY RAINS.—A WHIRLWIND AND ITS EFFECTS.—CAUGHT IN A STORM.—INDIVIDUAL INSTANCES OF GOOD LUCK.—A DIAMOND ON A BURST. 391

XXVII.

THE UNDER-WORLD OF PARIS.

THE IMMORALITY AND LICENTIOUSNESS OF THE CAPITAL.—COMPARISON WITH OTHER CITIES.—FRENCH ETHICS AND LITERATURE.—DIFFERENT GRADES OF THE DEMI-MONDE.—THE TRUE STORY OF CAMILLE.—THE GARDENS ON THE SEINE.—THE DANCES AND THE DANCERS.—THE PETITS SOUPERS OF THE COCOTTES.—AFTER-MIDNIGHT SCENES.—ACTRESSES AND CHAMPAGNE.—ADVENTURESSES AND CHÂTEAU MARGAUX.—INTERIOR OF A THIEF’S DEN AND MURDERER’S CELLAR.—BLOODTHIRSTY VIRAGOES AND DESPERATE CUTTHROATS. 403

XXVIII.

THE EAST RIVER BRIDGE.

LAYING THE FOUNDATIONS UNDER WATER.—HOW THE WORK WAS PERFORMED.—THE CAISSON.—HOW IT IS MADE.—ITS MODE OF OPERATION.—WORKING UNDER WATER.—EXPLORING THE BED OF THE RIVER.—DESCENDING INTO THE BOX.—EFFECTS OF A GREAT PRESSURE OF AIR.—AN UNPLEASANT SENSATION.—A STRANGE SIGHT.—ACCIDENTS.—HOW A MAN’S ARM WAS CAUGHT. 426

XXIX.

INUNDATION AT LALLE.

INUNDATION OF A MINE ON THE LOIRE.—HOW THE MEN WERE SAVED.—SONG OF THE PUPILS OF THE MINING SCHOOL AT ST. ETIENNE.—TERRIBLE FLOOD OF A MINE AT LALLE.—BREAKING IN OF A RIVER.—COURAGE OF AUBERTO, A WORKMAN.—SAVING SIX LIVES.—PLAN FOR RESCUE.—DISCOVERING THE WHEREABOUTS OF THE PRISONERS.—ONE MONTH’S WORK IN THREE DAYS.—OPENING THE DRIFT-WAYS.—SIXTY FEET OF TUNNELLING.—IN THE DARKNESS WITH A CORPSE.—STORY OF THE RESCUED.—THIRTEEN DAYS OF PERIL.—FINDING THE BODIES OF THE DEAD.—ONE HUNDRED AND FIVE MEN DROWNED.—SAVING A CHILD.—EATING WOOD AND LEATHER TO SAVE LIFE.—A HORRIBLE SIGHT. 435

XXX.

PERILS OF THE MINER.

NARROW ESCAPE OF THE AUTHOR.—CAUGHT IN A LEVEL.—SETTLING OF THE ROOF.—BREAKING TIMBERS.—A PERILOUS PASSAGE.—FALLING OF A ROOF.—THREATENING DANGERS.—ADVENTURE OF GIRAUD, THE WELL-DIGGER.—CAUGHT IN A FALL OF EARTH.—THREE WEEKS WITH A CORPSE.—ONE MONTH WITHOUT FOOD.—HOW HE WAS RESCUED.—A MINER COVERED WITH COAL.—HIS RESCUE.—AN IRISHMAN’S JOKE.—INUNDATION.—CURIOUS THEORIES OF THE MINERS.—EFFECT OF STRIKING A VEIN OF WATER.—DRAWING THE MEN IN A MINE.—THE SEA BREAKING IN.—CLOSING THE SHAFT.—A TERRIBLE STORY.—EXPERIENCE OF A FRENCH ENGINEER.—CASUALTIES AND THEIR NUMBER.—SUFFOCATION OF THREE HUNDRED AND SIXTY-ONE MEN IN ONE MINE. 447

XXXI.

THE MAMMOTH CAVE.

ROMANCE AND MYSTERY OF CAVES.—THE FAMOUS CAVES OF THE WORLD.—THE GREATEST CAVERN ON THE GLOBE.—ITS IMMENSE FAME.—AMERICANS’ NEGLECT OF IT.—CAUSE OF THEIR INDIFFERENCE.—SITUATION OF THE MAMMOTH CAVE.—ITS MISERABLE MANAGEMENT.—ANNOYANCES AND IMPOSITIONS PRACTISED UPON TOURISTS.—JOURNEY THROUGH THE VAST TUNNEL.—WHAT ONE SEES, FEELS, AND DOES.—CONSUMPTIVE GHOSTS.—WONDERS OF THE STAR-CHAMBER.—DESCENT INTO THE BOTTOMLESS PIT.—CROSSING THE STYX AND THE LETHE.—MARVELLOUS ECHOES.—STARTLING ACCIDENTS.—WOMEN IN AWKWARD SITUATIONS. 456

XXXII.

INSURANCE AND ITS MYSTERIES.

HISTORY OF FIRE AND MARINE INSURANCE.—LIFE INSURANCE.—OBJECTIONS OF A CALIFORNIAN.—HOW HE ANSWERED AN AGENT.—FRAUDS UPON COMPANIES.—A DEEP-LAID SCHEME.—JOHNSON AND HIS THIRTY THOUSAND DOLLARS.—OPENING A GRAVE.—A FICTITIOUS CORPSE.—PURSUIT BY DETECTIVES AND CAPTURE OF THE SWINDLER.—LITIGATIONS ABOUT INSURANCE.—CHINESE TRICKS ON AGENTS.—SUBSTITUTES FOR EXECUTION. 479

XXXIII.

RAILWAY TUNNELS.

TUNNELS AMONG THE ANCIENTS.—HOW THEY WERE MADE.—MODERN TUNNELS AND THEIR LENGTH.—LAUGHABLE INCIDENTS IN RAILWAY TUNNELS.—THE TWO LOVERS.—THE ANXIOUS FRENCHMAN.—ROBBERS.—HOOSAC TUNNEL.—ITS HISTORY.—THE AUTHOR’S VISIT.—NATURE AND PROGRESS OF THE WORK.—AN EXPLOSION.—ACCIDENT FROM NITRO-GLYCERINE.—THE CENTRAL SHAFT.—THE TERRIBLE CALAMITY OF 1867. 492

XXXIV.

THE MONT CENIS TUNNEL.

MOUNTAIN CHAINS BETWEEN NATIONS.—MONT CENIS.—CROSSING THE ALPS.—THE GREAT ALPINE TUNNEL.—LAYING OUT THE WORK.—THE ARC AND DORA.—DIFFICULTIES.—THE SURVEYS.—PENETRATING THE MOUNTAIN.—COMPLETION OF THE WORK.—THE CHANNEL TUNNEL.—ITS COST.—COST OF TUNNELS IN VARIOUS COUNTRIES. 510

XXXV.

THE PARISIAN SEWERS.

THE SEWERS OF PARIS.—THEIR EXTENT.—A JOURNEY THROUGH THEM.—THE START AND THE MODE OF TRAVEL.—DESCRIPTION OF THE GREAT SEWER.—ACCIDENTS OF SEWER TRAVEL.—HISTORY OF THE SEWERS.—THEIR FIRST GREAT INSPECTION.—BRUNESEAU.—INUNDATION FROM THE SEWERS.—A MAN LOST.—HORRIBLE DEATH IN THE SEWERS.—THE OLD AND THE NEW.—THE EXCAVATIONS.—NATURE OF THE WORK.—BREAKAGE OF THE CANAL.—JEAN VALJEAN IN THE SEWERS OF PARIS.—HIS FIRST SENSATION.—CAUGHT IN A LABYRINTH.—THE SEWERS OF ST. DENIS, AND THE MARKETS.—CAUGHT IN THE WATER.—THE POLICE IN PURSUIT.—FRIGHT OF THE FUGITIVE.—THE QUICKSAND ON THE COAST OF BRITTANY.—A HORRIBLE DEATH.—QUICKSAND IN THE SEWERS.—HOW IT WAS FORMED.—JEAN VALJEAN IN THE QUICKSAND.—HIS SUFFERINGS AND ESCAPE. 524

XXXVI.

MERCURY.

PROPERTIES AND PECULIARITIES OF MERCURY, OR QUICKSILVER.—AMALGAMATION.—CINNABAR.—WHERE IT IS FOUND.—ALMADEN AND OTHER MINES.—CURIOUS CUSTOMS AT IDRIA.—MODES OF WORKING.—HUANCA VELICA.—QUICKSILVER MINES IN CALIFORNIA.—CALIFORNIA LAWSUITS.—WONDERFUL PROPERTIES OF SPANISH TITLES.—AN UNHAPPY ACCIDENT.—PRACTICAL VALUE OF AN EARTHQUAKE.—AN UNDERGROUND CHAPEL. 551

XXXVII.

GUANO AND THE COOLIE TRADE.

GUANO AND ITS CHARACTER.—WHERE IT IS FOUND.—THE CHINCHA ISLANDS AND THEIR WEALTH.—NOVEL PLANS OF THE PERUVIANS.—HOW THEY DIG AND LOAD GUANO.—EFFECT OF GUANO ON A STRANGER.—JARVIS’S AND HOWLAND’S ISLANDS.—THE COOLIES AND THEIR LABOR.—STORIES OF HORRIBLE CRUELTIES.—HOW THE ASIATIC SLAVE TRADE IS CONDUCTED.—MUTINY ON SHIPBOARD.—MURDER OF THE CREW.—HUMAN MINCE MEAT.—TREATMENT OF COOLIES AT WORK.—EXTENT OF THE COOLIE TRAFFIC.—PROBABLE FATE OF MISSING SHIPS. 561

XXXVIII.

AVONDALE.

THE GREAT CALAMITY IN PENNSYLVANIA.—ITS CAUSE.—DISCOVERY OF THE FIRE.—SCENES AT THE MOUTH OF THE MINE.—BURNING OF THE BREAKER.—DESCRIPTION OF THE FIRE.—EFFORTS FOR RESCUE.—THE DOG AND LAMP.—DESCENT OF THE SHAFT.—WHAT THE EXPLORERS SAW.—DISCOVERY OF THE BODIES.—AFFLICTION OF FATHER AND SON.—BRINGING OUT BODIES.—BURIAL OF THE DEAD. 578

XXXIX.

IRON AND IRON MINES.

IRON AND ITS VALUE.—ITS ABUNDANCE, AND WHERE IT IS FOUND.—A MOUNTAIN OF IRON.—IRON MOUNTAIN AND PILOT KNOB.—THE AUTHOR’S VISIT.—CHASED BY GUERRILLAS.—A NARROW ESCAPE.—THE ANTIQUITY OF IRON.—ITS VALUE IN MANIPULATION.—IRON AS MONEY.—INCONVENIENCE OF USING IT.—FIRST IRON WORKS IN AMERICA.—DIFFERENCE BETWEEN IRON AND OTHER MINES.—DIRECT AND REVERSE WORKINGS.—A PICTURESQUE SCENE. 590

XL.

EXILES IN SIBERIA.

TOILING IN A SIBERIAN MINE.—A DARING ESCAPE.—HOW IT WAS PLANNED.—TUNNELLING TO LIBERTY.—DISARMING GUARDS.—WORKING IN THE DARK AND WITHOUT FRESH AIR.—A MURDEROUS ATTEMPT.—CUSTOMS OF THE SIBERIAN PEASANTRY.—CARE FOR THE EXILE.—A SURPRISE.—A NARROW ESCAPE FROM DEATH.—LIVING IN A MOUNTAIN GLEN.—HUNTING IN THE ALTAI MOUNTAINS.—KILLED BY AN ARGAL.—SEPARATION AND DEPARTURE.—HOW TO OBTAIN PASSPORTS.—SAFE ARRIVAL AT HOME. 599

XLI.

LEAD MINES OF IOWA.

BLUFFS AT DUBUQUE, IOWA.—THE LEAD MINES.—HOW LEAD IS FOUND THERE.—INDIAN DISCOVERIES.—HOW THE SECRET BECAME KNOWN.—STORY OF THE SIX INDIANS.—FOLLOWING THEIR TRACKS.—AN INDIAN TRAITOR.—AN EXPLORER’S ADVENTURE.—THE INDIAN GUIDE AND THE GREAT SPIRIT.—MURDER OF TWO EXPLORERS.—USES OF ABANDONED SHAFTS AND CAVES.—AN EDITOR’S DISCOVERY.—AN UNDERGROUND BANQUET.—UPS AND DOWNS OF A LEAD MINER.—DEATH OR A FORTUNE.—A DANGEROUS BLOW.—A MINUTE OF GREAT PERIL. 613

XLII.

MINING IN THE BLACK HILLS. THE WONDERFUL MINE UNDER LAKE SUPERIOR.

FIRST REPORTS OF GOLD IN THE BLACK HILLS.—DISCOVERY OF PLACER DEPOSITS.—THEIR EXTENT AND RICHNESS.—DEADWOOD AND RAPID CREEK.—SAD FATE OF AN EARLY EXPLORING PARTY.—VALUABLE QUARTZ VEINS.—MODE OF REACHING THE COUNTRY.—OTHER RESOURCES OF THE BLACK HILLS REGION.—BRILLIANT PROSPECTS FOR THE FUTURE.—A REMARKABLE MINE UNDER LAKE SUPERIOR.—CURIOSITIES OF SILVER ISLET.—WORKING UNDER DIFFICULTIES.—ORES OF UNEXAMPLED RICHNESS.—MINING ADVENTURES UNDER THE LAKE.—NEW ROUTE TO THE CENTER OF THE EARTH. 622

XLIII.

CALIFORNIA AND HER TERRESTRIAL TREASURES.

WONDERS OF THE PACIFIC COAST.—CALIFORNIA IN 1835.—CAUSE OF HER RAPID PROGRESS.—THE HONEST MINER OF THE OLDEN TIME.—FATE OF THE FORTY NINERS.—EFFORTS OF A NOVICE.—RUSHES TO NEW PLACERS.—CHANGE FROM PLACER TO QUARTZ MINING.—GRASS VALLEY.—EXTENT OF THE GOLD-BEARING RIDGE.—AMALGAMATING PROCESSES.—SPECULATIONS IN MINING STOCKS.—HOW A SHARP NEW YORKER WAS SOLD.—A LUCKY HIT.—COPPER MINES IN CALIFORNIA AND ARIZONA.—NEW ALMADEN AND ITS QUICKSILVER.—BENEFITS OF AN EARTHQUAKE. 633

XLIV.

RAPID TRANSIT.

RAPID TRANSIT IN NEW YORK.—THE UNDERGROUND RAILWAY SCHEMES.—ELEVATED RAILWAY LINES.—THE WEST SIDE RAILWAY.—TRAVELLING ON LAMP POSTS.—ADVANTAGES OF A SECOND STORY ROAD.—ADVENTURES WITH THIEVES.—PERILS OF THE MODERN STREET CAR.—ARTISTIC PACKING OF PASSENGERS.—THE PNEUMATIC RAILWAY.—VANDERBILT’S SCHEME.—AN UNCOMFORTABLE JOURNEY.—SHOT FROM A GUN. 644

XLV.

THE TUNNELS, AND THE UNDERGROUND RAILROAD IN LONDON.

DESCRIPTION OF THE LONDON HARBORS.—THE CATHARINE DOCK.—ENORMOUS STORE-HOUSES.—HOW THE TUNNEL WAS BUILT.—PLAN OF THE FRENCH ENGINEER, ISAMBERT BRUNEL.—HOW THE WORK WAS CHECKED BY A BREAK IN THE BED OF THE THAMES.—SIX LIVES LOST.—REMARKABLE RESCUE OF THE SON OF MR. BRUNEL.—ENORMOUS LABOR AND STRUGGLE AGAINST THE ELEMENTS.—TRIUMPH AT LAST.—THE MOST REMARKABLE RAILROAD IN THE WORLD.—LONDON CROSSED UNDERGROUND BY A SERIES OF TUNNELS.—HOW LIGHT AND AIR IS PRODUCED.—THE NEWEST IMPROVEMENTS OF THE ROAD.—THE CARS PASSING UNDER THE DWELLING OF THE DEAD. 662

XLVI.

DUNGEONS.

LIFE IN THEM.—ANCIENT DUNGEONS.—THE PRISON OF ST. PAUL.—THE DUCAL PALACE.—“SOTTO PIOMBI.”—THE POZZI.—SHUT UP IN THE DARK CELLS.—A NIGHT OF HORROR.—A GUIDE’S BLUNDER.—DUNGEONS OF ST. PETERSBURG.—PETER THE GREAT TORTURING HIS SON.—A PRINCESS DROWNED IN PRISON. 675

XLVII.

ANIMALS UNDER GROUND.

HORSES IN MINES.—EFFECT OF AN EVEN TEMPERATURE ON HORSES AND MULES.—EFFECT OF DEPRIVATION OF LIGHT.—WALKING IN DARKNESS.—RATS IN MINES.—A MONKEY IN A SILVER MINE.—THE CONSTERNATION HE CREATED.—WHAT HE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE.—HIS UNHAPPY FATE.—A MONKEY AT SEA.—HIS PRANKS.—DEMOCRATIC HABITS.—HOW HE LOST HIS LIFE.—HIS LAST PERFORMANCE.—DOGS IN MINES, AND THE EFFECT OF UNDERGROUND CONFINEMENT.—JOY AT REACHING DAYLIGHT AGAIN.—TWO DOGS AT SEA, AND WHAT THEY DID.—A DOG SAILOR, AND WHAT HE DID.—HIS UNHAPPY END. 686

XLVIII.

OUT OF PRISON.

WONDERFUL ESCAPE FROM A FRENCH PRISON.—PLANS OF ESCAPE.—A LONG LABOR.—TUNNELLING THROUGH A WALL.—INGENUITY OF A SAILOR.—LUCKY ACCIDENTS.—DISCOURAGING EVENTS.—HOW SUCCESS WAS ATTAINED.—ELUDING THE GUARDS.—REACHING A PLACE OF SAFETY. 695

XLIX.

THE GAMBLING HELLS OF GERMANY.

THE FOUR GREAT SPAS.—DESCRIPTION OF BADEN, HOMBURG, WIESBADEN, AND EMS.—ROULETTE AND ROUGE-ET-NOIR.—SPLENDOR OF THE SALOONS.—THE PERSONS WHO FREQUENT THEM.—PROFITS AND PECULIARITIES OF THE DIRECTION.—THE PHILOSOPHY OF GAMBLING.—WHY PLAYERS LOSE.—STRANGE SUPERSTITIONS OF BETTORS.—THE INVALIDS.—DROLL SCENES AT THE PUMP-ROOM.—THE MAN WITH A SNAKE IN HIS STOMACH.—THE ROBUST HYPOCHONDRIAC. 705

L.

GAMING AND GAMESTERS ABROAD.

FOREIGN AND DOMESTIC SUMMER RESORTS.—THE ADVANTAGE OF THE FORMER.—MYSTERIOUS CHARACTERS.—A TRIO OF CELEBRATED GAMESTERS.—THEIR EXTRAORDINARY HISTORY.—TRAGIC FATE OF A YOUNG RUSSIAN OFFICER.—TEMPTATION, DESPAIR, AND SUICIDE OF A BEAUTIFUL ENGLISH GIRL.—A LUCKY BANKER’S CLERK.—A HUNGARIAN HANGING HIMSELF FOR A WARNING.—ECCENTRICITIES OF CROUPIERS.—A CALM-BLOODED HOLLANDER.—THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET.—ROSE-STREWN ROADS TO RUIN. 721

LI.

SUBTERRANEAN DWELLINGS.

THE EARLIEST HABITATIONS.—UNDERGROUND HOUSES.—A DWELLING ON THE AMERICAN PLAINS.—HOW AN EARTH HOUSE IS MADE.—RESULT OF A NIGHT IN IT.—ARCTIC DWELLINGS.—A MANSION IN KAMCHATKA.—ITS ADVANTAGES AND DISADVANTAGES.—A CHIMNEY AND DOORWAY IN COMMON.—THE AUTHOR’S EXPERIENCE.—A LIVE DOG IN A STEW-KETTLE.—THE STORY OF GAMOOT.—HOW HE ENTERTAINED HIS FRIENDS.—FISH OIL PUNCH AND A CANDLE BREAKFAST.—HOW HE LEARNED ENGLISH.—NEW MODE OF BOXING THE COMPASS.—GAMOOT’S MELANCHOLY FATE. 736

LII.

BRIGANDAGE AS A FINE ART.

HIGHWAY ROBBERY IN MODERN TIMES.—THE OLD WORLD AND THE NEW CONTRASTED.—HABITS OF RUSSIAN ROBBERS.—PIOUS THIEVES.—PRAYERS FOR SUCCESS.—ROAD AGENTS.—CRUELTIES OF ITALIAN BRIGANDS.—TORTURE AND RANSOM OF PRISONERS.—SPANISH BRIGANDS.—ADVENTURE ON A SPANISH ROAD.—AN AMERICAN PRINCE AND AN ENGLISH DUCHESS.—AN EXCITING RACE.—A DUCHESS IN UNDRESS. 746

LIII.

MINERAL RESOURCES OF AUSTRALIA AND NEW ZEALAND.

COLONIAL EXHIBITS AT THE PHILADELPHIA CENTENNIAL.—WONDERFUL MINERAL WEALTH OF THE ANTIPODES.—CURIOUS FEATURES OF THE GOLD FIELDS.—HOW A PARTY OF CALIFORNIANS WERE DECEIVED.—DISCOVERIES OF GOLD AND HOW THEY WERE MADE.—TROUBLES WITH THE MINERS.—AN INSURRECTION AND ITS RESULT.—FIELD OF THE AUSTRALIAN MINES.—COAL, IRON, AND OTHER MINERALS.—THE RESOURCES OF NEW ZEALAND.—ITS GOLD YIELD.—GEOLOGICAL PECULIARITIES.—AGRICULTURAL AND OTHER WEALTH.—VICISSITUDES OF MINING LIFE.—PLANS FOR ENCOURAGING IMMIGRATION. 755

LIV.

UNDERGROUND IN SAN FRANCISCO.

CHINESE OPIUM DENS.—PISCO.—EXPERIMENTS IN LIQUORS.—SATURDAY NIGHT AMONG THE CHINESE.—COCOMONGO.—MURDERER’S ALLEY.—CHINESE MUSIC.—THE THEATRE.—BETEL AND ITS USE.—THE BARBARY COAST.—CHEAP LODGING-HOUSES.—A DYING VICTIM.—A DEN OF THIEVES.—“THE SHRIMP.”—UNDER THE STREET.—A REPULSIVE SPECTACLE.—OPIUM SMOKING.—ITS EFFECTS.—SAMSHOO.—ITS PREPARATION AND QUALITIES.—INTRODUCTION TO AN OPIUM DEN.—THE OCCUPANTS.—EXPERIMENT ON A SMOKER.—HOW TO SMOKE.—TRYING THE DRUG.—MESCAL.—GOING HOME.—TRYING A SEWER.—A COUNTRYMAN’S DRINK. 768

LV.

GOLD AND ITS USES.

ITS ANTIQUITY.—WORSHIP OF GOLD.—ANCIENT GOLD MINES.—KING SOLOMON.—GOLD IN AMERICA.—STORY OF A HUNTER.—THE SHEPHERD AND THE CHILD.—HOW PIZARRO EUCHRED THE PERUVIAN KING.—SUTTER’S FORT AND SAW-MILL.—MARSHALL’S DISCOVERY IN THE MILL RACE.—ROMANCE AND REALITY.—SPREADING THE NEWS.—NAVIGATION UNDER DISADVANTAGES.—THE GOLD EXCITEMENT.—THE PAN AND ROCKER.—THE AUTHOR AS A GOLD MINER.—HOW HE WORKED THE ROCKER.—HARRY AND HIS TIN DIPPER.—DISAPPOINTMENT AND DINNER.—VICISSITUDES OF GOLD MINING. 785

LVI.

GOLD MINING.

VARIOUS WAYS OF MINING GOLD.—SLUICING AND HYDRAULIC MINING.—ACCIDENT TO A MINER.—A NARROW ESCAPE.—POWER OF WATER IN HYDRAULIC MINING.—EFFECT ON RIVERS AND BAYS.—A SCENE OF DESOLATION.—QUARTZ MINING.—QUICKSILVER AND ITS AMALGAM.—STOCK OPERATIONS.—THE MARIPOSA MINES.—THE AUTHOR’S VISIT.—HAYWARD’S MINE.—MANIPULATION OF MARIPOSA.—FUNNY STORY OF A SEA CAPTAIN.—HOW HE SUPERINTENDED A MINE.—HIS MANAGEMENT OF A MILL.—ACCIDENTS ON PURPOSE, AND HASTY FLIGHT. 802

LVII.

COPPER AND COPPER MINES.

ANTIQUITY OF COPPER.—USE OF IT AMONG THE ANCIENTS.—OLDEST COINS.—THE COLOSSUS OF RHODES.—COPPER MINES OF ENGLAND AND OTHER COUNTRIES.—NATIVE COPPER.—HOW IT IS WORKED.—OVERTHROWING A MASS.—A LUMP WEIGHING EIGHT HUNDRED TONS.—MALACHITE. 817

LVIII.

THE CATACOMBS OF ROME.

THEIR AGE AND EXTENT.—THE SEVEN HILLS HONEYCOMBED.—HOW THE CATACOMBS WERE MADE.—THEIR USES.—THE CHRISTIAN MARTYRS.—IMMENSE BURIAL VAULTS.— MILLIONS OF PERSONS BURIED.—RESORTS OF ROBBERS.—STRANGE ADVENTURES.—VISITING THE CHURCH OF THE CAPUCHINS.—FANCY OF AN IRREVERENT AMERICAN.—DOWN THE CATACOMBS.—STORY OF THE GUIDE.—STRANGE EXPERIENCE OF TWO AMERICANS. 829

LIX.

THE PARISIAN RAG-PICKERS.

THEIR NUMBER AND EQUIPMENT.—THEIR KEEN-SIGHTEDNESS AND SKILL.—THE PLEASURE OF THE BOTTLE.—SEEKING COMFORT UNDER DIFFICULTIES.—UNWHOLESOME MAGAZINES.—WHERE AND HOW THE CHIFFONNIERS LIVE.—DISMAL AND NOISOME ABODES.—A SOUP LOTTERY.—QUAINT SCENES IN CHEAP BOOK-SHOPS.—TASTING ROAST CAT AND STEWED PUPPY.—ROMANCE IN DIRT-HEAPS.—A HIDEOUS HAG ONCE A FAMOUS BEAUTY.—PENITENCE AND REFORMATION THROUGH FIRE. 844

LX.

BRIGANDAGE AND PIRACY.

RELATIONS OF THE STEAM ENGINE TO HONESTY.—PIRACY AND STEAMSHIPS.—HOW THE SLAVE TRADE WAS BROKEN UP.—STORIES OF BRIGANDS.—EXPLOITS OF SPANISH ROBBERS.—“ROAD AGENTS” IN CALIFORNIA.—AN ADVENTURE WITH HIGHWAYMEN.—AN ARMED STAGE COACH.—THE HAUNTS OF THE ROBBERS.—STORY OF A PLUNDERED PASSENGER.—“PUT UP YOUR HANDS.”—AN EXCITING INCIDENT.—BROAD-HORNS AND KEEL BOATS.—MIKE FINK AND THE CLERGYMAN.—PIRACY ON THE MISSISSIPPI.—A FIGHT WITH RIVER PIRATES.—A CAPTAIN AND CREW MURDERED.—VISIT TO A ROBBER’S CAVE. 853

LXI.

BURIED TREASURES.

CAPTAIN KIDD.—HIS HISTORY.—HOW HE MADE HIS FORTUNE.—HIS MELANCHOLY FATE.—JOINT STOCK IN THE ADVENTURE GALLEY.—SEARCHING FOR TREASURES.—STORIES OF THE SEA-COAST.—TRADITIONS.—ADVENTURES OF A TREASURE-HUNTER.—BILL SANBORN, AND WHAT HE DID.—JIM FOLLETT’S DOG.—A PRACTICAL JOKER.—A MESSAGE FROM THE SANDS OF THE SEA.—BILL SANBORN’S DREAM.—FINDING THE CHEST.—A SUPERNATURAL VISITOR. 866

LXII.

OPERATIONS AT HELLGATE.

HELLGATE AND SANDY HOOK.—ENTRANCES TO NEW YORK HARBOR.—THE HELLEGAT AND ITS MEANING.—STORIES OF THE OLD VOYAGERS.—EDITORIAL JOKES.—MAILLEFERT’S OPERATIONS.—DEEPENING THE CHANNEL.—GENERAL NEWTON.—THE AUTHOR ON AN EXCURSION.—BLOWING UP COENTIES’ REEF.—HOW IT IS DONE.—AN ACCIDENT WITH NITRO-GLYCERINE.—THE AUTHOR’S NARROW ESCAPE.—DIVER’S EXPERIENCE.—ASTONISHING THE FISHES.—RECEPTION AT HALLETT’S POINT.—GOING UNDER THE REEF.—THE MEN AT WORK.—AN INUNDATION.—HOW THE REEF IS TO BE REMOVED.—SURVEYING IN THE WATER.—A GRAND EXPLOSION. 882

LXIII.

THE EARLY HISTORY OF MANKIND.

THE STONE AGE.—PICTURE OF ADAM AND EVE.—HOW EVE CUT THE APPLE.—MINERS OF ANCIENT TIMES.—DISCOVERY OF STONE IMPLEMENTS.—THE INVENTION OF FIRE.—HOW GOLD WAS FOUND.—COPPER AND BRONZE.—THE BRONZE AGE.—IRON AND ITS USES.—MINERAL PRODUCTIONS OF DIFFERENT COUNTRIES.—QUICKSILVER IN SPAIN AND CALIFORNIA.—THE WEALTH OF NEVADA.—ROMANTIC STORY OF THE COMSTOCK LODE.—MINERAL FUTURE OF AMERICA. 898

LXIV.

DIAMOND AND OTHER SWINDLES.

THE GREAT DIAMOND SWINDLE OF 1872.—HOW IT WAS ORGANIZED.—MAGNIFICENT PLANS OF THE SWINDLERS.—PLANTING A DIAMOND FIELD.—HOW THE FRAUD WAS EXPOSED.—A NEAT SWINDLE ATTEMPTED IN SAPPHIRES.—HOW IT WAS DISCOVERED.—A MYTHICAL COPPER MINE.—FATE OF THE SWINDLER. 905

LXV.

PERQUISITES.

CURIOSITIES OF COMMERCIAL TRANSACTIONS.—PAYING COMMISSIONS IN EUROPE.—FUNNY EXPERIENCES.—SPREAD OF THE CUSTOM IN AMERICA.—HOW CONTRACTS ARE OBTAINED AND PAID FOR.—COMMISSIONS TO TRADESMEN AND OTHERS.—CURIOUS FEATURES OF THE PIANO TRADE. 917

LXVI.

THE WIELICZKA SALT MINES.

THE GREAT WIELICZKA SALT MINES, THE LARGEST IN THE WORLD.—THEIR HISTORY.—EXTENT AND PRODUCT.—DESCENT INTO AND EXPLORATION OF THEM.—WHAT IS TO BE SEEN.—MINERS AT WORK BLINDFOLDED.—WONDERFUL CHAMBERS.—GLOOM CONVERTED INTO SPLENDOR.—BANQUETS IN THE BOWELS OF THE EARTH.—THE INFERNAL LAKE.—HUMAN DEMONS.—AWFUL APPARITIONS.—EXTRAORDINARY NARRATIVES. 930

LXVII.

EXPLOSIONS IN MINES.

THICKNESS OF COAL SEAMS.—STUPIDITY OF A TURKISH MINING SUPERINTENDENT.—THE RESULT.—BLASTING IN MINES.—HOW IT IS DONE.—TERRIBLE ACCIDENTS.—MINES ON FIRE.—SCENES OF DEVASTATION.—EFFECT OF SUBTERRANEAN FIRE.—EXPLOSIONS OF FIRE-DAMP.—HORRIBLE ACCIDENTS.—STORIES OF SURVIVORS.—LOSS OF LIFE.—SCENE IN A WELSH MINE.—EXPLOSIONS IN ENGLISH AND AMERICAN MINES.—MODES OF RELIEF.—STORY OF TWO BROTHERS.—HOW THEY WERE SAVED.—THE SAFETY-LAMP.—ITS CONSTRUCTION.—THE FIRE-WALLS OF CHINA.—THE PENITENT AND CANNONEER. 948

LXVIII.

MYSTERIES OF THE GRAND JURY.

SITTING ON A GRAND JURY.—HOW IT IS COMPOSED.—PECULIARITIES OF MODERN JUSTICE.—HOW TO SELECT BLOCKHEADS.—A DISHONEST BAGGAGE-MAN.—CHARITY AND MERCY.—AN AFFECTING INCIDENT.—SAVING A YOUTHFUL OFFENDER.—A GENEROUS WOMAN.—CURIOUS PHASES OF HUMAN NATURE.—CELT AND AFRICAN.—STORIES OF THE DETECTIVES.—A GARRULOUS IRISH WOMAN.—FAMILY TROUBLES.—THE HORSE AND CART STORY.—HOW A PRETTY WOMAN CAPTURED THE JURY. 960

LXIX.

BORROWING AND BORROWERS.

HOW THE BUSINESS IS PROSECUTED IN NEW YORK.—THE NUMBER OF BORROWERS.—THEIR DIVISIONS AND SUBDIVISIONS.—HOW THEY OPERATE.—THE STORIES THEY TELL.—THEIR ENERGY.—ABILITY TO READ CHARACTER.—SUFFERINGS OF THEIR VICTIMS.—FRAUDS UPON HORACE GREELEY.—DEVICES TO AVOID THESE SWINDLERS.—ANNUAL AMOUNT OF THEIR SWINDLES.—HOW A MAN CUTS HIS EYE TEETH. 979

LXX.

AMONG THE DETECTIVES.

DETECTIVE LIFE.—CURIOSITIES OF LIFE IN A GREAT CITY.—NOT KNOWING YOUR NEIGHBORS.—PECULIAR ACQUAINTANCES.—ROBBERY OF A DRY GOODS STORE.—INGENIOUS DETECTION OF THE CRIME.—LOVE AND JUSTICE.—A SURPRISING DENOUEMENT. 991

LXXI.

WAR AND PRISON ADVENTURES.

EXPERIENCES OF AN ARMY CORRESPONDENT.—RUNNING THE BATTERIES OF VICKSBURG.—EXCITING SCENES.—PERILOUS SITUATION AND HAIR-BREADTH ESCAPE.—SHOT, SHELL, STEAM, FIRE, AND WATER.—TWO YEARS AS A CAPTIVE.—TUNNELLING.—ITS MODE, MANAGEMENT, AND MISHAPS.—TOILING FOR FREEDOM UNDER GROUND.—BOLD AND PROSPEROUS EFFORTS FOR LIBERTY.—LIFE IN A DUNGEON.—PERISHING BY INCHES.—DEATH ON EVERY HAND.—SUBTERRANEAN SEEKING FOR THE LIGHT.—SELF-DELIVERANCE AT LAST. 999

ILLUSTRATIONS.

1. Phases of Underground Life, FRONTISPIECE. 2. Austin, Nevada; A Western Mining Town, 34 3. Impressions of Plants found in Coal, 40 4. Discovery of Anthracite Coal in Pennsylvania, 40 5. Wire Railway at the Harewood Coal Mine, British Columbia, 51 6. Entrance to a Coal Mine, 54 7. Interior of a Coal Mine, 54 8. Descending a Shaft, 68 9. Sections of an English Coal Mine, 74 10. Discovery of Silver in Peru, 82 11. Interior of a Silver Mine, 82 12. Entrance to a Silver Mine of Central America, 88 13. Indian Silver Miners at Work, 88 14. One Method of Washing for Silver, 95 15. Another Method of Washing for Silver, 95 16. New York Speculators at the Mines, 108 17. Demonstrating the Value of a Silver Mine, 108 18. Pearl Diving in the East Indies, 130 19. Discovery of Loaves of Bread Baked 1800 Years Ago, 167 20. Bodies of Pompeians Cast in the Ashes, 173 21. Railroad from Naples to the Summit of Mt. Vesuvius, 187 22. Descent of Vesuvius, 188 23. Searching for Relics, 193 24. The Gate of Herculaneum and Street of Tombs, 197 25. The Crater of Vesuvius, 198 26. Bay of Naples, 206 27. Naples Wagon, 206 28. Nero’s Gymnasium, 214 29. Dr. and Mrs. Schliemann the Excavators at Mycenæ (Greece), 221 30. The Explorations at Mycenæ—the Treasury of Atreus (entrance),224 31. Battle of the Warriors, 263 32. The Philadelphia Bank Robbery, 268 33. Australian Natives Burning their Dead, 278 34. An Indian Burial Place, 278 35. The Tombs of the Kings at Thebes, 289 36. Hall in the Tombs of Assasseef, 289 37. Pumping Well on Oil Creek, 334 38. The Grand Hotel, 356 39. Place De La Bastille, 362 40. The Bastille, 362 41. Destruction of the Bastille, 371 42. Working a Diamond Claim, 376 43. River Washing—Cradling for Diamonds, 376 44. Celebrated Diamonds of the World, 382 45. The Orloff Diamond, 382 46. Star of the South, 382 47. The Nassac, 382 48. The Cumberland, 382 49. The Sancy, 382 50. Star of the South—rough, 382 51. The Dresden, 382 52. The Regent Diamond, 382 53. The Kohinoor—recut, 382 54. Australian Brilliant, 382 55. The Eugenie, 382 56. Regent—side view, 382 57. The Hope, 382 58. The Florentine, 382 59. The Shah, 382 60. The Diamond Fields of South Africa, 391 61. Grand Avenue of the Champs Elysées, 407 62. Ball at Mabille, 415 63. East River Bridge, 426 64. Inundation of a Mine, 439 65. Falling in of a Mine, 444 66. View of Mammoth Cave, 474 67. Stalagmites in the Cave, 474 68. Execution of a Chinese Criminal, 488 69. Eastern Entrance to Hoosac Tunnel, 500 70. Western Entrance to Hoosac Tunnel, 500 71. Work at the Heading, 506 72. Boring machine used in Mount Cenis Tunnel, 518 73. Side View of Boring Machine, 518 74. Place De La Concorde, 527 75. The Madeleine Church, 530 76. Subterranean Paris, 536 77. The Great Sewer, 536 78. Quicksilver Mines of New Almaden, 554 79. Blasting in the Quicksilver Mines, 554 80. Burning of a Coolie Ship, 568 81. Coolies Planning a Mutiny, 577 82. Mutiny on the Lower Deck, 577 83. The Avondale Disaster—Removing Bodies from the Mine, 586 84. Interior of an Iron Mine, 594 85. Section of the Broadway Underground Railway, 644 86. Tunneling Broadway for the Underground Railway, 652 87. Interior of Pneumatic Passenger Car, 655 88. Portal of the Broadway Tunnel, 655 89. The Bomb Ferry—Travel in the 30th Century, 661 90. The Public Highway—Travel in the 30th Century, 661 91. Underground Rail Road Station, Aldgate London, 671 92. Conversationshaus at Baden, 708 93. Concert in the Gardens at Baden, 708 94. Gambling Saloon at Baden, 722 95. Esquimaux Dwellings, 739 96. Robbery of the Diligence, 750 97. Drinking Pisco in a San Francisco Saloon, 769 98. Jas. W. Marshall, the Discoverer of Gold in California, 790 99. Sutter’s Mills where Gold was Discovered, 790 100. Emigrant Train of Gold Hunters in 1849, 794 101. Chinese Gold Mining in California, 794 102. Gold Washing in the California Mines, 798 103. Miners Prospecting, 804 104. Miners Around their Camp-fire, 810 105. Ground Sluicing, 814 106. Hydraulic Mining, 814 107. A Copper Mine of the Lake Superior Region, 824 108. Interior of a Copper Mine, 821 109. Drilling in a Copper Mine, 824 110. Catacombs of Rome—The Three Brothers, 832 111. Vaulted Chapel in the Catacombs, 840 112. Lost in the Catacombs, 840 113. Pirates of the Mississippi, 862 114. View of Hellgate from Negro Point, 885 115. General View of Works at Hallett’s Point, 885 116. View of Shaft from the Dam, 892 117. The Shaft, Showing Headings, 892 118. Dream of a Diamond Swindler, 911 119. Descending the Shaft—Wieliczka Salt Mines, 932 120. Chapel in the Wieliczka Salt Mines, 932 121. Getting out Salt, 936 122. Illustration of the Infernal Lake, 936 123. Explosion of Fire Damp, 952 124. Our Quarters in Libby Prison, 1008 125. Tail Piece, 1016

UNDERGROUND.

I.

BELOW THE SURFACE.

DIFFUSION OF KNOWLEDGE.—WHAT THE WORLD BELIEVES.—MUNGO PARK IN AFRICA.—WHY THE NATIVES PITIED HIM.—EXTENT OF UNDERGROUND LIFE.—DISTRIBUTION OF THE EARTH’S WEALTH.—VALUE OF MINES.—THEIR EXTENT AND IMPORTANCE.—COAL AND IRON.—MYSTERIES OF MINES.—EXPERIENCE WITH A NOVICE.—CHANGES OF SEASONS TO A MINER.—DANGERS IN MINES.—LIFE IN CAVERNS.—UNDERGROUND IN METAPHOR.—SOCIAL MINING.—OBJECT OF THIS VOLUME.

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.

[Sidenote: VARIED TASTES]

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.

[Sidenote: WEALTH UNDERGROUND.]

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.

[Sidenote: VALUE OF COAL AND IRON.]

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.”

[Sidenote: FUNNY EXPERIENCE OF A NOVICE.]

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.

[Sidenote: DANGERS UNDERGROUND.]

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.

[Sidenote: EARLY LIFE UNDERGROUND.]

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.

[Sidenote: MINING IN METAPHOR.]

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.

II.

DISCOVERY OF COAL.

SAVAGE THEORIES ABOUT COAL.—EXPERIENCE OF A SIBERIAN EXPLORING PARTY.—BURNING BLACK STONES.—MINERAL FUEL AMONG THE ANCIENTS.—THEIR MOTIVE POWER.—CHINESE TRADITIONS.—CHINESE GAS WELLS.—HISTORY OF COAL IN ENGLAND.—A ROYAL EDICT.—CURIOUS STORY OF THE MINER OF PLENEVAUX.—EXTENT OF COAL FIELDS THROUGHOUT THE GLOBE.—THE QUAKER AND THE YANKEE PEDLER.—THE FIRST ANTHRACITE.—BELLINGHAM BAY AND THE CHINOOKS.—HOW COAL WAS FORMED.—INTERVIEWING A REPTILE.—THEORIES OF THE ANCIENTS.—RIVERS OF OIL OF VITRIOL.—ANCIENT AND MODERN FIRE WORSHIPPERS.

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.

[Sidenote: COAL AMONG THE ANCIENTS.]

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.

[Sidenote: CHINESE FIRE WELLS.]

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:—

[Sidenote: THE MINER OF PLENEVAUX.]

“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.

[Sidenote: THE QUAKER AND THE YANKEE.]

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.

[Sidenote: DISCOVERY AT BELLINGHAM BAY.]

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.

[Sidenote: ANNUAL COAL PRODUCT.]

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.

[Sidenote: HOW COAL WAS FORMED.]

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.

[Sidenote: CONVERSION OF PEAT TO COAL.]

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.

[Sidenote: SACRED FIRE WELLS.]

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.

[Sidenote: A WIRE TRAMWAY.]

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.

[Sidenote: ESTIMATE OF COAL.]

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.

Tons. Per cent. Great Britain, 127,016,747 46.4 United States, 50,512,000 18.4 Germany, 45,335,741 16.5 France, 17,400,000 6.4 Belgium, 17,000,000 6.2 Austria and Hungary, 11,000,000 4.0 Russia, 1,200,000 0.5 Spain, 570,000 0.2 Portugal, 18,000 ——— Nova Scotia, 1,051,567 0.4 Australia, 1,000,000 0.4 India, 500,000 0.2 Other countries, 1,000,000 0.4 ————————— ————— 273,704,055 100.0

III.

BORINGS AND SHAFTS.

HOW COAL MINES ARE DISCOVERED.—OUTCROPPINGS.—SCIENTIFIC RESEARCHES.—HOW A MARBLE QUARRY WAS FOUND.—BORING A WELL, AND WHAT CAME OF IT.—A LOCAL DEBATING SOCIETY.—INTIMATE RELATIONS OF COAL MINES AND THE STEAM ENGINE.—STRIKING OIL.—“DAD’S STRUCK ILE.”—THE UNHAPPY MAIDEN’S FATE.—COAL INSTEAD OF WATER.—THE TOOLS TO BE USED.—A DEEP HOLE.—TERRIBLE ACCIDENT, AND A MINER’S COOLNESS.—SINKING SHAFTS.—AN INGENIOUS APPARATUS.—ACCIDENTS IN SHAFTS.—REQUIREMENTS OF THE LAW.

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.

[Sidenote: DISCOVERING COAL MINES.]

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.

[Sidenote: INVENTING THE STEAM ENGINE.]

In the eighteenth century deep pits in the Newcastle coal fields were filled with water, and it was necessary to drain these pits before the coal could be taken out. The ordinary pump was not sufficient for the purpose, and a more powerful engine became necessary. Inventions seem to come at a time when they are most needed. When the necessity for a powerful pump was greatest, the steam engine was invented. Savery, Newcomen, and Watt succeeded each other. Captain Savery constructed one of his “fire engines” to lift water from one of the Cornish mines; but the power of the engine was not great, and the quantity of water raised was exceedingly small.

Newcomen invented the atmospheric steam engine, in which the piston was lifted by steam, and when this was condensed the piston was forced to the bottom of the cylinder by the pressure of the atmosphere. Afterwards Watt improved upon the engine, and overcame the difficulty of removing the vast accumulations of water in the deep mines, about the middle of the eighteenth century.

There is a curious relation between coal mines and the steam engine. The latter was invented among the former, and without its application to pumping purposes the invention would have been to a great extent worthless, for by means of the very substance raised from the mines the engine is kept in motion. The mines thus furnished the material with which the engine is operated, and only with the aid of the engine can the coal mines be properly worked.

In the petroleum regions of America the borings and pumpings are frequently conducted by means of the gas which rises from the earth. Very often a steam engine is run without any other fuel than a stream of natural gas, conveyed beneath the boiler, and fed through a proper distributing apparatus.

To the coal mine we are also indebted for that great boon of modern civilization, the railway.

Coal is a heavy, bulky article, selling at a low price. Not only must it be removed from the earth, but it must be carried at a cheap rate, and often for long distances. Where there is no water communication the roads are the only mode of conveyance. Originally common earth roads were used, and the coal was carried in ordinary carts. These, roads were improved, and, after a time, were in the condition of stone causeways, or macadamized tracks. Afterwards wooden tracks were used, over which the wheels would roll more easily than upon ordinary roads. These wooden tracks were at first placed in the underground ways of the mines, and afterwards extended to the ways above ground.

[Sidenote: INVENTION OF THE RAILWAY.]

But wood is not durable; it soon rots and wears away. The wooden tracks were subsequently replaced by others of cast iron; originally these were grooved, but subsequently they were furnished with a lateral flange. Afterwards wrought iron was substituted for cast iron. In the first instance strips of cast iron were placed upon wooden rails, forming the old-fashioned strap rail. Afterwards was invented the ordinary rail as we now find it. The flange was removed from the rail, and placed upon the wheel, and thus, step by step, the modern railway came into existence.

Something more was wanted. Cars were propelled by means of horse or man power. It was necessary to apply the steam engine to the work of transportation. Trefethick, a Cornish miner, constructed a locomotive with a simple boiler, like that of a stationary engine; but the heating surface and the motive power were too small. It was not then supposed that the wheels would turn upon a smooth rail and move forward, and so the driving wheel was toothed and worked in a rack. The speed was less than that of a carriage drawn by horses. George Stephenson, an old coal miner, completed the locomotive.

Seguin, in France, about the same time, invented the tubes which run through the locomotive boiler, and afford a passage to the flames. They greatly increased the evaporating surface, and consequently the production of steam. Stephenson discharged into the chimney the steam which had acted upon the piston, and thus gave a great draft to the furnaces. The locomotive was then complete, and since that day it has only been improved in its details.

We have wandered a little from the search for coal to speak of the steam engine, the locomotive, and the railway.

[Sidenote: BORING FOR COAL.]

Many coal mines have been discovered by borings in search of artesian springs. About thirty years ago, in one of the French provinces, a well was being bored, and, quite unexpectedly, the boring tools revealed the presence of coal. As soon as this became known, everybody went to work searching, not for water, but for coal. In a region sixty miles long by twelve or fifteen wide, the ground was perforated like a sieve, by a series of borings which were laid down on a plan that seemed to resemble a constellation of stars on a celestial map. Everywhere coal was found, and altogether one hundred thousand acres of coal fields were added to the wealth of France. Nearly thirty companies were organized to work the new mines. Since the discovery about fifty pits have been sunk, some of them to a depth of five hundred yards. In 1851 the mines produced five thousand tons of coal. At the present day their product is not far from twenty millions of tons. All this originated in a search for water.

The process of boring for coal is very much like, in fact almost identical with, boring for petroleum. The boring rods are of wood, or iron, and are screwed together as the work proceeds. The primitive instrument is a steel chisel, or bit, which strikes the rock and wears it away, precisely as an ordinary drill makes a hole in a stone ledge. Boring machinery may be operated by steam power or by hand. In the primitive way, a triangle, or pair of shears, supports the rods, and has an ordinary windlass, by which they may be raised or lowered.

One of the inconveniences attending the ordinary process of boring is, that the rock is pulverized, and nothing but little fragments of dust and mud are brought to the surface. Sometimes it is difficult to determine whether the stones through which the borer has passed are the proper ones to indicate the existence of coal, or whether the black matter comes from coal or shales. All these disadvantages have been overcome by means of a new instrument, which is in general use. A gouge in the form of a hollow cylinder is employed, furnished at the base with a row of teeth, or with several cutting blades of cast steel, and sometimes with a row of diamonds. It is worked like an ordinary borer or auger, and cuts a solid column or cylinder out of the rock as regular in shape as if it had been turned in a lathe.

When this cylinder has been cut to a sufficient length, it is broken off by means of the gouge bit, or grapnel, which seizes it and brings it to the surface. The boring tool will cut a hole eight inches in diameter, leaving a pillar of rock in the centre which can be broken off at any desired length and brought to daylight. By means of this rock, the fossils in the stone may be studied, together with the structure of the strata, and all its peculiarities. Beautiful specimens of rock are frequently obtained in this way from great depths. Some borings have been made to a depth of nearly two thousand feet, with a diameter varying from eight to twenty inches.

As the boring tool reaches the depth at which the workmen expect to find coal, the operations are conducted with the greatest interest. Every motion of the rod is carefully watched, and when the fragments of rock or earth are brought to the surface, they are examined with great care. When the coal is discovered there is much rejoicing, as it is then certain that the prize has been gained. It is the same in boring for coal as for oil. When a man in Western Pennsylvania has “struck oil,” and, according to the local expression, “struck it rich,” he feels that his fortune is made. More than one man has thus raised himself above his fellows when his search for coal was rewarded with success. An old story, which has been told many times, and will bear telling a good many times more, is not inapplicable here.

[Sidenote: “DAD’S STRUCK ILE.”]

During the period of the first oil excitement in Pennsylvania, a young man, whom the story represents to have been poor but honest, was paying his attentions to a maiden of his neighborhood. The maiden received his addresses, and the pair were engaged to be married. The father of the damsel was an oil seeker, and one day his search for oil was successful. That evening the young man visited his lady love. She received him coldly. He asked the meaning of the coolness, and she curtly replied, “I can’t marry you.”

“Why?” asked the young man, eagerly.

“Well,” said the girl, “I can’t marry you; dad has struck ile.”

The young man went away sorrowing, for he had not great possessions. As the story goes, the damsel, who had been thus suddenly lifted from poverty to wealth in consequence of her father’s oil discovery, remained unmarried for several months, but finally gave her hand to an engaging stranger from New York, who dissipated the family fortune as rapidly as it had been obtained.

[Sidenote: ACCIDENT AT CREUZOT.]

In 1853 some wealthy gentlemen sought for coal near Creuzot, in France. The spot was carefully selected, and for four years the work went on. The tools penetrated to a depth of more than three thousand feet. This is probably one of the deepest borings ever made. An unforeseen accident stopped the work at that point.

The bore-hole was less than an inch in diameter, and was made by means of a steel chisel fastened into wooden rods, which were screwed together. The boring tool one day became broken at the bottom of the hole. All kinds of grappling implements were lowered to take hold of it, but none of them succeeded. The chisel seemed to be firmly lodged at the bottom, and resisted every attempt to withdraw it. After six months of effort the work was abandoned. One of the parties interested offered to subscribe half a million francs to be given to any one who would invent an instrument that could withdraw the chisel.

Several days after the abandonment of the enterprise, the foreman of the work mounted the staging and made another effort to raise the broken tool. The whole power of the steam engine was exerted in pulling the ends of the rods, when suddenly the rope gave way. The man’s hand was caught and crushed between the rod and one of the planks through which it passed. He stood there and shouted to the man to saw off the rod in order to release him. Then holding the remains of the ruined hand in the uninjured one, he walked to Creuzot, three miles away, and without uttering a word of complaint, underwent amputation at the wrist.

[Sidenote: TUBBING A SHAFT.]

After the coal is discovered, whether through surface indications or by borings, the preliminary working begins by means of a shaft and levels. Generally the first step is to sink a shaft or pit. When the ground is soft, the pit must be walled with brick, stone, or timber, as fast as the descent is made. When the pit is sunk through limestone and sandstone, the progress is slow, but the walls sustain themselves, and do not require either masonry or timbering. A great inconvenience in sinking a shaft arises from springs and small streams of water. In many places where this inconvenience occurs, the shaft is fitted with a wooden lining, or tubbing, as it is called, which is made of thick staves somewhat resembling those of casks, the joints being carefully fitted, in order to keep out all water, and to withstand great pressure. Sometimes this tubbing is made of iron, wrought or cast. Where the ground is loose, or composed of sand and water, the tubbing is forced down from the top, or sinks by its own weight. When this tubbing consists of masonry, it is built in a circle at the surface, and as fast as the earth is removed the masonry sinks. A fresh circle is added at the surface, and thus the work goes on. It was in this way that Brunel constructed the shafts which formed the descent into the Thames Tunnel. Sometimes shafts are sunk under water, and in such case they are lowered in a perpendicular position until the ends strike the bottom, and then the water is pumped out. An ingenious apparatus raises the mud from the bottom, and a pump is kept at work to remove the water.

Sometimes, in sinking a shaft through quicksand, the water runs in faster than any ordinary mode of drainage will remove it. M. Triger, an ingenious Frenchman, invented a machine by which the water could be pumped out. The cylinders of iron were five or six feet in diameter, and he divided them into three compartments, as nearly air-tight as possible. He forced compressed air into the lower one, and enclosed the workman inside. The man was thus in a sort of diving-bell. The compressed air, being forced against the bottom of the shaft, prevented the great mass of water from filtering through the sand. The small quantity which filtered in was, by the force of the compressed air, driven through the sand pipe communicating with the surface. “Imagine an army of mice,” the inventor graphically said to M. Simonin, “and a cat suddenly to make her appearance, and you would have the picture of water reaching the bottom of our shafts through a thousand holes in the ground, if the presence of the air is lowered, and returning suddenly to the surface as soon as the air recovers its tension.”

The rubbish and running sands are removed in buckets by hand, or by means of a rope passing through a pulley. Trapdoors communicate from one stage to the other, by means of which the buckets are removed without any serious loss of the compressed air. Shafts may be sunk through quicksands in this way to a depth of eighty or one hundred feet without difficulty. The laborers who pass their time in the compressed air work as easily as in the open atmosphere. Some of them, however, cannot remain there long, especially if they have the drum of the ear very delicate, or are in the habit of drinking to excess. The pressure of air in the chambers rarely exceeds three or four atmospheres.

[Sidenote: AN INGENIOUS APPARATUS.]

This apparatus is frequently used for laying the foundation of bridges in the beds of rivers, where there are deep quicksands. The famous bridge of Kehl, near Strasbourg, was constructed in this way, and the engineers say that without some such apparatus the construction of the bridge would have been impossible.

If a shaft has been sunk and properly supported,—that is to say, timbered or walled,—it is generally divided into compartments. The shafts are generally from fifteen to twenty feet in diameter, and consequently there is plenty of space for dividing them. One of the compartments will serve for the tubs, cages, or buckets, in which the coal is raised. Another is for pumps to draw off the water, and sometimes where the miners go up and down by ladders a compartment is made especially for them.

[Sidenote: LEGAL NECESSITIES.]

In all cases one compartment in the shaft serves as an air-way or chimney, whether the draft is free or not. In some countries the law requires that there shall be more than one shaft, or opening, to every mine, while in other countries no such law exists. Many of the owners of mines are abandoning the single shaft system, and gradually supplying their mines with more than one entrance. Many terrible accidents, accompanied by a great loss of life, might have been avoided had the mines been constructed with more than one entrance or shaft. A striking example of this is in the terrible calamity at Avondale, a few years ago. The most approved arrangement of shafts for a large mine where there is explosive gas, and where water is to be pumped, is to sink one shaft for the pumps, another for raising coals, and a third for ventilation. At the bottom of the third one a large furnace is always kept burning.

In some of the mines there may be half a dozen shafts. Those through which the coal is drawn are called the winding pits, those where the pumps are fitted are called pumping pits, those where the men go up and down, are called labor shafts, and those for the passage of air are known as air shafts.

In many mining regions there is a class of pits that have been abandoned in consequence of the coal beneath being worked out. Sometimes these pits are made use of for purposes of ventilation. Proper care is not always taken of these abandoned holes, and they form dangerous precipices, through which a careless person may easily fall and be killed. Strangers strolling in the vicinity of mines occasionally step into these shafts and disappear, to be seen no more alive.

IV.

ACCIDENTS IN SHAFTS.

ADVENTURE OF THE AUTHOR DESCENDING A SHAFT.—A MINUTE OF PERIL.—LIFTED THROUGH A SHAFT BY ONE LEG.—A COLLISION IN MID-AIR.—SENSATIONS OF THE DESCENT.—A MINER’S VIEWS OF DANGER.—PICTURESQUE SCENE AT A DESCENT.—OFFERING PRAYERS.—SCENE AT A RUSSIAN MINE.—SAFETY CAGES.—THEIR CONSTRUCTION.—A LUDICROUS INCIDENT.—HOW A MAN FAILED TO KEEP AN ENGAGEMENT.—DOWN IN THE SALT MINES OF POLAND.—A PERILOUS DESCENT.—“PLENTY MORE MEN.”—ACCIDENT NEAR SCRANTON.—“PUTTERS.”—HOW GIRLS WERE USED IN SCOTLAND.—MAN ENGINES.—THE LEVELS.—AN ACCIDENT CAUSED BY RATS.—THRILLING AND FATAL ADVENTURE OF TWO PENNSYLVANIA MINERS.—A FEARFUL FALL OF ROOF.—CARRYING A DYING COMRADE TOWARD THE LIGHT OF DAY.—EIGHT HOURS OF MORTAL AGONY.

My first journey down the shaft of a mine had of course a novelty about it, and also partook of the sensational.

It was not a coal mine into which I descended, but a copper mine. We stepped into a basket suspended by a hempen rope, and our conductor gave the signal to start. The engineer slacked away the rope somehow, and we descended rapidly. It seemed to me very much like falling out of a balloon.

I never have fallen out of a balloon, and therefore cannot say positively whether the sensation was like it or not. I have been up in a balloon, and the sensation of going rapidly upward through the air is very much like that of going rapidly downward into the earth.

Down, down, down we went; and though the time was short, it seemed to me pretty long. I had heard that there was generally at the bottom of the shaft of a mine a pool of water, which is called, in technical language, a “sump.”

I had a suspicion that we might be plunged into it, and asked our conductor if there was any danger.

“O, no danger at all!” he replied. “All that can happen to you is, that if you get into the sump you will get drenched; and then, if you do not like it, you can be drawn to the surface so rapidly, that every thread on you will be dried out again.”

This proposed process of wetting and drying did not please me, and I intimated an emphatic hope that the engineer knew his business, and would stop at the proper time.

The descent was not quite eight hundred feet, but it seemed to me at least eight thousand. Every little while we passed a hole, through which the light glimmered, and we could see, though only for the instant, into the various portions of the mine. In one place, a miner was standing at the end of a level, and standing, too, very carelessly on the edge, and we narrowly escaped brushing him off. Had we brushed against him, and thrown him from his perch to the bottom, he would not have been worth three cents a pound after being picked up.

When we reached the bottom, the basket was in a sort of basin, with a flooring of plank just even with its edge. Miners were standing there with lanterns in their hands, or with candles stuck into their hats, and they assisted us to scramble off.

[Sidenote: HOISTED BY A LEG.]

We had sufficient time to get out—or seemed to have; but one of the party, who had crouched to the bottom of the basket, was a long time gathering his limbs together, and picking himself up. He did not pick up fast enough. The engineer waited what he thought was a proper time for us to get out, and then the basket began to move upward just as the dilatory man was putting a leg over its side. As the basket moved up, he was partly in and partly outside, and there was a prospect of witnessing a very pretty accident on his account.

He was a distinguished stranger, and it would never do to have a person of his prominence killed there. Our conductor seized the signal-rope and gave it a violent pull, which caused the engineer to send the basket back again, and wait until everything was ready. The dilatory visitor scrambled out of the basket, and gave a sigh of relief when he stood upon the planking.

[Sidenote: IN THE SHAFT OF A MINE.]

The shaft of a mine is a very good place for accidents. Many of these occur from the carelessness of the miner, or the engineers, and sometimes from their incompetency. By the old system, baskets or buckets were raised or lowered by the winding or unwinding of a rope. Of late years, a cage, travelling in guides, is used, which is much safer than the old system. The miners are careless in consequence of their long acquaintance with the mines. Familiarity breeds contempt, with dangers as with everything else.

The first descent into a mine generally raises the pulse, and very often seriously alarms the visitor. The miners will stand carelessly on the edge of a bucket; but the strangers generally seat themselves at the bottom, and it is sometimes necessary to turn the bucket upside down on reaching the floor of the mine before they can be induced to come out.

The shaft always appears smaller than it really is on account of the darkness. It is never well lighted, and very often the glimmer of the lamps is just sufficient to make darkness visible.

Visitors are always subjects of merriment to the miners. They show more or less fear in all their movements, especially in ascending and descending; but the miners go up and down the shaft laughing and talking, just as the soldier goes under fire and faces the storms of bullets.

The sight of the miners going down is a curious one. The men stand ready around the mouth of the shaft, and at the sound of the bell they crowd into the tubs or cages, or go down the ladders. Their voices can be heard a moment, and then they gradually become fainter and fainter, till lost in the distance. In some mines on the continent of Europe, prayers are offered by the miners before going down; in most mines, however, this is neglected, but many of the men cross themselves on leaving the upper air, and breathe a short prayer to St. Barbe, the great patron saint of the miners.

It is interesting to note the sudden pause in the conversation, to see the hands making the sign of the cross, the lips of the hardy miners moving, and then, a moment after, to hear them break forth again, and talking as merrily as ever.

I remember, on one occasion, visiting a mine in Russia, where the men gathered at the mouth of the pit seemed engaged in some sort of a dispute. Their voices were loud, and many of the tones were angry. Suddenly a bell was sounded, and in an instant every cap was removed, and every man went through the Russian ceremonial of crossing himself. This ceremony over, caps were restored to the heads of the owners, and the conversation was resumed as loudly and excitedly as ever.

I have seen a soldier standing at his post, as a sentry, when the bell sounded, or the gun was fired, telling the hour of sunset. As the flag descended from the staff, the soldier supported his musket with his left arm, while with his right hand he performed the ceremonial which had been taught him by the church.

The shaft is frequently called the miners’ tomb; and it is said that the Belgians have intentionally named it The Grave (La Fosse).

In some mines, so many accidents have occurred in the shaft, that the men never enter it without fear. Great improvements have been made in the mode of ascending or descending, and at the present day the apparatus is considered nearly perfect.

The first improvement for the protection of men ascending and descending, was to cover the tubs with a roof, or bonnet, so that falling materials would injure nobody. Besides this, the heads of the men are shielded by hats made of sheet iron or stout leather. An indicator is kept in front of the engine man, so that he knows precisely the position of the tub; and if there are two tubs in the shaft, one ascending and the other descending, he may know when they pass on their way. In some coal mines the tubs or cages are double-decked, and some of them have four tiers or decks.

[Sidenote: SAFETY CAGES.]

The greatest improvement is in the use of safety cages. These consist literally of cages with a strong top to protect the persons inside against the stone or other falling substances, and with wooden guides at the side with which the roller wheels of the cages come in contact.

If anything falls, the top of the cage protects the men. If the rope breaks, a spring above the cage is set free, and catches in the guide, bringing the cage to a stand-still suddenly. A great many accidents have been prevented by this contrivance.

Some of the safety cages, instead of wooden guides at the sides, are provided with long, stout strips of cast or wrought iron. If the rope breaks, a spring at the top is suddenly thrown out, and catches in one of these notches. Safety cages of an improved pattern are in use in many of the principal hotels of America, as well as in mines. They have been manufactured comparatively but a few years. Soon after the Gould and Curry mine, in Nevada, was opened, one of these cages was placed in the principal shaft. The owners of the mine were doubtful of its powers, and the owner of the machine set about convincing them. When everything was ready, he loaded the cage with a ton of stone, then stepped on its top, and standing there suspended several hundred feet above the bottom, he deliberately cut the rope. A shudder ran through the crowd of spectators who were standing around; but their terror was of short duration. The stout springs were thrown out, and the cage did not descend six inches, after the severance of the rope, before it came to a stop.

Ludicrous incidents sometimes occur in these hoisting machines. In one of the hotels in New York, not many months ago, the machinery one day became deranged while the elevator was in use. It was full of passengers, and was between two floors in such a way that nobody could get in or out. It required an hour and a half to arrange the machinery, and in this hour and a half a dozen persons were closely confined in the cage. Such a combination of growls was never before heard in so small a space at one time in that hotel.

It was about half past two o’clock in the afternoon when the elevator stopped. One man had a note to pay before three o’clock. He did not pay it. One lady in the elevator had left a friend in the parlor, and promised to be down again in five minutes, “as soon as she could arrange her bonnet.” She did not keep her promise with her friend. Another man was very thirsty, and was on his way to his room to order up a drink. His thirst continued. And so through all the dozen persons who were detained in the elevator. Every one had an important engagement, or a special reason for being in a hurry, when hurrying was of no earthly use.

In some of the mines of Europe there are neither safety cages, tubs, nor baskets. At the salt mines of Wieliczka, in Austrian Poland, the miners go down at the end of a long rope, to which several loops are fastened. Each loop has a band across it to support the back. The miner seats himself in one of these loops, leans against the band to support his back, clings to the rope with one hand, and holds his candle in the other. Half a dozen men form a bunch in this way, and sometimes there is another bunch above them. At a little distance the groups very much resemble a living chandelier. Not only miners, but visitors, are lowered in this way, and the descent is very trying to a nervous person.

[Sidenote: “PLENTY OF MEN.”]

A traveller who went into the Wieliczka mines in this way says he asked if men did not sometimes fall out of the loops. “O, yes,” replied the person addressed; “but this is of no consequence. Men are abundant about here, and when one is killed there is always somebody ready to take his place.”

[Sidenote: FALLING DOWN A SHAFT.]

Until quite recently,—that is, until the introduction of the safety cages,—accidents from collisions were quite common. Sometimes two tubs of coal are fastened to a rope, not one above the other, but side by side. One day, at a Belgian mine, where they were accustomed to send up the coal in this way, as two men were going down the shaft in a bucket, they came in collision with the ascending coal. Both men were standing, one of them holding the lamp and the other clinging to the chains. The shock of the collision unhooked their tub, and they were left, three hundred feet from the bottom, holding on to the rope. This shock caused the ascending coal buckets to tilt, and large blocks of coal were thrown out and fell down the shaft. They clung convulsively to the rope, and by a marvellous piece of good fortune, neither of them was injured. They reached the termination of their journey, and the instant that they touched the bottom of the shaft both of them fainted.

Just as one of the same men, at another time, was getting ready to go up the shaft, the engineer started the rope too suddenly. The tub was partly overturned, and the man, with one leg hanging in the tub and with his head downwards, was hoisted nearly a hundred feet up the shaft. By this time an alarm was raised, and they managed to stop the engine and bring the miner back again.

In mines where there are several shafts, there is generally a positive rule against the miners ascending through the pits where the coal is raised. The rule, however, is frequently disregarded, and sometimes the disobedience of the men leads to their death. Occasionally, when the miner is ascending in this way, a lump of coal falls upon and seriously injures or kills him.

At one of the mines near Scranton, not long ago, two miners were ascending in this way, and a block of stone fell from the wall, killing one of them, and injuring the other so that he lived but a few days. In some of the English mines they used to have a system of descent something like the Polish one. Two men were side by side, each of them passing a leg through an iron chain, which was fastened to a rope, and formed a seat. Accidents in this mode of descent frequently occurred, sometimes from carelessness, and sometimes from a man coming in contact with some unexpected obstacle. This mode is never used at the present day, excepting in very shallow pits. Frequently the man would be thrown to the bottom of the shaft and dashed to pieces, full in the sight of his terrified companions, who could not render the least assistance.

In old times coal was taken out of the mines, not by means of hoisting apparatus, but by bearers. Carrying a staff, and with their feet bare, they were obliged every day to carry a certain number of loads up the inclined road leading to the surface, supporting their burdens on the staff while stopping to rest. The roads were slippery and rough, and the employment was very dangerous.

In some English and Scotch mines, and also in some of the French mines, where the seams of coal are thin, boys, who are called “putters,” are employed to draw small carts along a railway. They fasten themselves to the cart with belts around their waists, and draw it along, going sometimes on their hands and feet where the road is wet and rough. Sometimes one of them pulls the cart while the other pushes it. In some of the Scotch mines girls formerly performed this work; but of late the laws do not allow women to work under ground.

[Sidenote: GIRLS IN SCOTCH MINES.]

Girls used to carry on their backs a basket fastened to a leather strap which passed around their foreheads. A lamp was attached to the strap, and in this way they carried their loads up the long ladders and through the inclines, sometimes a distance of several hundred feet. If a strap broke, a block of coal fell, or a bearer missed her footing, those below were seriously hurt, and many fatal accidents occurred. This primitive mode of raising coal was abolished by law. The owners of the mines had become so careless in regard to the management of their laborers that the government was obliged to interfere.

For the past forty or fifty years movable ladders have been used in many mines both in Europe and America, though less extensively in this country than in the former. In England they are called “man-engines,” and are constructed on a principle of reciprocal motion of two parallel rods. The rods are placed about fifteen inches apart, and steps and handles are so arranged as to be at about the ordinary height of a man. By the action of the steam engine one of the rods is raised to a certain height, while the other is lowered for the same distance. During the movement of the crank over its turning point, the miner goes from the step on which he stands to the opposite step. Another stroke of the engine is made, and the rod moves in the opposite direction, and is followed by a fresh movement of the miner. Whether he goes up or down, the man rises or descends without any fatigue, and the journey is made in a very short time.

Many of these engines have been abandoned for the safety cage. The rate at which the men were lifted by them was seventy-two feet a minute, or a little less time than would be required for ascending by the rope. Another machine in use in Belgium and France is a single rod, and in place of the steps there are fixed platforms holding two men each. The length of stroke of the machine is about nine feet, and it will make twelve or fifteen strokes a minute.

[Sidenote: MOVABLE LADDER.]

The man travelling by it must be very watchful. He must pass from the movable ladder to the landing stage or platform, and watch for a new stroke or step upon the ladder. To avoid accidents he must use great caution, and no hesitation. The slightest embarrassment may cause a very serious accident, and the sudden return motion may kill the traveller on the spot.

From the bottom of the shaft of a mine the men scatter in various directions to their work, or are distributed among the different levels. A shaft is perpendicular, while the level is horizontal. The dangers in the shaft have already been described. Strictly speaking, no dangers of the same sort are liable to occur in the levels. True, there may be falls of rock or coal, or whatever other substance forms the roof of the mine; but they generally occur in consequence of the carelessness of some person on the same level, and not above or below.

Levels are described by their names, though they are not always in a strictly horizontal position. Sometimes they dip at considerable angles, owing to the formation of the rock, or the position of the substances to be mined. They are made of various heights, though generally of not more than six feet. The materials used for lining the shaft—that is, brick, timber, or stone—are likewise employed in the levels, and the modes of strengthening in both cases are very nearly the same. Where the work is intended to last more than six or eight years, it is generally set up with stone, and not timbered. Where it is intended to last a long time, and especially if the rock through which it runs is of a yielding nature, it is strongly arched with masonry.

Sometimes it is necessary to make an arch below as well as above, for the reason that the flooring of the mine is apt to swell up in consequence of the pressure from below. Masonry used in levels is very much like ordinary masonry, and requires no especial description.

[Sidenote: TIMBERING LEVELS.]

For timbering levels there are three timbers-two uprights and a head-piece. Sometimes there is a fourth piece, placed at the bottom, known as the sleeper, or sill. This is used, however, only when the flooring is soft, or consists of a substance that is apt to bulge up.

The pressure from above, as well as the lateral pressure, frequently bends and breaks the timbers. This bending and breaking of the timbers, occasioned by the settling of the earth, are rarely sudden in their occurrence. At first there will be observed a slight bending of the timbers; the next day the bending will be seen to be greater; and sometimes a month, or even six months, may pass before the timbers are sufficiently curved to break. Frequently levels that have been made five or six feet in height will, in the course of a few months, be reduced to a height of not more than three feet. The timbers will be bent around in all directions, and it requires considerable nerve to pass between them.

Where the mines are moist, the timbers soon become covered with fungus, and a vegetable peculiar to the interior of the mine makes its appearance. Sometimes it is not unlike light cottony material; occasionally it is snow-white, and again like tanned leather, or of a bright yellow color. The timber, when rotting, has an odor like that of creosote, and is familiar to everybody who has passed any time in deep mines.

Rats abound in mines, and are frequently very numerous. They make themselves at home, and are as comfortable as possible. While the miners are at their dinners, they frequently play around them, and appear on friendly relations with them. Occasionally, they become so hungry that whenever a candle is placed in the wall, and the miners back is turned, the rats will rush forward and seize the prize at the risk of being burned.

[Sidenote: ACCIDENT CAUSED BY RATS.]

Sometimes rats are the cause of accidents. Some years ago an explosion occurred at a mine in Wales, when several men lost their lives. There was one pit which was known to be full of explosive gas, and the men were warned to be very careful of their movements with their lamps. A lamp, in which the glass was surrounded with iron netting, was placed on a shelf in the part of the mine where the men were at work. The miners were a few yards away, when they noticed half a dozen rats clambering about the lamp, and saw them tip it over. It fell from the shelf and struck a lump of coal. A hole was made through the wire gauze, the lamp was broken, and a terrible explosion of gas followed.

To the here-related accidents, we feel obliged to add a thrilling and fatal adventure of two Pennsylvania miners, which occurred in the vicinity of Scranton, Pa., on the 23d of April, 1877:—

In calculating the cost of coal, there is one important item which is never taken into consideration by capitalist or consumer, and that is the loss of life and limb incurred in the work of digging “dusky diamonds” and preparing them for market. A glance at the list of deaths and accidents published monthly in the local papers, is sufficient to send a thrill of horror through the stoutest heart; but familiarity soon makes us partially indifferent to such matters, and it is only when some thrilling calamity occurs, such as the Avondale or West Pittston disaster, that we are fairly aroused to the perils incident to the work of mining.

We know but little of these things, unless we see an occasional account of it in the newspapers, and even then we can but faintly realize the mishaps that befal, from day to day, in the way of fire-damp explosions, falling roofs, and the innumerable other death-dealing agencies that lurk in the depths of the coal mine.

[Sidenote: FEARFUL FALL OF A ROOF.]

One of the most heart-rending accidents of this character which has been recorded for some time, has just occurred at the Empire mine, in this vicinity. Two men, named John Mooney and Patrick Quinn, were employed in No. 4 slope, laying track, a distance of about two miles from the opening, and a mile from the other workmen. When they least dreamed of danger there was a sudden convulsion overhead, and an instant later they were overwhelmed by a fearful fall of roof. The terrible accident put out their lights, and they were in utter darkness. Mooney, after considerable difficulty, succeeded in extricating himself from among the massive bowlders which fell about him, in such a way as to form a sort of cave, and, upon freeing himself, his first thought was for his companion. He called aloud for Quinn, but received no answer, only the echo of his own voice, beaten back by the rocks. He felt himself growing faint, and realized that he was very seriously injured, but was determined to ascertain the condition of his fellow miner. After calling aloud in vain for some time, he groped about in the dismal place among the rocks, hoping to find Quinn, and fearing that he was dead. At length he touched him, but the poor fellow was pinned fast by a big bowlder, which lay upon one of his mangled legs. The other leg had been completely severed from the body by the fall. To release him was a hard task, but Mooney, forgetting his own injuries, set about the work with a will, and succeeded in setting Quinn free.

How to carry him to the light of day was the next trial, but he was determined to do it; and taking him upon his back, he began groping his way through the pitchy darkness, in the direction of what he considered was the foot of the slope. For two hours he wandered about that living tomb, with his dying comrade on his back, moaning in the most piteous manner. The situation was awful, and, after roaming thus for a long time, poor Mooney was disheartened to find that he had come back to the very point from which he had set out, and where the accident occurred. He summoned up his fast-fading strength and made another effort, still taking Quinn on his back; but, after proceeding a short distance, he grew faint, and was unable to go farther with his precious burden. Then, laying the dying man down in as comfortable a position as he could, Mooney crawled on his hands and knees toward what he thought was the slope. At half-past six o’clock a party of miners, while proceeding down No. 5 slope, were startled by the apparition which their lamps revealed. It was Mooney, crawling slowly up the slope on his hands and knees, his face black and bloody, and his whole body sore from contact with the jagged pieces of coal and rock. His eyes were at first dazzled by the light, he had been in darkness so long, and trying to see, and he was speechless with joy for some seconds to find relief at last.

[Sidenote: HEROISM AND MORTAL AGONY.]

This was eight hours after the accident had happened, and they were eight hours of awful mortal agony. As soon as Mooney found words to speak, he related the story in brief, and begged the party to hasten to the assistance of Quinn, who might yet be saved.

They hurried to the spot indicated, and found the unfortunate fellow in the condition already described, with one leg severed from his body, and the other crushed to pieces. He was still alive, and they took him up in their arms to carry him to the slope, but he never reached it alive. He died in the arms of his comrades. Mooney, who is severely wounded, is expected to recover. He played the part of a hero in the unselfish manner in which he risked his own life trying to save his comrade. But such acts are not of rare occurrence among the miners. They are a most unselfish, brave lot of fellows, and will face death in the mine at any time to save one another. The men who met Mooney crawling up the slope were moved to tears, by his haggard, woe-begone, and saddened looks, and say they never saw such a pitiful sight before.

V.

SILVER MINES AND MINING.

ANTIQUITY OF SILVER.—REAL ESTATE AND SLAVE PURCHASES IN BIBLICAL TIMES.—SOLOMON AND HIS SILVER SPECULATIONS.—ABUNDANCE OF SILVER AMONG THE ANCIENTS.—THE EARLIEST MINES.—ORIENTAL EXAGGERATION.—SPANISH MINES AND THEIR HISTORY.—MEXICAN MINES.—A NONDESCRIPT ANIMAL.—NOVEL WAY OF OBTAINING A PIGSKIN.—PERU AND ITS SILVER.—A HIGH-TONED CITY.—ARIZONA.—BEAUTIES OF ARIZONA CIVILIZATION.—MINES OF UTAH AND NEVADA.—SAD RESULTS OF A SPECULATION.

One of the most important of the precious metals is that known as silver. The ancients were familiar with it, and from very early periods it has been a common medium of exchange, and is used as such among all nations who recognize a metallic currency. It is one of the metals mentioned in the Old Testament, reference being made to it as constituting, among other things, the riches of Abraham. Abraham made a real estate transaction by purchasing the field of Ephron for four hundred shekels of silver. Twenty-nine pieces of silver were paid for Joseph at the time his brothers disposed of him and gave a bill of sale; and throughout the Scriptures there are many other references made to the same metal.

Those who have given attention to the subject think that gold was first known and used as money, partly for the reason that it is more frequently mentioned in the earlier histories, and also from the fact that gold is obtained in a metallic state, while silver must generally be separated from ores in which the metal is concealed. The Egyptians and Hebrews were familiar with gold and silver, and employed them both as a circulating medium, and for the manufacture of jewels, vases, rings, and other articles for household or personal use. The oldest known coins are of silver, though there are gold coins of nearly as great antiquity.

It is a little curious that the ancients possessed silver in greater abundance than people of the present day. It is possible that the old historians drew the long bow a little in describing it, and due allowance may be made for their statement. In the time of King Solomon, silver is said to have been so abundant as to be considered of very little account, and the king had made it to be as stones in Jerusalem. Polybius says that it was largely employed, together with gold, in the form of plates for covering the beams and pillars of the temples, and the tiles upon the roofs were of solid silver. Other historians, both sacred and profane, speak of its great abundance, and some of them are so liberal in the use of adjectives, as to lead to the suspicion that they were in no wise trammelled by existing facts. Oriental exaggeration has no doubt something to do with their stories.

[Sidenote: ORIENTAL EXAGGERATIONS.]

At the present day, in certain parts of the East, a statement is rarely made exactly as it should be, according to Western notions. Thus a man, describing a fine house, would not convey a proper idea of its character if he described it exactly as it is. If he should say that the house covered a square mile in area, was half a mile high, contained two thousand rooms, each of them so full of furniture that nobody could get inside the door, and that the household consisted of nine hundred servants, he would merely convey to his hearers the impression that the house was somewhat above the common order of houses, and nothing more.

Bayard Taylor, in one of his books, describes an interview with a certain prince or titled individual from one of the interior kingdoms of Africa. The prince, in describing the wealth and resources of the kingdom of Dahomey, said that the king never walked out unless accompanied by at least ten thousand attendants, and that when he chose to ride, forty thousand horses were led to the door of his palace, from which he could make his selection. He continued in the same strain, and when he had finished his story, he asked a question in regard to Mr. Taylor’s country. Mr. Taylor replied, that the United States were so large that it took two years to travel from one end of the country to the other; that it required six weeks of rapid riding to go round the walls of the capital; and that our Sultan, who was called the President, had a wardrobe of sixty thousand coats, from which he made his selection to dress himself for breakfast. In this manner each person conveyed to the other the proper idea of the country, and nothing more. The prince substantially informed the American that Dahomey was a rich country, and the king powerful; while the American, on the other hand, informed the prince that America was a very large country, and that the president’s wealth was personal, rather than national.

But we are getting away from silver, a substance which it is not desirable at any time to see far from us.

[Sidenote: ANCIENT SILVER MINES.]

The locality of the ancient silver mines is buried in obscurity; but it is known that silver was obtained, together with gold, from various parts of Africa, and also from Asia. The Spanish silver mines were developed at a very early period, and were the basis of the extensive commerce which Spain conducted for a long time with other countries. Hannibal is said to have opened a mine which furnished three hundred pounds of silver daily, and was worked by horizontal tunnels extending a mile and a half into a mountain. During the middle ages the production of silver fell off very greatly, and until the fifteenth century comparatively little silver mining was carried on. The production of Spanish mines was greatly decreased, and the wealth of Spain fell off in a proportionate degree.

Rich mines of silver existed in the new world, particularly in Mexico and Peru. The conquest of Mexico by Cortes in 1519 was speedily followed by the development of the rich silver mines of that country. From a very early period the Aztecs had been familiar with silver, and wrought it into many ornamental and useful articles. The mines were opened and extensively worked by the Peruvians in Guanajuato, Zacatecas, and other districts, and their production was greatly increased by the abundance of quicksilver, and its employment in the reduction of ores. Quicksilver is used for this purpose to a greater extent in Mexico and Peru than in other countries.

[Sidenote: GREAT MINES OF MEXICO.]

At the time of the visit of Humboldt in the early part of this century, it was estimated that three thousand distinct mines were in operation. The greatest of all the mines of Mexico are those of Guanajuato and Zacatecas. They were opened in 1558, upon the great vein known as Veta Madra. The great vein is chiefly in clay slate. It is of wonderful thickness, sometimes more than one hundred and fifty feet across, and is said to have been traced for about twelve miles.

The vein is made up of half a dozen substances, the most important of which are native silver, sulphuret of silver, and red silver. Near the surface they are partly decomposed, but in their unchanged condition, farther down, they are known as “black ores.” The vein has been penetrated downward more than two thousand feet, and is found to be very rich at that depth. The mine of Valenciana, upon a rich portion of this vein, has averaged at times a product of two million dollars, or about one fifteenth part of the total product of all the mines of Mexico. At the present time no work is carried on in these mines. Operations were suspended some years ago by floods of water, and the unsettled state of the country, added to other disadvantages, prevented a renewal of work. Before any productive operations could be prosecuted, it would be necessary to erect powerful machinery; and to set it up and put it in operation would cost enormously; so great, in fact, would be the cost, as to deter any body of men, or any association of capitalists, from entering upon the enterprise.

Until the present century the ores of the silver mines of Mexico have been worked by rude processes, very little in advance of those of the native Indians. Little or no mining machinery was used. The ores had to be transported out of the mines upon the backs of Indians, climbing up a series of long steps over slippery rocks, and working in a nude state. When the mines were troubled with water, rude pumps were set up, and in many cases there were no pumps, but the water was carried out on the backs of men.

[Sidenote: HOW TO SECURE A PIG SKIN.]

A traveller who visited one of these mines, where operations on a small scale were going on, says the sight of the men carrying their burdens, some laden with ore, and some with water, formed a curious picture. The ore was carried in sacks or baskets slung across the shoulders of the men, while the water was carried in pig-skins. These skins were in the natural shape of the animal, and were supposed to have been removed without cutting. When slung over the shoulders of the men in the dim light of the mine, the man and the pig clinging to his back appeared to form a single animal. An unsophisticated traveller, who accompanied the narrator, was curious to ascertain how the skins were obtained in that condition, as the ordinary mode of skinning pigs, oxen, or any other beasts requires a liberal use of the knife. He was informed that the animal was starved for several days, so that his skin became quite loose. Then a stout cord was tied to his tail, and by this mode he was securely fastened to a tree. A potato or an ear of corn was then held a few feet in front of his nose, and the pig was finally coaxed out of his skin, and induced to walk away from it. The man seemed to have his doubts as to the truth of the statement, but finally concluded to accept it as correct.

In 1821 the Mexican government offered facilities for foreigners to become interested with the natives in the mines. Several English companies were formed, and operations were undertaken upon a new system, in order to work the mines with powerful machinery, and with all the advantages of capital and mining skill. In nearly every instance these operations were unsuccessful, partly owing to the enormous expenses attending the management of a silver mine in Mexico, and partly owing to the dishonesty of the natives in official and private capacities. Whenever a mine yielded handsomely, the government surrounded it with absurd restrictions, or old titles were discovered to it, that made the claims of the new occupant valueless.

The English capitalists and gentlemen who went to Mexico were worried and wearied out in a few years, and returned with unpleasant recollections.

[Sidenote: INSECURITY OF PROPERTY IN MEXICO.]

At the present day nearly every foreigner who visits Mexico to engage in a business enterprise has very nearly the same story to tell. The instability of the government naturally leads to insecurity, both to life and property; and where the property is that of a foreigner, it is not very likely to be regarded with great respect.

From the opening of the Mexican mines, in the sixteenth century, their production of silver has exceeded that of all other countries. From the annual yield of two or three millions of dollars, it rose, in the eighteenth century, to twenty millions, and continued so for about ten years of the present century, when it was changed by the war of independence. It remained at a low rate until 1850, when it again increased, and in 1856 it was not far from forty millions.

Latterly, as already stated, the product has been greatly diminished, and accurate statistics are very difficult to be obtained in regard to it.

The total product of the Mexican mines from the time of the conquest by Cortes up to the expulsion of the Spanish in 1827, is said, according to official records, to have been considerably more than two thousand millions of dollars. The silver mines of Northern Mexico, near the boundary of the United States, are supposed to be very rich; but the disturbed state of the country prevented their successful exploitation.

Mining operations to some extent have been carried on in some of these districts, and in Arizona, but under many disadvantages.

Arizona is a delightful country in every respect, except in climate, soil, production, and inhabitants. The natives have a pleasant way of slaughtering every stranger who attempts to stay there; and sometimes, when they refrain from their amusement for a few months, the strangers fall to killing each other.

Until very recently it was said that no white man had ever died in Arizona with his boots off,—meaning that he had never died in bed. The cemeteries at two or three settlements in Arizona are said to contain no graves except those of persons who had died violent deaths at the hands of either white men or Indians. The Indians make travelling very insecure; and the Peons, or native Mexican laborers, in the mines vary the monotony of their employment by an occasional massacre of the superintendent and every other white man about the place. I was at one time acquainted with a superintendent who had twice escaped assassination by reason of accidental absence. He did not take warning by his luck on these occasions, but continued on in his usual way till on the occurrence of another conspiracy he was killed.

Closely rivalling the mines of Mexico are those of Peru. They are scattered in various parts of the country, but the richest and most famous are in Potosi, formerly belonging to Peru, but now a part of Bolivia. The story is, that these mines were discovered in 1545, by an Indian hunter, who accidentally exposed lumps of the precious metal in the roots of a bush which he pulled from the ground. His discovery led to careful and extensive explorations, and in a short time the city of Potosi sprung up in a barren and almost inaccessible district.

Potosi is among mountains generally of volcanic formation, and more than five thousand mines have been opened in its vicinity. The country is barren, and much of it is more than ten thousand feet above the level of the sea.

[Sidenote: THE HIGHEST CITY IN THE WORLD.]

The city of Potosi is more than two miles up in the air; that is to say, more than two miles above the sea level. It has a population at the present day of less than fifty thousand, though it contained at one period more than three times that number. It has been repeatedly shaken by earthquakes, and in some of these earthquakes a great many people have lost their lives. All supplies must be brought from a distance, as the country in the immediate neighborhood produces absolutely nothing.

It is not a beautiful place of residence, and those who dwell there are almost entirely devoted to the production and preparation of silver.

An idea of the richness of the mines may be formed, when it is known that between 1556 and 1800 the mines of Potosi alone yielded nine hundred and twenty-five million dollars’ worth of silver.

[Sidenote: PROCESS OF AMALGAMATION.]

Silver mines are pretty much alike in all parts of the world. They are also not much unlike mines of other metals. They are opened by shafts, tunnels, and the like, the same as other mines, though each locality has some processes of operations peculiar to itself. The ordinary methods of separating silver from its ores are based either upon forming an amalgam of the metal with the mercury, or in bringing it into combination with lead, and afterwards separating it. The ores of Mexico and Peru are treated by both processes. Some of the richest ores are picked out and thrown into the furnace. The amalgamating process, which was long used in the silver mines of Mexico and Peru, and is still generally practised there, was invented more than three hundred years ago. The ores are crushed by stamping machines, and then ground with water, in machines called arastras, a sort of circular mill, run by mule power. It is ground to as fine a condition as possible, and, after being allowed several days to dry, is spread out in circular heaps, about fifty feet in diameter and a foot in depth. To every ton of this substance three bushels of salt are added, and the whole is then carefully mixed. A chemical substance, of a coppery character, is then added, and a sort of fermentation takes place, in which great heat is thrown out. Quicksilver is then added, in small quantities at a time, and crudely mixed in, until the whole mass forms an amalgam. The whole process occupies from four to six weeks. The amalgam is then separated from the mass of ore by a system of washing similar to that practised in collecting gold. The mercury is then separated from the amalgam by the ordinary process of evaporation, and in the same manner as if removing it from gold.

Sometimes silver is found in masses which are nearly pure; but this is very rarely the case. The largest quantities have been discovered in the copper mines of Lake Superior, and in some of the mines of Norway and Saxony. Some of these masses exceed five hundred pounds in weight, but ordinarily they weigh but a few ounces or pounds.

Specimens of native silver are frequently found in the beds of rivers, very far from any other deposits of this metal. The richest mines of this metal, at the present day, are in the United States, particularly in Nevada and Utah. The great Comstock lode has already been referred to. In November, 1859, the discovery of silver mines at Lake Washoe became known, and in the following year the products of the mines were sent out in such large quantities as to lead many people to suppose that the commercial value of silver would be greatly cheapened.

[Sidenote: SILVER MINES OF NEVADA.]

Mines have been opened in various localities throughout Nevada, but the richest of them, and, in fact, almost the only ones, of any great value, are on the Comstock lode. Its ores are very rich. The vein is of unusual width, and it has made fortunes for a great many men, and, on the other hand, has taken fortunes from a great many others. Some of the most extensive mining speculations ever known in California have been in these mines. Their value has greatly fluctuated; in some years the product has exceeded twenty millions of dollars, and the price of shares in the mines increased accordingly; then the product would suddenly fall off, and down would go the stock. Sometimes dividends would be made every month, and suddenly they would be followed by left-handed dividends, or assessments. In San Francisco a single day has witnessed the reduction to beggary of men who at sunrise could boast of considerable wealth; the following day might witness their return to wealth, or the return of others to poverty. Nearly all the men who made money in Nevada a few years ago, and did not kill themselves by riotous living, are now poor, and have a brilliant prospect of remaining so.

VI.

SILVER MINING IN NEVADA.

HOW GOLD WAS DISCOVERED IN NEVADA.—A PECULIAR “BLACK SAND,” AND WHAT CAME OF IT.—SILVER CURSED AND THROWN AWAY.—ACCIDENTAL DISCOVERY OF THE VALUE OF THE ORE.—H. T. P. COMSTOCK.—THE COMSTOCK LODE.—HOW MINING RECORDS WERE KEPT.—YIELD OF THE NEVADA MINES.—BONANZA AND BORRASCA.—THE BIG BONANZA.—THE GRAVE OF THE FORESTS.—“WASHOE ZEPHYRS.”—PAY-ROLLS OF THE MINING COMPANIES.—INTERESTING DETAILS.

Probably the most remarkable silver mines of the world are those of Nevada. It is difficult to estimate, with absolute accuracy, the amount which has been taken from them. They were only recently discovered, and the story of their discovery is quite romantic.

Very naturally, the gold miners of California drifted over the Sierra Nevadas, into the great Utah basin, in search of gold. During 1850, and the following years, gold discoveries were made on the eastern slopes of the Sierras. The first discovery was made by some Mormon emigrants, who were on their way to California; the snows had not melted upon the mountains, and they were compelled to camp, for some time, on the Carson River. They had no expectation of gold, but simply went to prospecting by way of killing time. They did not work very long at the business, but continued their journey to California as soon as the season permitted. Other emigrants coming along from time to time, continued the work, and by 1852 there was quite a mining population along the Carson River and its tributaries. None of them made large fortunes, but most of them did well.

None of them had any thought of silver, and they knew so little about silver ore that when they found it, they were ignorant of its character, and cursed it as a nuisance. They found a heavy, worthless sand, looking like pulverized iron, that settled upon the quicksilver in their rockers, and prevented the amalgamation of the gold. The gold was not of a fine quality, as it was mixed with a considerable quantity of silver. For a considerable time, the miners worked on, and it is said that some of them had regular hours, which were devoted to swearing at this black sand, which was continually in their way. The gold in the placer mines of California was worth from sixteen to nineteen dollars an ounce, while the gold taken along the Carson River was worth not more than eleven or twelve dollars.

[Sidenote: THE FAMOUS COMSTOCK LODE.]

In the spring of 1859, quite a party of miners was at work in what was known as Six Mile Cañon. They lived at Gold Hill, where a small village had grown up, not far from their working place. There was a scant supply of water, and they concluded to made a sort of reservoir by digging a hole, and turning the small stream into it. They located this reservoir a little way above the place where they were working, and after digging about four feet, they found what afterward proved to be the decomposed silver ore of the now famous Comstock lode. They did not find silver, at least, they did not know that what they found was a deposit of black sulphuret of silver, which was nothing more than the pure metal in a decomposed state.

They concluded to try some of this curious looking dirt in their rockers. It yielded well. They found that they were digging out gold very rapidly, but they were puzzled as to the character of the dirt containing it. They pushed on further and further into the vein, and taking the lumps that were left on the screens of the rockers, pounded them up with hammers and in mortars. So rich was this substance, that one man was able to take out one hundred dollars a day.

The party consisted of four men, one of whom was H. T. P. Comstock, an adventurer who had wandered about the Pacific coast for years, and had never accomplished anything of importance. There was some dispute as to the title to the location, but it was finally agreed that there should be an equal division of the land in the lode. Very soon it became noised about that the miners had “struck it rich,” and there was great excitement in regard to the new digging. A notice was recorded, claiming the ground on the lode, and the land around it.

The names which were recorded in this notice were Peter O’Reilly, H. T. P. Comstock, Patrick McLaughlin, J. H. Osborne, and E. Penrod. This location was the famous Comstock lode, which has since yielded so many millions.

[Sidenote: SILVER AS A NUISANCE.]

Gold mining was carried on there for some weeks after the location of this claim. A gentleman familiar with the history of the discovery, says that as soon as Comstock obtained a position in the party, he elected himself superintendent, and did all the heavy talking. He was conspicuous on all occasions, and very soon was considered not only the discoverer, but the originator of the lode. Work was diligently pushed, and for weeks the miners dug the rich decomposed silver ore, washed the gold out of it, and let it go to waste, throwing it anywhere to get it out of the way. It was an intolerable nuisance, and it is safe to say that those miners swore about it to an extent greater than is recorded of “our army in Flanders.” It gave a certain unpopularity to the diggings, on account of the inconvenience it caused. It was worse than the black sand that everywhere abounds in gold mines, because that does not interfere with the amalgamation.

Comstock was a free-handed, generous fellow, having very little regard for his own money, or that of anybody else. It was the custom, in those days, when a lady visited the mines, to offer her a pan of dust, and to take it from the richest part of the lode. On one occasion, several ladies visited the mine, and the usual courtesy was offered. It was so arranged that they obtained one hundred and fifty dollars or more for each pan. The last of the ladies was young and pretty; Comstock wished to be polite, and so, while her pan was being passed out, he slyly dropped a handful of gold in it. The result was that her prize amounted to more than five hundred dollars.

Many tons of the black sulphuret of silver were washed away, until, in the month of July, 1859, a man named Harrison visited the new diggings, and took a piece of the ore away with him, as a curiosity. Being in California, shortly afterwards, he gave this curiosity to a gentleman in Grass Valley, Nevada County. This gentleman carried it to be assayed, and it was found to yield at the rate of several thousand dollars per ton.

Harrison said that there were tons and tons of the stuff lying around in the mine where this was taken out, and so it was determined to keep the matter a secret, to go as speedily as possible and obtain possession of the place. Everybody was sworn to secrecy, and of course everybody told his intimate friend. The result of the assay was known late one night, and by the next morning, everybody in Grass Valley knew all about it. Two of the men were off before daylight, and in a few days hundreds of people were en route for Washoe.

[Sidenote: EXCITEMENT IN WASHOE.]

The discovery created great excitement. The news spread rapidly throughout California, and all sorts of people, who could get away, and many who could not, proceeded immediately to Washoe. Washoe was the sensation of the day. The population increased with magical rapidity. The whole country around was visited by prospectors, who laid out claim after claim, staking out the whole region, and the most extravagant stories were told concerning its wealth. The mining recorder had a busy time of it, and took in a great many fees for his work. The book of records was kept at a drinking saloon, and lay upon the shelf behind the bar. Anybody could consult it who wished to, and if a man made a location, and was not satisfied with it, he would proceed to alter the record to suit himself. The result was that dates and places in the book were very much altered, and it is difficult to understand many of the claims.

Curious stories are told of the sharp practices of the miners and the lawyers they engaged. It is said that during a mining suit in those times, there was a controversy about a stump which was understood to mark the boundary of a certain claim. The lawyer on one side one afternoon produced several witnesses, who said they could swear to the stump and its location. Next morning, the jury proceeded to the spot. It was found that the stump had been removed during the night, and the whole ground around was so carefully leveled and covered with loose rock, that its former position could not be ascertained.

Gold mining was carried on as before, after the value of this blue stuff had become known. It was no longer thrown away, but was carefully gathered up and put in sacks and barrels for transport to San Francisco. Comstock never made a fortune out of the discovery. He sold out his interest for ten thousand dollars, most of which he never received, and wandered off in another direction. He had numerous infelicities of varied character, and finally died, in 1870, in Montana.

[Sidenote: SCARCITY OF FOOD.]

Prices were high, for some time, at Washoe, owing to the immense immigration, and scanty supply of provisions. It is said that in the early part of 1860, hay was worth fifty cents a pound, and barley forty cents. As it was too expensive to keep horses, many of the miners shot them, or let them wander off in the hills and die of their own accord. Flour was worth seventy-five cents a pound, coffee fifty cents, and bacon forty cents. Lumber was worth two hundred dollars a thousand, and other things were held at proportionate prices.

The community was not the most orderly in the world, and fights were of frequent occurrence, so frequent that they became monotonous. The weather was not altogether tropical in its character. There were frequent sand and rain storms, in the spring, and settlers became acquainted with what is known as the Washoe “Zephyr.”

This “Zephyr” is a wind that blows down from the mountains, at irregular and unexpected intervals, and, as one of the residents expressed it, “has no nonsense about it.” A man from that region once described it to me as follows: “You may think you have seen wind some times, but you haven’t until you go to Washoe. It takes the roof off of houses; it will blow a donkey five miles over a mountain; and it will shave the hair off the back of a bull-dog, if it happens to take him tail-ways. That ‘zephyr’ is the reason so many men in Nevada have lost their hair. A bald man has a good chance with it. A fellow with a good thick crop has no show at all. When the ‘zephyr’ comes, the air is full of sand, tin roofs, cats, old boxes, furniture, wagons, anything and everything. It makes no difference. The only way to save yourself from being blown off is to lie down on the ground and take hold of something, and hold on there until the ‘zephyr’ is gone.”

[Sidenote: FIRST MINE UPON THE COMSTOCK LODE.]

The first mine upon the Comstock lode was known as the Ophir. The first shafts that were sunk were merely round holes of no great depth, and not constructed upon scientific principles; but as the value of the mine became known, shafts were built in a scientific manner, and lined with timber. The first hoisting apparatus was the common hand windlass. That gave place to the horse-whim, and that, again, to steam machinery. The first of the latter which was put in was during the year 1860, and was a common fifteen horse-power engine. By the end of 1860, the mine had reached a depth of nearly two hundred feet. The vein of rich ore was found to be forty-five feet wide. Nobody had ever seen such a width before, and the miners were at a loss for means to support the roof above. They sent to California for an experienced engineer, and after his arrival, it took him several weeks to arrange a suitable plan.

He arranged a system of “timbering in square sets,” which is still used in all the mines of that region. Timbers were framed and kept together in the shape of cribs, which can be carried up to any desired height. If the vein is wide, the cribs are filled with waste rock, which forms pillars of stone, and thus supports the mines. In 1861, an engine of forty-five horse-power was put in, with an eight inch pump and some improved machinery for hoisting purposes. This was thought to be frightfully extravagant at the time, but, compared with the present machinery, it is a most insignificant affair.

It may be well to explain, here, the meaning of the word which has now become incorporated into our language, “bonanza.” It is a Spanish word, meaning, practically, “in good luck,” or rich bodies of ore. Opposed to it is the term “Borrasca,” meaning “in bad luck,” or in barren rock. There are always, in the Nevada mines, some companies which are working in Borrasca, while others are working in Bonanza, and the great advance and decline in the values of the mining stock is due to this fact. When a company is in Borrasca, its stock is low; in Bonanza, there is a very rapid advance. In the latter part of 1870, an immense bonanza was found in one of the mines. A few months before this discovery, the stock of the mine sold at three dollars per share. A few months afterward, it sold for $1,825 per share. Another mine, whose stock had sold, previous to the discovery of the bonanza, at a dollar and a half a share, rose to $1,525. During the excitement growing out of the discovery of this “big bonanza,” the increase in the mining stock on the Comstock lode was nearly fifty millions of dollars.

The mines on the Comstock lode have swallowed millions of feet of lumber. It is estimated that not less than eighty million feet are annually lowered in the mines, never to be returned to the open air. In a single mine, six million feet are consumed annually, and at the same time, about two hundred and fifty thousand cords of wood. For miles around, the mountains have been stripped of their forests, and the country presents a wild and barren appearance. Nearly all the mountains within fifty miles of Virginia City have been thus denuded. Fuel has become so scarce and dear that search has been made for coal, and it is now extensively used as fuel, though, at present, it costs nearly as much as wood.

[Sidenote: EXTENT OF THE MINES.]

An idea of the extent of the mines may be formed by a glance at the pay rolls. On the first of every month, over half a million dollars are paid out to the employés. Of the principal companies, the Consolidated Virginia pays $90,000, Crown Point $90,000, Belcher $65,000. There are several whose pay rolls average from $20,000 to $30,000 per month, and many companies whose figures exceed $10,000. Then, in addition to this, are the wages of the men employed in the mountains, cutting timber, and bringing it to the mine, and for other kinds of work.

[Sidenote: YIELD OF THE COMSTOCK VEIN.]

The yield of the Comstock vein, in ten years, is estimated at two hundred and twenty millions of dollars, or an average yield, annually, of thirteen millions, seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars. In 1874, the yield exceeded twenty-two millions, and in subsequent years it was larger.

The mines have been subject to the usual accidents of similar works in all parts of the world. Many men have lost their lives there, from falls through the shafts, from the breaking of cables, from falls of rock, and various other causes. The mines have been on fire several times, the gases generated from the earth assisting the burning of the immense masses of timber. The heat in the mines is, at all times, very great, and consequently the wood becomes exceedingly dry, and liable to ignite at the slightest opportunity. Some of the fires are attributed to spontaneous combustion, but it seems more probable that they are the result of carelessness. Virginia City, which stands above the mines, has also suffered very greatly from the same cause, and on one occasion, almost the entire settlement was swept away, involving a loss of millions of dollars.

But in spite of accidents, calamities, the rise and fall of stocks, Washoe “zephyrs,” and other things, the work goes steadily on, and the mines of Nevada, year after year, continue to hold their place as the greatest and most remarkable silver mines in the world.

[Sidenote: WORKING A MINE.]

During the month of April, 1877, the shipments of the California mine have been $1,600,000. If we read the brief announcement, every month, on a certain day, that a certain mine has paid a dividend of $1,080,000, we have not the slightest idea of what is necessary to be done in order to make such an announcement possible. Every one who ever owed a note in a bank, knows that thirty days is a very brief period of time. To cause a mine to produce $60,000 in a single day, is a tremendous feat; to continue this product daily, through weeks and months, almost without variation, is a marvel. It takes forethought, endurance, judgment, and nice calculation, such as very few men possess in this world. The ore from which this mighty yield is extracted, lies hid away almost a third of a mile below the earth’s surface. It lies where consuming heat and baffling waters join their forces to try and drive away the invading miner. While the ore is being hoisted, every month, 1,250,000 feet of lumber has to be lowered and put in position, to keep safe the weakening caused by the mighty excavations. While one level is being worked, another has to be explored, for a drain of 500 tons of ore per day would soon level a mountain down. Then the Comstock is an uneasy fissure. In a single week, sometimes the swell of the ground shivers into splinters fourteen-inch square timbers. Shafts and drifts and inclines and tracks have to be watched incessantly, for a mine, like a glacier, seems ever to be working. This is all below ground. Above the surface is a world of machinery, always to be kept in order—steam engines, air engines, cables, cages, air pipes, pumps, and all the multiplied devices intended to expedite the work and lessen the dangers of mining. Five hundred men have to be lowered into and hoisted from the depths daily. Three hundred cords of wood have to be provided daily for fuel. And there must be no delays, no serious accidents. The needed repairs must be anticipated and provided for; the accidents must be anticipated and guarded against; the explorations must be carried on months in advance; the supplies must never fail. A vast space of forest land, thirty miles away, has to be denuded of its timber, yearly, to fill the insatiate maw of this one mine. It requires 15,000,000 feet of timber, and 100,000 cords of wood, annually, to supply the mine, and to furnish fuel to hoist and reduce the ores. How many can appreciate the ability necessary to carry on this work without any mistakes? Many a man of mind sufficient to accomplish the feat, would fail through sheer lack of physical strength. The work means being up at five o’clock in the morning; means two or three daily journeys into the depths, and when anything unusual happens, it means standing guard day and night, like a ship’s captain in a storm, until the trouble is over. It means a mind large enough to take in the immense work going on at a glance, yet careful enough to include its smallest details, and exact enough to anticipate the wants of the enterprise months in advance. For ten months, the California mine has monthly given up this tremendous yield.

[Sidenote: LIST OF BONANZAS.]

The following list of the bonanzas of the Comstock will be interesting to all who are watching the marvelous history of that mammoth vein:

1. Ophir and Mexican.—Discovered on the surface, and extended 500 feet in depth. Average width of ore, 15 feet; cubical contents, 112,000 tons; approximate value of ore, $22,000,000.

2. Gould & Curry.—Extended from the surface to the depth of 500 feet. Average width of ore, 15 feet; length along the vein, 500 feet; cubical contents, 190,000 tons; value of ore, $37,500,000.

3. Savage.—This was a continuation of the Curry bonanza, but not so rich. The ore continued down in the Savage claim to the very bottom of that mine, which is now 2,300 feet below the outcroppings.

4. Hale & Norcross bonanza.—This body was struck at a depth of 450 feet. It averaged 10 feet in width, was about 200 feet long, and stretched down to the 1,200 foot level. Cubical contents, 75,000 tons; value, $5,500,000.

5. Chollar Potosi bonanza.—struck at a depth of 500 feet; width of the vein worked, 100 feet; has extended with but few interruptions down to the present bottom of the mine, which is over 1,700 feet. Cubical contents, 1,500,000 tons; value, $24,000,000.

6. Gold Hill bonanza.—This body extended from the surface to a depth of 500 feet, and for 300 feet on the vein. Contents, 300,000 tons; value, $10,000,000.

7. Yellow Jacket bonanza.—Discovered on the surface, and extended downward for over 700 feet. The ore on this body was quite poor, and never yielded much profit. Its total production was about $5,000,000.

8. Kentucky bonanza.—300 feet long, 20 feet wide, and 400 feet deep. This ore was very rich. Contents, 100,000 tons; value, $10,000,000.

9. Crown Point and Belcher bonanza.—Discovered on the 1,400 foot level, and extended downward for 600 feet. Is still producing in the Belcher. Contents, 1,500,000 tons; value, $50,000,000.

10. Consolidated Virginia and California bonanza.—This last and greatest ore body which the lode has yet developed, was found by drifting eastward from the 1,500 foot level into what was supposed to be the last country rock. The bonanza lies above and below this, and is believed to contain $140,000,000. It extends for about 700 feet along the vein, is 600 feet in height, and nearly 100 feet in width. Up to the present date, it has yielded over $30,000,000, though discovered less than two years ago, and is now producing at the rate of $120,000 per day.

The Comstock now furnishes employment for over 2,000 miners. Its daily output of ore is nearly 2,000 tons, and its yield, for the year 1877, will approach $50,000,000. One-half of this (or, more correctly, about forty-two per cent.) is gold, and the balance silver. When the amount of ore now in sight is taken out, the lode will have produced in all something over $300,000,000 in precious metals.

VII.

SPECULATIONS IN NEVADA MINES.

MINING SPECULATIONS.—SWINDLERS IN NEW YORK AND BOSTON.—THE AUTHOR’S EXPERIENCE.—HOW HE WAS CAUGHT.—THE HOOK AND THE WAY TO BAIT IT.—LIMITED INVESTMENT.—THE ADVENTURER’S STORY.—FACTS AND FIGURES.—THE ROMANCE, AND THE SUBSEQUENT REALITY.—ONE HUNDRED PER CENT. A MONTH.—IRISH DIVIDENDS.—EXPLOSION OF THE BUBBLE.—THE VICTIMS AND THEIR FATE.—NANKEEN TROUSERS IN WINTER.—AN ADVENTURER’S EXPERIENCE IN LONDON.—HOW HE CAUGHT A CAPITALIST.—HELD BY THE GLITTERING EYE.

Among the various mining operations, there are many in which there are tunnels, and levels, and shafts of a metaphoric as well as of a literal character. This is peculiarly the case in our great cities: copper mines on Lake Superior, gold mines in Colorado and California, silver mines in Nevada and Utah, iron mines in Pennsylvania and elsewhere, have been exploited, in many instances, much more successfully in New York and Boston than at the places where they are located, or supposed to be located. In many instances, the mines which are sold have no existence whatever; millions of dollars have been paid in New York, Boston, Philadelphia, and other cities, for mines which had no existence, or next to none.

[Sidenote: SELLING A SILVER MINE.]

Some years ago, it was my fortune to become infected with the silver mining fever. It was at a time when speculators from the far West and the Pacific coast were abundant, and their operations upon the credulous and unsophisticated natives of Manhattan Island were wonderful to behold, and became disagreeable to remember. What poor innocents we were! I had had some experience with gold mines, and other mines, and I knew, or ought to have known, that honesty did not abound among their manipulators to any alarming extent. Most of those who came to New York with mines for sale were men of pleasing, though rough exterior, and their tongues were as flexible as the hair-spring of a watch. They could talk the ears from a donkey without moving a muscle; and the strangest part of it was, that the donkey would, generally, lose his aural appendages without knowing it: he would listen, and would deliberate, and, like the woman who deliberates, he would be lost. His hand (on the supposition that a donkey possesses hands) would go down to his pockets, and he would place the money—whether honestly or dishonestly acquired nobody knew—into the hands of the beguiling speculator; and the speculator thereupon would retire to the fastnesses of his hotel, and waste the substance of the verdant New Yorker in riotous living.

I was introduced to one of these adventurers, who owned a silver mine of wonderful richness. Figures were exhibited, and a plan of the mine was spread before us: it was a gorgeous parchment. The mine, with its dips, and spurs, and angles, was carefully delineated.

There was a picture of a crushing mill in full operation, and there was all the machinery portrayed on that parchment for running a first-class mine. A dozen of us were invited to meet the speculator the next day in a cosy little office where we could see specimens from the mines.

The speculator was there at the appointed hour. We came, we saw, and he conquered: there was a fortune before us.

“Gentlemen,” said the speculator, “this is the finest mine within forty miles of Frogtown.” Frogtown was the name of the city nearest to the great mine; I believe he called it the Revenue mine—good name, that, to enterprising men who wanted to increase their revenue.

[Sidenote: A GLITTERING BAIT.]

“Gentlemen,” he continued, “before this mine was discovered a good many people around Frogtown talked of moving away, but as soon as it was opened nobody wanted to leave. The population has increased a thousand per cent. in three months, and it will continue to increase quite as fast; in a year from now we will have a population of fifty thousand, and we can employ three thousand men at least in and around the Revenue. I won’t sell the whole of it, gentlemen; you have not money enough in New York to buy the whole of this mine; but what I want is to raise money to develop it. There is a mine there worth a hundred millions of dollars, at the very least; but you see it may be worth millions of dollars, and at the same time it will want money to develop it.”

“I don’t exactly understand,” said I, “why you came all the way to New York to get money if the mine is so rich.”

“Why, the thing is very plain,” said he; “the people that came there have a use for all their money. Money is readily worth twenty-five per cent. a month at Frogtown, and it is hard to get it at that; men can do so much better there.

“I have in mind, now, a man who came there over six months ago with two thousand dollars; he has invested it in such a way that it is returning him four thousand dollars a month. Any man who knows anything about the business there, will readily put in his money where it will make him a fortune: it is the best place in the world for investing money.”

“That does not answer the question,” said another: “why can’t you get the money in some place near Frogtown, from people who know about your mine, and know how rich it is? and, any way, if you have so valuable a mine, why do you want to raise money?”

The Frogtown adventurer smiled a sarcastic smile, as if amused at the ignorance of the questioner. The smile was brief, but convincing, and gave full weight to the statement which followed it.

“Suppose now,” said he, “that you are in a house where you had a clear title to anything you discover. Going through the cellar of the house, you find an iron chest: you strike that chest, and you are sure you hear money rattle inside of it. You attempt to lift it, but find it too heavy: now what do you want to do? Plainly you want to open the chest; but it is firmly locked and is very solid. You look around for some implement with which you can break it open, but nothing of the sort can be found. There may be other men standing around, but nobody among them has any tools that will help you. You look all through the house, but not a tool can be discovered: plainly you must go out of that house to find something that will help you to get at your money.

“Now, that is exactly the fix that we are in: our mine is the money chest, Frogtown is the cellar, and Nevada is the house. To open that mine, to make the shafts and to get the machinery, we must have money. The silver is there, plenty of it; but before we can put it into the market we must dig it out and refine it, and that is exactly the position. Your money chest will be of no use to you until it is opened, neither is the mine of any use until it is at work. You might have a property worth a million of dollars and not have a shilling to buy your breakfast with.”

[Sidenote: PLAUSIBILITY OF A SWINDLER.]

He repeated that winning smile, and we were convinced.

He continued, “I will not sell the whole mine for all the money in New York, but I am ready to put it into a stock company, and sell half of it for sixty thousand dollars; and as soon as the money is paid in, we can go to work and develop the mine. It will return you, gentlemen, a hundred per cent. a month on your investment, and it will begin to pay dividends within three months, and the dividends, gentlemen, will be paid in coin, dollar for dollar.”

This was better still; gold was then at a high premium, or, what amounted to the same thing, greenbacks were at a heavy discount. Twelve hundred per cent. a year in coin was something not to be despised. We thought we ought to get more for our investment, but were willing to begin at that rate.

We made up the company, and were only allowed to put in one thousand dollars each. The speculator was a philanthropist: he wished to benefit as many as possible of his fellow-men; he would not consent that so great a blessing should be enjoyed by a few. “I want,” said he, “as many men as possible to have an interest is this matter. I want to show everybody that I am dealing fairly and honorably; and to satisfy you that everything is correct, I have plenty of references.”

[Sidenote: IN ON THE GROUND FLOOR.]

He mentioned several gentlemen more or less well known.

Among them was one who, by a lucky circumstance, was in the very building where we were assembled. He was sent for, and came to our meeting.

He confirmed all that had been said by the rosy-lipped speculator; in fact, he confirmed a great deal more than had been said by the latter. Our thoughts, as we listened to him, were like those of the Queen of Sheba when she looked at the bank account of King Solomon.

We hastened to pay our money and secure our shares of the greatest silver mine of this or any other age. In a few days we obtained the certificates of our stock. They were beautiful specimens of the lithographer’s art, and nearly as large as a first-class morning newspaper. Of course there could be no doubt of the genuineness of an undertaking that was set forth on certificates like these.

Time passed on; that is to say, a few weeks passed on. We visited the office of the company every day or two, and heard nothing but the most glowing accounts. We heard daily of unfortunate and grief-stricken individuals who had been left out in the cold, who were seeking frantically to obtain some of the Revenue stock, but found, to their sorrow, that none was to be had. Each of us had invested his one thousand dollars, and was not allowed to invest more. Those miserable beings who had not been in on the ground floor, and were anxious to buy, were offering,—so we were told,—a hundred per cent. advance for shares, but none of us would sell. We scorned to double our money when we should soon begin to receive every month an amount equal to our investment. Never did a bull-dog cling with more tenacity to the under jaw of another bull-dog than we clung to the stock of the Revenue.

[Sidenote: MORE MONEY.]

But soon our picture of coming wealth began to lose its brightness. Our first dividend was an Irish one. As soon as the sixty thousand dollars were paid in, we were told that the sixty thousand dollars had gone for the purchase of the mine; that is to say, our half interest in it. Thirty thousand dollars were now needed for the purchase of a mill. Of what use would be a mine without a mill?

We admitted the force of this reasoning, and, not without much grumbling, we raised the money to purchase the mill. With the innocence of toothless and milk-imbibing infants we supposed that the purchase of a mill would put our mine in a paying condition.

The mill was bought, and then we were told that money was required for transporting it from San Francisco to Frogtown. About that time I began to see a hole through the ladder, and concluded there was a large-sized cat in that beautiful meal tub. I determined to send no more good money after bad money, and refused to pay any more assessments.

Some of my friends, however, who had gone into the enterprise, determined to stick to it. They paid the money on their share, or as much as was required for the transportation of the mill. When this was done, there was a call for more money to purchase a steam engine. Then the confounded engine had to be transported from San Francisco to Frogtown. More money. Then a mill site had to be purchased. More money. Then the mill site must be prepared for setting up the mill and machinery. More money. Next, the mill must be set up. More money. Next, a wood ranche must be bought; you could not run a mill without fuel. More money. Next, a shaft must be opened. More money. Next, a road must be built from the mine to the mill. More money. Next, chemicals must be bought for extracting the silver from the crushed ore. More money. And so it went on.

One after another my friends dropped out of the enterprise, and if they had not dropped out, I believe that every month would have brought forth some new device for tapping their pockets. Every one of them who stuck to the speculation longer than I did, became as financially dry as the middle of the Desert of Sahara.

“I’ll tell you what it is,” said one of them; “I have speculated in this silver mine all summer, and now I must wear nankeen pants and gaiter shoes all winter. A sitting of draw poker with one of those Mississippi fellows, who ‘does not know anything about the game,’ but somehow cleans you out before you leave the table, is nothing compared to speculating in a silver mine.”

I fancy that a great many men could tell a story very much like this. The game was cautiously and carefully played. We were baited with that very gaudy fly which only allowed us to put in a thousand dollars each. We did not see the point at first, but we saw it afterwards.

When a man has invested a small sum of money he is more likely to let the swindler go unprosecuted that if his investment is a large one. Had we invested five, ten, or twenty thousand each in the enterprise, according to our financial condition, we should have devoted time, and trouble, and money to the prosecution of the speculator and his fellow-conspirators; but as our investment was comparatively small, we allowed the matter to drop. And then we were more readily deluded than if a larger sum had been demanded.

Swindling in mining speculations has become an exact science, and to carry on a swindle successfully requires a good knowledge of human nature, and of the expense of lawsuits.

[Sidenote: COLLAPSE OF THE REVENUE.]

The Revenue silver mine never paid a dollar to anybody, except to the man who sold it. A small quantity of machinery, and a steam engine, of about four dog power, were transported to Frogtown and set up; but they were seized afterwards, and held for a claim of the San Francisco iron merchant.

A shaft was sunk—that is, a hole was dug—about six feet deep, where there was no more prospect of finding silver than in the back yard of a Fourth Ward boarding-house. The deepest and most profitable shaft of the Revenue silver mine was sunk in the pockets of those who bought it.

As for the speculator, I believe he subsequently died in Nevada. As John Phœnix would say, “He was one day addressing a large audience, and when his speech was concluded, he dropped from the end of the wagon where he was standing, and the rope which fastened him to the tree being too short, he fell, and broke his neck.” At any rate, I saw his name one day in a paragraph from a territorial newspaper, which read about as follows:—

[Sidenote: A NECK-TIE SOCIABLE.]

“John Smith, equine abductor, was treated to a neck-tie sociable yesterday morning at sunrise, under the largest tree that could be found in the vicinity. The boys got up a nice surprise party for him.”

The day of mining speculation of this sort has not passed away, but the capitalists of New York and other eastern cities have had their eyes opened, and are not so easily taken in as they were of old.

Some of the enterprising speculators have transferred the scene of their operations to Europe, and are making very profitable shafts and tunnels in the money bags of the capitalists of the old world. I know some of them who have gone there with mining claims, which they have represented to be worth millions of dollars, though not really worth ten cents, and they have returned to America with a goodly amount of capital.

I once heard one of these gentlemen tell his experience with a heavy capitalist in London. “The old fellow,” said he, “was very cautious. I had a talk with him two or three times, and finally brought him some magnificent specimens. He looked at them very quietly, and then asked,—

“‘How much of this stuff is there?’

“‘O,’ said I, carelessly, “any quantity of it. There are five or six thousand tons of it in sight—right on the surface of the ground. The vein is ten feet wide. We have a claim five hundred yards long, and we think it is at least two thousand feet deep, and the farther down you go, the richer it gets.’

“The old fellow took the specimens once more, and I saw his eyes glisten. I knew then that I had him. The next day I sold him the mine, and got the money. Once I had got it, you bet I took a train for Paris; and I have not been in London since.”

VIII.

MINES AND MINING ENTERPRISES OF NORTH AFRICA.

MINING AMONG THE MOORS, BERBERS, AND ARABS—THE FRENCH CONQUEST—GEOLOGICAL SURVEYS—MINERAL WEALTH OF ALGERIA—A WONDERFUL IRON MINE—MOKTU-EL-HADID—HOW THE MINE IS WORKED—VISIT TO A MOUNTAIN OF SALT—A REMARKABLE FORMATION—ARTESIAN WELLS IN THE DESERT—SCENE AT THE OPENING OF ONE—EFFECTS ON THE PALM TREE—A PROPOSED INLAND SEA—THE SUEZ CANAL AND ITS HISTORY—HOW IT WAS MADE—ADVANTAGES TO THE WORLD’S COMMERCE.

Northern Africa is a country of great mineral wealth, but it has been only slightly developed. The Moors, Berbers, Arabs, and other inhabitants of that region have never been famous for their mining industry. They have very little knowledge of geology, and understand the working of only a few metals. Most of the gold and silver which they make into filigree and other jewelry comes from Europe; in fact, they have no mines of these metals that are worth mentioning, and when their supply from Europe has been cut off by war or for other reasons, they were obliged to bring it by a long journey from Timbuctoo and other points to the South. The Moors that occupied Spain took back with them, at the time of their expulsion, a knowledge of mining, but they seem to have lost it almost completely in the course of two or three generations.

Among the native people of Northern Africa, the Kabyles, in Algeria, seem to possess more mining knowledge than any other tribe. They have been quite industrious in working the iron mines which abound in their country, and many of their processes display considerable ingenuity. They are excellent workers in iron and steel, and some of their knives, sword-blades, and other tools and weapons, are of a fine quality, and admit of a high polish and finish. Their gun-barrels have long been famous throughout Africa, and the terrible execution of which they are capable has been practically demonstrated on many battle-fields.

Down to 1830, with the exception of an occasional brief period, no part of Northern Africa had been occupied by any European power. Spain had several times occupied small portions of Morocco and Algeria, and the English and French had shown their force by descents upon the coast, but none of these changes had more than a few years’ duration. But in 1830, a new state of affairs began.

[Sidenote: FRENCH ARMIES INVADE EGYPT.]

France was exasperated by the depredations of Algerine pirates and the perfidy of the Bey of Algiers. She sent an expedition, which landed a few miles from Algiers, and in less than a fortnight the Bey was a prisoner on his way into exile, and his city, with an immense accumulation of treasure, fell into the hands of the invaders.

The French went to Algeria to stay, and they have carried out their intention. They sent their armies to overrun and occupy the country, and for years kept up an energetic warfare, until the Arabs were conquered. There have been occasional insurrections, some of them of considerable magnitude, but all have been unsuccessful, and there is at present no power in Algeria which can drive out the French. They have created harbors, have opened railways, have made hundreds of miles of wagon-roads, have introduced new modes of agriculture, planted forests, and taken many other means necessary to a permanent occupation. The country is progressing rapidly, and at present few of the wealthy and prosperous Arabs would be willing to exchange the new state of affairs for the old. There are many natives who would like to see the French expelled, but they are not among the most influential classes.

One of the first things which attracted the attention of the French, was the question of mining. In the very first year of their occupation, a geological survey of the country was ordered, and a corps of engineers was sent from France for that purpose.

Their report was of the most favorable character. They found copper, lead, silver, zinc, mercury—bath cinnabar, and sulphide—and in several places they discovered gold, but not in paying quantities. Many concessions for working these mines have been granted; some of them have been profitable, while others have been the reverse, owing chiefly to the lack of means of transportation. The steady increase in the number of railways and wagon-roads is doing much toward the development of these mines, and rendering profitable the working of those which have thus far been managed at a loss.

[Sidenote: EXPLORATIONS OF THE IRON MINES.]

But the greatest mineral wealth of Algeria is in its iron mines, which abound all along the coast, and so near to it that the matter of transportation is of no great consequence. The ore is of a remarkably good quality, as it contains very little sulphur, arsenic, and phosphorus, which frequently render otherwise valuable material almost worthless. Much of it contains a great deal of manganese, which is very useful in smelting and reducing the metal, and renders it unnecessary to supply that article in making the flux. The ore is so rich that it pays to transport it to England, even though it comes in competition with the iron ores of that country.

The principal use of this Algerian iron is for manufacture into Bessemer steel, and it is said to be vastly superior to all other iron for this purpose. The advance in iron and steel in the past few years has been greatly to the advantage of the iron miners in Algeria, and the most of them are making their fortunes with great rapidity.

One of the richest mines in the country is near Bone, in the Province of Constantine. During a journey through Algeria, I paid a visit to that place, and embraced the opportunity to investigate the iron question.

The mine is nothing more or less than a mountain of iron. It is known in Arabic as Moktu-el-Hadid, and was worked very slightly by the Kabyles, previous to the French occupation. The place is nineteen miles from Bone, and a railway connects the mine with the harbor. It is so arranged that the ore, which is piled into the cars at the mine, can be dumped into the holds of the ships in the harbor.

At first glance, you would not suppose this mountain to be of any special value. It looks not unlike the famous Iron Mountain of Missouri, but is more irregular, and is not covered in the same way with trees and bushes. But as you examine closer, you see that the mountain is no common affair.

[Sidenote: DESCRIPTION OF THE VALUE OF THE MINES.]

In some places, the mineral crops up above the surface of the ground, and all that is necessary is to blast it away and cart it off. In other places, it appears in veins which are always very thick, and in a slanting position; they rest upon beds of mica-schist, and are covered with a layer of indurated clay, mingled with nodules of iron ore. The ore contains sixty-four per cent. of pure iron; the annual exportation is about half a million tons, and sometimes exceeds that amount. The profit, clear and clean after deducting every thing, is about half a million dollars, or one dollar on each ton of ore taken out. The owners of the mine have a valuable property, and are not inclined to sell it, or to take in partners.

There are other iron mines in Algeria, but none of them are so large or so profitable as the one I have just described. The labor is performed partly by Arab workmen, and partly by Frenchmen. The Arabs are very largely employed, and are quite industrious and reliable. The Kabyles are considered the best and can generally command a trifle more wages than the men of the other tribes for the same work. They come to the cities in search of employment, and after accumulating a certain sum of money, return home contented. Their wants are few, and they live very cheaply.

While I was in Algeria, I made a journey south to the Desert of Sahara. In the desert proper no mines of iron, gold, or silver are to be found, but there are some curious mines of salt, which have been known to the Arabs for thousands of years.

One day the guide called the attention of my companion and myself to a mountain of a peculiar bluish appearance, unlike those that surrounded it. Like all the other mountains in the desert, it had not a particle of vegetation upon it, and we could see no difference between that and the rest, except in its color. I asked what it was.

“It is the famous mountain of salt,” said the guide.

[Sidenote: HOW THE ARABS OBTAIN THEIR SALT.]

This information caused us to look again, and more intently. Herodotus, the Greek historian, who flourished more than two thousand years ago, traveled through this country, and describes five mountains of salt. This which was before us was one of the five.

As we came nearer, we could see that it presented a rough and broken surface, and had evidently been thrown up by some violent convulsion of the earth. That it is the result of an upheaval, is shown by the presence, at the top, of certain layers of sand and marine shells which are found lower down in the plain.

The salt stands in pillars and columns, and in great masses many tons in weight. Salt enough to pickle all the beef in the world could be obtained from this mountain, and then there would be enough left for the preservation of the mutton, pork, and other meats that need the aid of strong brine to keep them properly, and even then there would be a great deal of salt to spare.

During the winter, the rain loosens the blocks and causes crevices to form in the mass of salt rock. The Arabs go there in the spring and break away these blocks by the aid of iron bars; then they knock them to pieces with large hammers, and thus get them into proper shape for transportation. For thousands of years, they have thus been at work on this mountain, taking all they want, but the supply is not by any means exhausted. The quarries are not constantly worked, as the demand for the salt is not very great. The mountain is so far from the coast that it does not pay to carry the salt there, and consequently the demand is purely local.

There is a similar mountain, though much smaller, some distance away to the west. It is more curious in some respects, there being a stream of water which passes it, and has worn a great many pits, caverns, and cavities in the mass of salt. Before reaching the rock, the stream is perfectly fresh, but very soon it becomes impregnated with salt. The stalactites and pillars are very curious in their formation, and when the sun shines upon them they sparkle like great masses of diamonds. In some places, the crystals of salt jut over the edge of the little stream, and occasionally they fall just a little short of forming an arch.

[Sidenote: THE FRENCH SUPPLY THE DESERT WITH WATER.]

In the desert proper, the French have done something to advance growth by boring Artesian wells. The great need of the desert is water, and many thousands of square miles of land, on which there is not a blade of grass or plant, might be rendered fertile if any means could be devised to supply them with water. The French have given a great deal of study to this subject, but as none of them are possessed of the power of Moses to bring water from a rock where apparently none existed, they have not yet covered the desert with palm trees and wheat fields.

The palm tree must have water to keep it alive. The Arabs say it lives with its head in the fire and its foot in the water; it seems to be happy with the burning sun of the desert, and not even the hottest rays which the heavens can pour down can disturb it in the least so long as its foot is properly bathed. Take away its supply of water, and it dies in a short time. It must be watered twice a week; there is generally a ditch around the foot of the tree, and this ditch is filled either from a canal or with water carried in buckets or skins. About a barrel full of the liquid is needed for each tree.

It will thus be seen that the limit of a palm oasis in the desert may be sometimes determined by the water supply. I have seen thousands of acres of desert land, possessing no value whatever, which would have been far different had there been a running and reliable stream or spring in their vicinity.

The French determined to improve the supply of water, and in this way increase the value of the country both to themselves and the Arabs. The first attempt was made at the oasis of Tuggurt, in 1856. The apparatus was taken there on camels’ backs, with a great deal of trouble, and finally set at work.

After five weeks of labor the drill struck a water course under the gypsum, at a depth of about two hundred feet. An immense spring gushed out with such force that very little strength was required for removing the tools. It flowed about a thousand gallons a minute, and has been flowing at that rate ever since.

The natives were wild with delight. They danced and sung, and made a great many manifestations of joy, not only on the occasion of opening the well, but for days and weeks afterwards. Ever since then, similar scenes have been enacted in other parts of the desert occupied by the French, whenever a well is opened. The culture of dates has been enormously extended by the planting of new groves wherever the wells are made, and both the natives and their conquerors have found the enterprise of mutual advantage. Sometimes the wells are salt or brackish, but the date palm does not mind any little trifle like that. Whether the water which is supplied to it is fresh or salt, hot or cold, does not seem to make any difference to the tree. It prospers and grows and produces fruit all the same.

[Sidenote: INLAND LAKE IN THE DESERT.]

A part of the desert is below the level of the Mediterranean, and some of the scientific men and others interested in the development of Algeria, have proposed to dig a canal from the sea, and allow this empty space to be filled. They would thus create an inland lake on which steamers could run, and which could furnish a vast supply of water to groves of palm trees along its shores. But the enterprise is not likely to be undertaken, for a variety of reasons.

In the first place, the cost would be something enormous, and quite out of proportion to the result proposed. The cutting or canal would be more than a hundred miles long, and for quite a distance, forty or fifty feet deep.

The distance which could be flooded is variously estimated from twenty to forty thousand square miles. Of course the land covered by the water would be of no use, and it includes many prosperous oases of date palms, which would have far more water than they need in order to bear fruits. To start with, there would thus be a heavy loss.

The effect upon the climate of Europe of the proposed inland sea has been much discussed. The whole of France owes its warm, genial climate to the hot winds which blow from Africa across the Mediterranean, and do not lose their soothing temperature till they reach the North Sea and the Baltic. Africa thus becomes a vast furnace to supply Europe with hot air. It is feared by many of the scientific men who have studied the matter, that the inland sea would partially or completely change the climate. The winds would absorb the moisture, and thus form vast rain clouds; instead of conveying warmth and dry air to southern Europe, they would be cool and laden with rain. The grapes would decay upon the vines without ripening; sunny France would be no longer so, and Paris would become as cold as Berlin, and as dreary as London. Doubtless this is an overstatement of the case, but the risk that any of these events might happen outweighs the probable good which the inland sea might accomplish.

[Sidenote: THE SUEZ CANAL.]

Not altogether distinct from mining matters, as it certainly required a vast deal of excavating, is the Suez Canal—a French enterprise of the greatest magnitude. The plan for making a canal between the Mediterranean and Red seas is very old, and has received a great deal of attention from ancient times to the present. One important difference between the canal of to-day and those of the olden time is in its direct course from sea to sea, which makes it altogether a salt-water canal. The old plans were in favor of tapping the Nile and connecting the river with the Red Sea, so that a portion of the route would be a fresh-water one. The size of modern ships rendered it necessary to abandon the Nile scheme altogether, as the shallowness of the river would not permit the passage of the ordinary sea-going vessel, even if we leave unconsidered those vast specimens of the naval architect’s skill which are the pride and boast of all maritime nations.

According to Herodotus and other writers, “the first to attempt the construction of the canal to the Red Sea,” was Pharaoh Necho II, one of the Egyptian kings, who reigned about six hundred and ten years before Christ. His canal left the Nile at Bubastis, near Zagazig, and followed along a valley leading toward the Red Sea, which then extended much farther inland than it does at present. Pliny estimates the length of this canal at sixty-two Roman miles, or fifty-seven English ones, and modern measurements show that these figures were very nearly correct. Herodotus estimates the distance from the Red Sea to the mouth of the Nile at one hundred and fourteen miles, and he says that 120,000 men perished while cutting it. This is probably an exaggeration or a slip of the pen, as he doubtless meant to say that that number of men was engaged in the work.

The canal was not finished during the reign of Necho II. The work was continued by his successors, and finally completed, but it was neglected, and the drifting sands soon filled the canal and made it useless. It remained so for centuries, though several attempts were made to clear it out. It is said to have been re-opened about the year 1000 of our era, by one of the Arab sultans, but it was again neglected, with the same result as before.

[Sidenote: PLAN OF NAPOLEON FOR DIGGING A CANAL.]

In modern times, the first to take up the subject and give it careful attention, was the emperor Napoleon, at the time of his conquest of Egypt in 1798. He personally examined the traces of the canal made by Necho and his successors, and ordered one of his engineers to make a careful survey of the route, to ascertain what difference there might be between the levels of the two seas.

This engineer reported a difference of thirty feet, and as this would render it impossible to make a direct canal without locks, a scheme was projected for making use of a portion of the Nile, as in the olden time, and having a system of locks where the salt-water canal joined the river. But the chances of war interfered, as the French were compelled to evacuate Egypt before the plan had been reported.

Nothing more was done until 1846, when a mixed commission was appointed to investigate the matter. They exploded the old error of a difference of level, and showed that the height of the water on each side was so nearly the same as to make no appreciable difference. Further than to establish this fact, the commission did not go, except to draw up some elaborate plans, which never amounted to anything.

[Sidenote: HOW THE CANAL WAS PLANNED AND DUG.]

In 1855, a project was completed by M. de Lesseps, for a canal without locks, and this is the scheme which has been successfully carried out by the Suez Canal Company. Some of the details were changed, but none of them are of any serious consequence.

It would require too much space to record all the diplomatic and other negotiations that attended the inception of the scheme, and the various means adopted to secure the funds necessary for conducting the work. The financial part of it was quite as difficult as the labor of the engineers, and several times it looked as though the enterprise must be abandoned altogether. The whole capital required by the canal, from commencement to completion, was about seventeen million pounds sterling, or eighty-five millions of dollars!

The work of excavating was begun on the 25th of April, 1859, by a few laborers who dug a small ditch in the presence of M. de Lesseps and four directors of the company, on the spot selected for the Mediterranean mouth of the canal. Immediately after this working, encampments were established all along the line, and the enterprise was earnestly pushed. At first, the work was performed without any machinery. Men and donkeys were the active force, the former armed with shovels, and the latter having a couple of baskets hung across their backs.

A native would fill the baskets with sand and drive the donkey on. They proceeded to where the burden was to be deposited, and when they arrived there, the baskets were emptied, and the donkey was driven back for a fresh load.

But it was found that the removal from agriculture and their other usual employments of the men necessary for digging the canal, was a serious interference with the affairs of the country. Twenty thousand men were required every month, and the drain was found to be so great that, in 1863, the Khedive refused to furnish them.

Matters then came to a stand still, and the company set about replacing manual labor with machinery. Various machines were devised before success was reached, and the magnificent dredges were made, by which the canal was finished. What was at first thought to be a misfortune proved an advantage, as the dredges were far more economical than manual labor, and enabled the company to finish the work much sooner than would have been possible under the old plan.

[Sidenote: THE FINISHING OF THE CANAL.]

The canal was finished in the latter part of 1869, and opened for traffic on the 17th of November of that year. Forty-eight ships went from Port Said to Suez, on that day and the next, carrying guests who had been invited to the ceremonies. All nations of the world may be said to have taken part in the affair, which was on a magnificent scale, and cost many thousands of dollars to the Khedive of Egypt and the canal company. When the ceremonies were over, the canal was formally opened for business, and has been open ever since.

The canal is a hundred miles long from Suez to Port Said. The following figures of its dimensions will be found interesting:

FEET. Width at water line, where banks are low, 328 Width at water line, where banks are high, 190 Width at bottom, 72 Depth, 26 Slope of bank near water line, one foot in five.

At frequent intervals there are wide spaces where ships may pass, and there are three lakes which were formed by the filling of depressions in the desert. These lakes are pretty sheets of water, and one of them—Lake Timsah—has become a pleasure resort where the people of Cairo go to enjoy salt-water bathing.

The advantages of the canal to the commerce of the world are very great. The old routes have been partially abandoned for the new one, and at present the movement of steamers through the canal averages more than a hundred a month each way, not to speak of sailing ships and smaller craft. The saving of distance by the canal may be shown by the following table.

VIA CAPE OF VIA DISTANCE GOOD HOPE. SUEZ CANAL. SAVED. England to Bombay (nautical miles), 10,860 6,020 4,840 New York to Bombay, “ “ 11,520 7,920 3,600 St. Petersburg to Bombay, “ “ 11,610 6,770 4,840 Marseilles to Bombay, “ “ 10,560 4,620 5,940

IX.

ADVENTURES OF DIVERS.

GOING UNDER WATER.—PEARL DIVING.—COSTUME OF THE DIVERS.—HOW THEY DESCEND.—OBTAINING THE PEARL OYSTERS.—DIVING-BELLS.—HOW THEY ARE MADE.—ADVANTAGES AND DISADVANTAGES.—ADVENTURES IN DIVING-BELLS.—SUBMARINE ARMOR.—ITS CONSTRUCTION AND USE.—A DIVER’S ADVENTURE.—A HORRIBLE SIGHT.—THE DIVER’S STORY.—A PEARL DIVER AND A SHARK.—A NARROW ESCAPE.—STRATEGY IN THE WATER.—PEARL DIVING.—PREPARATORY STEPS TO BE TAKEN.—PREPARING FOR THE SEVERE TASK.—TRAINING THE PAPOOSES IN MEXICO.—HOW TO AVOID SHARKS AND DOG-FISH.—THE WAYS THAT ARE DARK, AND THE TRICKS THAT ARE VAIN.

To go under the water is pretty nearly as difficult as to go under the earth. Man is not made to live in the water, although he has been known to pass many hours there without touching land. A great many persons seem to have a dread of water in any shape. They rarely bathe, and never drink the liquid when they can obtain anything stronger. It frequently becomes necessary for men to go beneath the surface of the water, exploring the wrecks of ships, and searching for valuable things that are to be found with a varying quantity of fathoms above them. In the East Indies, and in South America, and other parts of the world, the primitive form of diving without any apparatus whatever has been popular for many hundreds of years. The pearl divers of the East are dressed in a costume somewhat resembling that of the famous Greek Slave, minus her fetters. The diver, when preparing to go below, arms himself with a pick, with which to break away the pearl oysters. He is provided with a stone weighing forty or fifty pounds, and attached to a rope several feet in length. Filling his lungs with air, he grasps the rope in his hand, and then jumps from the side of the boat into the water. The weight of the stone carries him down. When he reaches the bottom, he detaches the oysters from the rocks, places them in a bag at his side, and then rises with his prize to the surface. Ordinarily he does not remain more than a minute, or a minute and a half, below the surface, though instances have been known of pearl divers who would remain as long as four or five minutes under the water. Of course he can only remain as long as the air which has been taken into his lungs will last him, and every one who tries to hold his breath knows that this cannot be for a long time.

The diver generally closes his nostrils with a split stick, or something of the sort, to prevent the entrance of the water, and he is very careful to keep his mouth tightly shut. Water and air do not mix well in one’s lungs, and no man has ever yet invented a system of breathing water instead of air. At the depth to which the pearl diver descends, the pressure of the water causes a very unpleasant sensation in the ears, and before he has made many subaqueous journeys the drum of the ear is generally broken. The breakage of the ear-drum causes no serious injury beyond rendering the person who has undergone it hard of hearing, and instances have been known of divers becoming entirely deaf in consequence of the injury to their ears.

[Sidenote: IMPROVEMENTS IN DIVING.]

[Sidenote: DIVING-BELLS.]

As an improvement upon the primitive form of diving, the Diving-Bell was invented. It is called a bell on account of its shape, and not in consequence of any sonorous quality. It is constructed in the general shape of a bell, or an inverted tumbler; it is lowered, mouth downwards, into the water by means of ropes attached to a ship, a boat, or the arm of a derrick projecting over the water. Generally, however, it is let down from a ship’s side. The earliest diving-bells had no arrangement for supplying them with air. After the quantity within the bell was exhausted, the diver gave a signal by means of a rope, and the bell was drawn to the surface. At present the diving-bell has a flexible rubber tube attached to it, by which it is constantly supplied with fresh air, so that a diver may remain several hours under water without suffering for want of a pure atmosphere. The foul air is let out through a valve in the top of the bell, and is constantly rising in the shape of little bubbles. The pure air is forced down by means of a pump, which must be kept in steady operation. As long as this pump is at work, and the bubbles are rising from the bell, those above can be assured that everything is satisfactory; but let the bubbles cease to rise, and it is instantly known that something is going wrong.

As the bell descends below the surface, the pressure of the air becomes very great, being equal to the pressure of the water. A dense atmosphere of this sort has many peculiarities. It is easy enough to breathe, but the pressure on the drum of the ear is frequently inconvenient. An ordinary whisper will sound as loud as the customary tones of the voice, and if there are two persons in the bell, and one of them speaks as he would naturally speak in the open air, he will seem to the other to be shouting with the full power of his lungs. A slight blow upon any metallic substance within the bell will sound like a very heavy one, and any noise that would cause no inconvenience in the open air may become absolutely painful in the dense atmosphere in the inside of a diving-bell.

A diving-bell must be made very heavy to carry it downward, and large weights are generally placed around its mouth. A shelf inside serves as a seat for the occupant, and when it is lowered to the bottom, the ground can be leisurely surveyed or examined for whatever object the diver has in view. Sometimes, when two persons descend in a bell, one of them may leave the bell by diving into the water, and then returning, but he cannot go very far. Submarine armor, however, enables him to go quite a distance away from the bell, and return at his leisure. Submarine armor possesses many advantages over the ordinary diving-bell. A man encased in a submarine suit can remain under water for a long time, and move about pretty much as he likes.

[Sidenote: SUBMARINE ARMOR.]

Submarine armor consists of a water-proof suit, completely encasing the body of the wearer. It is put on in two sections; the trousers have shoes attached to them, with heavy leaden soles, and at the waist they are firmly fastened to a metallic ring. The upper part of the suit covers the arms, the head, and the chest, and the lower part of it is fastened to a ring which exactly meets the other. The upper part of the suit is put on, and after it the second, or lower part. The two rings are then fastened together by means of screws, and a thin band of rubber upon them excludes both air and water. The head of the diver is enclosed in a helmet made of brass or other metal, and having a thick plate of glass in front. Air is conveyed inside this helmet by means of a rubber tube, and an air pump must be kept in constant operation, to supply the man in armor with the necessary amount of air. The foul air escapes through a valve in the top, just as it escapes from the top of the diving-bell. A suit of clothing of this sort does not add to the beauty of its wearer; it is very cumbersome, and I greatly doubt if it ever becomes fashionable for an afternoon promenade on Broadway. The helmet might answer very well as a disguise, for the reason that the face of the wearer is almost, and generally quite, invisible.

When a diver is properly encased in his armor, he is swung off from the side of the boat or ship, and sinks into the water. The leaden soles upon his shoes carry him straight down, and serve to keep his feet in the proper place and position. The tube supplies him with air, and he can walk about and use his hands freely. He can handle the pick and shovel, and can enter the cabin of a sunken ship; in fact, he can go in any place where the flexible tube can be made to follow; but all the time he is below, the pump must maintain a steady motion, and the valve in the top of his helmet must work freely. A slight accident may cause his death: should any of the machinery of the pump give way, or some careless person on the ship step upon the tube as it lies along the deck, the diver might lose his life. It sometimes happens that on being drawn to the surface the diver is found dead. Some slight accident has cut off his supply of air, and cutting off the air has deprived him of life.

Sunken ships have been explored by means of this diving armor, and sometimes large amounts of treasure are recovered through its use. In some cases miners have prosecuted their operations under water by means of this apparatus. A few years since an expedition was fitted out to examine a wreck of a ship which was sunk more than half a century ago on the coast of South America. She was known to have a great deal of treasure on board. Operations had been undertaken frequently by means of common divers and diving-bells to recover this treasure, but none of the enterprises had been rewarded with success. With their submarine armor to aid them, the new explorers were successful, and were handsomely rewarded for their efforts.

Thrilling stories are told by men who have thus gone below the surface of the water. Some time ago a diver was sent down to examine a steamer that had been sunk in about sixty feet of water, and had carried down many of its passengers. The man went down, and made two or three efforts without success to enter the cabin of the vessel. On the fourth visit he accomplished his object, and reached the cabin. Soon he made a signal to be drawn up. When he was on the deck of the ship, and the armor was removed, he fainted. When he recovered, he was asked the cause of his faintness, and replied,—

[Sidenote: A HORRIBLE SIGHT.]

“It’s enough to make any man faint to see what I have seen. I went into the cabin of that ship; it was full of water, of course; but that wasn’t all. It was full of the bodies of those passengers that went down when the ship was lost. There was a slight motion of the water, caused by the ground swell; and, as I entered the cabin, the water slowly swayed backward and forward, and swung these bodies with it. At the very door one of them brushed against me, or rather rolled against me, and its dead, glassy eyes stared directly in the face of my helmet, not six inches away. I knew it was dead, but there seemed to be a life-like expression in that cold and stony face. I passed by it, and had gone but a few feet before I encountered another body; and as I looked along the cabin, the vessel, being slightly careened, received a dim light through its windows. Those bodies swinging with the motion of the water seemed more like living than like dead forms. There was a combination of life and death in their paleness which was absolutely horrible; and not for all the treasure this ship contains will I go down again.”

The diver positively refused to repeat his descent, at least in that part of the ship; but others, less sensitive than himself, were found to go down and complete the exploration. None of them, however, appeared anxious to continue on that sort of work, and all were heartily glad when the exploration in the cabin was completed.

[Sidenote: SEEKING FOR PEARLS.]

The life of a pearl diver is full of adventures. The pearl oyster is found only in warm countries, or, at all events, very rarely in cold countries. The parts of the sea where these oysters are found are generally frequented by sharks. The sharks have a great fondness for divers, but it can be readily understood that the divers do not reciprocate the fondness of this finny tribe. Nothing is more pleasing to the shark—that is to say, an old and well-educated shark—than to make a breakfast off a pearl diver. The diver objects to this little arrangement, and remonstrates with the shark; but the latter doesn’t heed his remonstrances, unless they are of the most positive character.

Before going below, the diver generally scans the water very carefully, to see whether any of his man-eating friends are around and ready to welcome him. When he has reached the bottom, finished his labor, filled his bag with oysters, and is ready to ascend, he always takes a good look aloft, to see that no shark is waiting for him. The shark does not pick up the diver at the bottom; he makes no attack as long as the man is beneath him, but watches his chance, and as the man goes upward he makes a sudden dash, and considering the diver a stranger, takes him in. It is not unusual in the pearl diving regions to hear of men who have suddenly disappeared while below; and the inference always is, that these men have been quietly and calmly eaten. A pearl seeker whom I met some years ago while on a sea voyage told me an exciting story of an adventure with a shark in the pearl regions not far from Panama.

“I had in my employ,” said he, “about a dozen divers, very active, athletic fellows, who did their duty faithfully, stole all the pearls they could when my back was turned, and sometimes, unless I was very watchful, they reduced my returns very materially. I had a curiosity to learn the peculiarities of pearl diving for myself, and so engaged one of the professional divers to teach me. Well, he taught me.

“My first duty was to strip off all my clothes, swing a bag over my shoulder, take an iron rod about two feet long and sharpened at one end with which to detach the oysters, seize a stone, and after fastening my nose so as not to take in any water that way, I jumped overboard and followed the diver below.

“The water was about thirty feet deep, and the first time I went down I could do nothing but come back again. I didn’t bring any oysters that time. The next time I went down, I managed to get half a dozen oysters, and then I came up. Well, after a while I got so that I could get my bag half filled on each descent, and began to think that I was a very fair diver. I did not do much of it, though. Half a dozen times a day were all that I was willing to try. My ears stood it very well the first day, but the second day I went down deeper and staid rather longer than at any previous time, and when I came up my ears were bleeding, and I felt as if there was at least a barrel of water in my head. That was enough for that day; but the next morning I felt all right, and tried it again.

[Sidenote: ADVENTURE WITH A SHARK.]

“Always before I went down they cautioned me to look out for sharks. ‘Never stir from the bottom,’ said one of the men, ‘until you have looked up to the top, and find everything is clear above you.’ I remembered his advice, and it was well that I did so. About ten days after I had begun to learn the business, I went down as usual, picked up some oysters, put them in my bag, and was starting to go up. I gave my usual look above, and there I saw a big shovel-nosed shark watching me. He was evidently calculating that he had me sure, and considered me as good a breakfast as he wanted. I did not like his looks, and what to do I did not exactly know. I would have much rather been in the cabin of my schooner than in the stomach of that fellow. My first impulse was to dart up beneath him, and follow the custom of the natives. Generally when one sees a shark, and can’t get off in any other way, he rises as rapidly as possible beneath the fish, and sticks the iron rod into his belly. This is a treatment for which the shark is not prepared, and unless he is over-hungry he will generally go away. Sometimes, though, he shows fight; and when it comes to a struggle it is very fierce. The shark is in his natural element, but the man is not in the element to which he is most accustomed, and if the shark is large and persistent he generally wins.

“I did not consider myself up to the emergency of stabbing that fellow with my rod, and thought I would take the chance of going by him. But that was of no use; he would have taken me in as I reached the surface, just as a trout takes in a fly. In an emergency like mine, men think, and they must think very rapidly. I do not believe that I ever thought with more rapidity in all my life. The place where I had been gathering oysters was at the side of a large rock, and I had not left it when I saw the shark. I moved quietly to the other side, thinking to dodge him.

[Sidenote: A FIGHT UNDER WATER.]

“He saw my movement, and immediately swam over the rock, and placed himself above me. Well, what was to be done next, and what do you suppose I did? You know there is a little fish called the cuttle-fish. It is not much of a fish; it is not handsome; it cannot swim fast, and is not heavy on the fight. When pursued it throws out a sort of inky substance, which blackens the water and makes it sufficiently cloudy to enable the cuttle-fish to escape. It carries this ink in a bag, and keeps it laid up ready for use. Perhaps you might call him a marine editor; that is, the sort of editor that does not fight, but defends himself by slinging ink in the face of his adversaries.

“I was not in a condition to fight, and so I quickly thought I would play cuttle-fish. On one side of the rock the bottom was a sandy mud, and I immediately conceived the idea of stirring up this mud, thickening the water, and so making a cloud, behind which I could escape. With my pick I stirred the mud, and in less than ten seconds I had the water all around me very thick and cloudy.

“Then I slipped back to the other side of the rock, and went above. I reached the side of the boat with just strength enough to lay hold of it. The men saw that something was wrong, and they instantly seized me, and pulled me on board. They had become alarmed at my long absence, as I was under water nearly twice the time I had been at any previous descent.

[Sidenote: A NARROW ESCAPE.]

“Well, this is not the whole of the story. If I should take off my boot—the right one—you would see some very ugly scars on my foot. That shark watched the water where I was, and just as I reached the surface, and was being pulled into the boat, he discovered me. He darted for me, whirled on his back,—sharks always have to turn on their backs to seize their prey,—and tried to take in my foot.

“The men saw him coming, and they pulled me in about as fast as any man was ever pulled into a boat. That shark did not get me, as, of course, you believe, but he did get hold of the end of my foot. Two toes are gone, and the others are pretty well scarred. If he had made his dive at me one second earlier, I do not believe I should have had any foot on this leg to boast of. Confound these sharks, any how. They do not respect a white man at all, or half as much as they do a brown-skinned native.

“Take a lot of sharks when they are not particularly hungry, and a lot of niggers may swim around them, and they will be as sociable as if they belonged to the same family; but just let them see a white man in the water, and they will take him in as readily as a bull-dog would take in a beefsteak.

“I have been some time telling this story to you, but the whole occurrence did not consume more than two or three minutes.”

[Sidenote: PREPARATORY ARRANGEMENTS.]

In Mexico, a peculiar way of pearl-fishing is going on. Preparatory to entering on pearl-fishing in that country, a contractor must obtain a concession, and take care to be provided with such articles as the Indians most desire—eatables, tools, coarse articles of dress, and toys. The concession is obtained by securing a fifth of the produce of the fishery to the authorities of La Paz, and then, at an expense of five dollars, a right to fish in a certain spot is acquired.

A picturesque scene is presented by the encampment of the Indians with their families, who are mainly supported through the year by the fishery. They impatiently await the coming of their employers, and their approach is the signal for a joyful tumult. All join in the shout of welcome, and many plunge into the sea, to show, by their various performances in the water, their superior fitness for the labors they are anxious to undertake.

Loud cries are heard, of “Engage me, master,” “I will make your fortune,” “You employed me last year,” “I am not only the best of divers, but I am always lucky.”

A selection is made, and the contractor takes with him those he deems the ablest hands, pursued by the reproaches and taunts of those who consider they are unfairly neglected. The conditions of the engagement secure the divers’ maintenance during the fishery, and a share of the unopened oysters. These requirements granted, shaking hands seals or completes the arrangement.

It is from the 15th of May to the 15th of August that the Mexican fishing is prosecuted. Then it is that calm weather and cloudless sky may be expected, which are indispensable to success. Early in the afternoon a breeze frequently comes from the northeast. Should it rain, the work is partly suspended. The evening is occupied in opening the oysters collected in the early part of the day.

The day after the arrival of the divers, the places most likely to prove favorable are sought by experienced eyes, and a sort of rehearsal is gone through by the Indians. They plunge in to a moderate depth, and remain but a short time under water. Then they prepare themselves for the severer task. Their children, almost amphibious, remain on the bank, and are thus prepared to take up the calling of a diver at some future day.

The Indians dive fearlessly, being accustomed to such exercises from their infancy, plunging to a depth of from five to ten fathoms by two cords, a diving-stone and a net, which are connected with the boat, which always accompanies them. The diver, putting the toes of his right foot on the rope of the diving-stone, and his left on the net, seizes the two cords with one hand, and, closing his nostrils with the other, goes to the bottom of the water, where he brings the net around his neck, and collects and puts into it as many shells as he can reach while he remains below, which is generally about two minutes. On emerging from the sea, he discharges water from his mouth and nose, and sometimes blood, which, however, does not deter him from presently resuming his labors. Some men will frequently make fifty trips in one forenoon.

Divers soon find themselves able to remain under water two minutes; some occasionally stay three minutes, but never longer. Young divers at first are curiously affected; blood rushes from the nose, eyes, and ears, when they come up, caused by the compression of the lungs. It is a painful sight, but rest and cold water are the only remedies applied, and, after a short time, the bleeding is not renewed on diving.

[Sidenote: THE OPENING OF THE SEASON.]

The opening of the season is marked by a ceremony, intended to be very solemn. A sorcerer is brought with the divers, to exorcise the sea, and protect them. In the performance of his important duty, this highly-gifted personage addresses awful language to the dog-fish, setting forth his past atrocities and admonishing him to act a better part in future.

A single plunge enables a diver to secure five or six oysters, sometimes seven or eight, but rarely more. The boats which attend them are managed by rowers, or are secured by an anchor, or a stone, fastened to a rope. Some of the divers have a rope around them, attached to the boat. The most prudent course is to be as little encumbered as possible, that they may avoid the sharks and dog-fish. They are, however, generally armed with a short stick, made of hard wood, and pointed. A lookout or watcher is in each boat, to give a signal to those under water when danger is apparent.

[Sidenote: THE WAYS THAT ARE DARK.]

The gangs of younger divers divide into three parties, and rest for longer periods. They go to their labor fasting. When below, they of course snatch the oysters up as quickly as possible, using the short stick they carry, when necessary to separate them from any other substance. Finding an oyster likely to contain a pearl, the stick is sometimes used to open it, and the diver will reappear with a shell or two, and tell that during three minutes immersion he could discover nothing but shells. The fraud is often discovered, and the stick freely used on the head or back of the cheat.

Jules Verne, in his Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, gives the account of an adventure of a pearl-diver, which is of the most thrilling nature; Prof. Aronnax has gone down to the bottom of the sea, in a peculiar diving apparel, which allowed him to remain under water for a considerable time, with Captain Nemo of the Nautilus, and two or three other men. The professor tells his story thus:

“About five yards from me a shadow appeared, and sank to the ground. The disquieting idea of sharks shot through my mind, but I was mistaken; and once again it was not a monster of the ocean that we had anything to do with.

“It was a man, a living man, an Indian, a fisherman, a poor devil, who, I suppose, had come to glean before the harvest. I could see the bottom of his canoe anchored some feet above his head. He dived and went up successively. A stone held between his feet, cut in the shape of a sugar-loaf, whilst a rope fastened him to his boat, helped him to descend more rapidly. This was all his apparatus. Reaching the bottom, about five yards deep, he went on his knees and filled his bag with oysters picked up at random. Then he went up, emptied it, pulled up his stone, and began the operation once more, which lasted thirty seconds.

“The diver did not see us. The shadow of the rock hid us from sight. And how should this poor Indian ever dream that men, beings like himself, should be there under the water watching his movements, and losing no detail of the fishing. Several times he went up in this way, and dived again. He did not carry away more than ten at each plunge, for he was obliged to pull them from the bank to which they adhered by means of their strong byssus. And how many of those oysters for which he risked his life had no pearl in them! I watched him closely; his manœuvres were regular, and, for the space of half an hour, no danger appeared to threaten him.

“I was beginning to accustom myself to the sight of this interesting fishing, when suddenly, as the Indian was on the ground, I saw him make a gesture of terror, rise, and make a spring to return to the surface of the sea.

“I understood his dread. A gigantic shadow appeared just above the unfortunate diver. It was a shark of enormous size, advancing diagonally, his eyes on fire, and his jaws open. I was mute with horror, and unable to move.

[Sidenote: FIGHTING A SHARK.]

“The voracious creature shot towards the Indian, who threw himself on one side in order to avoid the shark’s fins: but not its tail, for it struck his chest, and stretched him on the ground.

“This scene lasted but a few seconds; the shark returned, and, turning on his back, prepared himself for cutting the Indian in two; when I saw Captain Nemo rise suddenly, and then, dagger in hand, walk straight to the monster, ready to fight face to face with him. The very moment the shark was going to snap the unhappy fisherman in two, he perceived his new adversary, and, turning over, made straight towards him.

“I can still see Captain Nemo’s position. Holding himself well together, he waited for the shark with admirable coolness; and, when it rushed at him, threw himself on one side with wonderful quickness, avoiding the shock, and burying his dagger deep into its side. But it was not all over. A terrible combat ensued.

“The shark had seemed to roar, if I might say so. The blood rushed in torrents from its wound. The sea was dyed red, and through the opaque liquid I could distinguish nothing more. Nothing more, until the moment when, like lightning, I saw the undaunted captain hanging on to one of the creature’s fins, struggling, as it were, hand to hand with the monster, and dealing successive blows at his enemy, yet still unable to give a decisive one.

“The shark’s struggles agitated the water with such fury that the rocking threatened to upset me.

“I wanted to go to the captain’s assistance, but, nailed to the spot with horror, I could not stir.

“I saw the haggard eye; I saw the different phases of the fight. The captain fell to the earth, upset by the enormous mass which leant upon him. The shark’s jaws opened wide, like a pair of factory shears, and it would have been all over with the captain; but, quick as thought, harpoon in hand, Ned Land rushed towards the shark and struck it with its sharp point.

“The waves were impregnated with a mass of blood. They rocked under the shark’s movements, which beat them with indescribable fury. Ned Land had not missed his aim. It was the monster’s death-rattle. Struck to the heart, it struggled in dreadful convulsions, the shock of which overthrew Conseil.

“But Ned Land had disentangled the captain, who, getting up without any wound, went straight to the Indian, quickly cut the cord which held him to his stone, took him in his arms, and, with a sharp blow of his heel, mounted to the surface.”

X.

RUSSIAN MINES AND MINING.

EXTENT OF THE EMPIRE—ITS MINERAL RESOURCES—PETER THE GREAT, AND WHAT HE DID—NIKITE DEMIDOFF—THE DEMIDOFF ESTATES—IRON MINES AND A VISIT TO THEM—WHERE RUSSIAN SHEET IRON IS MADE—COPPER AND MALACHITE—A WONDERFUL SIGHT—STRANGE STORY OF AN EMERALD NECKLACE—GOLD MINING IN SIBERIA—HARDSHIPS OF THE MINERS—HOW THEY ARE TREATED—MODE OF MINING.

The empire of Russia covers nearly an eighth of the land surface of the globe. Her northern limit is the Arctic Ocean, and the regions of eternal ice and snow; on the south, she rests upon the Black Sea, in a region of almost tropical warmth. Tropical fruits grow in her Crimean possessions, while polar bears and reindeer wander over the frozen and barren lands of her extreme north. She has every variety of climate, and every variety of soil. Here are long ranges of lofty mountains enclosing countless treasures of wealth in their rocky bosoms; beyond them you find wide stretches of treeless steppes, fertile as our western prairies, and boundless, apparently, as the sea. Wide and deep rivers wind through her territory, and facilitate the communications which commerce demands; broad lakes spread their shiny surfaces at frequent intervals, and reflect the primeval forests that line their shores. In a word, Russia is a little world in herself. The races of men included in her inhabitants are as varied as her climate; it is said that more than a hundred distinct and different languages are spoken by the subjects of His Imperial Majesty, the Autocrat of all the Russians.

With such a vast territory, and such a variety of mountain and plain, hill and valley, within her borders, Russia may be expected to hold a prominent place as a land of mines.

Such an expectation would be well founded, as the land of the Czar is in the very front rank of mining countries. The intelligence and enterprise of Peter the Great led to the development of her mining interests, and the work thus begun has been steadily followed to the present day.

Probably the best mining school in the world is at St. Petersburg. It has constantly nearly three hundred pupils, all supported at the expense of the government. The establishment is the geological mirror of the entire empire. The mountains of Lapland and the Caucasus, Finland and the Valdai, the vast Ourals, the Altai range and the peaks of Nerchinsk and the Baikal, Siberia and Kamchatka, in fact every part of Russia, have been drawn upon to fill its museum. Not only have they contributed, but they steadily continue to do so, year after year, as fast as new discoveries are made; and the government spares no pains or expense to make the collection the most perfect in the world.

[Sidenote: THE PRODUCE IN RUSSIA.]

Gold, silver, lead, iron, tin, copper, and other metallic ores are there in abundance, and afford the student the most ample opportunity for study. In the collection of semi-precious or valuable stones there is a bewildering array. We find the topaz of all shades; we find rubies, emeralds, beryls, amethysts, agates, turquoise, onyx, garnets, aqua-marines, malachites, marbles, lapis lazuli, porphyries, and other stones in endless variety. As an illustration of the great variety of the mineral products of Russia, let me mention a little circumstance. On my desk, and lying before me as I write, is a paper weight I brought home from Siberia. It is a small mosaic, perhaps three inches by five, and contains no less than twenty-one kinds of variegated marbles from the Altai mountains. One piece is white, and another is nearly black, and there is great variety between the two extremes.

Almost the only mineral products not known to exist in Russia is diamonds. They have been found in a few instances, but in very small numbers, and under circumstances that led to a strong suspicion that the places of discovery had been “salted.”

[Sidenote: MINING SCHOOL AT ST. PETERSBURG.]

In order to facilitate the study of the pupils in this school of mines, and make it as practical as possible, all the machinery and apparatus used in a mine has been arranged in an immense museum—some in the form of models, and others of their full size. Great mechanical skill has been displayed in the preparation of this machinery; whether in the shape of models or of full size, the working is perfect, and a student can easily understand from them the labor of the miner, and its result.

Underneath the immense building there is a reproduction of one of the mines at Perm, one of the cities of the Oural mountains. The utmost care has been taken to make the reproduction perfect. You visit the place exactly as you would visit a real mine, and you are shown through it by the light of torches. You have the same temperature that you would have in the mine of which this is a copy, and the same kind of atmosphere.

The character of the earth, the changes of color, the succession of layers of earth, rock, and ore, the machinery, the tools of the workmen, all lead a visitor to suppose he is really in a mine, and that the actual work has only been suspended a few hours while the laborers have been allowed a half holiday.

The great mining centers of Russia are in the Oural and Altai mountains, especially the former. The wealth of the Ourals in minerals was almost unknown until the time of Peter the Great, when he sent some engineers to make an examination. Previous to that time some gold had been found, and brought to Moscow; and it was known that the former rulers of the kingdom of Kazan derived much of their wealth from the gold mines.

But hardly anything was known of the other mineral riches of the mountain range. It did not take a long time for sharp-eyed engineers to discover the existence of iron and copper, and further research showed that they were to be found in large quantities. As soon as the facts were known, the government determined to work the mines on its own responsibility, until their riches could be demonstrated, and private parties induced to operate on their own account and risk.

[Sidenote: THE FIRST MINERAL EXPLORATION.]

The first mineral exploration of this region was made by Nikite Demidoff, in 1701 or 1702. Peter the Great sent him there from Tula, a place which has since become of considerable importance as a manufacturing center. He had a very clear head for his business, and went at it in earnest, and the result is seen to-day in the immense prosperity of the mines. As a reward for his industry, the emperor gave him a grant of territory amounting to nearly five thousand square miles, with whatever mineral or other wealth might be found there.

This princely estate has remained ever since in the possession of the Demidoff family, and has made it the richest family of all Russia, with the exception of the Romanoffs (the Imperial House). It has been admirably controlled, and the owners have spared no pains or expense to secure the most intelligent direction and management. They have conducted everything on a liberal scale; the towns and villages which they have built up are among the prettiest, neatest, and most comfortable in all Russia.

In this last particular they are worthy of imitation everywhere, and many great establishments in Europe and America would be, to-day, more prosperous if they followed the example of the Demidoffs. There are some prominent instances of manufacturing or mining prosperity growing in part from an attention to the wants of the workman, the education of his children, and a general regard for his welfare. The most notable one now occurring to me is that of the Fairbanks Scale Works in Vermont, whose products have obtained a world-wide fame. They have built up upon what was the wilderness, a prosperous town, with schools, libraries, lecture and reading rooms, and they have given inducements for their workmen to be industrious and economical, and become house-owners in their own right. The Fairbanks Brothers never heard, perhaps, of the Demidoffs, but they have followed almost the same course, and with the same result.

Every year the Demidoffs select several of the brightest youths in each village, and send them to the mining schools of St. Petersburg, and also to France, England, and other countries. These spend several years away from the Ourals, and when they return they bring a stock of very valuable knowledge which is of great practical use.

In my journey through Russia, I visited the mining regions of the Oural, and also of the Altai Mountains, and was greatly interested in what I saw.

[Sidenote: THE CASTLE OF THE DEMIDOFFS.]

The castle of the Demidoffs, as it is called, stands on the bank of a small river in the Ourals, at the town of Neviansk. Part of it was built by the elder Demidoff; it has since been enlarged, so that it is now a goodly sized palace. In it is a large saloon with fresco paintings by an Italian artist who was specially engaged for the work, and it has several rooms which would make large halls anywhere else. The furniture was made expressly for the house, and is renewed from time to time, whenever it becomes antiquated or faded. Several rooms are kept for the use of travelers, and everything, including the table, is furnished free of charge.

You may arrive there at any hour of the day or night, and find a warm welcome, and a room ready for you. You are fed with a most liberal hand, and may have the best wines known to the European market—champagne, port, sherry, anything and everything you choose. Stay as long as you please, go where you wish to, and you have no bill to pay. Let us hope for a speedy adoption of this Demidoff custom everywhere, with the assurance that it will be highly popular with the majority of visitors, and tend to a large increase in their number.

The principal mining town of the Demidoffs is on the river Tagil, and is known as Nijne Tagilsk. It has a population of about twenty-five thousand, and contains many fine buildings, including churches, hospitals for the workmen, schools, academies, dwellings for the directors and sub-directors, and an immense pile in which are the offices of the administration.

The smelting furnaces, forges, rolling mills, machine shops, and the like, are on an enormous scale, and are surpassed by very few establishments anywhere in the world. Much of the machinery is made on the spot, and the facilities are such as to astonish any visitor, even when he knows beforehand that he will see something colossal.

All the smelting is done with charcoal, and consequently the charcoal burners are an important element of the population. The forests of the estate cover many hundreds of square miles, and are managed with great care. Not a tree is cut without the order of an officer, and the work is so arranged that the young trees are protected until they are of suitable size. When a piece of ground has been cleared, it is replanted, and in eighty years it can be cleared again.

[Sidenote: THE METALS FOUND.]

The iron ore is about a mile from the town, and near the top of a hill, so that it can be rolled directly into the works with very little labor. It is of the kind known as magnetic ore, and the supply is simply inexhaustible. It is worked in an open quarry, no tunneling or shafting being needed, and as the vein is four hundred feet wide, eighty feet thick, and a mile or more in length, there is no danger that the supply will be exhausted for some thousands of years. And if it should be, there are other and larger deposits not far away.

Copper is also found in this vicinity, and not more than two miles from the iron mine. It was first discovered about the beginning of the present century, and has since been worked to great advantage.

The most remarkable product of copper is the substance known as malachite. It is found in various parts of the world wherever there are mines of copper, but nowhere else in such quantities as in the Oural mountains. Malachite is nothing more nor less than an oxide of copper. The chemists know exactly how it is formed, but they cannot make it any more than they can make the diamond, though they understand perfectly well the composition of that highly-prized stone. Certain salts in the earth mingle with the copper ore and the water that finds its way through the earth, and these ingredients, soaking slowly downward into crevices and hollows in the rock, form the substance of which the Russians make so much use.

[Sidenote: HOW MALACHITE WAS FOUND.]

In 1885 the largest mass of malachite ever known was found on the Demidoff estate. The miners, who were working a vein of copper, found some shreds or strips of copper extending downward, and the superintendent of the mine ordered them to follow these shreds, in hopes of striking another vein. The work was pushed forward, or rather downward, and the stray threads of ore were traced in all their windings. Two hundred and eighty feet below the mine, the shreds disappeared, and the superintendent was about to give up the enterprise in disgust and despair, when the men suddenly came upon a huge mass of malachite. It was broken up and taken to the surface, and the aggregate weight of the mass was estimated at seventy tons! It was this lot that supplied the most of the malachite in the Church of St. Isaac, and from it, also, was made the enormous vase which the Emperor of Russia sent to His Holiness the Pope.

We use malachite for jewelry, and think it very good; those of us who have been in St. Petersburg will recall the Church of St. Isaac, where there are whole columns apparently of solid malachite. I say apparently, for those columns are of granite, with a malachite veneering an inch or two in thickness, for the reason that the material does not come in sufficiently solid shape to be used for making columns. It is a good deal honey-combed, and there are numerous vacant places in a large block of it. There was a block of malachite in the Paris Exposition which measured something like seven feet in length by four in width, and there was a nicely-polished spot on one side, a couple of feet in length, and a foot and a half in width. This was said to be one of the largest solid blocks of the material in Russia, and it was regarded as a great curiosity by many thousands of visitors. At the Philadelphia Exhibition in 1876, there was much interest manifested in the Russian department, in consequence of the fine display of this article. There was a fire-place whose mantel and side-pieces were solid slabs of malachite. Then there were two or three large vases and other ornamental pieces, all of the same material; and very rich they were. People were never weary of gazing upon these things and commenting on their beauty.

[Sidenote: RUSSIAN SHEET-IRON.]

There are several other mining estates besides this in the Oural mountains, and some of them are nearly as extensive. There the government has establishments of its own, where it makes its machinery for ships of war and other purposes, and manufactures cannon and cannon shot, and many other things which are constructed of iron or steel. One of the private works which I visited was that of Issetskoi, where they make iron of peculiar toughness and polish. Nearly all the “Russia sheet-iron” which is so popular in America, for the manufacture of stove pipes and parlor stoves, comes from this establishment. It is capable of being rolled to the thinness of letter-paper, and will stand a vast amount of bending before it breaks.

At one of the mining and manufacturing works in this region, there is an establishment for the production of cutlery, and a vast amount is annually turned out. Its sword-blades, knives, and other things are of great fineness, but generally they are not as nicely finished as the products of Birmingham and Sheffield. About 1848, a process of making Damascus steel was invented by General Anossoff, who was then in charge of the works, and since then, blades that could be bent double, without danger of breaking, have been turned out in great numbers. Some of these have found their way abroad, but the government does not facilitate their sale outside the country.

[Sidenote: EKATERINENBERG.]

In the Oural mountains, on the great road from Russia to Siberia, is the town or city of Ekaterinenberg, which was founded by the Empress Catherine II, the imperial lady who became famous, among other things, for her peculiar and rather summary ways of making love. Catherine was stately and not ill-looking; the town which perpetuates her name, perpetuates also her characteristics. I drove into it one Christmas morning, after a long ride over the dreary steppes of Siberia, and as I first looked upon its broad streets and the lake around which its principal edifices are built, I thought I had not seen anything lovelier in the line of Russian towns.

It has a population exceeding twenty thousand. Five-sixths of the inhabitants are connected in some way with the mining interests of the surrounding region, and possibly the occupations of the remaining sixth are not far removed from them. All the copper money circulated in Russia is coined here, and the place does a large business in lapidary work. Amethysts, beryls, rubies, emeralds, and other gems are cut here, and so extensive is the business that the servants at the hotels, and itinerant merchants on the street pester you to purchase these stones, and dozens of others. Seals in countless variety can be had here, and wonderfully cheap when compared with the prices of the same articles in Moscow or St. Petersburg. The government has here a large lapidary establishment, and all its products go, or are supposed to go, to the Imperial palace at St. Petersburg. From this place come the great majority of the semi-precious stones which are given away by the emperor. And hereby hangs a tale.

During the reign of the Emperor Nicholas, some children who were playing in the dry bed of a brook several miles from Ekaterinenberg, found some curious stones which they carried home. These lay around the cottage for some time, and were not thought to be of any value, but one day an officer happened to see them and recognized their character. They were sent to the government establishment, and there disappeared.

They were emerald crystals of unusually fine character, and by law and custom were the property of the emperor. Instead of going to St. Petersburg, they were sent to Germany, and sold, and in course of time were bought by one of the princes of the reigning family, as a present for his wife.

Some years later, she was at St. Petersburg, on some grand occasion, and wore these emeralds. The empress admired them, and asked where they came from.

“They are from Siberia,” was the reply.

The empress was astonished, and communicated the fact to the emperor.

There was a great row at once. An officer was sent to Ekaterinenberg to search the house of the director, and all other persons connected with the imperial factory. He found several stones of great value in the house of the director, and as the latter could not explain, he was arrested and sent to prison, where he died a few years later. Many people believed, and still believe, that he was innocent, and that the theft was committed at St. Petersburg, by some member of the imperial family.

Strange to say, very few emeralds have ever been discovered in that region, and none since that time of equal value with those that had such a curious history.

[Sidenote: GOLD MINING IN RUSSIA.]

The principal gold mining of Russia is carried on in the Asiatic portion of the empire. Some deposits have been found of enormous richness, and many fortunes have been made by mining for this precious ore. Formerly, the business was entirely in the hands of the government, but in the last twenty years it has been given up to private enterprise, the government exacting a tax of fifteen per cent. on all gold taken out. In some districts the government continues to manage the business, but it only does this where it cannot let it out to advantage.

The processes employed are various. In some of the mines the earth is washed by means of machinery, much like that used in California, but with a greater expenditure of labor in proportion to the amount handled. In the valleys of the streams which flow into the Yenesei and other rivers, there are many mining establishments; there are others near Lake Baikal, and others again on some of the rivers flowing into the Amoor.

The government mines are worked by convicts, who receive no pay. Only their board, clothes, and lodging are supplied to them, and these are not always of the best quality. The private miners employ their workmen in the villages and towns; they begin operations as early as possible in the spring, and close in the latter part of September. To obtain a concession for working a mine, the applicant must either be a hereditary nobleman, or a merchant of the second guild or class. He obtains a concession five miles long, and about six hundred feet wide, on the borders of and including a stream, so as to give him as much water privilege as possible.

[Sidenote: HOW THE MINING IS DONE.]

When a claimant has an allotment, he must work it at least one year out of every three, under pain of forfeiture, and there are other requirements with which he must comply.

There is generally a heavy outlay for buildings and machinery before the mining begins. To get at the pay-dirt, as it is called in California, the surface earth must be stripped off, and sometimes this stripping is twenty or thirty feet deep. Holes or shafts are sunk to ascertain the depth of the stripping and pay-earth, and from the amount of gold in the latter it is very easy to form an estimate of the probabilities of profit.

Some of the concerns employ two or three thousand workmen, and half as many horses. The cost of horses is the heaviest item of expense, as the loss is very great, and to this must be added the cost of keeping the animals. It often happens that the hay, provisions, and everything else must be carried two or three hundred miles, and consequently the capitalist who goes into the mining business in Siberia, must have a long and deep and well-filled purse to start with.

In these mining establishments, the work is very severe. The bell is rung at half past two in the morning, and a man must be at his post by three. He gets half an hour each for breakfast and tea, and an hour for dinner; he works until nine o’clock at night, and takes his supper when he gets through. If he is in debt to his employer, and the latter generally manages to have him so, he works every day—Sundays, Saints’ days, and all—through the season.

The task set is for five men and two horses to break up and cart away two cubic fathoms of earth per day, and they may quit work whenever they have done it. Or they may work “extra,” and get pretty high wages for it, and altogether a man can earn not far from thirty dollars a month by making long and late hours.

[Sidenote: HOW THE MINERS ARE PROVIDED FOR.]

It is absolutely necessary, for the interest of the employer, that he should give his men good and abundant food, provide them with comfortable lodgings, and have a hospital for those who become ill. Sometimes two or more establishments unite to hire a surgeon, and in this case he makes a daily round to see if any one needs his services. The proprietors also maintain stores where they supply their workmen, and it is not considered respectable to charge any profit on the goods beyond enough to pay the cost of transportation and handling.

The workmen are a thriftless lot, generally, and rarely save anything. When their season is over, they proceed to the large towns, and there waste their substance in riotous living. The spring comes and finds them without a copeck, and possibly in debt, from which their only exit is by hiring out to a gold miner, and getting the advance of a month’s pay which custom has established.

XI.

A DAY IN POMPEII.

A VISIT TO POMPEII.—NEAPOLITAN HACKMEN.—AN INTERESTING ADVENTURE.—HOW TO AVOID A QUARREL.—BEGGARS.—BEGGARY AS A FINE ART.—A PICTURESQUE SCENE.—MAKING MACARONI.—TRICKS OF AN OLD ROOSTER.—POMPEII.—ITS HISTORY.—DISCOVERY OF THE BURIED CITY.—A SCENE IN THE STREETS.—AN ANCIENT BAKERY.—HOW THE MILLS WERE TURNED.—INVESTIGATING AN OVEN.—A WONDERFUL DISCOVERY.—PRESENT CONDITION OF THE HOUSES.—ADVERTISING IN OLD TIMES.—POMPEIIAN PERSONALS.—A PICTURE OF THE DESTRUCTION.—OBSCENE OBJECTS IN THE CITY.

On a pleasant spring morning several years ago, I started from Naples to pay a visit to the ruins of Pompeii. Our party consisted of four persons; and our first work was to engage a carriage, as we thought the carriage road would be preferable to the railway. Engaging a carriage in Naples is a tax upon the patience equal to some of the trials which were visited upon Job. I am not quite certain that Job would have remained patient after a contest with Neapolitan hackmen. Boils would be nothing compared to it.

One of the school-books that I studied in my younger days made the assertion, “A horse is a noble animal.” I do not question the nobility of the horse, and his possession of blue blood; but of one thing I am certain, and that is, a great majority of those who associate with him are the reverse of noble. Hackmen, all the world over, are proverbial for dishonesty. Horse-jockeys are never mentioned as types of human perfection; and the history of the race-track is the history of a great deal of fraud. If the horse is a noble beast, it must be that his nobility and excellence of character develop the opposite qualities among his human intimates.

[Sidenote: A PICTURESQUE HACKMAN.]

Hackmen are bad enough everywhere; but I think the perfection of badness is to be found among the hackmen of Naples. They will lie with the most unblushing impudence; and if they receive any future punishment for telling untruths, their roasting will be perpetual. The day before our journey to Pompeii, we had chartered a carriage to take us to the Sibyl’s Cave, and the other curiosities in the neighborhood of Pozzuoli. We made a positive bargain with the driver, including the amount which he was to receive as drink money. I believe we were to pay twenty francs for the carriage, and two francs for drink money. When we returned and were settling the bill, he swore by all the saints in the calendar,—and he named every one of them,—that we agreed to pay thirty francs for the carriage, and ten francs for drink money. He took his hat from his head in his rage, and threw it upon the ground, pulled his hair, and made things in general very unpleasant. He called several unwashed Neapolitans to witness that no carriage was ever hired at a lower rate than the one which he insisted was our contract price.

We found that we could not reason with him; and so we lighted our cigars, and waited for his paroxysm of rage to come to an end. We finally compromised the matter by paying twenty-five francs for the whole business; that is, we compromised by handing him the money, and walking away. He followed us two or three blocks; in fact, he stuck to us until we entered our hotel, and there we lost sight of him.

The hackman who was to take us to the buried city might have been useful, but certainly he was not ornamental. He was covered with dust, so that he resembled a walking ash-heap; and as for washing, I do not think he had ever experienced its terrors. Judging by the odor which arose from his skin, he had been put through some embalming process, in which garlic was the preservative substance. He resembled a sponge which has been dipped in garlic water, and kept without squeezing. His clothing was of all sizes except his own. His trousers were made for a man twice as large as he; and his coat for one of about half his dimensions. His face was as prepossessing as a basket of old bottles; and as for his manners, he did not appear to have any to boast of.

I spoke to him in French, which he pretended to understand, but could not comprehend. He answered in a mingled patois of French and Italian, in which there was no French to speak of, and very little Italian. I forget the exact sum we agreed to pay, but think it was altogether about twenty-five francs.

I may as well explain here, that on our way back we invented a new plan for paying him, and at the same time avoiding trouble. When we neared the hotel on our return, I counted out the money in francs and half francs, and threw in a few copper coins by way of adding to the confusion. With the proper amount in my hand, I stepped from the carriage, and waited until my three companions were a dozen yards away; then I dropped the money into the hands of the driver, and started at a rapid walk to overtake my friends. Before he had finished counting the money we were inside of the hotel. As we walked up stairs, I heard a volley of Neapolitan and French oaths following us into the building, and rolling through the hall like a small cloud of smoke.

We started from Naples in the direction of Vesuvius, passing through several villages on our road to Pompeii. The road was excellent, being paved or macadamized the entire distance, and ornamented with houses and beggars in about equal proportions.

[Sidenote: PERTINACIOUS BEGGARS.]

The beggars deserve great credit for the study they have devoted to the perfection of their art. Sores are cultivated as a handsome man would cultivate his mustache; and as for a withered leg, it is worth a fortune to its possessor. Every time our carriage halted, the beggars surrounded it, as flies in July surround a lump of sugar, and pretty nearly for the same reason, as they wanted something on which to exist. They accosted us in two or three languages, Italian of course predominating. We told them, in French, in English, and in German, to go away, and that we would give them nothing; but they stuck to us with the most unruffled pertinacity. They had heard all that before, and knew that if they were adhesive, they had a good prospect of extracting something. I tried a new plan on them, and found that it worked well.

Assuming an air of great indignation, and with as much severity in my face as I could command, I addressed them very loudly, with my hands extended, in Russian and Chinese. Those languages were new to them, and fearing that it was some horrid imprecation, several of them dropped away. I afterwards found the plan quite successful, not only with Italian beggars, but with beggars of every nation. Tell them in any language to which they are accustomed, that you will give them nothing, and, if you are so minded, consign them to the infernal regions, and they do not mind it; but if you assume a priestly attitude, and utter something very solemnly in a language they do not understand, you have a fair prospect of getting rid of them.

[Sidenote: BEGGING AS A SCIENCE.]

At one place, on the road to Pompeii, there is a small hill. From the foot to the summit the distance is not more than one to two hundred feet; but the slope is so steep, that horses, in ascending it, do not travel faster than a walk. At the foot of this hill, four beggars—middle-aged women—were located; and they evidently had purchased a monopoly, or possibly a grant from government for the possession of the spot. In front of a small wine shop they had erected a pavilion, and each of them had a comfortable chair. They watched the place, and attended closely to business during the entire day. When they saw a carriage approaching, they left their chairs, and proceeded to the road, adhering closely to the vehicle until it reached the top of the hill. They begged persistently until they received what they demanded, or the top of the hill was reached. Then they returned leisurely to their chairs, and waited for the next customer.

If there was but a single carriage at a time, all of them worked it. If there were two carriages, the beggars divided into couples; and if by any chance there were four carriages together, the professionals scattered, and each of them took a vehicle. I drove out on this road several times, and always found it begged by the same persons. I proposed one day to my friends to engage five carriages, and drive them out there together. I thought that we might kill the beggars by causing them to die of grief and rage at seeing a carriage pass without being able to annoy its occupants.

[Sidenote: MAKING MACARONI.]

Another object of interest along the road, and closely associated with the beggars, is the manufacture of macaroni. I did not enter the houses to see how the stuff was made; but I saw great quantities of it drying on frames in front of the places of its manufacture. One of my companions, who had witnessed the process, said they made macaroni by putting some dough around a long hole, and letting it dry.

He said the holes did not cost anything, and the dough was not expensive. “And that is the reason,” said he, “why the confounded stuff is so cheap.”

I was rather fond of macaroni as an article of diet; and my friend advised me, if I wished to continue so, to remain in blissful ignorance of the manner of its preparation, and not to ask any questions.

I took his advice, and to this day do not know much about the process.

One thing in connection with macaroni, which amused me much, was the dexterity of the chickens in eating it.

A string of macaroni in its soft state, four or five feet long, is hung across a horizontal bar in such a way that the ends are a foot or so from the ground. The frames look like candle-moulds, with freshly moulded candles hanging from them. The macaroni, as it hangs, is pretty thick, there being just space enough between the sticks to allow them to dry. When the stuff is soft, chickens can easily eat it. As it hangs from the frames, these birds would get beneath them, and bite off the ends of the perpendicular sticks.

The young chickens were rather awkward; but the old hens and roosters were very successful. I watched one venerable old cock under a frame, and studied his performance. He elevated his head as if he were peering through a gun barrel up to the sky. He took careful aim, and then jumped upwards, with his mouth open. The soft macaroni went down his throat a couple of inches or so, as a sausage might go down the throat of a terrier; and at the exact instant when his head was highest, he closed his bill, and nipped off the morsel. I saw him take half a dozen bites in that way, and he did not miss his mark a single time in the whole performance.

We had pleasant glimpses of the Bay of Naples, though not as many as we could have wished on account of the height of the fences. After a drive of something more than an hour, we reached the gate of Pompeii. Dismounting from our carriage, and paying two francs to the custodian, we entered the ancient city.

[Sidenote: DESTRUCTION OF POMPEII.]

Pompeii was violently shaken by an earthquake in the year 63. Several temples tumbled down along with the colonnade of the Forum. The theatres and many tombs and houses were also overthrown. Nearly every family went from the place; and it was some time before they returned. The senate hesitated for some time whether to rebuild the city or not, and finally decided to do so. The work of rebuilding was going on quite vigorously, when all at once came the terrible eruption of 79. It buried Pompeii under a deluge of stones and ashes, and buried Herculaneum under lava and liquid mud.

These cities and many villages were wiped out in a single day, and a large region of country was depopulated. After the catastrophe, some of the inhabitants returned, and made excavations for recovering their valuables. Some robbers also crept into the city. The Emperor Titus entertained the idea of cleaning and restoring the city, and sent two senators to examine the ground; but the magnitude of the work frightened the government, and the restoration was never undertaken. In time Pompeii became almost forgotten, and its site was lost. For more than a dozen centuries the locality where Pompeii had stood was unknown.

In 1748, under the reign of Charles III., when the discovery of Herculaneum had attracted the attention of the world to that locality, some vine-dressers struck upon some old walls, and unearthed a few statues. The king ordered some excavations to be made in the vicinity; but it was not until eight years later that any one supposed that they were exhuming Pompeii. Since that time the work of excavation has gone on with a great many intervals of inactivity. Whenever the government makes an appropriation, or some crowned head or other wealthy personage makes an addition to the Pompeian fund, the work is prosecuted; but as soon as the money is expended the work stops.

It is now more than a hundred years since the excavation began, and the third part of the city is not yet uncovered.

Since 1860, the whole system of work and management has been reformed, and moralized, as it were. All the guides and door-keepers are under the control of the government.

The visitor pays two francs at the gate, and is guided about the city by a man clad in uniform. Notices are posted in all the modern languages, telling visitors not to give money to the guides under any pretence whatever, and forbidding the guides to receive the money. This is all very well as far as it goes; but human ingenuity is able to get around the rule.

[Sidenote: DODGING A REGULATION.]

We had a guide who spoke French fluently, and was a very polite and agreeable fellow. He took pains to call our attention to one of the signs, and assured us that he could not receive a penny under any circumstances. But at almost every step he had photographs to sell. Whenever we found anything particularly interesting, out from his pocket came a package of photographs, and of course we purchased. By the time we had finished our journey, we had bought photographs enough to stock a small store; and the profit on the transaction was probably six times as much as the guide would have wrung from us had the old system been in vogue. It is very evident that the government winks at this transaction; otherwise the guides would not be allowed to sell photographs or anything else.

We walked through streets silent and deserted, except by groups of visitors like ourselves, and the occasional patrolmen or guides. We walked on the pavement where, two thousand years ago, chariots rolled along, and we saw on those pavements the marks of the chariot wheels as plainly as if they had been worn during the past month. At the drinking fountains on the street corners, we could see where the Pompeian stopped when he was thirsty. The stone at the orifice, whence the water poured out, was worn away by the many applications of Pompeian lips.

[Sidenote: SCENES IN THE STREET.]

We looked into the ovens as they were on the day of the eruption. The bakers were preparing their store of bread, and we were shown the loaves which had been drawn from those ovens after resting there eighteen hundred years. We saw the shops of the wine merchants, the butchers, the bakers, and the men of other occupations.

We saw the names that had been painted on the door-posts, a little faded and dull, yet still legible. We sat down on benches which were unoccupied for seventeen hundred years; and we entered the dwelling-houses where, two thousand years ago, the members of the family passed their daily life. It was a picture of the past, and not of the present.

Pompeii was preserved, and not destroyed. To its inhabitant, on the day of the eruption it was destroyed; but for us who now look upon it, and study its history, it has been preserved.

The most complete bakery in Pompeii was in Herculaneum Street, and occupied an entire house.

The inner court-yard of the house contains four mills of curious construction. At a little distance they resemble hour-glasses. Imagine two large blocks of stone in the shape of cones, the upper one overset upon the lower, and you have their construction.

The lower one remained motionless, and the other was turned either by a man or a donkey. The grain was crushed between the two stones. Sometimes the servants of the establishment turned the mill. At other times slaves, for some misdemeanor, had their eyes put out, and then they were sent to work at grinding.

The story goes that, sometimes, when the millers were short of hands, they established bathing-houses around their mills, and the passers by who were caught in the trap had to work the mill. In the establishment now referred to, the machinery was turned, not by men, but by a mule, whose bones were found lying near. In the stable of the mule the racks and troughs were standing. Near the bake-ovens were the troughs where the dough was kneaded.

There was one oven which remained uninjured. It had two openings; the loaves went into one of these, in the shape of dough, and were taken out at the other opening baked. Everything seemed to be in a fine state of preservation, and the oven could be made use of again for a repetition of its work of eighteen centuries ago.

[Sidenote: STALE BREAD.]

The oven when found was full of bread. Some of the loaves were stamped to indicate that they were of wheat flour, and others to indicate that they were of bran flour. The oven had been carefully sealed, and there were no ashes in it. Eighty-one loaves were found in it, a little stale, to be sure, and very hard and black, but lying in the same order in which they were placed on the 23d of November in the year 79. The loaves weighed about a pound each. They are round, depressed in the centre, raised on the edges, and divided into eight lobes. Imagine an American pie which has been marked with the knife as if for cutting before it is placed in the oven, and you have an almost exact picture of a Pompeian loaf of bread. I did not try to eat it, partly because I prefer my bread fresh, and partly because the loaves are considered too precious to be given or sold to visitors.

Whoever goes to Pompeii thinking to find a perfect city will be very much disappointed.

The ruins of Pompeii, as the old lady said about the ruins of the Coliseum, are very much out of repair. The walls of the buildings are mostly standing, but the roofs and doors, which were constructed of wood, are gone, having rotted away in their long exposure to the moisture. Everything whatever, of wood, planks, or beams, was turned to ashes: all is uncovered, and there are no roofs to be seen.

Almost everywhere you walk under the open sky; everything is open, and if a shower were to come on, you would hardly find shelter. Imagine yourself in a city in process of building with only the first stories completed, and with no floorings for the second.

[Sidenote: ART IN POMPEII.]

Many of the statues and works of art have been carried to the Museum at Naples, so that in the old city itself, there are, comparatively, few curiosities of a portable character. The sky, the landscape, the sea-shore, the walls and the pavements are antique, and it is only the visitors and their guides that are modern. The streets are not repaired, the sidewalks are not changed, and we walk upon the same stones that were formerly trodden by the feet of the Pompeian merchant and his slave.

As we enter these narrow streets we can almost think we are quitting the century we live in, and going back to the century that witnessed the birth of Christ.

When first uncovered, the paintings of the walls were as fresh as though they were made but a week ago, the ashes having preserved them perfectly. In a few weeks or months their coloring fades, and they become dingy and hardly visible.

The Pompeians were great lovers of art; every wall is frescoed, and the mosaics on the floors are an interesting study. Statues adorn the interior of the dwellings, and abound in the public places: even the ordinary utensils of the kitchen were fashioned in a remarkable manner, and far more artistic than those of the present day. The most ordinary utensils of the household are specimens of art that evoke the admiration of every beholder.

As one walks through Pompeii he sees much to tell him that advertising is not altogether an invention of the present age. Placards and posters enlivened the streets; the walls were covered with them; and in many places there were whitewashed patches of wall, serving for the announcements which the writers wished to make public. These panels were dedicated entirely to the public business, and anybody had the right to paint upon them, in delicate and slender letters, the advertisements which we now find in the columns of the newspapers.

[Sidenote: ADVERTISING IN THE OLDEN TIME.]

Many of these announcements were of a political character, such as proclamations of candidates for public office. Pompeii was evidently swallowed up just before an election. In reading the posters you will find that sometimes it was a noble, sometimes a group of citizens, and sometimes a corporation of tradesmen, who recommended some one to the office of ædile or duumvir. Thus Paratus nominates Pansa; Philippus nominates Caius; Felix, and Valentinus, and his associates prefer Sabinus. Sometimes the elector was in a hurry, and asked to have his candidate chosen quickly. Sometimes a dozen guilds, such as the fruiterers, the porters, the mule drivers, the salt makers, carpenters, and others, united to urge the election of somebody.

Rather curiously, we found on some of these placards that the sleepers declared their preference for somebody, and it puzzled us to know who were these friends of sleep. Perhaps they may have been gentlemen who did not like noise, or perhaps they were an association of tumultuous fellows who thus disguised themselves under an ironical title. They may have been a type of the class who are described in the present slang of New York as roosters.

There were advertisements of lost property, hotels announcing rooms to let, stolen horses, performances at the theatres, and various other things, such as we see in the advertising papers, and in posters on the walls at the present day.

There were some of these posters devoted to what we call personals. Of course they were obscurely worded, so as to be understood only by those for whom they were intended. One of my companions asserted that one advertisement read, “Julia, same place, six P. M., Tuesday;” and another said, “Scipio, come back; all will be forgiven;” and another was, “Marcus has gone west, will return next week.”

I did not see these advertisements, and make the statement only on his authority. I might have been inclined to believe it had he not declared, with the most solemn visage, that he read an advertisement thus: “Secure me a suit of rooms on the Boston steamer to-morrow.” This was too much; and I told him that business was played out.

There were inscriptions in reference to the cleanliness of the city; and some of them recalled, in terms too precise and definite for modern times, the announcement of the present day, “Commit no Nuisance.”

Pompeii was not a large city; it contained only about thirty thousand inhabitants, and was rather a suburb than a great national dwelling-place. The Rome of that day was many times larger; and when we are considering the buried city, we must remember that we are considering a small hamlet rather than a large capital.

[Sidenote: PICTURE OF THE DESTRUCTION.]

A volume might be filled with descriptions of Pompeii and its contents; the forum, the theatres, the dwellings, the tombs, the baths, the shops, the stables, the gardens, are all interesting. According to the histories, it was during a festival that the eruption took place. We may imagine the picture, that while the amphitheatre was crowded and gladiatorial combats were in progress, the earth shook, and the sky was dark with the clouds of smoke and ashes rising from the great volcano. The Pompeians rushed from the amphitheatre, and were overtaken by the shower of stones, and the deluge of ashes falling like a burning snow upon the streets; the dust fills the streets. Heaps of the burning ashes break through the houses, crushing the tiles and burning the rafters; the fire falls from story to story, and accumulates like earth thrown in to fill a trench. The amphitheatre is speedily ingulfed, and no one remains in it but the dead gladiators, and the prisoners enclosed in their cages, from which there is no escape. Those who have sheltered themselves under the shops, and in the arcade, were buried beneath the ashes and stones.

Skeletons are found everywhere, indicating how people were overtaken in their flight. Here is a fallen woman grasping a bag of jewels; near by is the skeleton of a man with a bunch of keys in one hand, and the remains of a bag of coins in the other. A woman holding a child in her arms took shelter in an oven, and was enclosed there. A soldier, faithful to his duty, remains at his post before the gate of the city, one hand upon his mouth, and the other on his spear, and in this brave attitude he died. The family of Diomed assembled in his cellar, where seventeen victims, women and children, were buried alive, clinging closely to each other. The last agony of these poor wretches is terrible to imagine.

A priest of Isis, enveloped in flames, and unable to escape into the street, cut through two walls with an axe, and fell at the foot of the third, still clutching his weapon. A goat was found crouched in an oven with its bell still attached to its neck. Prisoners were found with their ankles riveted to iron bars. Everywhere skeletons have been discovered, and they all picture the anguish and terror the sufferers endured on the day of the eruption.

[Sidenote: OBSCENITY OF THE POMPEIANS.]

Many moralists, those who consider that Sodom and Gomorrah were destroyed as a punishment for their crimes, are of opinion that Pompeii was also destroyed because of its wickedness. The discoveries in that city are, many of them, of a character not to be described in public prints, especially by the aid of the engraver’s art, at the present day. Some of the eardrops worn by the women were curious to behold. Lamps were fashioned in forms quite as obscene as they are fantastic; and the same may be said of the chandeliers, and of many of the utensils used in ordinary life. Curiously engraved seals are found that would hardly be suitable to impress to-day on the back of a letter, and there were paintings on many of the walls that should be covered from fastidious eyes.

Certain houses which in American cities are visited by stealth, and whose locality is, to a certain extent, shrouded in obscurity, were boldly designated by various symbols cut upon the stones of the sidewalks and upon the lintels of the doors. Many of these objects have been preserved, and are now in the Museum at Naples; they have been placed in apartments by themselves, where any curious visitor may examine them; and those who are curious in such matters I respectfully refer to the Museum. The impressions on the sidewalks and over the doors remain as they were, and may be examined by any tourist who is interested in their study.

[Sidenote: NEW EXCAVATIONS.]

In the autumn of 1876, new excavations have been commenced in Pompeii, and judge of the astonishment of the excavators, when, while digging for unknown treasures, they come to a second city beneath the one known to the reader. It has been buried there perhaps centuries before New Pompeii was built, under lava and sulphurous matter, and the architects, probably not knowing of the fact, erected their houses on top of those of their forefathers. It almost seems that Art, in the first-buried city, was far more advanced than in the latter. Marvels of art and architecture have been found, and when we enter one of those splendid edifices, and admire its paintings and statuary, we are struck with admiration for the great accomplishments of men who lived centuries before the birth of Christ.

Let us enter one of these houses, and see how they are built, and at the same time admire the freschi, paintings, and statuary which adorn the graceful abode of the ancients.

We enter the house by the vestibulum, or hall, and come into the atrium, a large square, paved with marble, inlaid with the richest mosaic of various colors. A row of pillars, adorned with the most beautiful freschi, border it on the right and left, and between them doors may be seen, which lead into bedrooms. The two last rooms on the sides of this open space leave two small recesses, which are furnished in the richest manner, and probably served as small reception-rooms. In the center of this atrium is an impluvium, or small reservoir, generally provided with a fountain. Over this impluvium the roof is open, and the sky may be seen. Going onward, right opposite the entrance, we enter into the tablinum, which is not provided with a door, and allows a free view over the atrium. This room probably served for a large reception-room, as the most costly paintings and the richest furniture are found here. On the right-hand side of this room we find the triclinium, or dining-room, and on the other side a cabinet of curiosities and gems is found. Between this last apartment and the reception-room, a small passage is seen, which probably served for the slaves, as they were not allowed to go through the reception-room of their master. These rooms all open on the peristyle, another oblong square, which has on either side a row of sleeping-rooms, which probably were destined for the afternoon nap of the old Romans. No beds are to be seen in them, only large, commodious lounges.

[Sidenote: DESCRIPTION OF A HOUSE.]

At the end of this peristyle, which also is adorned with pillars and statuary, and we may readily except flowers and plants of the richest fragrance, we enter into a second eating-room, for the Romans had one dining-hall for the winter, and one for the summer, or one for ordinary, and another for festive occasions. A cabinet, dignified with the name of library, is, in most cases, on the right-hand side of this room, and in these apartments have been found many rolls of papyrus (the reader will remember that the art of printing was not invented before the fifteenth century after Christ), containing manuscripts. On the other side was generally the kitchen. From this last eating-room we enter into the viridarium, or garden. Modern imagination can scarcely imagine the beauty and luxury of this cool place of resort. Fountains of fragrant waters here filled the air with sweet perfume, and we do not wonder that this place was devoted to a rest after dinner, and the abode of love. The wall, which terminates the garden and the house, is screened by the most beautiful plants, which overshadow superb statuary, and we may imagine the beautiful view which may be had from the atrium, through the different rooms (as no doors interfere) to the green background, variegated by the colors of flowers and the rich curtains, whose folds partly conceal the tablinum and the second dining-room.

The houses consist generally of one single floor, unless they are very large, and we may easily see, from the plan here described, that there is space enough for the comfort of all the inhabitants, and the enjoyment of the numerous guests.

[Sidenote: ANCIENT PAINTINGS.]

If we wished to give a description of all the treasures found in those ancient abodes, we might fill volumes, and therefore we will only mention some of the most remarkable features of the recent excavations. One picture has been exhumed at Pompeii, representing the Three Graces, which Raphael, of course, could not possibly have seen, yet the two compositions, although of different dimensions, are precisely the same—in grouping, in form, in expression, and even in charm. Now, not even a sketch of the picture was known until long after the middle of the eighteenth century, while the actual picture is a modern revelation altogether. Another fact was discovered: Raphael, copying a statue, applied the very same process to his painting which had been employed by his predecessors fifteen centuries previously. Within the last few years, forty figures have been redeemed from out these artistic tombs, which were evidently details of an immense composition, intended for the adornment of a theater or banqueting-hall, besides those, pictures of lightly-clad figures, floating through the air, relieved against brown, black, and crimson skies, with masses of carnation-cloud beneath their feet, and gems hanging, so to speak, around them, enveloped in robes of hyacinth, blue, green, and so on, the colors appearing to be laid thickly on vitrified surfaces. It is a wonder to all artists how those colors were laid on, not only as far as the magnificent coloring goes, but even in what way it was done. We find painting in relief on the smoothest surface of white marble; statuary even has been painted in the most masterly way, and we see auburn and blonde hair painted in a way which deceives even the sharpest observer; if we did not know better, we would think that the statue had natural hair,—all the gloss and the true tinge glowing through it is illustrated to absolute perfection.

The Neapolitan chemists, of course, are very eager to unravel this secret of their forefathers. Many a piece of painting has been analyzed; many a fragment of painted beauty has been destroyed by acids. However, till now, they did not succeed, and perhaps the art will be for ever a mystery to us.

Upon the whole, as this antique city is thrown more and more open to modern light, it proves to be the richest memorial extant of Grecian genius, as represented by an art so different from, and still at the same time so kindred to, sculpture. In most other classic centers, while the form and the purity have survived, the color and the splendor have faded; but here, as chamber after chamber, gallery after gallery is opened, a new beauty of the past appears, freshly vivified by the long-excluded light, and, as we are assured, labyrinths of interest remain yet to be explored.

[Sidenote: AN ANCIENT WINE-SHOP.]

A wine-shop was lately found at Pompeii, roughly ornamented with imitations of marbles in fresco. Over the podium of the front room runs a band of stucco, with four groups or scenes painted on a white ground. The first, on the left, represents a young man kissing a woman dressed in yellow garments, with black shoes. She says, “Nolo, cym myrta” * * “I don’t want to be kissed; go to your Myrtalis.” The second scene represents, very likely, the same woman talking to Myrtalis, who says, “Non mia, est.” They both point their fingers at a third female, bringing in a great wine-jar and a glass. She says, “Qui vol. symat oceane, veni. bibe,” an invitation to partake of the drink. The third scene represents two gamblers seated, having the chess-board on their knees, on which several latrunculi are seen disposed in rows of different colors, yellow, black, white. The one on the left is just throwing the dice, and says, “Exsi,” “I won.” The other answers, pointing to the dice, “Non tria, duas est,” “You have got two, not three.” Both fight in the fourth scene. One says, “Non it a me, tria, ego, fvi,” “I did not throw two, but three. I have won.” The other answers, “Orte fellator ego fvi,” “You ——! I have the game.” At this moment the shop-keeper comes in, and pushing them outside, says, “Itis, foras, riksatis,” “Go out to quarrel.”

XII.

VESUVIUS AND ITS ERUPTIONS.

THE GREAT ERUPTION OF VESUVIUS.—WHAT IT DID.—THREE CITIES WIPED OUT.—LAVA AND ITS CHARACTER.—GOING TO THE MOUNTAIN.—SKIRMISHING WITH GUIDES AND BEGGARS.—ARCHITECTURAL STEEDS.—A HORSE WITH A HAND RAIL AROUND HIM.—COAT-HOOKS TO LET.—A MOTLEY CROWD.—HOW AN AMERICAN WAS MOUNTED.—A NEW MODE OF SPURRING.—THE ROAD FROM RESINA.—BURNING LAVA.—CROSSING THE LAVA BEDS.—CLIMBING ON FOOT.—HAPS AND MISHAPS.—AN ENGLISHMAN’S ACCIDENT.—LIGHTING A CIGAR AT THE CRATER.—SUFFOCATED BY SULPHUR FUMES.—DOWN AMONG THE ASHES.—A LONG FALL AND SLIDE.—IN HERCULANEUM.—UNDERGROUND BENEATH THE CITY.—“LOOK HERE.”—HOW THE CITY WAS DISCOVERED.—THE ERUPTION OF 1872.—HORRIBLE SCENES.—EXTENT OF THE DESTRUCTION.

The eruption of Vesuvius that buried Pompeii destroyed Herculaneum at the same time. Some historians contend that the occurrences were not identical in point of time; but, after all, it makes little difference to us whether the two cities were simultaneously destroyed or not. The probability is, and it is pretty well settled, that while the ashes and stones from the crater of Vesuvius were blown upon Pompeii, the lava and mud flowed in the direction of Herculaneum, and covered it. A third city, Stabiæ, was destroyed at the same time—a fact which is not generally known. Castellamare, a well-known summer resort near Naples, stands on the site of Stabiæ, whose excavations, not having promised very well, were filled up soon after they were begun.

The lava which flows from a volcano during violent eruptions is a composition of melted stone and oxide of iron. The stone is mainly feldspar and hornblende. There is a good deal of sulphur also in the lava when it rises in the volcano, but the most of it is thrown out in the form of sulphurous fumes. The lava very much resembles the slag or scoriæ flowing from an iron foundery, and, when suddenly cooled, it assumes a glassy character. When it consolidates or cools, it forms what are known as volcanic rocks. If the streams of lava are cooled under no other pressure than that of the atmosphere, they assume a porous appearance. Lava, cooled under the surface of the water is much more compact, and where it is cooled under heavy masses of earth and rock, it becomes quite solid.

[Sidenote: STARTING FOR VESUVIUS.]

Our party visited Herculaneum after making a journey to Vesuvius. We wished to see the volcano first, and afterwards to explore the city which it had destroyed. We rode out of Naples, after our usual struggle with the hackman, and at Resina left our carriage to proceed on horseback. About half the population gathered to see us off. A staff, or heavy stick, is considered indispensable, and each of us purchased one from the crowd of boys and men, whose wooden material was sufficient for starting a small forest. I think our selection was made from about two hundred and forty-seven sticks, which they simultaneously presented in our faces, and with the demands of the venders and the piteous appeals of forty or fifty beggars, we had, for a few minutes, a concord of sweet Italian sounds.

As soon as we had bought the sticks we used them to clear away the crowd, and as we were all young, reasonably powerful, and as indignant as we were powerful, we made a clear circle around us in a very short time. Then we bargained for animals on which to ride. I obtained a horse, something like those with which the famous Mackerel Brigade was equipped.

[Sidenote: REMARKABLE STEEDS.]

My horse had no hand rail along his deck, by which to cling on, though his back-bone had a close resemblance to a rail with a great many knots on it. He had an elegant selection of knobs sticking out all over him, on which to hang superfluous coats and other garments. One of my companions offered to charter two of the knobs as coat-hooks, but immediately withdrew his offer when the horse which he was to ride was brought out. Mine looked like a frame with a skin drawn over it, but his resembled a frame without any skin. I suggested that, when he got through the journey, he might sell out his horse to be used as a lantern for a light-house, and that the ribs would give a peculiar effect to the rays of light.

The third man of the party obtained a mule that had lost one ear, and had his tail eaten off by the rats. The beast had a habit of going backward faster than forward, and before we had gone a mile we asked the guide to shift the saddle so that our friend’s face could be turned towards the stern of his craft; but the guide insisted that such a thing had never been done, and that the mule would be all right if the man behind him would give an occasional prod with his stick. The fourth man was mounted on a donkey, or mule, or horse; I cannot say exactly what the animal was, but he seemed to be a mixture of the three, with a small infusion of bull-dog and rhinoceros.

He had a hide that would turn a six-pound shot, and as for cudgelling, he rather enjoyed it than otherwise. His rider had brought along a pair of spurs, which he picked up a day or so before in Naples. He proposed to show us his skill in mulemanship, but the mule was so small, and his rider’s legs were so long, that the latter could not reach the beast with his heels. I suggested a dodge which I had seen in practice before. With the spurs on his heels my friend found his feet too far aft, when he raised them, to do any good; I accordingly suggested that, if he buckled the spurs on just below the knees, he would find them to be of more advantage. He tried it with one spur, which had a perceptible effect on the activity of the animal; but, unfortunately, the activity was sidewise, or backwards, or in circles, and not straight ahead. The beast either sidled along the track, or else went in quick plunges, in a way that was very uncomfortable. Our whole cavalcade, considered as an average, did not get along very fast, and every fifteen minutes we had a grand kicking plunge all round; but we were all sufficiently accustomed to the saddle to save ourselves from being thrown. We made about three miles an hour each along the route, or fifteen miles an hour for the five of us, which, on the whole, was not to be considered bad.

The road from Resina winds along sometimes over the lava beds, and sometimes on a carriage-way, constructed at great expense, but now almost entirely useless. In some places the lava, though it had been lying there several years, was quite warm, and there were cracks, from which the heat steadily issued. Lava requires a long time for cooling, and sometimes, where it is of great depth, it will not cool enough for one to walk upon it within two years after it has flowed from the mountain. We got along very well, assisted as we were by the native loafers, who followed us, and occasionally took a turn at, or, rather, with, our animal’s tails. With the mild beasts they got along very well, and I think the animals would have had their tails twisted off before breaking into a run; but the vicious beasts did not like the arrangement, and they either quickened their pace, or let fly their heels at the twisters.

[Sidenote: A SAFE HORSE.]

My horse had been warranted to me as a safe beast, and after we had fairly started, I found that he was pretty nearly as safe as a dead horse. When he began to climb the mountain, he really seemed to be more dead than alive, and no persuasion, whether with my stick or heels, could induce him to break into a run. When we reached the foot of the cone, half a dozen boys offered to hold him; but I concluded he had better hold the boys—one was quite sufficient to keep him quiet while we made the upward journey.

The real work of climbing Vesuvius began at the foot of the cone. The beasts that had brought us would not go beyond this point, and so we dismounted. After refreshing ourselves with a bottle of villanous wine, that tasted of sulphur, sewer-water, and other delightful things, we removed our coats and started upward. There was a fresh lot of loafers, who wanted to assist us. They had chairs strung upon two poles, by which four men could carry a person to the summit. The chairs were very good things in their way, but I preferred to walk, and so did my companions. The path sloped at an angle of forty-five degrees, and was made up of ashes and stones. The natives had arranged the stones in such a way, that a person could step from one to another without great difficulty, only that it happened that the stones were so far apart that they occasionally needed a pretty wide step.

[Sidenote: SEDAN CHAIRS.]

Finding I would not be carried in a chair, the loafers importuned me to be dragged up with a strap or rope. A stout fellow went in front of me, and continually pressed me to seize a strap which he invitingly pushed before my nose. I repeatedly told him that I did not want it; but he stuck to me half way up, and then concluded I was a bad bargain. As I would not accept his offer of assistance, he proposed that I should give him half a franc to leave me. This I refused to do, and told him he might go to the summit if he liked, and enjoy the scenery; but he wanted no summit, unless he could earn something. He started back down the mountain, and I had the pleasure of seeing him miss his footing, and roll to the bottom. I learned afterwards that, most unfortunately, he did not break his neck, and was not seriously injured.

I have had a good deal of climbing in my life, but that was the worst thirteen hundred feet I ever made at one time and in one piece. I had to stop several times on the way up, in order to take breath, and something with it to make the breath go down. One of my friends suggested giving it up when near the summit; he said there had been a great mistake in the statements of the guides and guide-books. I asked him how it was, and he said, “We were informed that donkeys go only to the foot of the cone, and not to the top; but it is my impression that there are now four of the greatest donkeys in the known world trying to reach the summit.” We forgave him for his joke, and, after a mouthful of bad wine, he felt better, and proceeded.

For a good deal of the distance where we climbed it seemed as if we slipped back one step for every two or three that we took forward, and in some places we slipped back two steps where we went forward one. An exhausted Englishman was just ahead of us, and his misery gave us great comfort. One of the Italians had a leather strap fastened about his own neck, and persuaded the Englishman to take hold of it. Another Italian went before the first, and held on to a strap around the first man’s waist. Another Italian went behind the Englishman, and pushed him ahead, so that he managed to get along very fairly.

[Sidenote: AN ENGLISHMAN’S MISHAP.]

At a critical moment the rear Italian slipped; the Englishman slipped next, and pulled down the two fellows in front. The result was, that the whole four were doubled up in a heap, rolled over in the ashes, and lost about fifty feet of distance before they could recover themselves. For about a minute there was a confused mass of legs, arms, and curses, some Italian and some English, which drew forth shouts of laughter from the spectators. The enraged Britisher did not like the journey, and gave up the attempt as a bad job. We were sorry for this, as we expected him to be suffocated in the sulphur fumes at the top, and afford us an opportunity to observe his agony.

When we reached the summit we sat down to rest, and take a little wine. Then the guide led us around to the crater, where the fumes of sulphur and clouds of steam were rising out of the volcano, and around a great, yawning gulf, that was a complete mass of fire. We had to hold our kerchiefs over our noses to save us from suffocation, and even with this it was almost impossible to breathe. The crater, at that time, was comparatively small,—at least, so they told me,—but it seemed to me a very fair crater for all practical purposes. The flames filled it from side to side. Their colors were white, purple, yellow, and crimson, and they threw up clouds of smoke and steam. It seemed as if the summit of the mountain was hollow, and might easily be broken in. If a man should fall into the crater, his chance of escape would be as good as if he was dropped into the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, with a twenty ton anchor fastened to his neck.

It seemed to me as if there might be an eruption at any moment, and I wanted to get away from the place; but the guide said there was no danger, that the crater always filled up before an explosion, and that they knew days and weeks beforehand when it would occur. To convince me that there was no danger, he said that he had a family to support, and wanted to live, though I could see no reason why, and he had no hesitation in going close up to the edge. Although I had no family to support, I knew a man who had one. I therefore concluded to do as he did, and so crept up and looked over, holding the kerchief all the while to my face.

[Sidenote: LOOKING INTO THE CRATER.]

A very brief gaze was sufficient for me, not because the sight was less grand than I had expected, but because the fumes of sulphur were so strong that I feared I might faint, and in falling, drop into that confounded hole. There are various modes of death which I should consider disreputable, and dropping into a volcano is one of them.

We went so near to the fire that I lighted my cigar at the flames of Vesuvius, and as I was quite weary I enjoyed the cigar with a great deal of relish. We cooked some eggs which we purchased of an Italian speculator. He had brought them up at a venture, and provided himself with salt and bread, and a few bottles of wine, so that we were able to make a comfortable meal. Our appetites had been sharpened by the labor of climbing, and we made a hearty repast, the more so as a view was displayed before us which I will not easily forget. Gold and blue, that brilliant gold of the sun, a whole world of cheerful beams, and a splendid azure-blue is lying upon the sea under us. That is a sky so magnificent, so many-colored, as no other country has ever seen. Yonder lies Capri, there Procida, and at a little distance Ischia, all floating upon the water, like so many boats, adorned with many-colored flags, all splendor, all charm. This wreath of villages and cities, washed by the bay of Naples, glistens like marble, and yonder, where the sea pierces so deep in the land, is Naples. That charming city is surrounded by landscapes of the brightest hues, blue, green, life and joy! The Neapolitans, proud of this gem, call her “a piece of paradise lost upon the earth.” A view of the bay of Naples from the top of Vesuvius is probably the most charming one upon earth. The great difficulty of the ascension, and the still greater annoyance of the beggars; and the enormous number of curious visitors, has led a company to project a railroad, which does away with all such troubles. The distance from the suburbs of Naples to the top of Vesuvius is twenty-six miles, twenty-three of which are to be laid with ordinary railroad tracks, and the distance from Atrio del Cavallo to the top, which is the steepest stretch, being three miles, is a wire-rope road, which prevents the cars from sliding back over the steep plane. The plan is made to have the whole road covered with a vaulted roof of lava, to a distance of about one hundred feet from the crater, which will at the same time divide the streaming lava into two tributaries, running on either side of the road, which is built of lava also, and is elevated. The model of the road is the same as that of the Rigi. One of the stations of the road is the observatory of Prof. Palmieri, who here feels the pulse of the mountain. He showed us, with the greatest courtesy, the different scientific instruments of which he makes use for his investigations. It would take too much space to describe them here; let it suffice to say that they enable the professor to make his calculations to a nicety, and that we really may say that he “feels the pulse” of the mountain; he not only knows what is going on at the moment in this great reservoir of lava, but he is able to predict an approaching eruption.

[Sidenote: THE PROJECTED RAILROAD.]

Going down the mountain was much easier than going up. We did not go down at the same place where we made the ascent, but went a little to one side, where we could walk down through the ashes. The first step or so is a little trying to the nerves, but after two or three steps you acquire confidence and then let yourself out. All you need to do is to stand erect, throw your head back, and start off, putting one foot before the other in a dignified sort of way. The ashes are generally dry and dusty, but at the time of my descent they had just been moistened by a slight fall of rain, so that no dust arose from them. Our feet settled in the ashes up to the ankles, and at every step we went forward six or eight yards. It took us an hour and a quarter to climb the mountain, and we came down in seven minutes, including a halt on the way to make love to an English girl, who had slipped, and was unable to pick herself up. We assisted her to her feet, and lost a minute or two in our work of gallantry.

[Sidenote: RACING IN THE LAVA BEDS.]

A countryman of ours who attempted to come down just behind us was not quite as successful as ourselves. He managed to pitch forward and turn a very pretty somersault; but the exercise did not improve his personal appearance or his temper. When he brought himself to rights, and reached the place where the horses were standing, he was very much dilapidated, and as cross as a bear with a chewed ear.

It is hard work to ascend Vesuvius, but it is jolly fun to come down.

We mounted our animals and came away. On the steepest part of the descending road, we tried to get up a race, thinking that the laws of gravitation would help us. Part of the beasts were induced to run, but there were two or three out of which no speed could be made faster than a walk. Even a descent as steep as the roof of an ordinary house had no temptations for them, and I wanted to try the experiment of flinging them over a precipice, to see whether they could be started into anything like a respectable pace. I have my doubts about it; and had they been flung from a perpendicular cliff, I think they would have come down through the air as majestically and as calmly as a parachute descends from a balloon.

When we reached Resina, we rode to Herculaneum. The modern discovery of this city resulted from digging a well in the year 1709. The site of the city had been lost, owing to the great depth—nearly one hundred feet—of the solid material which covered it. Properly speaking, Herculaneum was destroyed by liquid mud, rather than by burning lava. Since the destruction of the city, there have been six different overflows of lava, so that for all practical purposes the site is covered with this solid material.

When the well referred to was being made, the workmen came upon another well; an ancient affair, nearly eighty feet from the surface. Several works of art were brought to light, but for some reason the government of Naples prohibited the explorations. Thirty years later, they have been renewed, and have since been prosecuted at different intervals. At the present time the excavations are continued with much zeal, and startling discoveries are being made.

As was the case with Pompeii, so over ancient Herculaneum a new city has been built. Underground passages have been explored like those of a mine, without uncovering them to the light of day. One great difficulty of the excavations exists in the fact that whilst Pompeii, at the time of the great eruption, was covered with ashes, Herculaneum was covered with liquid lava, which, if not exposed to the air, requires sometimes two or three years to cool off, but then it is almost as hard as flag-stone. It is easily to be seen that under such difficulties the excavations but slowly progressed; the more so, as the digging has to be done very carefully, so as not to mar the relics, for which the excavation properly is done.

It is not often that articles are found at a height above four feet from the floor, as their weight naturally carried them downwards through the soft mass of ashes. The digging is therefore rapidly prosecuted until the uniform above level has been attained. After this, the workmen carefully examine every piece of lava which they extract by small portions. As soon as the experienced eye of any worker recognizes the indications of a mold being formed in the lava, labor near that point is stopped, and tamping irons are cautiously inserted to make two or three vents in the cavity. Then liquid plaster is poured in; and after being left sufficiently long to harden, the lava is taken away, and the cast is removed.

[Sidenote: A YOUNG MAN AND A YOUNG LADY.]

In this way some curious facts have been brought to light. Two skeletons were found in close embrace, the teeth perfect, indicating youth in its prime; skeletons of a young man and maid. They had fallen together in their flight, and death had wedded them. There was a mother with her three children, hand-in-hand, who tried vainly to outrun death. Perhaps the mother, singly, might have done it, but she could not leave her children. Plenty of food for sad thought is furnished in remembering that at Herculaneum and Pompeii, six hundred skeletons have already been exhumed!—many in such positions and circumstances as to suggest very touching episodes accompanying the final catastrophe.

The skeleton of a dove was found in a niche overlooking the garden of a house. She had kept to her post, notwithstanding the shower of hot, death-dealing lava. She sat on her nest through all the storm, shielding the egg which was taken from beneath her.

[Sidenote: THE STREETS OF HERCULANEUM.]

The streets of Herculaneum are all paved with lava, just as the streets of Naples are paved to-day. One street is more than thirty feet wide, and furnished with raised sidewalks. The houses were mostly of brick, and in general appearance and structure like those of Pompeii, which we described before. Magnificent pieces of art were taken out of them, but it is to be deplored that the paintings, as a rule, fade as soon as they are exposed to the light of day. Many statues and busts and pieces of furniture claim our highest admiration; they are admirably executed, and evince a highly-cultivated taste. Various musical and surgical instruments, and boxes, and many utensils belonging to the kitchen and toilet, call our attention, especially those of the kitchen, the utensils being very variegated, and mostly manufactured of copper lined with silver. Many imitations of precious stones have been found; they naturally excite the curiosity of the chemist, who is eager to know how the old Romans produced them. Most of these articles are now exhibited in the Museum of Naples, where the paintings are kept under glass, which precaution prevents the fading of the brilliant colors as much as possible.

Herculaneum possessed a theater, which claims our greatest attention, as it is the most important building discovered. It was able to contain eight thousand persons. Its walls are highly decorated, and its floors and pillars were constructed of different colored marble.

[Sidenote: SIGNOR FIORELLI.]

Signor Fiorelli, the Italian engineer who supervises the excavations at Herculaneum and Pompeii, claims that Pompeii did not contain more than 12,000 inhabitants at the time of the eruption, although it has generally been supposed that the population was from 20,000 to 50,000.

Eight gates have been discovered, and the roads outside of them are lined on each side with tombs of considerable size and architectural pretension. The street of tombs, before the gate of Herculaneum, was probably the principal burial place of the city; and the sepulchral monuments adorning it, give evidence of the refined taste and great wealth of the prominent inhabitants. The streets, which, for the most part, run in regular lines, are, with some exceptions, barely wide enough to admit a single vehicle. Five of the main streets have been partially or wholly traced, and with these a regular system of minor streets appear to have been connected. The thoroughfares, with a single exception, terminate in or traverse the western quarter of the city, which is the only part yet completely explored.

The Italian government at present liberally assisting the excavations, the space now laid bare measures about 670,000 square feet, or one-third the whole area occupied by the city. Signor Fiorelli calculates that, making the excavations on an average twenty-five feet deep, and employing eighty-one laborers daily, the whole city will be unearthed in 1947.

Our descent into Herculaneum was by a staircase opening from a small house, where we found a number of guides in uniform. We paid our two francs each, and were remitted to the care of a guide, who pretended to speak English, but, to our great amusement, we soon found out that the whole extent of his English vocabulary amounted to: “Look here!” which precluded every explanation given in Italian. His knowledge of English only tended to make his Italian sound very funny indeed.

After we had seen all that was noteworthy, we mounted the steps into the open air, and returned to Naples. When passing Mt. Vesuvius, our guide told us, that indications of an eruption had been observed, and really in the following year the eruptions came. It did much damage and attracted many visitors to Naples, but it did not equal in extent or magnificence the great eruption of 1872. This outbreak began on the 23d of April, and was at once the grandest and most terrible of all the eruptions that have occurred during this generation.

[Sidenote: THE ERUPTION OF 1872.]

For some days previous to the outbreak the mountain gave indications of approaching activity, and when the eruption began, hundreds of people observed it from the old lava beds between the observatory and the town of Resina, and some of them remained there during the whole of the night of April 25. Early the next morning two great seams opened under these spectators’ feet; hot sulphurous vapors enveloped them, and as they sought safety in flight, great rivers of lava rushed out of the newly-opened craters, and threatened the frightened sight-seers with speedy destruction. Some found the earth under them too hot to be walked upon, and, falling down, perished where they were. Others were suffocated by the gaseous emanations from the earth, and still others were so injured that they died after reaching a place of safety.

In the towns and villages around the volcano the destruction of property was very great, but the people generally escaped by timely flight.

In all the towns the terror was wide-spread. Nine distinct craters were opened, and lava streams, some of them sixteen feet deep, ran down the sides of the mountains, destroying everything in their paths. Several of the villages were almost entirely buried in ashes, as ancient Pompeii was in the eruption previously described. Even in Naples, people were almost smothered with the shower of dust, cinders, and sand that poured down for days. Every window was kept closed, and every traveller through the streets was compelled to protect himself by carrying an umbrella; and there were serious fears, on the part of the timid, that the beautiful Italian city of to-day was to play the tragic part of Pompeii in a repetition of the terrible scenes of eighteen hundred years ago.

Many people lost their lives, some in consequence of remaining to protect their property, and others from venturing too near out of motives of curiosity. At one time a group of fifty or more people were surrounded by the lava, and burned to death in sight of those who were powerless to aid them. They were standing on a little hill, and did not see, until too late, that the lava had flowed around it, and placed them on an island, as it were, with a red-hot river all around them. Many others were burned by the lava and the hot blasts which came from it in various parts of its course. A gentleman who witnessed the eruption thus describes the scene in a letter written from Naples on the 27th of April, 1872:—

[Sidenote: STORY OF AN EYE-WITNESS.]

“Yesterday morning I went out to get a carriage to go up Mount Vesuvius, and on my way I was asked by a respectable looking man in the street if I had heard the news of the night. He then told me that hundreds of people, who had gone up the night before to see the burning lava in the Atrio di Cavallo, were dead. I had seen the mountain at eleven o’clock the night before, when there was a stream of lava running from the top of the cone into the Atrio—that is, the valley between Vesuvius and the adjoining hill, the Somma, where there seemed to be a lake of fire. Later in the night there was a tremendous eruption, a large crater opening suddenly between the Observatory and the Atrio di Cavallo, across the path of the visitors, it is said, of a mile in diameter. We started from Naples at eight o’clock. The view of the mountain was magnificent. An enormous cloud of dense white smoke was ascending to an immense height above the mountain, like great fleeces of cotton wool, quite unlike any cloud I ever saw. I could see the lava rushing from several openings to the right of and above the Observatory, but below the cone. The lava was still flowing from the cone into the Atrio, but no ash or dust was thrown up. We drove on to Resina, where the population were in fearful excitement, not knowing what to do, and apparently apprehensive of instant death—everybody making signs to us, and telling us to go back. We went on to the Piazza di Pugliano, where we were stopped and told that no one was allowed to go up the mountain, by order of the police. However, after some expostulation, I took a guide on the box and started again.

[Sidenote: AN ISLAND OF FIRE.]

“A few minutes afterwards we met a cart bringing down a dead body, and as we went on we saw other bodies—at least twelve—of which one only appeared to be living. They were frightfully burned on the face and hands, and some, which were carried on chairs, in a sitting position, were very ghastly objects. Further on we met people—officials, apparently—coming down, all warning us to go back. At last, when we had arrived at an elbow of the road not far below the Observatory, we met the officer who has charge of the Observatory, who said we could not go on; that the danger was imminent; that the lava was running across and down the road before us; that he had orders from the prefect of Naples to prevent any one ascending, and that we could not pass. My coachman was getting a little anxious, though I will do him the justice to say he was not afraid; so I consented not to take the carriage beyond a turn in the road above us to the right, especially as I did not wish to meet the lava in a narrow road where we could not turn the carriage. We left the carriage there, and ascended on foot with the guide by a path straight up the mountain-side.

“At length we stood on the edge of the flat ground reaching to the foot of the cone. Currents of lava were running down on both sides of us far below; the craters from which they flowed were hidden by the smoke; clouds of smoke were ascending from the top of the cone, and the lava still pouring down the Atrio. The roar of the mountain, which we had first heard at Portici was now tremendous, continuous, and unlike anything else I ever heard,—millions of peals of thunder rolling at the same time,—when suddenly, about noon, there was a cessation, with a low, rolling sound; and one heard the ticking and rippling of the lava currents pouring down the hill-sides below. Then, in about a minute, came a deafening roar, shaking the ground under our feet; and a new crater burst forth just on the other side of the Observatory, as it seemed to us, and dense clouds of ashes and stones were thrown up into the air on the left hand of, and mingling with, the great white cloud, making a great contrast with the dark-brown dust and ashes, which rose perpendicularly to an immense height. The roaring continued and kept on increasing till it became deafening, and I began to think it might injure our ears. We staid there about an hour and a half.

[Sidenote: A MAGNIFICENT SCENE.]

“The scene was magnificent, the smoke occasionally clearing away and giving us the view towards the Atrio, that towards the cone being always clear; but as some of our party fancied that the ground might open under our feet, and that we might find ourselves in the midst of a new crater, I at length reluctantly sent the guide to bring up the carriage. Had I been alone I should have staid there till the evening. When we had gone down a short distance the same phenomena again appeared. The sudden cessation of the tremendous roaring, the clicking and rippling of the falling lava, and the low muttering became then again audible; then the fearful roar, and the shaking of the ground, and another crater burst forth on the flank of the mountain, below the Observatory, sending up clouds of dust and ashes, which rolled over and over till they reached an enormous height, but quite separate from the other clouds. All this time the sun was shining in an Italian sky without a cloud.

“After stopping some time to admire the scene, we continued our descent; but before we reached the bottom of the hill we saw the lava from the last crater tearing its way down through the vineyards to our right with wonderful rapidity. Just an hour after we left the top of the hill the cone commenced sending up torrents of stones, which fell in all directions; but whether the red-hot hail reached our position on the height I know not. When we reached Resina it was curious to see the congratulations for what they thought our escape on the faces of the people. The uncertainty and the panic were gone, and they were steadily packing up their beds and the few things they could carry, and starting with every sort of conveyance to put their guardian saint, St. Gennaro, between them and the danger. When I started from Naples I expected to find all the world at the top of the mountain; but, to my great surprise, there was not a single stranger there—only the few persons employed in bringing down the dead. I believe the police prevented any carriage passing after ours. The awful roaring of the mountain continued and increased till midnight, when it ceased, and only roared again for a short time about four o’clock. To-day the mountain is quieter, and the Neapolitans are a trifle less pale. The view of the mountain at midnight was grand in the extreme.”

[Sidenote: THE ERUPTION SUBSIDING.]

Several villages were destroyed in this eruption, and many acres of vines were covered with lava and ashes. But as soon as the eruption was over, many of those who had fled returned to whatever of their old homes they could find. There is something strange in the fascination of the people for the places which they are well aware are liable at any time to the lava torrent or the storm of ashes. Eruptions have occurred, and will occur again; but all the reasoning you can offer would not induce these Italian peasants to go and live elsewhere.

At the present time Professor Palmieri reports from his observatory, near the top of the crater, that symptoms have been observed by him which indicate a new eruption, and strange to say, the Italians, who are accustomed to live constantly in danger, quietly look out for the occurrence, living at the very foot of the death-dealing mountain. The soil is extremely fertile, and eagerness for wealth seems here even to expel fear for death.

XIII.

THE CAVERNS OF NAPLES.

EXCAVATIONS NEAR NAPLES.—POZZUOLI.—VISIT TO THE CAVE OF THE CUMEAN SIBYL.—ACCIDENT TO AN ENGLISH TRAVELLER.—HUMAN PACK-HORSES.—DARKNESS AND TORCHES.—THE LAKE OF AVERNUS.—DROWNED IN BOILING WATER.—A DANGEROUS WALK.—IN NERO’S PRISON.—INSTRUMENTS OF TORTURE.—USE OF THE RACK.—THE IRON BEDSTEAD.—BROILING A MAN ALIVE.—TREATMENT OF PRISONERS.—AN ANCIENT FUNERAL. —VIRGIL’S TOMB.—CONSTRUCTING WINE CELLARS.—NOVEL PLAN OF ROBBERY.

The traveller who visits Naples has abundant opportunities for making underground explorations in the neighborhood of that city. A few of the places he can examine are of natural origin—the Blue Grotto, for example; but by far the greater part of them are artificial. A most interesting journey can be made to Pozzuoli and its immediate neighborhood. With a longing desire to see some of the underground curiosities that have made that part of Italy famous, I arranged a tour in that direction before I had fairly settled myself at the hotel. We made a party of three, all Americans, and all as impatient and uneasy as our race is said to be when travelling on the continent. A skirmish with a horde of rapacious coachmen secured us a carriage, and we drove out of Naples by the road which skirts the bay in the direction of Rome.

Arriving in the vicinity of the famous places, we were beset by guides, who almost climbed into the carriage in their eagerness to secure an engagement. We picked out the cleanest of the lot, or rather the least dirty, and mounted him upon the box by the side of the driver, where he sat in all the dignity of an emperor. He spoke a confused jumble of English, French, and Italian, which was no language in particular, but might be anything in general. His first movement was to stop at a wayside house, from which a woman emerged bringing us half a dozen candles or torches of twisted rags and tallow, each of them as large as one’s wrist, and about three feet long. We objected to so many, but the guide assured us they would all be needed. I was inclined to doubt his statement, from my knowledge of the rascality of guides in general; but he met me with the promise, “Me them will pay for if not they be wanted, Si, signor. You verrez will.”

Of course we could not refuse after this guarantee. I paid for the torches with a silent resolution to make the fellow eat what were left over; and, as the tallow was bad, and the rags were worse, there was good reason to believe they would not make an agreeable dinner.

[Sidenote: GOING TO POZZUOLI.]

Soon after making this purchase, the work of sight-seeing began. Each place we visited had a man at the entrance, and not one of us could go inside without paying for the privilege. There were always a half dozen idle fellows hanging about ready to sell cameos and other curiosities which had been dug up in the vicinity, as they solemnly avowed; in reality the cameos were of modern manufacture, and made in Rome or Naples. The speculators would begin by asking fifty francs for a cameo which was worth about five, and which they would sell for five if they could not get any more. If we safely ran the gantlet through these avaricious tradesmen, we were beset by local guides who wanted to lead us, and we generally found it desirable to employ some of them in order to see what the place contained. In one instance these guides acted as pack-horses, and I can testify that one of them, at least, had all that he wanted to carry; and this is the way it happened.

At the cave of the Cumean Sibyl, where the Emperor Nero and other famous men of the olden time were accustomed to go to hear the prophecies on which their fate depended, we found a larger crowd than usual. A party of Americans were just emerging as we entered, and one of them intimated that the place laid over anything he had yet seen. Our torches were lighted, and we went forward quite a distance, through a tunnel eight or ten feet wide, out of which a smaller tunnel descended. Down this tunnel we walked until we came to the edge of a black, repulsive pool, over which the light shone very dimly. There was considerable smoke hanging over the water, and altogether the place was about as gloomy as anything I had ever seen. For all that could be discovered, the pool might be a thousand feet deep, and any number of miles across; to venture upon it might be like venturing upon the Atlantic Ocean, or any other great body of water. I noticed that the guides had their trousers rolled to the knee, and were barefooted. They fearlessly entered the water; two of them carried the torches, and three others backed themselves to the edge where there was a sort of stepping-stone.

“What is to be done now?” we asked of our private guide.

“Montez ze backs ze men of,” he replied. “You they carry porteez will to Grotto del Sibyl.”

[Sidenote: HUMAN PACK MULES.]

We hesitated to trust ourselves with these fellows, who might drown us, or throw us into a hole a few thousand feet deep, and leave us to come up again through the crater of Mount Vesuvius. But finally we concluded to try it, and so we mounted our two-legged steeds and rode off.

It happened that I was the heaviest of our party, and it also happened that the man who took me did not weigh as much as I did by at least fifty pounds. He trembled beneath me like a plateful of jelly in the hands of an intoxicated waiter, and I expected every moment he would drop me into the water. We went out from the shore into the smoky darkness, and in less than a minute we were completely at sea. Water was beneath and around us, and there was a black sky above that we could almost touch. No horizon was visible, and altogether we seemed to be in a world about ten feet in diameter, and without sun, moon, or stars.

Our porters splashed along in water about two feet deep, and I thought much more of the liability of my pack animal to stumble than I did of the Cumean Sibyl and her oracles. Nero was less in my mind than the garlic-eating Italian beneath me, and I was much less interested in the Roman kings than in a certain subject of Victor Emanuel. Our trio exchanged comments on this novel mode of travelling, and for the time we had very little appreciation of the wonderful history of Rome and her dependencies.

[Sidenote: CUMEAN SIBYL.]

As near as my recollection serves, we had about five minutes of this sort of travel, when the head of our procession came to a halt before a recess in the wall, which our leader described as the Sibyl’s Bath. It seems that before delivering her oracles, she used to take a bath, on the principle, doubtless, that cleanliness is next to godliness, and the purer her skin the more likely would the gods be to aid her with their inspiration. The artists represent her as a pretty woman, and of course she was well aware that frequent bathing had a tendency to preserve her good looks.

The couch or bench where she reclined when delivering her oracles was pointed out, and as it then appeared, it was anything but comfortable. The presence of the water in the cave was explained to be something modern, and not at all in fashion when the Sibyl used to be at home to visitors of wealth and distinction. She used to keep her floor dry and well swept, and probably she had a little sideboard with a cold ham or two and a bottle of wine. Nero was a frequent caller, both in fashionable and unfashionable hours, and used to send her valuable presents. Mrs. Nero was jealous, but the old gentleman was in a position to do pretty much as he liked, and didn’t mind her scolding. One of my companions showed me a scrap of paper, which he said he found just inside the entrance to the cave, while I was paying off the guides. It ran as follows:—

May 10, 4 P. M.

DEAREST SIB: Expect me at eight. The old lady is going out this evening, and won’t miss me. Have the tea ready, and send out for a bottle of Clicquot. I will bring a mince pie and some Limburger cheese; also a new pair of ear-rings and a chignon.

Your loving NERO.

I suspected that the note was a forgery, as it was written in English, and the paper had the water-mark of 1866. I called my friend’s attention to these slight discrepancies, and he at once put the paper in his pocket, and said nothing more about it.

[Sidenote: AN UNFORTUNATE ENGLISHMAN.]

After looking at the couch of the Sibyl we started back to our landing-place. Just as we neared it we met another party going in. One of the porters of the new party was evidently weak in the knees, for he stumbled just as he passed me, and went down like a handful of mud. The gentleman he carried was dropped into the water, and fell flat, as though intending to take a swim. He slowly rose to his feet, and after blowing the water from his mouth with a noise like the spouting of a whale, he ventured several remarks that were nowise complimentary to his porter or to the place. He appeared somewhat excited. His language showed him to be English, but there was nothing in it to indicate that he was a member in good and regular standing of the Church of England. He did not finish his journey to the bath and couch of the Sibyl, but followed us to the shore, where he wrung himself out, and then retired to his carriage to be hung up to dry. With a heartlessness peculiar to many travellers, he refused to pay the porter for his services. It is fortunate that the latter did not understand English, as he would have been offended at the remarks which were made about him.

From the Sibyl’s Cave we went to the famous Lake of Avernus, which was described by Virgil long before anybody who reads this book was familiar with a single word of Latin. Near the lake is the famous passage into the mountain about which Virgil wrote:—

“Facilis descensus Averni. Sed revocare gradum, hic opus, hic labor est.”

We paid our admission fee, and then prepared according to the directions of the guide. We laid aside our coats and vests, removed our collars, neck-ties, and hats, and altogether put ourselves in a condition quite improper in polite society. A boy stood ready to precede us in a costume consisting of a pair of pantaloons and a tin pail. A fresh egg was now shown us, and we examined it to see that it was quite cold and raw. The boy then took the egg and a torch, and went into a tunnel like the one at the Sibyl’s Cave. A blast of hot air met us at the entrance, as though it came from a furnace, and I thought of Nebuchadnezzar and the treat that he used to have for his visitors. On and on we went, and also down and down. Old Virgil was right when he said that the descent was easy, for we went down with the grace of so many oysters entering the mouth of a champagne bottle. Hotter and hotter grew the air, and before we were half way down I remembered some business that I had neglected when I left America. I wanted to go back to look after it, but my friends argued that it would keep a little longer, and I had better go on. So we continued down into the bowels of the mountain, over a slippery pathway and in a temperature as agreeable as that of the stoker’s room on a steamship.

We reached the end at last, and the boy stooped to the edge of a pool of water and placed the egg within it. We could see a thin vapor rising from the surface, and readily imagined that it was steam. The boy was careful of his hands, more careful than was necessary, since he might have added to the interest of the occasion by scalding them, and then hiring another boy to take his place. There were plenty of boys outside who could be hired cheap, and if a dozen were killed daily by scalding, or rendered helpless, it would have made no serious diminution of the Italian population.

[Sidenote: FACILIS DESCENSUS AVERNI.]

We stood there a couple of minutes, and then the boy took the tin pail and scooped up the egg and a quart or two of water. He then started back, and scrambled quite nimbly up the steep and slippery path. It was a difficult ascent to make, and we acknowledged that Virgil’s head was level when he told about the labor required to retrace one’s steps from Avernus. We perspired like a man who has just learned that he is the father of triplets, and by the time we completed the journey, our clothing was pretty thoroughly saturated. The boy was accustomed to it, as the old lady’s eels were to being skinned, and the hide on his shirtless back looked like the outside of a long-used pocket-book. The egg was thoroughly cooked, and the water in the pail was of a scalding temperature, altogether too hot to put one’s hand into. The egg cost us half a franc, and so did the boy: one of us ate the egg with a little salt, but we declined to eat the boy with or without salt, and he did not urge us.

The guide told us that one day an Englishman went down the “descensus Averni,” and on arriving at the hot water, he stepped around so carelessly that he slipped and fell in. His cries and shrieks rang through the tunnel; he was pulled out as quickly as possible, but he was so badly scalded that he died in a few hours. Several accidents have happened there by persons scalding their hands and feet, but the character of the place is such, that people are likely to be careful; otherwise there would be frequent casualties to record.

[Sidenote: NERO’S PRISON.]

We visited the ruins of temples that were erected to I don’t know how many deities, and the next subterranean exploration that we made was at Nero’s Prison, as the guide and the guide-books call it. We left our carriage and went on foot up a narrow lane, and along a path where beggars followed and beset us at every turn; notwithstanding their importunity, they did not extract any money from us, though they appeared in all the conditions in which beggars could possibly present themselves. Nero must have been a charming personage if one could judge of him by looking at the place where he used to shut up those who offended him. It was a subterranean affair, and we were obliged to light our torches to explore it. We were led through winding passages into cells that were anything but comfortable, the guide stopping every moment to explain to us the nature of each one of the cells, and the uses to which they were put. They were small enough to render it utterly improbable that a man would exert his legs very actively in running, after he was once shut in, and as for light and ventilation, they were quite in keeping with the size of the apartments.

I inquired about the character of the food which Nero used to furnish to the occupants of his boarding-house, and was told that it was not of a luxurious character. Nero had no table d’hôte, but used to send the meals to the rooms of his guests. None of them are alive now, and their early death is to be attributed in many cases to the treatment they received. At the time they resided there, oysters had not been invented, and there is nothing on record to show that the delicious conglomerate which we call hash had made its appearance. Some of the patrons used to express a desire to live on the European plan, and take their meals outside; but the proprietor would never permit it. And it must be said, to his credit, that his establishment was to a certain extent a free lunch concern, as he never charged anything for board and lodging. Everything was gratis, and of course the patrons who complained must have been mean fellows, who couldn’t be satisfied, no matter what you might do for them.

[Sidenote: CHOICE FURNITURE.]

The furniture of the place was very simple. It had been mostly removed when we were there, but it consisted originally of a bundle of straw on the ground and a double lock on the door. There used to be a gymnasium, where they kept a choice lot of racks, thumb-screws, and other luxurious arrangements. Life in the private rooms used to be monotonous, and in order to render it interesting, Nero would take his patrons into the gymnasium to amuse them. Some of them he would play a joke upon by tying them down on a rack and then winding up the machine so that a man of five feet eight would often be converted into six feet two. When he had been played with in this way, they would turn him loose, though releasing him did no good, as he was generally dead before they let him off.

[Sidenote: PROCRUSTES’ BED.]

The gymnasium had another arrangement, patented by Mr. Procrustes, which was intended to equalize all men, and make them of a uniform height. This invention, based on the principles of mechanical communism, was a bedstead of iron, and there were various individuals who enjoyed the treat of being placed upon it. A poet has alluded to it as follows:—

“This iron bedstead they do fetch To try our hopes upon. If we’re too short we must be stretched, Cut off if we’re too long.”

When they laid out a man on this couch, if its length corresponded with his, he was immediately removed before he had time to go to sleep. If he was short, both in money and in stature, they elongated him until he could touch headboard and footboard at the same time; and if he was a tall fellow, they shortened him at the feet with a large pair of shears that were kept for the purpose. When a hundred men had been measured on this bed and placed in a row, they were found to be of the same elevation. A good many of them died soon afterwards, but people were numerous in those days, and the dead ones were not missed by those who didn’t know anything about them.

Down in the kitchen, Nero had a gridiron resembling a garden gate, or a section of an iron fence. He had so many cooks that all of them could not be constantly employed, and so he busied himself to devise ways to employ them. He found that the gridiron was just the thing, and when his cooks were idle he used to take one of his lodgers down stairs and promise him a good roast. The lodger would be thinking of a nice turkey or a leg of mutton when Nero said “roast” to him, and as the private table was not very good, he was always ready to go below. When they got down stairs Nero would tip the wink to the cooks, who would seize the lodger and tie him on the gridiron. They then built a fire under him, and Nero carried on the joke by standing alongside with a big ladle and pouring hot oil over his guest. When he was done brown, and turned over and done on the other side, they would let him off to enjoy the fun of seeing the sell played on the next man. No doubt he would have enjoyed it had he not been dead long before they got through with him.

[Sidenote: THE TOMB OF VIRGIL.]

When we returned to Naples, we went by another route than the one we had taken in the morning. At one place our way led through a tunnel cut into the solid earth, and said to be more than two thousand years old. It has worn down greatly since it was first opened; the marks of the axles of carts and wagons are visible along its sides ten or twelve feet above the present floor. It is lighted by torches placed at regular intervals along the walls, and is an important thoroughfare for people going between Naples and certain villages and towns to the north of it. At the end nearest to Naples we were taken to what is supposed to be the Tomb of Virgil, though its authenticity is considerably in doubt. It certainly is not much of a tomb, and many a man not half so talented or famous as Virgil has been lodged after death in far more beautiful quarters than these.

The peculiar nature of the earth composing the hills around Naples has greatly facilitated the construction of tunnels and caves. It is almost identical with that of the bluffs of Vicksburg—easy to cut, and at the same time sufficiently firm to prevent falling in. No roofing or arching of any kind is needed, and the tools ordinarily used in excavations are all that are required. Consequently every man who has a hill on his farm can construct a spacious wine cellar at little expense; and if he has a friendly neighbor over the hill, they can easily cut their way through, and save the trouble of climbing when they want to visit each other.

I heard of Neapolitan thieves who sometimes find out a well-stored wine cellar in the side of a small hill, and carefully observe its position. Then they erect a small house on the other side, and begin a small tunnel. They cart the dirt away at night, and after a month or so enter the cellar and steal enough wine to pay them handsomely for their trouble.

XIV.

THE EXCAVATIONS OF DR. SCHLIEMANN, AT MYCENÆ (GREECE).

HIS EARLY LIFE AND IDEAL.—THE TREASURES OF PRIAMUS.—DESCRIPTION OF THE SPOT.—EARLY HISTORY OF MYCENÆ.—PAUSANIAS, THE ANCIENT ARCHÆOLOGIST.—WHERE THE EXCAVATIONS WERE COMMENCED.—THE TOMB OF AGAMEMNON AND HIS FAITHFUL WARRIORS.—DESCRIPTION OF THE TREASURES FOUND.—PROOFS OF THE IMMENSE ANTIQUITY OF THE TOMBS.—RECENT PORTRAITS TAKEN OF HEROES OF ANCIENT GREECE.—HOW IT WAS DONE.—THE VALUE OF THE DISCOVERIES REGARDING ART MATTERS.—HERACLES STRUGGLING WITH THE LION.—DR. SCHLIEMANN’S HEROIC WIFE.—DISCOVERY OF THE TEMPLE OF ÆSCULAPIUS.—A BYZANTINE CAVE UNDER THE ROCK.—A DISCOVERY WHICH FILLS ATHENS WITH JOY.—THE STATUE OF VICTORY FOUND IN ALMOST PERFECT CONDITION.

Dr. Heinrich Schliemann, the great excavator, of whom so much has been said of late, is a German by birth, and a man of an idealistic character. In his youth, he dreamed of the heroes of antiquity; he was a passionate student of the Trojan war, and the adventures of Odessus and Agamemnon. He loved to hear, in school, Homer recited, and afterwards, when he went through his variegated life, as ship’s boy, ship’s broker, clerk, commercial correspondent, and, at last, as an independent and rich merchant, one ideal pursued him, that of seeing, for himself, the seat of Homer, and the fatherland of the heroes of whom that great poet of antiquity sings; he wanted to find the traces of the past dead. After he had occupied himself, for many years, with his plan, after having surmounted innumerable obstacles, of which he gives a touching description in his autobiography, he succeeded, in 1867, in undertaking his first trip to Ithaca, the Peloponnesus, and Troja. The searches then made led to the discovery of the treasures of Priamus, which astounded the world; and scarcely has the astonishment of such remarkable discoveries cooled off, when Dr. Schliemann surprises us by a new miracle. He believed in the divinity, and found its trace; the treasures showed that Priamus had existed; the tomb identified Agamemnon.

But before entering upon a description of the excavations, and the treasures found therein, we deem it highly necessary to give a description, in outline, of the spot where the gems of antiquity are being unearthed.

[Sidenote: DESCRIPTION OF THE SPOT.]

We cannot do better than give the extract from the notes of an excursion, made on the very spot, under which Dr. Schliemann is now digging for treasures and historical facts, which undoubtedly are of the greatest importance for the knowledge of antiquity and the land of Homer. This excursion was made in 1871, some five years before the persistent doctor commenced his researches.

It reads substantially as follows:

“From Tiryns we proceeded, Feb. 7th, by carriage to Argos, the city of Inachus, where we found horses saddled, waiting for us, to enable us to go to Mycenæ. We crossed, on our way, the river Inachus, and found, on the Argolic plain, for the first time, the red poppies which we afterwards noticed as so abundant in Palestine. After having gone up the crumbling steps of the amphitheater, the most important monument at Argos, (where, beset by the importunate solicitations of some boys, we bought two or three old coins, where coin is said to have been first invented. The invention of coin is ascribed to the Lydians, yet it is certain that it was used at Argos.) We mounted our horses and rode over the plain, finding in many places only a difficult bridle-path, to the treasury of Atreus, or the tomb of Agamemnon. This structure, for it may be either treasury or tomb, or both, (we commend to Dr. Schliemann the solution of the problem,) consists of a building cut out of the side of a hill, entrance to which is through a gateway, down an inclined plane, with walls on both sides, into two vaulted apartments—one larger than the other, and both now empty. The most remarkable feature is the gateway, and especially the huge soffit which spans it, not more from its immense size, than from the apparent impossibility of removing it from the place which it occupies, held in its position by its own weight, and supporting the pressure of the mass above it. (A similar contrivance we noticed in the gateway of the temple of Jupiter at Baalbek.) ‘The remains of copper nails in the walls of the larger apartment, indicated that it had been sheathed with copper plates, while the inner chamber may have been coated with marble.’

“Here, after having examined the ruin, we lunched and again mounting our horses, proceeded to view the celebrated ‘Lions’ of Mycenæ, once the site of the royal palace of Agamemnon—itself a ruin in the time of Homer—its foundation going back to an almost dateless antiquity. The ruins of Mycenæ are, in many respects, unequaled in interest by any object in Greece. Their position is fortunate; there is no habitation near them. The traveler ascends from the open plain to the deserted hill on which they stand. The walls of the citadel may still be traced in their entire circuit, and on the western side they rise to a considerable height. Only a few foundations of ancient buildings remain, and one or two cisterns hewn in the rocky soil, and lined with cement. Such is the present state of the Acropolis of Mycenæ. Two gates, one on the northeast, the other on the northwest, both guarded by a tower, gave entrance into the city. The two gates and tower seem to have been connected, and illustrate the military architecture presented to our notice in the Iliad. The ‘Lions’ are represented in high relief, rampant, headless, their feet resting on a pedestal which is a Doric column reversed, carved out of a block of gray limestone. By whom erected, or for what purpose, must ever remain a mystery. Perhaps the simplest explanation is the best, that they denote the ‘courage leonine,’ and were heraldic badges upon the national escutcheon of Mycenæ. We clambered over the walls of the ruined palace of Agamemnon, on the hill-side we came across several pieces of antique pottery, which we have preserved. To make the illusion more complete, while we were exploring the ruins, a fierce, wolfish, shepherd-dog, the only guardian of the place, in a field below, kept up a loud, persistent barking, which ceased not till we had left the spot.”

It is perhaps too soon, in the present imperfect state of the excavations at Mycenæ, to form a true estimate of their value, as related to the authenticity of the heroes of Homer. However, we will give, as far as that is possible, from the reports of Dr. Schliemann himself, a review of the wonderful things which this great sapper and miner has brought to light:

[Sidenote: THE CITY OF MYCENÆ.]

The city of Mycenæ must have been wonderfully beautiful. Homer calls it “the city rich in gold and broad of streets,” at the time when the ruler of Mycenæ, Agamemnon, assisted the Greeks against Troja, with one hundred ships, and a great number of men, for which service he was elected their commander-in-chief. He fell, at his return, by the faithlessness of his wife, and with him the glory of the city was gone. Only rarely we find, in history, traces of her unimportant existence. About the middle of the fifth century B. C., she was destroyed by the Argivi, and her inhabitants dispersed.

The ruins were never taken away, and they were only for archæologists of antiquity and of the modern times, an object of interest.

The “gate of lions” of Mycenæ, which has been built in over-old Grecian style, has been known long ago; it gave entrance to the bourg; Pausanias, who, while traveling in Greece, two centuries after Christ, visited the old city of Atreus, probably found the gate in a far better condition than it is at the present date; it was, for him, an object of the highest interest, and he was of opinion that the Cyclops themselves had builded the gate and walls. Further, he relates: “Under the ruins of Mycenæ, is a well, and the under-earthly apartments of Atreus and his descendants, which served them as treasuries. There are also tombs; in the first place, that of Atreus, and then all the graves of those who returned with Agamemnon from Troja, and who, like he, were murdered by Aegisthus. Only Clytemnestra and Aegisthus have not been deemed worthy of being buried there; their graves are outside of the wall.”

Dr. Schliemann, reading this account of the archæologist of antiquity, had not the slightest doubt but that the history of Greece was more than a mere tradition, and how wonderfully have his presentiments been fulfilled!

When we enter the bourg by means of the “gate of lions,” we are soon enabled to continue on our way through a corridor, which is formed by a well-preserved stone wall which surrounds a circular plain of about fifty feet in diameter; the wall reaches nearly to the height of a person’s breast. On this plain, Dr. Schliemann commenced his excavations; already at a small depth they found the first traces; several slabs of a yellowish lime, adorned with ancient reliefs, and showing that they once had served as slabs on graves. On taking them away, they saw a broad shaft in the earth, twenty feet long, and ten feet deep; a second, parallel to the first, followed, and afterwards, three others were found behind the smaller sides of the first two. Of course, Dr. Schliemann was bound to penetrate to the extreme depth of these shafts, and while digging, he found earthenware, and small objects manufactured of gold.

At last, they came to the extreme depth on a hard floor, and here three skeletons were lying, at a little distance from each other, surrounded by innumerable weapons and objects of luxury, partly of gold, and partly of silver; one of these corpses was distinguished by exceedingly well-preserved teeth.

[Sidenote: THE TOMB OF AGAMEMNON.]

This was the tomb of Agamemnon and his faithful warriors.

Dr. Schliemann, in his correspondence to the London Times, describes the treasures which he found lying around the bodies, in the following manner:

[Sidenote: DR. SCHLIEMANN’S ACCOUNT.]

“Among the most interesting objects of this sepulchre I reckon the magnificently ornamented golden buttons. Twelve are in form of a cross, and one of them is two and one-fifth inches large, and three inches long; three are somewhat smaller, and the remaining eight are of a still less size. Of splendidly ornamented round gold buttons were found, in all, two hundred and sixteen, two of which are two inches in diameter, seven are of the size of a five franc piece, and two hundred and seven are still smaller. All these buttons, the lower part of which consists of a bone button in form of our shirt buttons, must have served on the clothes of the deceased, whereas all which show only a flat piece of bone or wood, have evidently served to decorate the sheaths of swords, lances, etc., to which they had been soldered with tin, or otherwise fastened. There were in all found in the tomb, twenty-five two-edged bronze swords, sixteen of which are in a perfect state of conservation; four of them had handles plated with gold and richly ornamented. There were also found with the swords, five large handle-buttons, four of which are of alabaster, and one of wood; all of them are ornamented with golden nails. Further, two golden shoulder belts, which were worn on the shoulder across the breast; both are four feet long, and one and three-fifths inches broad. There were further found two large girdle-belts ornamented with circles and flowers; one of them is composed of two pieces. There was also found a part of a similar belt, and a child’s golden girdle-belt, only one foot four inches long, and two and one-fifth inches broad. Further, a splendidly ornamented golden handle, probably of a scepter. It terminates in a dragon’s head, whose scales seem to have been imitated by square pieces of rock crystal, which are inlaid like mosaic. This is an object of marvelous beauty, of which Homer would have said, ‘A wonder to look upon.’ There were also found seven large and one small golden diadems—one of the former is ornamented with golden leaves. All of them show splendid ornaments of circles and spiral lines. Further, four golden ornaments of the greaves, almost in form of a bracelet: one comb of bone, in a large handle, or casing of gold, of the usual form, as ladies wear it; one enormous, most magnificently-ornamented, massive, gold bracelet, weighing three hundred and sixty grammes. In the center of the ornamentation of this bracelet is soldered a separate piece of gold, representing the sun with his rays. The size of this bracelet is so enormous that the person who has worn it must have had gigantic arms. Quite in opposition to the size of the bracelet are two massive golden seal rings, the opening of which is so small that they would only fit a child of ten years. I, therefore, suppose that they may have been used as seals only. One of the seals represents two warriors on a two-wheeled chariot with two horses, which seem to run at full gallop; one of the warriors is holding a bow in his hand, and has just shot an arrow at a stag. The stag is wounded, and in anguish turns his head. The other seal ring represents a warrior who has just vanquished his three enemies, and is in the act of giving, with his uplifted sword, a last blow to one of them, wounded, and kneeling before him on one knee; the latter tries to parry the blow with his uplifted hands and with a lance, which he holds in his right, and seems to throw at his opponent. Another seems to be mortally wounded, for he lies on the ground, leaning on both his hands. The third, who alone of all the four warriors has a helmet with a crest on his head, is flying under the cover of an enormous shield which reaches from his neck to his heels; but still he turns his head towards his victorious enemy, and is in the act of throwing a lance at him. The anatomy of all the men is so well observed, their posture is so faithful to nature, and everything is executed with so much art, that when I brought to light these rings, I involuntarily exclaimed: ‘The author of the ‘Iliad’ and the ‘Odyssey’ can only have been born and educated in a civilization which could produce such wonders. Only a poet who had master-pieces of art like these continually before his eyes could compose those divine poems.’

[Sidenote: WONDERFUL GEMS.]

“At the head of one of the bodies was found a large and heavy golden helmet, but it had been much crushed, and had become nearly flat under the ponderous weight which pressed upon it. In its present state, it is difficult to describe it. On its forepart, the openings for the eyes and mouth, as also a protuberance ornamented with small stars, are distinctly visible, as also on the top of the helmet, the tube for the crest. The back part is beautifully ornamented with an imitation of the hair. The face of the same body was covered with one of the golden masks which we frequently met with. It seems to have been the custom with the ancient Greeks, to cover the faces of their beloved dead, with masks of gold which exactly represent the outline of the features; probably they did so to preserve the face. We find this custom back in the wooden masks of the Egyptian mummies. The breast and sides were covered by a one-foot eight-inch long, and one-foot broad, thick plate of gold, which was no doubt intended to represent the coat of mail. There were further found one hundred leaves of gold, either of circular or of cross-like form, with impressed ornamentation, consisting either of spiral lines, or of circles. Further, three very heavy golden breast-pins, of which the one is five and one-half, the other five, and the third four and one-half inches long. The last is crowned with a ram, the two others with an ornament in shape of a helmet, and the heads of all the three breast-pins are perforated, probably to put in a flower. There were further found two masterly ornamental objects of massive gold in the form of crosses; also a large golden vase weighing one and seven-eighths kilogrammes: it has two handles, a large foot, and ornamented with three upper and two lower parallel lines, between which is a row of fourteen stars; further, a large golden vase with one handle, and an ornamentation representing seven beautiful flowers; another golden vase with two handles; further, a splendid little golden œhœ, or wine can, with an ornamentation of spiral lines. Further, six golden drinking cups, one of which is a drinking cup with two handles, on each of which is a pigeon, each of the two handles being joined to the foot by two separate golden blades. This goblet reminds us of Nestor’s goblet, which was also ornamented with pigeons (see ‘Iliad,’ XI, 632, 635). One of the other goblets is ornamented with parallel flutings. There were further found two small golden vessels; also, eight silver vases, three of which are admirably conserved; one of the other has its bottom and the mouth of bronze; below its bottom were found one hundred of the aforesaid golden buttons. I further found, in this tomb, thirteen large bronze vessels. This kind of vessel was in high esteem in the heroic age, and we see them continually mentioned by Homer as prizes in the games. I suppose that to each hero were given in the grave the goblets and other objects which were dear to him in his lifetime, having been won by him in the games, or having been given to him by his host as a pledge of hospitality and friendship. There was also found a large quantity of small perforated amber balls of necklaces, and a bronze or copper fork with three teeth, which had probably served on the funeral pyres. There were further found thirty-five arrow heads of obsidian. Nothing could give a better idea of the great antiquity of these tombs than these stone arrow-heads, for the ‘Iliad’ seems to know only arrow-heads of bronze (e.g., ‘Iliad,’ XIII, 650 and 662). Probably there had also been deposited bows and quivers in the tomb, but they would have been of wood, and would have rotted away. To my greatest regret, among thousands of gold ornaments, there is not even a single sign resembling writing, and it therefore appears certain that the sepulchres belong to an epoch which preceded the introduction of the Phœnician alphabet. Had the latter been known, the Mycenæan goldsmiths, whose continual efforts appear to have been directed to the invention of a new ornamentation, would have been very ambitious to show the novelty of the alphabet. A second proof of the immense antiquity of these tombs, is the entire absence of any vestige of either iron or glass, or of any pottery made on the potter’s wheel. But the hand-made pottery had reached a high degree of perfection, such as has never been attained here in later times by the pottery made on the wheel.”

The doctor, enthusiastic as he is with his new discoveries, had the mortal remains of the immortal heroes taken from their graves, and the great departed ones received the unprecedented honor to have their portraits painted by an artist of our day. Of course, the golden mask was used for that purpose.

The greatest scientific importance of the discoveries at Mycenæ, lies in the fact that we now make acquaintance with a kind of art which very nearly approaches oriental representation and oriental technique. It can easily be seen, from the works of art found by the excavations, that the artists of that remote time did not care so much to give true representations of real existing things, but to procure to dead things, as much as possible, a living, graceful form.

[Sidenote: GRECIAN ART IN MYCENÆ.]

Among the treasures, a golden plate was found, upon which Heracles is engraved, struggling with a lion. This last engraving, above all others, may serve as a scientific guide, through the labyrinth of the treasures of Mycenæ. The struggles of Heracles with the monsters of the earth, are the property of Grecian tradition; hence, we have not to deal with Asiatic or India-European art, but with real, purely Grecian art.

The most precious objects found at Mycenæ, are collected at Athens, with those formerly found by the doctor among the treasures of Priamus, and are preserved in the vaults of an Ionian bank.

It is proper that we should allude to Dr. Schliemann’s heroic wife, of whom, as his most valuable and sympathetic assistant in his labors, he speaks, as is most fitting, in words which constitute her highest eulogy. The story of their union reads like a romance. “Mrs. Schliemann is the only woman in Greece who knows the Odyssey by heart.” The Dr. once said, before a party of Athenians, that he would marry the first lady who could recite the Odyssey. A fair Greek girl appeared one day, unintroduced, and asking if the promise was genuine, recited Homer, and secured her home. She also secured a wife’s share of $1,000,000. The two have been faithfully burrowing among its ruins themselves, and as will be seen from the portrait, she is proud of the accomplishments of her husband, and wears one of the trophies of his glory, the head apparel of queen Helena, whose elopement with Paris, the son of Priamus, caused the Trojan war.

[Sidenote: STATUARY AND ARCHITECTURE.]

It is known that the archæological society of Athens, under whose direction Dr. Schliemann is now excavating at Mycenæ, and from whom he has met with no little opposition, besides the difficulties arising from the nature of the ground, which would seem, to a less resolute spirit, almost insurmountable, have of late made some valuable discoveries at Athens. They have cleared away the debris on the south side of the Acropolis, and have discovered the temple of Æsculapius, where they have found many bas-reliefs representing the goddess of health, and two very beautiful marble heads, nearly perfect; also, some inscriptions of great historical value. They have also found a Byzantine cave under the rock. This circumstance reminds me of some exquisite specimens of sculpture seen by me, while in Athens, in my visit to the Acropolis. From these we return to the recent excavations at Olympia. These are carried on by a commission from the German and Greek governments. The latest discoveries announced are those made on the site of the celebrated temple of Jupiter, consisting, among others, of a Doric capital, with its abacus in excellent preservation, considered as belonging to one of the columns supporting the eastern pediment of the temple, fragments of bronze, and terra-cotta objects, also, of the marble tiles described by Pausanias as composing the roof; and a magnificent torso, supposed to be the statue of Jupiter, one of the group of figures adorning the pediment of the temple. On the last day of the year, however, a telegram was received by the king from Dr. Demetriades, announcing a discovery which has filled Athens with joy. The statue of Niké (Victory), one of the group in the pediment, has been found imbedded in the soft, alluvial soil, in an almost perfect condition—as if it had only yesterday been taken down from its lofty pedestal. It is said to be a figure of unmatched beauty and grandeur, and what gives it a higher value is that the name of Praxitiles himself is engraved on it. Thus much is as yet known, but details are eagerly waited. Archæological discovery is eagerly pursued in every part of the land, of which it may be said that not a spadeful can be turned, without revealing some new treasure of its most glorious epoch.

The objects found by Dr. Schliemann have been forwarded to England, and placed in charge of the National Bank. They have been placed under the care of that institution for safety, and will remain there in the strong room, until a suitable museum can be provided, when they will all be labeled, and will be exposed, in proper cases, for the public to see them.

It is a fact not generally known, that Dr. Schliemann is not assisted by any fellow-enthusiast in the cause of archæology, nor is he in the employ of any society. He defrays the expenses all himself, and we may be assured that they are very heavy.

It is but proper that we should allude here to the fact that Mrs. Schliemann is most ably and energetically assisting her husband in the discovery of the treasures of the ancients.

[Sidenote: THE SECOND TREASURY.]

The dome of the Second Treasury was broken in, a long time ago, and therefore it is better known to antiquarians; but Mrs. Schliemann has now thoroughly excavated, and explored the whole building. While her husband was excavating within the walls of the Acropolis, she undertook the excavation of this relic of the past, and the approach to it, which was formerly completely concealed, is now laid bare. Its position is close to the Gate of Lions, and it is found to differ only in slight details from the other one, known as the Treasury of Athens. The lintel over the doorway is the largest stone in the building. It is twenty feet long, seven feet wide, and eighteen inches deep, and a course of large stones of the same depth is carried all around the walls, on the same level. The diameter of the dome is a little less than that of the Treasury of Athens, but as there is an opening in the top, by which the light enters, the view is not so impressive. The inhabitants of Mycenæ did not seem to be acquainted with the principle of the arch, as the dome is constructed with courses placed horizontally. Dr. Schliemann, pretending that Agamemnon was buried here, calls it the Tomb of Agamemnon; others have named it the Tomb of Cassandra.

The Treasury of Athens shows the most perfect condition of building of the ancients. The second, third, and fourth treasuries (there are four in all), gradually decrease in architectural skill, and we might almost say of the fourth, that it is nothing but an excavation made in the soil, speedily covered with rough stones. It is covered in such a way that a person entering it has to creep on all fours.

For what purpose these buildings were created, remains a mystery. In the Homeric age, tombs are always described as “piled,” or “heaped up;” they are always mounds, and the fact of the earth covering these so-called “treasuries,” is a strong evidence of their sepulchral character; but the magnificently built accessories would lead to the conclusion that it belongs to a period posterior to the Iliad and the Odyssey.

[Sidenote: HECTOR’S TOMB.]

Hector’s tomb is described as the “hollow grave.” This was the primitive cell, which became developed into an unarched dome. Of this, many examples are found in the tumuli near Kertch, some of them of a very large size, and, though different in construction, they afford a good illustrative parallel. In the structures just described, we find a developed architecture which seems to have been rich with metallic decoration. Here all resemblance to the simple cell of the hollow grave has been lost, and now the foot or two feet of earth, heaped on the top, is nearly all that is left to remind us of the original mound, from which this style of tomb had its origin.

XV.

MEXICO AND ITS MINES.

THE USES OF SILVER.—COIN AND ITS ABUNDANCE.—PUZZLES OF POLITICAL ECONOMISTS.—WONDERFUL SKILL OF THE SILVER-WORKERS.—THE SILVER PRODUCT.—THE MINES OF MEXICO.—THEIR EXTENT AND RICHNESS.—GUANAJUATO AND ITS MINES.—THE VETA MADRE.—VISIT TO THE SERRANO MINE.—UNDERGROUND PYROTECHNICS.—THE VETA GRANDE.—THE PACHUCA MINE.—AN OFFER TO THE KING—THE GROUND PAVED WITH SILVER.—SULPHUR MINERS.—ASCENT OF A MEXICAN MOUNTAIN.

One of the most important of the metals is the one known as silver. All the civilized nations use it for the manufacture of coin as a circulating medium, and the consumption of the metal for this purpose alone is very great. Political economists have busied themselves with the problem of the immense annual waste from the wearing away of gold and silver, but thus far they have met with no success. For large amounts, bank notes—either of the government or otherwise—are in use, and have many advantages over coin. But for small amounts, gold and silver have not been replaced, and there is little probability that they will be. Their jingling makes an agreeable sound, but unfortunately it reduces the weight of the coin, and wears away, particle after particle, which cannot be saved by any process yet invented.

Silver has long been used in the Arts, and its whiteness renders it particularly desirable for this purpose. Of late years, it has taken a very prominent place, especially in America, and the productions of the silver-workers border on the marvelous. At the Philadelphia Exhibition, the display of silver ware in the American section was such as to attract large crowds at all hours when the place was open to the public, and there were few visitors who did not confess themselves astonished at what they beheld. There was an endless variety of silver work, from very small articles up to very large ones. Down to a few years ago, the English and other people over the Atlantic had almost a monopoly of silver work, and were justly entitled to a claim for superiority. But at present, the American workmen are equal to any competition, and some of the ornamental pieces they have recently turned out cannot be surpassed anywhere else in the world.

The impetus given to this branch of Art is due, to some extent, to the abundance of silver in the Rocky Mountains and the Sierra Nevadas, and the desire to make as much use of it as possible. Some have feared that the opening of so many silver mines would cheapen the metal, and cause a great shrinkage in the value of that now on hand, but up to the present, no such result has been reached. Silver has taken the place of gold, for many uses, and if matters go on in the future, as they have gone in the past, the demand will long continue to equal the supply.

One of the foremost silver-producing countries in the world is Mexico, and its fame extends a long distance into the past. The metal was known to the ancient Aztecs, and was worked by them, with exquisite skill, into numerous ornamental and useful articles, but among the vast mineral treasures of Montezuma, the quantity of silver was small compared with that of gold, and gave little promise of the argentiferous mines of his territories.

[Sidenote: THE SPANISH MINERS.]

The Spaniards had a keen eye for valuable things, and no sooner did they find what the country contained in mineral wealth, than they proceeded at once to develop it.

They opened mines wherever there were indications of silver, and so fast did they progress that it was estimated, at the beginning of this century, that operations were going on in from four thousand to five thousand localities, which might all be included in about three thousand distinct mines. These were scattered along the range of the Cordilleras in eight groups, the principal of which, known as the central group, contains the famous mining districts of Guanajuato, Catoree, Zacatecas, and Sombrerete, and furnished more than half of all the silver produced in Mexico.

The great vein, or Veta Madre, is referred to elsewhere, and is one of the most remarkable deposits anywhere known. It is contained chiefly in clay slate, and crosses the southern slope of the hills in a northwest and southeast direction, dipping with the slates (the range which it follows) from forty-five to forty eight degrees toward the southwest. The width averages a hundred and fifty feet, and the depth is unknown. It has been traced about twelve miles, but its most productive portion thus far, or rather, the portion operated, is only about a tenth of that distance.

The mines of Zacatecas, opened in 1548, are also upon a single vein, called the Veta Grande, averaging in thickness about thirty feet. The formation is of green stone and clay slate, the former the most productive. The veins of Catoree are in limestone, supposed to be of carboniferous age.

[Sidenote: THE ORE IN THE MINES.]

The greatest proportion of silver in every mining district of Mexico is obtained from the sulphuret of silver, an ore of gray color, disseminated through the quartz matrix in minute particles, and more or less combined with other metals. The other varieties of argentiferous ores are numerous, but comparatively small in quantity; they are the chloride of silver, ruby silver, native silver, argentiferous pyrites, and argentiferous galena.

The comparative quantities of these, at the different mines, is very variable, and few of the miners are able to determine them with exactness. Notwithstanding the antiquity of the silver mining business in Mexico, the processes which are employed are still far from perfect, and greatly behind those of the Nevada and other mines. The ore in Mexico is so rich that it has not been considered worth while to practice any economy or to bring science to the miner’s aid.

Col. Albert S. Evans, who made a journey through Mexico, a few years ago, gives a graphic account of a visit to the Serrano mine, in the vicinity of Guanajuato. He was invited, with several others, to a pyrotechnic display in the mine, and thus describes it:

[Sidenote: THE SERRANO MINE.]

“The mine is situated in the hill below the Buffa, at the upper end of the city. Five hundred men, women, and children are employed at this mine, getting out the ore, breaking it up, and sorting it. The men generally work in small gangs, for a share of the sales of the ore they take out. The amount of silver mined, weekly, is about five thousand dollars, and the expenses one thousand dollars, leaving a net profit of four thousand dollars. The great tiro is about nine hundred and fifty feet in depth.

A horizontal tunnel penetrates the hill from a level with the hacienda, cutting the tiro, or perpendicular shaft, at four hundred feet from the surface. This tunnel may be about fifteen hundred feet in length; a railroad track runs through it, and lying down in the cars, we were carried in to the edge of the tiro.

This tiro is thirty feet in diameter, and six sided, laid up in cement, like that at the Valenciano.

The necessity for this is seen in the fact that a rock, weighing many tons, was displaced from a station near the bottom of the shaft, a few days previous to our visit, and falling upon the miners beneath, killed and maimed a large number of them.

Standing here, four hundred feet below the surface of the earth, and six hundred feet above the bottom of the shaft, with a patch of pale blue sky far above us, and inky darkness, almost palpable to the touch, around us, and filling all the depths below, we witnessed the most wonderful scene on which we gazed in Mexico.

Men were sent up to the top of the tiro at the surface of the ground, and told to discharge rockets down it. This they did, and the hissing and explosions of the fiery messengers caused the most deafening echoes and re-echoes, while the sides of the shaft, dripping with ooze and slime, were revealed with startling distinctness by the momentary glare.

But this was nothing to what followed; balls of the fiber of the maguey, or aloe plant, three feet in diameter, and steeped in pine pitch or resin, were swung out over the mouth of the shaft, and set on fire. When the first was in full blaze, it was detached, and allowed to fall into the abyss. Like a great comet with body of molten metal, and long tail of flame, rushing on a doomed planet, the monster projectile came down from the dizzy height above us, and passing the mouth of the tunnel in which we stood, with a roar more deafening than the loudest thunder, went bounding and crashing into the depths below, illuminating everything, for a moment, with the blinding, lurid glare, followed by a darkness and silence more profound than before. As soon as the tremendous echoes which were awakened by the first, had died away, a second was sent down, and others followed in quick succession.

Most of our party were unable to control their nerves sufficiently to enable them to approach the edge and look up and down the tiro, holding by ropes to prevent them from becoming dizzy and falling headlong into the depths, but those who could do so, beheld a scene, the awful sublimity and grandeur of which beggars all the powers of language.

[Sidenote: DOWN TO THE BOTTOM OF THE MINE.]

The remainder of the party now left, and I, in company with the superintendent, clothing myself in a miner’s suit, to keep off the water and mud, descended to the bottom of the mine, one thousand feet and more from the surface.

We went down ladder after ladder, along gallery after gallery, through chambers like great churches in size, and others in which we could not stand erect, down steps cut in the rock, and so slippery with dripping water and soft clay, as to compel us to use an iron-shod staff to support ourselves, and through many a winding turning, until we stood at the bottom of the tiro, wet through with perspiration, and trembling with exhaustion.

At the bottom of the tiro is a great pond of water, the reservoir into which all the drainings of the mine are gathered, and the buckets on the great cables, worked by the malacates at the top, were constantly coming and going between it and the end of the tunnel six hundred feet above. These buckets will hold three to four hogsheads of water, and are made of rawhide, in the form of an ordinary Mexican water jar. An iron ring distends the mouth of the bucket, and when the vessel descends, the wet hide flattening down allows the water to rush in, and as the lifting commences, it falls back into its original form, filled to the brim with the dirty fluid. When the bucket reaches the level of the tunnel, it is hauled into the opening, and as the cable is slackened up, it flattens down again, and the water, escaping over the rim, runs off down the side of the tunnel.

But there are still lower depths. We went down nearly two hundred feet more, and at the bottom of the last level, found men at work taking out ore. The dripping of the water at this point is very considerable, and two plans are made use of to get rid of it. A part of the water is carried up to the reservoir in pig skins on the backs of naked and sweating Indians, and a part—the larger part—is pumped up to that point by hand.

[Sidenote: PRIMITIVE APPLIANCES FOR MINING.]

The pumps are mere straight logs, thirty feet long, with a bore of three inches, and a piston and bucket, pulled and pushed, back and forth, by two stalwart Indians sitting on either side, working by main strength, without even a lever purchase to help them along. There are stations or reservoirs at the end of each pump, and all must be kept continually working, night and day. The Indian pumpers sit down to their work upon the wet rock, and are as naked as when born; the great heat and want of ventilation at this depth, rendering clothing, if they had it, a superfluity.

They get fifty cents each, per day, and work twelve hours at a shift. In all my mining experience, I have never seen such a waste of power, and such thoroughly primitive appliances for mining.

I went through many of the galleries and drifts, and examined the vein carefully. The main vein is five to twelve feet wide, quite irregular, and runs in a generally southwestern and northeastern direction, dipping to the southwestward as it descends.

It carries metal in a very unequal degree in different portions, and though presenting rich specimens, and bunches of almost pure silver in spots, is not generally very rich.

In one chamber, I saw a number of mules and horses feeding, a thousand feet below the surface. These poor creatures are let down in slings, from the surface, through the tiro, and never go out again alive. They turned their glazing eyes upon us with evident pain as we passed with lighted torches, and appeared to regard us with mournful interest, as in some way connected with the world above, of which they still retained some dim recollection, but which they were never to look upon again.

In another chamber, I saw women and children cooking food for their husbands and parents. They appeared to live here, altogether, probably returning to the light of day only at long intervals. Utterly worn out, at last we climbed our way back to the tunnel, emerging into daylight just as the sun was setting, swallowed a liberal allowance of brandy, to protect ourselves against taking cold, mounted our horses, and galloped back to the city.

[Sidenote: THE RESCATA.]

The weekly sale of ores at the several mines, is called the rescata. One at the Serrano, I attended. The ore is placed on the ground, each miner’s work in a separate lot, and the buyers sample it before the sale. It is sold in the lump, by guess, not by weight, the buyer taking his chances on the amount. The auctioneer stands silent, under an umbrella, while the miners who have a small interest in the sales, over and above their wages, volubly shout the praises of the lot in turn. As each lot is put up, the buyers singly whisper their bids in the ear of the auctioneer, and when all have bid, he announces who bid the highest; the other bids are not named.

The chances for collusion seem, to me, to be very great. Some lots brought as high as five hundred dollars, and the aggregate sales exceeded six thousand five hundred dollars, at this rescata. This ended our sight-seeing in Guanajuato.

The silver mines of Northern Mexico, near the boundary of the United States, are supposed to be of great value, also, but their development has been retarded by the hostility of the Apache and Comanche Indians, who hold possession of portions of the territories.

Mining operations, however, have been undertaken, of late, upon the Rio Grande, and also over the American line in Arizona territory, the products of which are already reaching the United States. Central America possesses no silver mines that are worked to much extent, but rich ores are known to exist in Honduras, Nicaragua, and Costa Rica.

[Sidenote: THE REAL DEL MONTE.]

A very rich mine in Mexico is the one known as the Pachuca, in the group of the Real del Monte, and it has been worked almost from the time of the conquest of the country by Cortes. The most successful operator was Pedro Terreras, a muleteer, who found a shaft something more than a hundred years ago. He made so much money from it that he gave the King of Spain two ships of war, and promised him, if he would visit the country, he should have the ground paved with silver, and should not be required to put his royal foot on the plebeian earth. The king did not come, but he made the enthusiastic Terreras a member of the nobility under the name of Count of Regla. The mines yield about four million dollars annually, and the Regla family is one of the richest in Mexico. The ore yields about a hundred dollars a ton, and the miners are carefully searched every time they come up from their work. They wear only the lightest possible garments, which are changed and shaken whenever the gangs are relieved.

An interesting feature of mining life in Mexico is the search for sulphur in the craters of volcanoes. Popocatapetl and Orizaba are the principal mountains where this substance is sought, and an extensive business is carried on. The sulphur rises in the form of vapor, and is condensed around the crater of the volcano. It requires several years for an accumulation sufficiently thick to pay the expense of collection, and sometimes the work is very dangerous. Men are let down by ropes into the interior of the mountain, and sometimes they are killed by the heat and noxious gases. The miners are a hardy race, and seem to enjoy their venturesome occupation.

[Sidenote: ASCENT TO THE CRATERS.]

The ascent of these mountains is at all times difficult and fatiguing, and very few persons, other than the miners, ever attempt it. Sometimes an adventurous traveler happens along, and is not satisfied till he has made the ascent of one or both of the mountains, but he generally accumulates enough fatigue to last him several months.

Of this number is Mr. D. S. Richardson, United States Secretary of Legation, who, in February, 1877, climbed the peak of Orizaba, or Citlatepetl, as it is called by the Aztecs, the star mountain of the Anahuac. He had previously climbed to the top of Popocatapetl, and from its summit had gazed out over a sea of clouds to the frozen top of its mighty rival, and now the position was reversed. Mr. Richardson was accompanied by Mr. Eustace Morphy, who, with indomitable pluck, held out to the last. The point from which the ascent of Orizaba is generally undertaken is San Andres Chalchicomula, a pleasant little town, which lies directly under the great volcano, at its southwestern base. Here the sulphur-miners and the ice-cutters come down to sell the products of their hazardous industry. The time selected, February 5th, was not at all favorable for the ascent. The miners and guides had all come down, and reported the ascension impossible for several days to come; there had been no such storm in fifty years, they said, and to attempt to go up was simply madness.

Richardson and his companion yielded to their advice, and for a few days engaged in a hunting expedition—which, however, was a failure in so far as finding game was concerned. They saw one rabbit, and heard wolves and coyotes howling; but that was all. They were high up the mountain side, the weather was pleasant, and, as they had plenty of provisions, and no thought of care, they enjoyed the interval with a sense of absolute freedom. It was cold sometimes, and at night the little stars would look down freezingly through the tops of the pines, as if in derision of their foolishness; but these discomforts were as nothing compared with subsequent ones.

At one o’clock on the 10th of February, they began their climb up the mountain. For several hours their path wound up through the desolate ravines which separate the Sierra Negra from the peak. Great masses of volcanic rock were observed in fantastic shapes on every side, and on the entire face of the country, half covered with snow, could be read the signs of the savage convulsions which some day must have shaken the mountains to their foundations. On the morning of the 11th, the party resumed their march at two o’clock, and the ascent is thus described by Secretary Richardson:

[Sidenote: THE ASCENT OF THE ORIZABA.]

“We were six, all told, four Indians, Morphy, and myself. No party ever tried an ascent with better fellows for guides. They knew every inch of the ground, were strong and good-natured, and took a lively interest in the success of our enterprise. As we were the first to go up after the heavy storms, we went prepared to have a tough climb. The Indians said we would reach the top by ten o’clock, which was giving us seven hours to do it in. Under ordinary circumstances, and when the snow is in the best condition, the sulphur miners go up in five or six hours from the cave, but on the present occasion they had underestimated the difficulties. The snow was low down and very heavy, and long before the sun peeped up over the murky horizon, we were hopelessly launched upon the long, glistening slant, one end of which seemed reaching out to touch the stars, and the other shot far below us into a bank of clouds.

“Sunlight found us on the south side of the mountain, on a level about equal to the height of the Sierra Negra. The ascent now began to be very laborious, and, for the first time, we began cutting foot-steps in the ice in order to proceed. When half way up the mountain, the route usually taken is along a ledge of rocks which reaches up out of the snow like the dorsal fin of a shark, and runs clear to the top. In this respect, Orizaba differs very much from its kindred peak, Popocatapetl. Sharp, jagged points of rock stick out all over its surface like the spines of a porcupine, while the summit of Popocatapetl is a clean, unbroken cone. These rocks on the slopes of Orizaba are one of the principal sources of danger in the ascent, as they often come tumbling down in great quantities; but at the time of our adventure, they were all held fast by the unusually heavy fall of snow. This was a point in our favor; but if we did not have to dodge rocks, there was no lack of active operations in other respects. The higher we went the more abrupt became the ascent, and the more uncertain the foothold. Ten o’clock came around, and the summit was still far above us.

“Every step now had to be cut out of the solid ice, and the fatigue and light air were beginning to tell on our uninitiated muscles. At eleven o’clock, we were at the foot of what is known as the rocks of the arrepentimiento. This is the last grand pull, the home-stretch, and it could not be more appropriately named. It is probably not over three hundred yards to the top, but it is almost a perpendicular wall of ice, and as it is reached when the adventurer is already fainting and about ready to give up, it is a formidable obstacle. We were three hours in getting over it, and then, almost fainting, and completely exhausted, we threw ourselves down on a little shelf of sand at the top of the peak.”

It was two o’clock in the afternoon when they reached the summit, just eleven hours after their departure from the Cave of Santa Cruz, which is itself no less than thirteen thousand feet above the sea. Two of their Indians left the party, preferring to climb the mountain the next morning, to spending the night on its top. Mr. Richardson says that that was the most horrible night he ever hopes to pass. He says:

“Shortly after our arrival, a cold wind came up that struck us to the very bone. There was no shelter to be obtained, as the descent into the crater was impossible, and the excavations from which the Indians take sulphur were covered deep with ice and snow. The bald, naked peak presented but one point where it was possible to spend the night. A little below the lip of the crater, on the southern side, a little steam escapes through a bed of sand, and here the snow is melted off a spot about a rod square. Into this sand we scratched a hole, and, pulling our blankets over us, laid down. We had no eyes for the magnificent panorama which was spread out before us, or the sun, which was going down blood-red in the west; we were too utterly miserable and cold.

“I do not think any of us slept a wink all night. Our blankets froze stiff as boards, and all attempts to light a little spirit lamp and make coffee were fruitless. We could not even drink our wine, for it had turned to ice in the bottles. Thus hour after hour of the longest night I ever spent dragged by, and at length signs of day began to creep up slowly from the east. Almost too stupefied and stiff to move, we were only induced to crawl out from our holes by the stern realization of our desperate situation. The wind, too, now began to go down somewhat, and after moving about a little we felt better. Making our way up to the topmost pinnacle, we planted our flagstaff and unfurled our blood-red banner to the breeze.

[Sidenote: THE CRATER OF THE ORIZABA.]

“The crater of Orizaba, which is much smaller than that of Popocatapetl, is still an awful chasm, and is probably not far from two miles in circumference. We could not take measurements of it, as all the instruments were down the mountain with the other party. It shows no signs of life, and with the exception of the heated sand on which we passed the night, we failed to notice any evidences of volcanic action still going on. But what a contrast this awful stillness to the great convulsions of which this mountain has once been the center. We had a magnificent view, for about an hour after sunrise, and as far as the eye could reach, peak after peak of lesser magnitude told the story of its volcanic birth. By a queer coincidence, I had brought The Last Days of Pompeii with me to read in leisure moments, and as I looked out over the world at my feet, and thought of Bulwer’s vivid description of the last days of that doomed city, the thought suggested itself, ‘who knows how many Pompeiis are buried beneath these hoary hills, and what tales might these rocks repeat if they would?’”

XVI.

CORAL REEFS AND CAVES IN THE PACIFIC.

THE ISLANDS OF THE PACIFIC—HOW THEY HAVE BEEN FORMED—WHAT THE CORAL IS—THE WONDROUS ARCHITECTS OF THE SEA—WHAT A UNITED STATES STEAMER SAW—HOW THE CORAL IS FISHED FOR—ROMANTIC STORY OF A CAVERN—HOW IT WAS DISCOVERED—AN ELOPEMENT AND EXERCISE IN DIVING—LOVE AND TURTLES—A BATTLE IN THE WATER—KILLED BY SHARKS—A MAIDEN’S GRIEF—THE PERIL OF A LOVER—SURPRISING A FATHER-IN-LAW—END OF A SUBMARINE COURTSHIP.

The waters of the Pacific ocean contain thousands of islands far away from the coast. Their presence is recognized, long before they become visible, by clouds directly above them in the otherwise clear sky. The land absorbs the heat of the sun, and accumulates it faster than the water; soon an ascending current of warm air is formed, carrying up moisture into the colder regions of the atmosphere, where it is condensed and forms clouds. A similar phenomenon is observed in our western plains, where the sky is frequently clear enough in the morning, but by ten or eleven o’clock, enough heat has been accumulated to cause the formation of clouds.

[Sidenote: THE ISLANDS OF THE PACIFIC.]

The islands of the Pacific are of two kinds, called the higher and the lower. The lower rise but seven, ten, and rarely as high as one hundred feet above the level of the sea; while the higher islands reach an elevation of 10,000, 12,000, and even 15,000 feet. There is no transition between them. The most remarkable are the lower islands. Their appearance is very peculiar. In the first place, the eye is arrested by a white beach; then comes a line of verdure, due to tropical trees; then a lagoon of quiet water, of a whitish or a yellowish color, then another line of verdure, and finally, beyond all, the dark, blue waves of the ocean. Whitsuntide Island is a remarkable model of the structure of these islands:

It is a ring rising seven or eight feet above the sea level, enclosing a lagoon, and presenting the characteristics just described. The lagoon inside is but a few fathoms deep; but on the outside of the island, the water is fifteen thousand feet deep. Here, then, we evidently have a tower-like structure reaching up from the bottom of the sea, and having a depression in its summit. Some of these lower islands are fifty miles across, but most of them are not so large. In some the ring is broken at several points, and these are designated by the Malay word atoll.

The island of Tahiti, the principal one of the Society Islands is a good example of the second class or higher islands. It rises seven thousand to eight thousand feet above the level of the sea, has no lagoon in its center, but a crater, and the water around it is very deep. It may, in fact, be considered as a mountain rising to a height of some eighteen thousand feet from the bottom of the sea. Outside of it is a double girdle of low islands, one near, which Darwin calls a fringing reef, and one further out, to which he gives the name of a barrier reef.

On examining these reefs, and the lower islands, their structure will be found made up entirely of animal remains, generation after generation having left their homes, consisting of limestone, to accumulate there. On the top, we find these animals living and growing, in all colors, shapes, and sizes. The highest islands, on the contrary, except those near the continent, like Borneo, Sumatra, etc., are entirely volcanic, and do not contain sandstone, granite, or gneiss, like the mountains of the continent.

The limestone of the lower islands is not due to sedimental deposits from the ocean, but is the work of the coral animal, the great architect of the sea.

[Sidenote: WHAT THE CORAL IS.]

The great savant, Prof. Agassiz, describes them as follows:

“These animals are but a sac, like the finger of a glove, only more leathery. Around the mouth is a series of tentacles, formed by a prolongation of the skin. They are all skin, in fact, and have no special organs, yet they digest food with tremendous rapidity, absorbing it directly. It makes no difference if you turn them inside out; they will digest just as well as before. You cannot kill them by dividing them; for they live all over, like a plant. For this reason they have been called zoöphytes.[1] If you cut one into eight parts, each part will live and set up in business for itself. Like all other animals, however, they grow out of eggs. The eggs are formed within the skin, which is double, and divided into cells by partitions or septa. When mature, they detach themselves, move about in the water until they find a favorable place, and then establish a new colony. They do not contribute to the growth of their parent colony, which is effected in another way.

[1] The term Zoöphyte is applied to simple polyps and compound individuals consisting of many polyps united together, as in most corals. They often branch like vegetation, and the polyps resemble flowers in form.

“On examining a piece of coral, it is seen to be full of little holes, popularly supposed to be the places for the stomachs of the animals, but this is not so, at all; the coral animal does not form a secretion around it like the mollusks,[2] but inside, between the two folds of its skin. Coral is, therefore, the bones and not the skull of the animal. As before stated, these animals work in societies or colonies, and their tendency is to repeat the forms peculiar to each species; thus we have corals shaped like a hand, like the branches of trees, like mushrooms, like a brain, with its convolutions. They grow and multiply in these societies by budding or gemmation. The side of the animal begins to bulge out, and the protuberance so formed develops into a new mouth, which soon eats and digests for itself, but does not separate from its parent. This process goes on symmetrically, and produces the variety of regular shapes just described.

[2] Mollusks are invertebrate animals, having a soft, fleshy body, which is inarticulate, and not radiate internally.

“Some distance below the surface, we no longer find these beautiful shapes, but a dense, solid, coral rock. Take for instance, the coral reefs of Florida. Beginning one hundred and twenty feet below the surface, we first find about thirty feet of massive rock, then the astræa,[3] then the meandrina,[4] and about ten feet below the surface the palmata or hand-shaped coral. In the shallow mud between the reefs and the continent, there are multitudes of branching corals of the most beautiful forms, colors, and delicacy of structure. The production of coral rock is explained partly by the mechanical action of the waves, and partly by the destruction of the coral insect by the sea urchin and other animals that feed on it. The waves disintegrate the structure formed by the animal, and then roll back the coral sand, thus produced upon it, where it undergoes a process of induration in the course of time.

[3] Astræa, a coral in the shape of a star.

[4] Meandrina, a genus of corals with meandering cells, as the brain-stone coral.

“It is an interesting question how the structure ever rises above the water level, seeing that the animal which makes it cannot live out of the water. The little architects retain enough sea water to last them over until the next tide, and are so enabled to work up to the highest watermark. Actinia have been observed all closed up on the rock at low water, and then suddenly opened like magnificent flowers, five and six inches in diameter, when the tide rose.”

So far, what Mr. Agassiz says of them; now let us try and look at them ourselves. In the hot, summer months, when the waters are bringing forth the moving creature that has life, millions of diminutive, jelly-like spawn are thrown out by the parent animal. For a while, they enjoy their freedom, and seem to luxuriate in the exercise of their powers of locomotion, which they are never hereafter to recover; but soon they become weary, and settle down upon some firm, stationary body. At once they begin to change their form; they become star-like, the mouth being surrounded by tentacles, very much as the center of a flower is surrounded by its leaves. After some time, each one of these ray-like parts pushes out extensions, which in their turn assume the shape of tiny stars, and establish their own existence by means of an independent mouth. In the meanwhile, lime has been deposited at the base of the little animal, by its own unceasing activity, and forms a close-fitting foot, which adheres firmly to the rock. Upon this slender foundation arises another layer, and thus by incessant labor, story upon story, until at last a tree has grown up with branches spreading in all directions. But where the plants of the upper world bear leaves and flowers, there buds forth here, from the hard stone, a living, sensitive animal, moving at will, and clad in the gay form and bright colors of a flower.

This flower is the animal itself, seen only in its native element, and unfit for air and light. What we call coral is its house, outside of which it prefers to live, rather than within.

How they build their dwelling, human eye has never seen. We only know that the tiny animals, by some mysterious power, absorb without ceasing the almost imperceptible particles of lime which are contained in all salt-water, and deposit them, one by one, in the interior. This is done, now more, now less actively; and the denser the deposit is, the more valuable the coral. Gradually this substance hardens and thickens, until, in the precious coral, the Isis Nobiles of science, a large tree is formed, which often reaches the size of a man’s waist. It is perfectly solid and compact, and adorned on the surface with delicate parallel lines. Thus, on the tree-shaped limestone, grows the life-endowed body of the polypus; it moves, it feeds, it produces others, and then is turned again into stone, burying itself in its own rocky house, whilst on its grave new generations build unceasingly new abodes.

This is the so-called blood-coral, the favorite of antiquity, and the fashion of our day—next to the pearl, the most precious jewel of the deep.

It is not easy to obtain a piece of living coral, for the purpose of studying its wondrous structure, and admiring its exceeding beauty. The great depth at which the mysterious little animals dwell in the ocean, secures them against the mere amateur fisherman; and the professional coral-fisher in the Mediterranean, the son of superstitious races of Southern Italy, is even extremely reluctant to admit outsiders into the secrets of his trade. However, they seem only to seek very superficially. As a proof of this assertion, we cite the following example:

The United States Steamer Gettysburg, while on her way from Fayal to Gibraltar, recently made a discovery of considerable importance, in the shape of an immense coral bank (hitherto totally unknown), in latitude 36° 30´, longitude 11° 28´. Partial surveys were made, and the least depth of water noted was one hundred and eighty feet, which, in mid-ocean, is very significant. Twenty miles west of the bank, the sounding line marks sixteen thousand five hundred feet, and between the bank and Cape St. Vincent, twelve thousand feet. The commander of the Gettysburg believes that in some portions the coral rises to the surface. How such a reef, in a part of the ocean which is constantly traversed by vessels, can have remained undiscovered is almost inexplicable. It is also stated that the bank is rich in valuable coral of light pink shades of color.

[Sidenote: CORAL FISHING.]

The coral fishing is done in this way: a large net is fastened by a stout rope to the stern of the vessel. At the end of this rope hangs first an iron cross, consisting of two hollow tubes, laid cross-wise, through which strong ash poles have been thrust, and to this are fastened a number of old sardine-nets, no longer fit for their first purpose, and countless ends and bits of wide-meshed pieces of rope, as thick as a finger—the whole apparatus a mass of rags and rotten network. But the more such wretched-looking pieces of network the fisher can fasten to his iron cross, the better are his chances. When the sea is perfectly quiet, he lets them sink down to a depth of sixty or even a hundred fathoms, where they slowly spread and unfold themselves over a vast extent. Now the vessel proceeds slowly on in the manner of our trolling, and as soon as the skilled hand of the fisher observes that the rope pulls, and consequently something is fastened to the net, he pulls it slowly up, and the treasure, if any there is, is heaved on board with great care, and now comes the task of picking out the precious treasure from the meshes of the network, and to loosen them from the fragments of stone on which they are growing.

[Sidenote: HOW TO EXAMINE THE CORAL.]

The only way to examine the living animal is to seize the little fragment of rock, or the shell to which the mysterious creature is fastened, at the very moment that it appears near the surface, and to dip it, if possible, without exposing it to the air, immediately into a vessel with salt-water, which you hold ready for the purpose. At first, there is nothing to be seen but a vague, indistinct mass of grayish substance. You suspend the animal and its tiny abode by a string in the middle of the glass globe, and carry it to a dark place; for the coral will not display its beautiful form and colors in the gleaming light of the day. It takes hours, often, before the obstinate little creature condescends to give a sign of life.

At last the club-shaped extremity of the dingy red substance begins to wrinkle up into little rings here and there. Looking now with a magnifying-glass you perceive with joy, that the eight star-shaped indentations assume a white tinge, and the red grows every moment to a more lively hue. The lines widen, and soon the whole resembles a beautiful flower of eight leaves.

We have seen that those wondrous little animals in length of time have built mountains to a height of fifteen thousand feet. The coral islands and reefs are but just above the surface of the water, except in cases where they have been lifted by earthquakes or other internal action, after the little architect of the sea had done his work. Many of these coral islands are of circular form, with an opening which will admit the passage of boats, and sometimes of ships. The waves break on the outer edge with that long, steady swell peculiar to the Pacific, but on the inside the water is as calm and peaceful as that of a mountain lagoon. Sometimes the coral reefs have been formed around the volcanic islands so as to encircle them completely, except at a single opening. In such cases, they make excellent harbors between the reef and the island: the harbor of Tahiti is a splendid specimen of this kind of work. The reef surrounds the island in such a way as to make a lagoon of still water, like the moat around a castle. The entrance is deep, and sufficiently wide to admit ships of every size.

On many of the volcanic islands there are caverns, some of them of considerable size, and often of great depth. Runaway sailors frequently hide in these caverns, and they are also resorted to by the natives in times of warfare. There is a cavern in the Island of Hoonga, one of the Tonga Islands, which has a romantic history from the use that was made of it by the man who discovered it.

[Sidenote: AQUATIC SKILL OF THE FEEJEEANS.]

One day a young chief of Hoonga was out on a fishing excursion, and caught sight of a large turtle. The turtle dived, and so did the chief, leaving his canoe floating on the surface of the water. The natives of nearly all the Pacific islands can swim like seals; they are in the water and learn to swim about as soon as they learn to walk. It is commonly said that a Feejee baby will swim instinctively, like a puppy or a kitten; but this is not strictly true. The natives think nothing of swimming a mile or two at a time, and they frequently get up swimming matches, in which they show great speed and endurance. The accomplishment is not confined to the sterner sex; girls and women swim as well as boys and men, and frequently the girls carry away the prizes in the swimming matches. It is proper to say that they are not as elaborately dressed as the young ladies of New York and Paris; on some of the islands nobody wears any clothing whatever, except a little oil rubbed over the skin, to keep out the water. Since the missionaries settled in the South Pacific, more attention is paid to dress than formerly; but the quantity worn is surprisingly small, and would not admit the wearers to a fashionable party in America.

The young chief dived for the turtle, and the two had a lively race. The turtle went into a hole in the rocky shore, and the chief went after him. The turtle disappeared, and the chief rose to the surface of the water to regain his boat. But instead of finding himself in the open air, he was in a cavern, a hundred feet wide and twice as long, with a dome as high as the roof of an ordinary church. It was lighted from the water and from a few crevices in the rock, where nobody could reach them. On one side there was a floor of solid rock, smooth as the best sidewalk of a city, and evidently the resort of the turtles of that neighborhood. He explored the cavern, and concluded that he had hit upon a good thing, and would keep it to himself. Taking a new twist in his neck-tie, adjusting his collar, and seeing that his diamond pin was well fastened, he dived into the water, swam outside, and rose near his canoe. With his thumb on the side of his nose, he paddled home, lighted his gas, and sat down in his easy-chair.

He was not a married man, but he had hopes in the direction of matrimony. He loved the daughter of an old chief whose tribe was then at war with his own, and as long as the war lasted there was no hope for their union. His tribe was preparing for an assault upon the other, and the economical custom prevailed there of eating all who were killed or made prisoners. His tribe was more powerful than the other, and if the battle should be on the side of the stronger party, they would have the pleasure of devouring the vanquished ones. He had no particular objection to eating, or seeing his friends eat, the body of his father-in-law, and especially that of his mother-in-law,—many a married man in America can understand his feelings, and sympathize with them,—but he did object to seeing his bride roasted or fricasseed; so he studied out a plan to save her from the gridiron or stewpan.

[Sidenote: WHAT A PAIR OF LOVERS DID.]

He managed to communicate with her the next day, and told her to meet him at a certain place on the shore, at an appointed time, where he would be ready with his canoe. He was there on time, and she came, with her waiting-maid, who carried their entire wardrobe in an old bottle. A quart of cocoa-nut oil was sufficient to dress her for several days, and it did not take long to pack up. They entered the canoe, and the chief paddled them to the cave, which they reached just as the sun was rising.

“Dress yourself, my dear,” said he, as he ceased paddling, “and have your maid do likewise.”

She poured out a handful of the oil, and rubbed it over her porphyry-colored shoulders, so that she could slip easily through the water. Her maid followed her example, and then fastened the bottle to a string around her neck.

“Now, if you’re ready,” said the lover, “follow me.”

“Ready,” was the response.

He went overboard, and mistress and maid went after him.

Down they dived like three dolphins, the princess keeping close at his heels, and the maid following the princess.

The lady had some misgivings when they entered the hole in the rocks, but she concluded that her lover knew what he was about, and therefore she asked no questions. In fact, she could not talk at that time, as any one familiar with efforts at subaqueous conversation can testify.

[Sidenote: THE HAPPY COUPLE IN A TURTLE CAVE.]

They rose in the cavern, and clambered out upon the solid floor, disturbing half a dozen turtles, and capturing one of them just as he was sliding off into the water.

The princess was delighted, and so was the maid, who thought the place one of the jolliest she had ever seen. They talked about the best plan to arrange the house, and laughed to think what a commotion her absence from home would create. After an hour or so he left her, promising to bring some furniture, and fit up the establishment, so that they might start at housekeeping in good style.

There was a precious row in Oklingee’s palace when he found that his daughter had disappeared. He searched through his village, but could find no trace of her; and, after several hours of fruitless endeavor, he came home, and for the first time discovered that she had taken the bottle of cocoa-nut oil, and then he knew that she wouldn’t return in a hurry, and that her absence was premeditated. He did not know that anybody was in love with her, but very naturally suspected that she had eloped with some young man. His rage was great, and he ordered all the youths of the tribe to be sent before him.

All came, and were closely questioned. None of them knew anything about the princess and her flight, and all were able to prove where they were the night before. His anger was partially appeased when some one brought in a prisoner freshly caught, who was immediately killed and served up for dinner.

Oklingee’s wrath turned to grief, and he determined to bring on a great battle at once, by way of distracting his sad thoughts. Moreover he suspected that his daughter had been stolen by some of his foes, though his spies brought him word that she was nowhere to be seen in the camp of the enemy.

[Sidenote: A HOME UNDER WATER.]

Meantime the lovers were happy in their new home, though the visits of the young chief were never of long duration. He carried her a liberal supply of mats for bedding, and kept the place well stocked with cocoa-nuts and other things good to eat. Anything that would be injured by the water was carefully wrapped in a shark’s skin before it was taken to the cave, and as the skin was quite water-proof, the articles did not suffer in transit. It was no easy work for the youth to dive and swim into the cavern with a bundle fastened to his neck; but love gave him strength, and he was ready to undergo any hardship for the sake of his heart’s idol. She reciprocated his kindness, and arranged all the mats and other furniture so that the house was quite comfortable, and even luxurious.

The turtles did not approve of the invasion of their home, and made up their minds not to live in the society of the moonstruck couple and their servant. As the latter showed no disposition to leave, the former abandoned the place, though now and then one made his way there and climbed upon the rocky floor. When the splashing of the water denoted the approach of a turtle, the princess and her maid would quietly slip aside, and leave him to pick out the spot he wanted and go to sleep. They would then stealthily approach him, and turn him on his back, where he would be helpless. Cutting off his head was the next step, and by the time the chief made his appearance the turtle would be ready to take home. He was thus able to account to his friends for his absence, as he took a turtle home nearly every day, and was greatly praised for his skill in the chase.

One day a fellow who had been unfortunate in turtle hunting, and taken nothing for a fortnight, determined to follow the chief, and find out where he had so much good luck. He paddled his canoe silently along, keeping some distance in the rear, so that he was not noticed by the lover. The latter reached the cave, and was so intent on seeing his lady love that he did not think to look around. Taking a bag of cocoa-nuts, he dived and rose as usual. The other waited a long time for his reappearance, and at last was rewarded by seeing him come up dragging a turtle, which he lifted into the canoe. Just as he was picking up his paddle, he discovered the spy, and knew that his secret, or at least a part of it, had been found out.

[Sidenote: FATE OF A SPY.]

The other laughed, but his laugh was brief, as the lover went for him, and there was every promise of a fight. The canoes met with a crash, and the men grappled and fell into the water. Their struggle was long, as neither had any weapons or clothing, and their oily skins did not offer good holding-ground for their hands. At last the chief had the spy by the throat, and at the same time struck him a violent blow on the nose, so that the blood spurted out.

The waters of the South Pacific swarm with sharks. Some of these grow to a considerable size, and are strong enough to seize a man and kill him. They rarely attack the natives; there seems to be a friendliness among the sharks and the natives, as the latter can swim among them with almost complete safety, while a white man would be caught in a moment. It sometimes happens that a group of natives will be bathing and frolicking in the water with sharks all around, as inattentive as though nothing were near them. But let a white man join the party, and he will instantly attract the sharks. A white cloth thrown into the water will bring them around; anything white seems to draw them and receive their attention. It not unfrequently happens that sailors who have incautiously put their naked hands or feet into the water over the sides of a boat have had them bitten off by sharks.

[Sidenote: FOOD FOR SHARKS.]

Blood also attracts them, and where there is blood, they make no distinction between natives and foreigners. In the present instance, the lover had drawn blood from his antagonist, and it instantly occurred to him that both their lives were in danger if any sharks were around. He released his hold, dived under his canoe, and swam away a hundred feet or more, so as to be out of the vicinity of the blood he had drawn.

As he rose to the surface and looked around, he saw that the spy was just recovering from the force of the blow. His head was above the water, and his hands were moving as if he were slowly swimming towards the rocks. Suddenly he gave a shriek, and disappeared as if drawn under, and the lover then knew that his expectations were not incorrect. But with a taste of blood the sharks would be likely to attack him, and he therefore swam farther away, and climbed upon a small reef just even with the surface.

Fortunately a light wind came up and blew his canoe towards him. When it was near the reef he swam out and reached it, and then paddled home with his turtle. For two days he did not go out again; partly through fear that the sharks might be around the spot where his antagonist was killed, and partly in order to allay any suspicions that his previous movements might have aroused.

When he next visited the cavern, he found his princess greatly distressed, and almost dead with grief. Soon after his last visit her maid took it into her head to go outside. She dived into the water, and rose close to the foot of the cliff. The lover had been gone an hour or more, but an empty canoe was floating not far away, and near it a dozen sharks were quarrelling over something which she naturally supposed was the body of the owner of the bark. Of course she thought that the canoe must belong to the young chief; and when she returned and told her story, it is no wonder that the princess went into hysterics. On the next day he came not, and they then knew that he was lost. Their grief had been great, and so were their surprise and relief at his return.

He went and came safely. Next day the warriors went out to battle, and the stronger tribe was victorious. The slain were eaten, and the prisoners were reserved to be killed whenever wanted. Among the latter was Oklingee. The young chief had shown great courage in battle, killing two of the fattest and tenderest warriors with his own hand, and his people were consequently inclined to do the handsome thing by him. Oklingee was old and lean, and the young chief easily persuaded his people to let the patriarch live. The old fellow was gratified at being saved from the hash-mill for the present, and asked the youth what he could do for him.

“Give me the hand of your daughter” said the young man, respectfully.

“Certainly, my dear boy,” said Oklingee; “not only her hand, but her entire self, provided you can find her. She has eloped, and I don’t know where she is.”

“I will show you,” said the youth, as he led his prospective father-in-law to his canoe, and seated him on a mat in the bottom. Then he summoned his friends, and together they paddled their light canoes in a gay procession over the water. Near the mouth of the cavern they halted, and the chief jumped overboard.

[Sidenote: A CANNIBAL WEDDING.]

While all were wondering at his strange behavior, he reappeared with his tawny princess at his side. Everybody was surprised, and the old man gave the happy couple his blessing. The wedding was appointed for the following Sunday; cards were issued to all the relatives, the prisoners that had been held over were killed and roasted, and everybody was happy.

XVII.

BURGLARS AND BURGLARIES.

REMARKABLE BURGLARIES.—UNDER GROUND FOR DISHONEST PURPOSES.—WONDERFUL ADROITNESS OF BURGLARS.—A REMARKABLE ROBBERY.—OCCUPATION OF A LAWYER’S OFFICE.—LABOR UNDER DIFFICULTIES.—A TROUBLESOME POLICEMAN.—STRANGE SCENE IN COURT.—THE CULPRIT’S REPLY.—ROBBERY BY COUNTERFEIT POLICEMEN.—THE OCEAN BANK ROBBERY.—RAPID AND THOROUGH WORK.—AN ASTONISHED WATCHMAN.—BAFFLING THE POLICE.

Labor underground may be performed for a bad, as well as for a good purpose. It may be for dishonest gain, or it may be to secure a place of concealment for stolen treasures, or for those who steal them. In the performance of this kind of labor, men will frequently display ability and enterprise sufficient to insure them a good living and ultimate independence in an honest calling. They overcome obstacles of great magnitude; constantly risk their lives and liberty, and frequently fail to obtain any reward; their enterprises are hazardous; and where they promise great returns, they very often fail to redeem the promise. Men who plan great robberies frequently show the qualities that would make them prominent in an honest pursuit; they may spend half their lives in prison, when they might be honored and respected if they chose to be so; but they deliberately decide that honesty is not the best policy, and accept the career, which is certain to cover them with dishonor.

Some years ago there was a skilful and successful robbery of a jewelry store in Manchester, England. The store was entered between Saturday afternoon and Monday morning; the safe was opened and goods to a great value were taken; the occupants of the store had bought their safe only a few months before; it had been warranted fire and burglar proof, and they at once brought suit against the makers of the safe to recover the value of the goods that were stolen.

When the trial came on, one of the counsel stated that a man, then in prison for another offence, had acknowledged to a share in the robbery of the jewellers. With the consent of both parties the man was brought into court to testify to the robbery, and say how it was performed. As he entered the room everybody became silent, and all eyes were turned towards him.

[Sidenote: A BURGLAR ON THE WITNESS STAND.]

They had expected a low, mean-looking fellow, with the face of a bull-dog, and the general appearance of a brute. Instead of such a man, they saw one whose bearing was erect, and whose face denoted intelligence. He took his place in the witness box, and when everything was ready he began his story. He gave the history of the robbery at length, and detailed each step of the proceedings. His manner was captivating, and at times he displayed enthusiasm and eloquence that would have fitted him for the position and honors of an advocate.

“We watched the store for more than a month,” said he, “so as to learn the habits of everybody around it. We found they shut up Saturday, and no one went near the place till Monday morning, and so we fixed on Saturday night and Sunday as the best time to work. There was a lawyer’s office over the store, and the lawyer went away about three o’clock in the afternoon, and didn’t come back till ten the next morning. Sunday he didn’t come at all, and so we were sure of him.

“We went into his office every day for a week before we went to work; but of course we didn’t touch anything. We laid out all our plans in his office, and smoked his cigars, and I will do him the credit to say they were excellent. As soon as he was gone that Saturday, we went into his office, took up the carpet, and then lifted the boards in the floor. We made a hole three feet square down to the laths and plaster of the ceiling of the jewelry store. Then we waited till the store was shut; and it hadn’t been shut five minutes before we had a little hole in the ceiling large enough to push down a tightly closed umbrella.

[Sidenote: NEW USE FOR AN UMBRELLA.]

“We got the umbrella down, and then opened it, so that it would catch all the rubbish, and thus prevent our making any noise. When we were ready to go into the store, we had to arrange things so as to work systematically. We had laid all our plans for this beforehand.

“A gas-light was kept burning in the store, and there was a hole in the shutter, so that anybody could look in. A policeman passed the store once in every fifteen minutes; it was his duty to look in every time, and I can say for him that he did his duty. The man who was to work at the safe had to lie on his side in full view of the peep-hole; but by rolling over twice he could get under a counter and be out of sight.

“There were five of us in all. One was to work at the safe, with a string tied to his toe. This string was held by a man who sat on the edge of the hole in the lawyer’s office. Then a man was at the lawyer’s window, and another was walking up and down the opposite side of the street. The fifth man took turns at the safe, so that we should lose no time in resting.

“When the policeman was coming, the man in the street made a signal to the man at the lawyer’s window. This one signalled the fellow at the hole, and pulled the string gently. The man at the safe then rolled under the counter; he staid there till the policeman had looked in and gone along, when the signals were repeated, and he rolled out and went to work again.

“We lost five minutes out of every fifteen in this way, and at one time we thought we should have to give up. We got into the safe, though a little after midnight; and then it didn’t take long to empty it of all we could carry. We were out of the store by one o’clock Monday morning, and took an early train to London.”

The burglar then went on to give a description of the process of opening a safe. He said that it was a rule with skilful burglars that any safe could be opened, provided there was a place anywhere for the insertion of a wedge. “If we can get a wedge in anywhere,” said he, “the safe is bound to open, even though the first wedge is no thicker than the blade of a knife.

[Sidenote: “BURGLAR PROOF SAFES.”]

“All we want besides proper tools is plenty of time, and there never was a safe manufactured that cannot be opened if you give us time.”

He then described the advantages and disadvantages of the safes made by different manufacturers.

“A’s safe can be opened by a skilful man in twenty hours; B’s in fifteen hours; C’s in eleven hours; D’s in nine hours; and as for E’s,” mentioning one that had recently come into notice, “we consider it no more than an ordinary trunk, as we can open it in half an hour.

“There is no safe made that cannot be opened inside of thirty hours, and if we can be sure of not being disturbed for that time, we are certain of our game. Any safe will answer its purpose, provided the intervals of visiting the place where it is kept are never so great as the time required to open it.”

As the man finished his story, and was taken from the court to go to prison, the judge asked him why he did not abandon burglary and live honestly. “Your story,” said the judge, “shows that you possess sufficient intelligence and ability to make you a master mechanic in a very short time, and if you would lead a respectable life you could be sure of a good living.”

The burglar turned to the judge, and replied with great earnestness, “I am as proud of my profession as you are of yours, and have no desire to leave it. I stand high in it, and the praise and admiration of my associates are just as dear to me as the praise and admiration of a shopful of mechanics would be to their master. Besides, we run risks that mechanics do not; we must have the skill to baffle the police, and save ourselves from arrest, while the mechanic needs nothing of the kind. The greater our danger, the greater is the respect shown to us; and one reason why we love our profession is, because there is so much danger in it. And any skilful and experienced burglar will tell you so.”

The man went back to prison to serve out his sentence for the crime of which he was convicted. Doubtless the notoriety he had obtained by his appearance in court was of great assistance in consoling him for his imprisonment. He was proud of his accomplishments as a burglar, and seemed to take his incarceration more as an honor than a disgrace.

In this country there have been several robberies of the higher sort, such as entitle the perpetrators to great praise for their skill, although it was shown in a bad cause. Among these may be included the famous Philadelphia Bank robbery, a few years ago, where the burglars actually informed the bank officers that an attempt was to be made against them. They proceeded in this wise:—

[Sidenote: A WELL-PLANNED ROBBERY.]

One afternoon, a little before the close of business hours, a man in the uniform of a policeman entered the bank and asked for the cashier. On meeting that official, he stated that he had been sent by the police captain of the precinct, whom he named, to warn them that there was reason to suspect that an attempt would be made that evening to rob the bank. He said an extra policeman would be detailed to watch the bank, and another extra man would be placed on the beat. The cashier thanked the man for the information, and told him to give his compliments to the captain. The man then departed, and the bank officers, after notifying their private watchman, closed the establishment and went home.

Of course the private watchman was on the alert, and kept a sharp lookout. About ten o’clock a policeman appeared, and asked if there had been any suspicious movements around there. The watchman said there had been none; and while they were talking another policeman appeared, and joined them in conversation. The first was the extra to watch the bank, and the second was the extra on the beat. The watchman opened the door of the bank, and allowed them to enter, so that they could see the approaching thieves without being seen.

[Sidenote: AN UNHAPPY WATCHMAN.]

When the three were fairly inside, there was a sudden change in the state of affairs. The door was closed, the watchman was knocked down, bound, gagged, and carried to the president’s room, where he was seated in a comfortable arm-chair. One of the men drew a pistol and sat in front of him; the other opened the outer door, blew a small whistle, and in a minute half a dozen men, as nearly as the watchman could judge, entered the building. The door was closed behind them, and the party went at work to open the safe.

Swiftly, and as silently as possible, their work was performed. The watchman, from the place where he was bound, could not see, but he could hear, and he knew they were at work with drills, blow-pipes, wedges, and the other implements of the burglar’s trade. Hour after hour passed, the watchman, bound and gagged, being guarded by his vigilant keeper. In telling the story subsequently, he said he was civilly treated by the man who guarded him. At his request the cords that held his arms were loosened, and the gag in his mouth was placed where it would least inconvenience him. Whenever he complained of thirst, his keeper gave him a glass of water from a pitcher in the room.

An hour or so before daylight the robbers opened the safe, and secured their plunder. Hastily packing it into the bags that had contained their tools, they departed, leaving their tools behind, and leaving the watchman securely fastened in his chair. He was ordered not to stir for an hour: bound as he was, he could not stir until some one came to his assistance, so that the parting injunction of the thieves was entirely superfluous. The amount of their plunder was never positively made known to the public, but was understood to be not less than two hundred thousand dollars—a very fair compensation for the work of a single night.

[Sidenote: THE OCEAN BANK ROBBERY.]

Of the many successful bank robberies that have taken place on this continent, the Ocean Bank burglary ranks among the foremost for its ingenuity and skill, and for being a complete puzzle to the most experienced detectives of the city of New York. Although an investigation by the police authorities was begun within a few hours after the discovery of the robbery, no clew was ever obtained, or, at any rate, given to the public, of the perpetrators; and to this day the whole matter has been involved in mystery, and probably will ever remain so.

The maxim of war, that the reduction of every place, however strong, is possible, must be equally true in the art of thievery. It is evident that no vault can be made impregnable; no lock can be contrived by human ingenuity, with all its mechanical appliances, that will prove superior to other human ingenuity; no system of watching can make property entirely safe against the patience and acuteness of men who give good faculties to the science of stealing.

The premises occupied by the Ocean Bank were at the corner of Greenwich and Fulton Streets, New York, a locality much frequented by day and night. One would imagine that an attempt at robbery in this locality must be detected very quickly, provided the policemen and the watchers employed around the neighboring stores performed their duty. The robbery occurred between one and three o’clock on the morning of the 28th of June, 1869. It appears that there was no regular inside watchman employed by the bank, but they had an out-door man employed to watch the premises.

It is supposed that the robbery was planned many weeks before it took place, and one or more persons familiar with the thorough workings of the bank were suspected of being, to some extent at least, participators in the enterprise.

The basement of the premises in question was occupied by a Mr. William Okell, a gentleman well known in the city, and doing business as a broker. Having more room than he required for carrying on his business, he rented out several small offices for business purposes. In the early part of June, a man giving the name of Charles K. Cole, and representing himself as an agent for an insurance company in Chicago, engaged one of these rooms; and to him is given the credit of planning the robbery, in connection with others.

Immediately above the office rented to Cole was the president’s private office, and through the ceiling of this office an entrance was made sufficient to admit a man’s body. From the subsequent examination by the detectives, it appears that holes were drilled through this ceiling from above and below, as the Brussels carpet in the president’s room contained no holes, which would not have been the case had the drilling been done entirely from the basement.

It was urged by some that this drilling through the ceiling and large beams must have occupied weeks, while other experienced officers asserted that it could have been accomplished in a few hours. One of the severed beams was four inches thick by fourteen in width. Some believed that an entrance was effected through the side door, and that the person or persons had a good knowledge of the employees, where the safes were, the contents of the vault and safes, and the key to the combination lock.

[Sidenote: A STARTLING DISCOVERY.]

The discovery of the robbery was made by the colored man up stairs, on Monday morning, when he opened the bank, in his usual way, to clean the offices. He detected a strong smell of powder, and went into the rear office to find out the cause of it. There he was astonished at the view which met his Ethiopian eyes.

On the floor of this office were the vaults and safes. Here he observed several caps of different descriptions, six or eight in number; overcoats, blouses, and overalls, such as are used by machinists; oil-cloths, rubber shoes, saws, bits, awls, jack-screws, drills, lanterns, and every other kind of implement used by expert thieves. The instruments were gathered together and taken into the possession of the police, and a cabinet of four hundred pieces was made of them.

The vault and safes were found to have been broken open; United States bonds were lying scattered about, as well as large quantities of coin and currency, mixed with which were small wedges, railway bonds, copper coin, augers, chisels, flasks of powder, any quantity of cigar stumps, which showed that the burglars took the situation very coolly, pieces of chilled iron, fuses, gold certificates, and other valuable securities.

[Sidenote: FRIGHT OF A PORTER.]

Just outside the vault was placed a very heavy bag of gold, which had been lifted out; but owing, probably, to its great weight, it was abandoned. Tin boxes had been burst open and thrown in all directions, as well as the securities which they had contained, and everything betokened the utmost recklessness in ransacking the safes. When all this disorder and chaos met the porter’s gaze, he became half bewildered, and did not know how to act; he thought he might be arrested for what had been done by others, and for a few minutes he contemplated flight. He had been through the rooms at one o’clock A. M., on the same morning, and found everything secure, so that it was plain the robbery had been done in a very short time. He, at last, raised an alarm that the bank had been entered, and in a short time Captain Steers, of the twenty-seventh precinct, took possession of the bank until the officers arrived.

When the robbery became known, the city was thrown into intense excitement, as it was rumored that over one million of money and securities had been stolen. The bank was quickly besieged by depositors and other interested parties, together with the usual assembly of curiosity-seekers. The depositors were perfectly uncontrollable; and at one time it seemed that they were going to lay hands on money, or securities, found outside the vault, and make themselves secure against loss. The police, however, kept them at bay, and kept them out of the building. At length the bank officials appeared on the scene, in company with the bank’s legal adviser; and after a short time they issued a statement that only about twenty thousand dollars had been stolen.

This report kept down the excitement, but the depositors really did not know whether they were safe, or utterly ruined. The detectives took charge of the case, but, as stated at the outset, they were unable to cope with the matured plans of the thieves, and did not succeed in bringing any of them to the bar of justice.

[Sidenote: BLOWING OPEN A SAFE.]

The vault was in the president’s room, at the rear of the premises. It was defended by an iron door, having a combination lock. This door was blown open with the gunpowder which had attracted the porter’s attention. The door being opened, everything in the safe was accessible. The keys to the second door hung on the inside of the one that had been thrust open by the action of the powder, and it is hardly necessary to say that the thieves made good use of them.

The third door was forced open with a powerful screw, the force used being sufficient to depress the floor under the door. Here were two safes; one contained the securities of the depositors, and the other the property of the bank.

The boxes of the depositors appeared to be the principal attraction for the thieves, and paper securities were preferred to the gold which stared them in the face. These boxes were completely overhauled, and securities to the amount of about five hundred thousand dollars were abstracted; one depositor having lost as much as fifty thousand dollars, for which the bank was in no way responsible.

About thirty thousand dollars belonging to the bank, in checks and currency, were stolen. The thieves overhauled some thirty thousand dollars in Clearing House currency, which could have been negotiated, as well as thirty thousand dollars in gold coin; but which they did not touch.

The detectives went to work, and it was said that one or more of the bank’s officials were suspected, and closely watched for some time subsequent to the robbery. Two men, who were said to be the most daring and accomplished bank thieves in the city, were suspected; but no trace could be obtained of their having been seen near the Ocean Bank. These men were supposed to have committed a robbery, just previously, at the National Bank of New Windsor, of something like one hundred thousand dollars. A number of expert English burglars had also arrived a short time before the robbery, but nothing could be brought against them.

On the third day after the burglary, a patrolman, in Elizabeth Street, about three o’clock A. M., met two young lads whom he knew. Suspecting they were up for no good at that hour of the morning, he spoke to them. They informed him that there was a large trunk standing on the sidewalk, opposite No. 8 Elizabeth Street. He went to the number indicated, and there found the trunk, as they had described. On it was a card directed to Captain Jourdan (late superintendent of police), of the sixth ward. The trunk and the two boys were taken to the station-house.

[Sidenote: SECURITIES RETURNED.]

When Captain Jourdan was summoned, and the trunk was opened, it was found to contain unnegotiable securities, to the amount of three hundred thousand dollars, which had been stolen from the Ocean Bank. The property consisted of bonds, checks, securities, and currency, together with legal documents, such as conveyances and mortgages; but no clew could possibly be obtained as to the sender of the trunk.

The total loss sustained by the bank proved to be about twenty-five thousand dollars, out of the bulk of the valuables and money stolen; but as the property returned to Captain Jourdan principally belonged to the depositors, their loss was estimated to be something near half a million of dollars.

The various implements found at the bank were valued at two thousand dollars, and were of the very finest finish; some of the pieces were worth as much as two hundred dollars, and three hundred dollars each.

Altogether, it was one of the most skilful, ingenious, and well-planned robberies ever committed in this country. The most singular part of the robbery is that, although an outside watchman was employed to guard the premises, no one was seen to enter the bank, or the basement of the building; neither was any one seen to leave the premises at any time of the night or morning when the robbery took place.

XVIII.

THE EARLIEST EXCAVATIONS.

GRAVES AND THEIR CONSTRUCTION.—DIFFERENT MODES OF BURIAL.—TOMBS.—THE MOST EXTENSIVE TOMBS.—OBJECT OF THE PYRAMIDS OF EGYPT.—A VISIT TO THE GREAT PYRAMID AND ITS DESCRIPTION.—DIFFICULTIES OF CLIMBING.—THE TOMBS OF THEBES.—A FAT AMERICAN’S ADVENTURE.—ENTERING THE TOMB OF ASSASSEEF.—RECITING POETRY UNDER DISADVANTAGES.—SWALLOWING A BAT.—JACK’S DISGUST.—FATE OF A FAT MAN.—STUCK IN A PASSAGE-WAY.—HOW THE ARABS REMOVED HIM.

There is little or no reason to doubt that the earliest excavations ever made by human hands were for purposes of sepulture. The burial of the dead, or rather the disposition of their bodies, has been a necessity in all countries and all ages since the days of the Garden of Eden. Some nations have practised cremation, and there are many arguments in its favor; but with most of these nations it was the custom to gather the ashes of the dead into urns, which were buried with much formality. Among some of our western tribes of Indians the bodies of the dead are placed on scaffoldings of poles several feet high, and there left to the action of the elements. This practice had its origin in the absence of all tools suitable for digging in the earth, and possibly from a vague theory that the body of the deceased should be raised towards the home of the Great Spirit beyond the skies. Some of the ancient nations had a theory concerning cremation, which was, that the flame, rising towards heaven, carried the spirit of the deceased and enabled it to reach the mansions of the blest. On the same theory the Chinese write or print their prayers on paper, and then burn the paper; the flame carries the prayer upward, and as light and heat come from the Controller of the universe, they are considered the proper vehicles for the transmission of appeals to his mercy, his pity, and his infinite love.

[Sidenote: EARLIEST FORM OF SEPULTURE.]

The earliest form of sepulture was in the grave, a simple trench a few feet in depth. With the dawn of civilization came the tomb, rudely constructed of stones piled together, or cut out of the solid rock. The most elaborate specimens of the latter kind of tomb are in Egypt; thousands of years ago they were constructed, and to this day they remain, and are regarded with wonder by travellers from all the nations of the globe. The most extensive tombs of modern times bear no comparison to those which are found in the lands bordering on the Nile. The pyramids of Ghizeh, immense mounds of stone, and constructed with the greatest care and engineering skill, are the tombs of the rulers of Egypt in the days of her greatness and prosperity. The pyramid of Cheops rises to a height of nearly five hundred feet, and is of proportional width at its base. Down deep in its centre is the coffin of the man whose name has been given to the pyramid; thousands of years have passed since this huge tomb was constructed, and it will doubtless remain for thousands of years to come. No tomb of modern times approaches it in grandeur, or gives promise of outlasting it.

Though the opposite of underground in their character, and erected rather in the interest of death than in that of life, the great pyramids deserve a description here. Excavations were made for their foundations, and the interior chambers, where rest the coffins of those for whom they were erected, are, for all practical purposes, as much underground as they would be in the deepest coal mine of England or America. The pyramids are mostly on the west bank of the Nile, not far from Cairo; tourists designing to visit them make Cairo their starting-point, and from that city several groups are in full view. Altogether about seventy pyramids have been counted in this region, and the remains of many others are visible. Decay’s effacing fingers are constantly at work; forty centuries have passed since the pyramids were erected, and their durable character can be readily inferred when we remember how long they have stood.

A sepulchral chamber was first excavated in the rock, and during the life of the king who was to repose within it, the work of building the pyramid was pressed forward. It was generally completed before he died, and therefore he had the consolation of knowing that he would not be kept waiting around for his tomb to be constructed. The structure was made over this chamber, an elegant coffin of stone being first placed within it. A passage-way about four feet high and three feet wide was kept open, so that the body of the king could be carried to the sepulchral chamber when the proper time arrived for depositing it in its coffin. The pyramid was practically solid, as the chamber and passages leading to it were the only hollow spaces. The sides of the pyramids were directed to the four cardinal points of the compass, and their exactness in this particular leads to the supposition that the ancients were acquainted with the principles of surveying as practised by modern engineers.

[Sidenote: CONSTRUCTION OF THE PYRAMIDS.]

The pyramids were constructed of red granite from quarries at Assouan, and other points of the Nile, and of a hard limestone from quarries at Makotam and Tourah. The blocks were very large, and it must have required a vast amount of mechanical power and engineering skill to quarry them and move them to the places where they are now found. Many engineers think that the Egyptians must have possessed some mechanical power which has been lost and become unknown to the people of the present century. Especially is this the case with the huge stones at the top of the pyramids, where the number of persons who could work must have been very small for want of room. Other engineers say that the ordinary derrick on a large scale would have been sufficient for the purpose, and it is pretty certain that this instrument was used, as holes have been found in the stones, where it is supposed the feet of the derricks were placed. Others think that the blocks were moved by human power, of which the kings had an unlimited quantity at their command. One theory is, that as fast as the courses of stone in a pyramid were laid, the earth was piled around it so as to form an incline, where the blocks could be slowly rolled. When the last course, at the top, was laid, the pyramid would have the appearance of a hill with gradually sloping sides. The earth could then be removed, and when it was all carried away the pyramid would stand as it was intended to stand. It is true that this mode of work would require an immense force of men; but what did the kings of Egypt care for the toil of their subjects? The kings owned the land and the people, and could do as they pleased with either.

[Sidenote: THE PYRAMID OF CHEOPS.]

The pyramid of Cheops, known as the Great Pyramid, was twenty years in building, and it is said by Herodotus to have required the labor of a hundred thousand men during that time. Cheops stopped all other works connected with religious rites until the pyramid was completed. To facilitate the transportation of stone from the Tourah quarries, a causeway was built three thousand feet long, sixty feet wide, and fifty feet high, which is said to have required ten years for its completion. A railway engineer of the present day would have finished this causeway in a month, provided he could have the unlimited supply of laborers possessed by the Egyptian kings.

The Great Pyramid covers an area of between twelve and thirteen acres; the side of its square measures seven hundred and forty-six feet, and its height is four hundred and fifty feet. It was originally seven hundred and sixty feet square and four hundred and eighty feet high; its outer portions have been removed to furnish stone for building purposes in Cairo. Originally, it was a perfect pyramid; the builders began at the top and filled in, with small stone and cement, the angles formed by the recession of each layer beyond the one below it. Each side was thus left with an even surface sloping at an angle of 51° 50´. The outer casing being removed has left the courses of stone in the form of steps nearly four feet high, so that the ascent is not an easy one. There are always plenty of Arabs hanging around the pyramid ready to assist a traveller who wishes to ascend to the summit. By pulling and pushing him over the steps, they get him up at a reasonably rapid rate; but the exercise is of such a nature, that it frequently leaves him feeling very much as if he had been passed through a patent clothes wringer.

The pyramid contains about eighty-two millions of cubic feet of masonry, and the total weight of the stone used in its construction is estimated at more than six million tons. The entrance is on the north face, fifty feet above the base, and about twenty-four feet from the central line. The passage-way is low and narrow, and extends, in a downward slope of twenty-six degrees, three hundred and twenty feet to the sepulchral chamber. The chamber is forty-six feet long, twenty-seven feet wide, and eleven feet high. There is a branch passage-way leading from the main one, which terminates in a smaller room, called the Queen’s Chamber; it is supposed that this room was intended for the resting-place of the queen’s body, but it contains no sarcophagus.

[Sidenote: THE KING’S CHAMBER.]

In the apartment known as the King’s Chamber, the walls and roof are of a highly polished granite, in slabs of great size. The only article of furniture in it is a sarcophagus of red granite, seven and a half feet long, three feet wide, and nearly four feet high. It is too large to be moved through the passage, and must have been placed in the room before the roof was covered. It is supposed that it contained a wooden coffin with the mummy of the king, and that these were taken away when the pyramid was first opened and plundered. In the construction of the pyramids, arrangements were made for closing the passages with blocks of granite, which have greatly retarded all attempts at exploration. It is supposed that there are other apartments yet undiscovered in the Great Pyramid; and at some future day an enterprising and patient explorer may be rewarded with important revelations.

Nearly a thousand years ago, the Great Pyramid was visited, and plundered, and the work of destruction has been renewed at various intervals since that time. But notwithstanding the centuries that have passed since the first visit, new apartments and passages have been discovered within the past thirty years, and several important facts in the history of the pyramids have been obtained from the hieroglyphics on the stones of the interior. Another pyramid near the great one was explored in 1837; a sarcophagus was found, and with it was a mummy case of King Menkuré, but the mummy was gone where the woodbine twineth, or somewhere else. Near the pyramids there is a great number of tombs, some built above the surface, and some excavated in the rock.

The Arabs have opened nearly all the tombs and plundered them of their contents. They have no respect for dead Egyptians, and whenever they find the entrance to a tomb beneath the sands that have been blown from the desert, they quickly open the receptacle and search it for articles of value. The Egyptians used to embalm the bodies of their dead with the greatest care. Professors of the art of embalming were numerous; and judging by the extent of their work, they must have been in constant practice. The first step in the Egyptian method was to put the body in a sort of spicy pickle, where it was kept for two or three months. The viscera and all internal organs were removed to give a better chance to the pickle; and when the work was sufficiently advanced, the body was dried, filled with preserving gums and spices, and properly bandaged. The bandaging of a mummy was one of the fine arts, and sometimes a hundred yards of cloth would be required for a single subject. Every toe and finger had its separate bandage, and the preserving articles were so soaked into the bandages and plastered over them, that there was sometimes more gum and bandage than body.

[Sidenote: PREPARING A MUMMY.]

[Sidenote: MUMMIES BURNED FOR FUEL.]

A close-fitting case or coffin was put outside the mummy, and he was then ready to be packed away for any number of centuries. He kept well, for the work was thoroughly done; and mummies are constantly found in good preservation after a rest of four or five thousand years. The Arabs rob the tombs, and break up the mummies for the gold and silver which were concealed about them; and many a mummy has come to grief in consequence of attempting to take his money along with him. After the mummy is broken up he makes very good fuel; the Arabs occasionally burn him; and in the early days of the Cairo and Suez Railway, the firemen on the locomotives found that mummies, cut into proper lengths, made a very good substitute for wood and coal. The gums and rags that preserved the mummy are combustible, and thus facilitate his destruction. Arabs and railway stokers are, like the law, no respecters of persons, especially if the persons have been dead forty or fifty centuries. It amuses and benefits these modern Vandals to burn mummies; and it is proper to say, that the mummies don’t appear to mind it.

The subterranean tombs and other excavations on the Nile are numerous, and sometimes of great extent. Several of them are so large, that travellers who ventured into them without proper guides have been lost, and have perished for want of food and light. A modern visitor says that after going through several tombs, he felt very much as if he had been rolled in an iron mill. The passages leading into the tombs are long and dark; sometimes they extend hundreds of feet in an indefinite sort of way, and not by a straight course, as a respectable tomb ought to have its entrance. A slender man can get along much more easily than a fat one; the latter gets stuck sometimes, and can easily fancy himself a number ten gun-wad forced into a number eight barrel. An acquaintance of mine once vowed that not for the whole of Egypt would he venture into a tomb again, and that he had done with explorations.

“Ask him about the tomb of Assasseef at Thebes,” said a mutual acquaintance, who was sitting between us. We were in a café at Rome, and whiling away an evening after a visit to the Coliseum, and the ruins in its vicinity.

“Hang Thebes and all it contains,” was the curt reply. “Well, if you insist upon it, you shall have it on condition that you won’t speak of it again.”

We made the required promise; and after taking an extra sip of brandy and water, he began.

[Sidenote: DAHABIEHS AND DONKEYS.]

“There were two of us, and we were making the journey of the Nile in a dahabieh. You know what beastly things those dahabiehs are generally, though sometimes you find one that is quite comfortable. Why the beggarly Egyptians don’t call them boats, and be done with it, I never could understand. We landed at Luxor; and after looking at the ruins there, we rode to the tombs of the kings, seven or eight miles away. They mounted me on a donkey so small, that my feet dragged on the ground, and I had to take a reef in my legs to keep from wearing away my boot soles. Jack, my companion, said, that if I wore spurs, I would have to buckle them on just below my knee, as I could not raise my heels without having them so far aft, that they would not reach the animal. There was no necessity for spurs, as we had a boy to run astern of the donkey, and give him an occasional turn in the tail to help him along. The boy kept a firm hold of the tail most of the time, and was helped along by it more than the donkey was. At one time, when we were on the edge of a little ridge, the donkey watched his chance, and let his heels fly into the stomach of the urchin. A prize-fighter couldn’t have made a better blow. The boy went rolling down the ridge, and I thought we should have to pay for him, or buy a new one.

“He scrambled up again, and wasn’t hurt at all. Evidently he was used to that sort of thing, but I don’t believe he liked it, for he made some remarks that sounded very much like swearing. I gave him half a franc, and he appeared satisfied, and ready to be kicked again. He went around behind the donkey, and got into position; but the beast wouldn’t respond for an encore, and so the thing was dropped. But you can believe the boy gave that tail fits for the rest of the ride; and by the time we were through, it looked like a piece of old rope with half the strands gone.

“Jack was poetic, and began to blow and recite verses; but I couldn’t think of anything except Old Hundred, and the Last Rose of Summer. They wouldn’t do for the occasion, and so I amused myself with looking around at the sand and rubbish, and wondering why people came there to see them. Thebes must have been a nice sort of a city, but it is very much out of repair now. It is very good as a ruin, but wouldn’t be worth much for anything else. All around us there were the remains of temples and palaces that must have cost a great deal of money when they were built. Our guide kept talking about tombs and other cheerful subjects, and by and by he took us to the tomb of Assasseef. I didn’t care much about going in, as it was nothing but a hole in the ground, anyhow. Jack insisted, and so we tried it.

[Sidenote: ASSASSEEF AND HIS TOMB.]

“Assasseef wasn’t a king, but only a wealthy old priest, who had made money by speculation in stocks or some other way, and wanted to make a permanent investment. So he went into the tomb business, and built a very comfortable one, and larger than any of his neighbors. It has an outer court a hundred feet long, and two thirds wide, and the underground passages run nearly a thousand feet into the mountain. It was all well enough as long as we were above ground, but when we went below it wasn’t so comfortable. The walls were black and dirty; the passages were narrow and dusty, and sometimes they were so low that we had to crawl. The bats had a pre-emption claim to the place, and didn’t like to be disturbed. They flapped their wings in our faces, and flew around in a way that wasn’t pleasant. Jack opened his mouth once to spout a verse of poetry, and got a number three bat between his teeth before he finished the first line. I used to chaff him about it afterwards, and he threatened to bat me in the mouth if I didn’t stop.

“There were so many bats that the noise they made in the empty vaults and passages seemed like distant thunder, and I began to think the mountain would tumble in. The guide went ahead; and whenever we began to talk of giving it up, he would tell about some wonderful thing a little farther on.

“A good many of the passages were so low and narrow that I had to be pulled in and out by the heels, and it didn’t take long to disgust me. I was as dusty as if I had made the campaign of Virginia without being brushed, and the dust I had picked up wasn’t of the best kind either. It consisted of pulverized mummy and other relics of ancient Egypt; and I think I should have made a very good show-piece if I had come home in just the condition in which I emerged from that tomb.

[Sidenote: STUCK IN AN UNDERGROUND PASSAGE.]

“The joke kept growing worse, till they got me in a place where I had to expel all my breath to crawl through. We got into a sort of room where an Egyptian named something or other had spent thirty-five or forty centuries of his mummy existence; but the place was about as attractive as a bath tub. The mummy had gone, and taken his baggage with him, all but the bats, which kept flying around and making themselves uncomfortable. But when we went to get out, the job was serious. The passage-way, as we came into this tomb, was a descending one, and I got into it by going stern foremost, as a ship drops down a current to pick up a new anchoring spot. But in going out I had to climb up, and that wasn’t so easy. The space wasn’t large enough for a man of my size to crawl well, as you have to raise your body a little every time you push yourself forward with your hands. For the same reason I couldn’t get a purchase with my feet, and I hadn’t gone five yards before I stopped. The guide and one of our water-carriers were ahead, while Jack was behind me, and had an Arab to bring up the rear. I yelled out that I couldn’t get farther, and the train came to a stop.

“I was frightened, and that made me swell up like your finger when you have a ring on that is a size or so too small. I filled that passage-way as a cork fills the neck of a bottle, and I couldn’t stir any more than if I had been anchored. The guide got hold of my arms and pulled, but he couldn’t do anything, especially as the place wasn’t adapted to towing purposes. What was to be done I couldn’t tell; and I began to think I should have to stay there, and be converted into a mummy for the amusement of future visitors.

“Jack and the Arab finally pulled me back by the heels, and the Arab went for a rope. When he brought it we arranged for a new departure. They wanted to put the rope around my neck and pull me along; but I objected to this, as it might result in stretching my neck a little longer than I wanted it. I looped the thing around me just below the arms; and then the guide and the water-carrier went ahead, and towed me along. It was no easy work, but they got me out at last into the larger passages, where I could get along comparatively easy. The guide said something about a fine tomb farther in the mountain, but I had had all the tombs I wanted for that day, and made as straight a course as I could for the outside. And you don’t catch me in a tomb of that sort again if you give me all the kings in Egypt.

[Sidenote: CONDITION OF THE MUMMY MARKET.]

“When we got outside, we found a crowd of Arabs with fragments of mummy for sale. They had legs, and arms, and heads in abundance, but the market was rather too high to suit me. In fact I didn’t want any mummy, and told the guide to set the fellows adrift. Jack bought a dried arm, and took it back to the boat, but I believe he threw it overboard a few days later. After that adventure, I visited a good many ruins, but only went where I had daylight to guide me. Whenever they told me of a beautiful tomb, and the wonders that it contained, I admitted that it must be very nice, and took everything they said in good faith. I was willing to see the tombs by proxy; and when Jack went inside, I staid where I could look at the Arabs, and study the columns of the ruined temples.”

XIX.

EXPERIENCES IN WILD LIFE.

NECESSITIES OF TRAVELLERS IN WILD COUNTRIES.—CONCEALING DOG FOOD.—DEFENCES AGAINST WILD ANIMALS.—HONESTY OF CERTAIN NATIVES.—THE AUTHOR’S EXPERIENCE WITH SIBERIAN KORAKS.—CONCEALING FOOD IN ICEBERGS.—BARON WRANGELL AND DR. KANE.—STORY OF BLANKETS AND BLANKET STRAPS.—A CACHE.—WHAT IT IS.—AUTHOR’S FIRST ACQUAINTANCE WITH ONE.—A FRAUDULENT GRAVE.—CACHE OF A WHISKEY KEG, AND HOW IT WAS MADE.—“TWO-BOTTLE CAMP.”—CONSOLATION OF A HARD DRINKER.—AN EXTENSIVE CACHE.—HOW THE INDIANS FOUND IT, AND WHAT BECAME OF THEM.—JIM FOSTER AND HIS TENDER HEART.

In all sparsely settled or wild countries, travellers when on journeys are frequently obliged to carry provisions for their entire trip. If they are to go back over the same route they follow in their outward course, they do not carry their provisions the whole distance, but leave them at different points, where they can find them on their return. Especially is this the case where food for the draught or riding animals must be provided. In Northern America and Asia, and in Greenland, Spitzbergen, and other arctic countries, dogs are used for draught purposes; and where a party is travelling it is always necessary to carry a supply of dog food. The favorite article for feeding dogs in winter is dried fish, and great quantities are prepared in the summer months, and stored away where they can be safely kept.

[Sidenote: CONCEALING FOOD IN ICE.]

An expedition starting in winter for a journey of ten days will carry ten days’ supply of food for dogs and men. If the journey exceeds that time, the allowance must be reduced; and sometimes the party will be on the point of starvation. At the end of each day’s journey, it is customary, if the party is to return by the same route, to conceal a day’s supply of food, and thus lighten the load as much as possible. There are several ways of making these deposits. The first requisite is generally to protect the food against wild animals. Poles eight or ten feet high are set upright, and a rude box is made at the top, where the food can be placed. Wolves and foxes are the principal four-footed thieves; they cannot climb, and therefore anything protected in this way is safe from their depredations. Sometimes a hole is made in the ground, and the deposit is placed within it. This can only be safely done in winter, as the soft earth in summer can be dug up by the enterprising and keen-scented animals with very little trouble. A hole in winter can be made secure by pouring water over the replaced earth, and allowing it to freeze. Wolves and foxes can do many things, but they have not yet invented any way to dig through frozen ground. They are wise enough not to attempt it, as they would need a new set of paws every half hour if they followed digging in frozen earth as a means of livelihood.

Baron Wrangell, Dr. Kane, and other arctic explorers, when travelling on the ice of the Polar Sea, used to make holes in the bergs and hummocks, and sometimes in the level ice, which frequently gets a thickness of eight or ten feet. After they had made the deposit in a hole of this sort, they would fit a block of ice as nearly as possible to the opening. After inserting the block they poured water into the interstices, and allowed it to freeze, so as to make the place as solid and even as ever. This was a sufficient protection against small animals, but not always against polar bears. These huge beasts would scent out the food, and with their powerful claws they managed to dig into the ice, and help themselves. Even if the food had been put into strong boxes before it was deposited, the beasts did not seem to be hindered in getting at it, as they would break the boxes as easily as a rat would open an egg-shell. Dr. Kane once tried the plan of sealing the food in sheet iron cans pointed at the ends. Sometimes the bears tossed these cans a while, and then abandoned them but they generally managed to throw them about with sufficient violence to break the shell and reach the contents. A healthy and full-grown polar bear is a powerful beast, and has no respect for the laws affecting the ownership of property.

[Sidenote: HONEST ABORIGINALS.]

In the extreme north deposits of food are in much greater danger from four-footed beasts than from men. In the first place, the beasts are much more numerous than men, and consequently want more to eat. Men are not very likely, in those wild countries, to come near the deposits, especially in arctic explorations; and even when they find them they are not generally in the habit of stealing. The Esquimaux of the region where Dr. Kane made his explorations are somewhat thievish when they have the opportunity, but the natives of Northern Asia have a high reputation for honesty. There are some tribes that have never learned to steal; they have had very little intercourse with white men, and are thoroughly uncivilized. As an illustration of this barbarous honesty, I will give my own experience among the Koraks of North-eastern Siberia.

My first acquaintance with them was on the shores of the Okhotsk Sea, where they had assembled with their herds of reindeer. When we went ashore we managed somehow to wet our blankets, and I hung mine up to dry. I expressed my fears that the blankets would be stolen by some of the Koraks, but was told that everything would be safe. When we camped at night, my blankets were dry, and I slept in them. But I forgot the blanket-straps, and there they hung in the open air all night, and all the next day.

Now, it is a moral or an immoral certainty that a pair of leather straps, new, and in good condition, in almost any other country would have been taken in hand by somebody who couldn’t bear to see them unused. But when I finally thought of my straps, I found them hanging where I had left them thirty hours before, in full view of a dozen or more natives, who were dressed in skins, and didn’t know anything more about civilization and the customs of fashionable society than a horse knows about running a sewing-machine.

[Sidenote: EXPERIENCE WITH A CACHE.]

On our western plains the custom of concealing articles in the ground prevails over any other mode. The Indians have long practised it, and they manage it so skilfully that it is next to impossible to detect them. The early French settlers and explorers learned the practice from the Indians, and the name they gave to a place of concealment—“cache,” from cacher, to conceal—has been adopted into the language of all plainsmen, of whatever nationality. So well is this word known that many frontier Americans use it in preference to words in their own language having the same meaning. A frontiers-man will speak of finding a place where a squirrel had cached a peck of nuts, or will tell you that he cached his bowie knife in his boot-leg rather than carry it at his waist-belt.

My first acquaintance with a cache on the plains was in the vicinity of Fort Kearney. Our party was camped near a half dozen men who were returning from Salt Lake City, and had lost three of their oxen. We struck up an acquaintance, and in the evening invited them to sit around our fire, where we exchanged news and stories, they telling us of Utah, and we telling them about the States or “God’s Country,” as one of them called it. “Stranger,” said he, “if ever I get back to God’s Country, and you catch me again on these yere plains, you may just shoot me for a prairie dog. I’ve seen all I want of this yere living, and don’t hanker for no more of it. I’m a going back where I can have a square meal at a table, and drink whiskey that wouldn’t burn a hole through an old boot in five minutes.”

We were not bountifully supplied with the necessaries of life, but we felt liberal, and ventured to offer a drink of whiskey to each of the strangers. They took it as unhesitatingly as a kitten would take a saucer of new milk, and we became friends in a short time. When we separated, one of the eastward-bound travellers said,—

“May be you’ll run short of flour before you get to the mountains, and a little would help you along. Now, we had to lighten up just this side of the Platte crossing, where we lost two of our oxen. We couldn’t find anybody to sell to, and as we didn’t like to throw things away altogether, we cached some of them. Next day we met a man one of us knew, and we sold him all the caches but one, and told him where to find them. But there was one bag of flour in a cache away from the rest, and he didn’t want no flour; so we didn’t tell him where it was.”

We offered to buy the flour, but the men would not listen to the proposition.

“It’s Utah flour,” said one of them, “and isn’t very good. The sack is small, and the whole lot wouldn’t be worth a great deal; but you can’t buy it. You’ve treated us handsome, and we’re not going to be rattlesnakes. We want you to take that flour, and you shan’t pay for it.”

We thanked them heartily, and proffered another drink, which was accepted and swallowed.

[Sidenote: HOW TO CONCEAL FLOUR.]

“About five miles this side of the old crossing of the Platte,” one of the strangers continued, after wiping the drops of whiskey from his lips, “you will come to a dry creek. There’s a small clump of willows on your right hand, and mighty small willows they are too; and on the left side, a dozen yards off the road, there are three buffalo heads piled up, with a sage bush sticking in the top one. Now, you go up the creek past these yere buffalo heads about fifty yards, and you’ll see a grave with a little board at one end. On the board are some words which we cut, that says, ‘J. MEANS, SALT LAKE, 34 YEARS.’ Now, there ain’t no J. Means there, but there is a sack of flour, and you’ll find it by digging.”

We made a memorandum of the direction, and soon after retired to sleep. In the morning we broke camp, and continued our journey, keeping the cache constantly in mind. When we reached the spot indicated, we opened the grave, and found the sack of flour, as our friends of a night had told us we should find it. The soil where it lay was quite dry, and the flour might have been left there for months without serious injury, beyond growing a little musty.

A grave is regarded with respect by nearly all white men and by most savages. Consequently a cache is frequently made in the form of a grave. A head-board bearing the name, residence, and age of a fictitious dead man, serves to complete the deception, and is likewise useful in describing the cache so that it can be found. All sorts of articles can be placed in the grave, provided they are not of a character to attract wild animals and cause them to dig. In certain localities, the animals, when hungry, will dig into a real grave, and exhume the body to devour it. Thus it happens that the fact that a mound has not been disturbed by beasts sometimes reveals its character to a keen-eyed observer, and tells him that it is a cache, containing something else than the remains of a luckless traveller.

[Sidenote: DECEIVING A DRUNKARD.]

In a journey from Denver to New Mexico, in the autumn of 1860, our party contained one man whose appetite for whiskey was of the keenest and most insatiable. In making up our outfit, we had left a portion of the purchases to him, and he had bought about six times as much fire-water as we really needed. On the first and second day he managed to get as drunk as a Tammany repeater at election time, and was neither ornamental nor useful. On the second night, while he was sleeping, and possibly dreaming of a paradise where there were rivers of pure Bourbon, and no charge to bathers and drinkers, we arranged a plan to bring him to grief. We took a keg of whiskey from our wagon, and cached it a little way from camp. We threw the dirt into the creek, and built a fire over the place of concealment, so that there was no trace of what we had done. In the morning we kept him away from the wagon until we were several miles on the road, and as he had a bottle at his command he did not discover the loss until night.

But when he did discover it, there was trouble in the camp. We dared not tell the truth, for fear he would insist upon returning to recover the treasure. So we feigned ignorance, thought it must have been lost on the road, or left in Denver, or, possibly, the driver had stolen it. We were all certain that it had not been left at the camp, as we had followed the universal custom of emigrants on the plains, and carefully examined the ground after the wagon had started.

To console himself, he went into a condition of blind drunkenness, and remained in it till morning. At this camp we cached a couple of bottles of whiskey, and then solemnly averred, next morning, that he had swallowed them. To all his denials we were incredulous, and we narrated, with great minuteness, how he drank one bottle after another, filling a pint cup at a time, and draining it at a gulp. He finally began to believe that we were right, and for the rest of the journey he kept comparatively sober.

[Sidenote: TWO-BOTTLE CAMP.]

On our return, two weeks later, we had a long day’s journey before us to reach “Two-Bottle Camp,” as we had named it. In the morning we made a general confession to the old fellow, and owned up to the theft and concealment of the bottles. His rage at the deception practised upon him was great, but it was not equal to his joy at knowing there was happiness ahead. Never on the whole journey did he exert himself more than on that day to keep the wagon in motion, and enable us to reach the whiskey-hunting ground by sunset. To him the camp of the Two Bottles was like a harbor for which the storm-tossed mariner hopes and prays when the gale is upon him, and his ship is lying at the mercy of the wind; and as soon as we reached it, he made a rapid break for the cache, and opened it before the wagon was fairly halted.

He forgave us everything, and for that evening we had a millennium on a small scale. We compelled him to retain one bottle for the festivities of the next evening, as we wanted him to go to town sober, and consequently determined to exhume the keg, and put it in the wagon without his knowledge. Everything was lovely; the keg was secured, and when we reached Denver, we pretended to discover it in the office whence we had started.

In the days of the great emigration overland in 1849 and ‘50, the emigrants frequently found their wagons too heavily burdened, and were obliged to throw away or cache a large part of their loads. When they cached their goods, the Indians generally found them, as the work was almost always done carelessly and in haste, so that traces of it could be plainly seen. One old plainsman once described to me a cache which was made by a party to which he belonged.

“We found,” said he, “that we must lighten up our wagons; and so we concluded to stop a day or two, make a cache, and give our animals a chance to rest. We were near the Wind River Mountains, and Indians were not abundant. We had seen none for several days, and thought we could rely upon doing our work without their seeing us. We were in camp when we decided to make the cache, and at daylight next morning two of us started out to find a good place.

“About three miles off the trail we found a bluff that was quite steep towards a small river that we named Lost Ox River, because one of our oxen afterwards got into the quicksand and was drowned. We thought this bluff would be a good place for a cache, as we could throw the dirt into the river and have it washed away. The bluff was hard and dry, and would keep things from spoiling.

[Sidenote: AN EXTENSIVE CACHE.]

“We drove the train into the valley, at the foot of the bluff, and then went to work. We made a hole about three feet square, and as many deep, and then we hollowed out a space as large as a good-sized room. We did not drop an ounce of dirt around the opening, but threw it all into the river. We spread blankets and sacks all around the opening, and laid a row of them from the hole to our camp, so that the ground wouldn’t be trodden up.

“Then we lightened our wagons of everything we could spare. There were bundles of goods, extra clothing, saddles, chains, boots, and everything we thought it possible to do without. When the hole was full, we put the stump of a tree into the opening, and scattered leaves and rubbish around it, so that nobody could possibly see that the earth had ever been disturbed.

“It took us three days to make the cache. Our mules and oxen had gathered strength, and we moved on, with a good prospect of getting through to California.

“But things grew worse instead of better. When we got into the alkali plains our oxen died off fast, and we had to throw away something every day. With so much bad luck it was quite natural that we should get into rows among ourselves, and the upshot of it was, that we separated. Some of us were discouraged, and wanted to go back; and we did go back.

“Four of us took our rifles, and each picked out a riding mule to carry us to the Missouri River. We had two pack mules, and thought we could somehow manage to get through. We had a hard time of it, stranger, and didn’t get farther than Laramie, where we broke up, and concluded to try our luck at anything that turned up.

“When we got to where we left the trail to make our cache, I told the boys we had better go and see if it was all right. Three of us went there, and left the other to take care of the animals.

“Somehow the Indians had found out the whole thing. We don’t know how they did it, but it was most likely that the wolves and foxes went to digging there for the leather in the boots and saddles, and the Indians saw where they dug, and knew something was hid. All around there were tracks of Indians, and they had taken out more than half of what we had put there.

“While we were talking about the business, and cursing the red skins, we saw five of them coming up the valley. There were four bucks and one squaw, and they hadn’t seen us. So we just laid low and waited for them. They stopped at the foot of the bluff, and the bucks made for the hole, leaving the squaw to take care of their ponies and keep watch.

[Sidenote: CAPTURING A SQUAW.]

“The squaw sat down, with her back against a tree, about fifty feet from where we were. She was evidently tired, for she dropped her head forward, and didn’t keep much of a watch. Jim Foster, one of the fellows with me, was an old Indian hunter, and knew how to work. He crept up behind her, slipped the belt from his waist, and before she knew what she was about, he had the belt around her neck, and fastened her to the tree. As soon as he had her fast, the other fellow and I ran to the cache, picked up the stump that had been in the hole originally, and put it where it belonged. Then we piled logs and rubbish on top, and stopped up the crevices, and waited a couple of hours, until we thought they had breathed all the air up and were good Indians.”

“What do you mean by good Indians?” I asked.

“Why, don’t you know,” said he, “that all good Indians are dead Indians?”

I saw his point, and after he had terminated the smile with which his axiom was delivered, he went on with the story.

“We made sure that they would never do any more stealing. We didn’t want to kill them, of course, but we thought it would be no more than right to cache them along with the property that was left. There never was a better use made of an Indian than to cache him. As soon as we were satisfied that they couldn’t get out, we took the ponies and went to where our fourth man was waiting with the mules. We distributed our loads on the mules, took the ponies to ride on, and you may believe that we travelled our level best out of that region.”

“And the squaw,” I asked; “did she go with you?”

[Sidenote: A CARELESS PLAINSMAN.]

“O, I forgot about her. Jim was a careless sort of a fellow, and he pulled that strap so close around her neck that she never recovered. Come to think of it, she didn’t live long, not more than five minutes, and Jim was very sorry. He said he would do the best he could for her, and seeing she was dead, he wouldn’t refuse to bury her. So he carried her to the river, where there was a good bed of quicksand, and dropped her in. She sunk easy, and I reckon she’s somewhere about there now. She had a lot of silver ornaments about her, and Jim felt so bad that he kept them to remember her by. He said it would be a shame to waste them, as silver was scarce in that country. He wanted to go back, and see if the bucks had something valuable about them; but I thought we had done a fair morning’s work in hiving the ponies, and it was best to be getting away from there before any more Indians came around. And we up and travelled lively.”

XX.

THE GREEN VAULTS OF DRESDEN.

THE RICHEST TREASURY IN THE WORLD.—HOW THE SAXON PRINCES ACQUIRED IT.—THE DIFFERENT CABINETS, AND WHAT THEY CONTAIN.—WONDERFUL CARVINGS, MOSAICS, AND CURIOSITIES.—SPLENDID GOLD AND SILVER PLATE.—MAGNIFICENT ROYAL REGALIA.—A LUXURIOUS AND GALLANT MONARCH.—HIS ROMANTIC ADVENTURES.—A MARVELLOUS TOY.—DAZZLING EMERALDS, PEARLS, RUBIES, AND DIAMONDS.—THE LARGEST AND MOST PRECIOUS GEMS ON THE GLOBE.—INGENIOUS AND DESPERATE ATTEMPTS TO ROB THE VAULTS.—A THIEF WALLED UP ALIVE.—EFFECT OF EXPOSING HIS SKELETON.—ARE THE PRICELESS JEWELS FALSE?—WHAT AN ENTERPRISING SCOUNDREL MIGHT ACCOMPLISH.

The Green Vaults (Grüne Gewölbe) of Dresden, as they are called from the hue of the hangings which once covered them, are in the Zwinger, a group of buildings erected by Augustus II. as a vestibule to a new palace. They are not under ground as might be supposed from their name, and from the fact that they contain the treasures of the King of Saxony. They are vaulted apartments, eight in number, stored with rare carving, mosaics, gold and silver plate, precious stones, and an endless variety of curious and invaluable articles.

The collection is the richest possessed by any European monarch, and altogether beyond what so small a power would be thought able to collect or keep. The Saxon princes, it must be remembered, however, were of far more consequence and influence in the past than they are in the present. The Freiberg silver mines alone were a source of immense revenue before the discovery of America, and Saxony had various means of acquiring wealth of which she is now wholly deprived.

I have examined nearly all the royal treasuries abroad, and none of them are at all equal to the collection in Dresden, which is likely to create an agreeable surprise even after one has heard its variety and value extolled. I have known political economists to regret that what might be converted into so much money should be allowed to lie idle, and I have met others, again, who regarded the treasures of art and the priceless jewels gathered there as so many baubles unworthy of serious consideration. Persons of cultivated taste and lovers of beauty, however, can hardly be so narrow in their opinions, for they will find in the Green Vaults something more than capital uninvested, or glittering toys. The princes deserve commendation for the liberal manner in which they expended their wealth for the æsthetic benefit of those to come after them.

[Sidenote: WONDERFUL WORKS OF ART.]

The apartments are so arranged that each one you enter surpasses the last in interest and the variety of its contents. A great deal of space would be required to enumerate all the articles, though the principal may be easily set down.

The first apartment is devoted to bronzes of the nicest and most curious workmanship. There are copies in miniature of some of the famous statues, that cannot be fully appreciated without close attention to detail and a liberal understanding of art. A crucifix by John of Bologna, and a small dog, stretching itself, by Peter Visscher, are masterpieces of their kind.

In the second apartment are ivory carvings of remarkable excellence; among them a number of beautiful vases, some quite large, cut out of a single piece. There are, also, a battle scene by Albrecht Durer, a crucifix by Michael Angelo, and a marvellous group of some ninety figures carved in one piece sixteen inches high, representing the fall of Lucifer and his wicked angels. Nothing could be finer or more exact than these figures. Small as they are, they are perfect, and plainly show what extraordinary patience and skill the artist must have had. A goblet, of stag’s horn, cut like a cameo, in figures portraying the chase, is admirably wrought, as is also a cup on which the story of the Foolish Virgins is delineated.

The third apartment has Florentine mosaics, engraved shells, ostrich eggs carved and ornamented, a singular chimney-piece of Dresden china set with precious stones, paintings in enamel, and a number of portraits of historic characters, the most noticeable of which are Peter the Great and Augustus II., surnamed the Strong.

[Sidenote: CUPS OF GREAT VALUE.]

The fourth apartment is filled with the gold and silver plate formerly used at the banquets of the Saxon princes, a portion of which was wont to be carried to Frankfort on the occasion of the coronation of the German emperors by the electors of Saxony, who held the hereditary office of arch-marshal at those imposing ceremonies. Beyond the mere value, this plate is not desirable. If it were mine, I should melt it at once into the coin of the realm, since it has neither grace nor beauty of form. It may seem very grand to eat and drink out of such vessels, but they would be found extremely inconvenient for practical purposes. The china of our day is altogether superior to all the gold and silver plate that has ever been heaped on royal tables.

The fifth apartment is taken up with agates, crystals, chalcedony, lapis lazuli, and other varieties of semi-precious stones. Some cups of moss agates are particularly beautiful, and two goblets, composed entirely of cut gems, have a value of ten thousand dollars each. An equestrian statue of Charles II. of England, made from a solid piece of cast iron, represents him in the character of St. George, and is skilfully done. The eminent sculptor, Colin of Mechlin, has shown the cunning of his art by two spirited combats of knights, though they are only wooden heads; wood being the material of which the carvings are made. The largest enamel painting known, a Magdalen by Dinglinger, is also shown there.

The sixth apartment abounds in figures carved in ivory and wood, many of them caricatures of men and animals, which express the grotesqueness of the German mind. Single pearls of extraordinary size, nearly all found in the River Elster, are cut into odd shapes, some of them representing rustics, jesters, and elves. A pearl, large as a hen’s egg, is intended to portray a Spanish court dwarf, and is superbly done. Trinket as it is, it could not be purchased for twenty-five thousand dollars. There is, besides, any number of costly trifles, on which a vast deal of ingenuity and money must have been expended, and which are interesting from their artistic merit.

The seventh apartment is radiant with the splendid regalia used at the coronation of Augustus II.

Augustus is inseparably associated with the history of Saxony, and the antecedents of Dresden. He succeeded his father, John George III., as Elector of Saxony, though not until after his elder brother’s death, in 1694, and was elected to the throne of Poland, made vacant, two years later, by the decease of John Sobieski. The Polish nobles were unwilling to be ruled over by anybody but a Roman Catholic, and Augustus, whose theology was of a very accommodating quality, abandoned Protestantism for the sake of the crown.

Between his wars, his intrigues, and his parades, his sixty-three years of life were superlatively busy. He was highly educated for his time, and so much interested in art that he began the collection of pictures in the Dresden Gallery, and purchased many of the valuable curiosities now in the Green Vaults. His reign was marked by luxury and splendor, and his court was the constant resort of artists, alchemists, and adventurers of both sexes, on whom he lavished countless favors. The celebrated Countess of Königsmark was one of his many mistresses, and bore him a son, who subsequently figured so prominently in French history as Maurice, Count de Saxe.

[Sidenote: ROMANTIC STORIES OF A KING.]

Augustus was such a prodigal that he loaded Saxony with debt, and inspired the magnates of Poland to imitate his improvident example in Warsaw. Elegant, accomplished, daring, and unscrupulous, he made war on men and love to women to the end of his days. If all the accounts be true, he was as charming as Apollo and as strong as Hercules. The archives of Dresden attest his wonderful muscle to such a degree that Samson would have been no match for him. One of his pastimes was to become enamoured of some distinguished lady he had never seen; go in search of her; throw her husband, father, or brother, just as it happened, over high walls, and then carry her off in his arms as if she had been a feather weight.

These tales are interesting, but there are too many of them to be credible. I cannot tell how large the Saxon or Polish women were a century and a half ago, but I will lay a large wager that Augustus could not carry very far many of them I have seen recently. If he had the taste ascribed to him, I am sure he would not make the attempt, unless it should happen to be in the night, when darkness reduces beauties and beldames to the same level.

[Sidenote: ROYAL PASTIMES.]

Persons going to Dresden, or indeed to any part of Saxony, will spare themselves questions by presuming that Augustus has done nearly everything worth doing in the entire kingdom. He is to Saxony what St. Patrick is to the south of Ireland, King David to Scotland, or Charles V. to Belgium.

The eighth and last apartment entirely eclipses all the others in the richness and magnificence of its contents. One of the wonders of this cabinet, called the Court of the Great Mogul, was made by Dinglinger, an artist justly considered the Benvenuto Cellini of Saxony. The Court represents the Emperor Aurengzebe on his throne, surrounded by courtiers and soldiers,—about one hundred and forty figures,—in pure gold enamelled, attired in costumes appropriate to the country and the time. Each figure has its individual expression and character, as will be perceived by close observation.

This marvellous toy, which is really a work of the highest art, employed Dinglinger (he was the court jeweller during the early part of the eighteenth century) for nearly ten years, and cost one hundred thousand dollars. Another carving of a similar character portrays different artisans with a fineness and finish which no one would expect, considering its diminutive proportions. There are also other specimens of his exceeding skill that fully entitle him to the fame he has achieved.

A specimen of uncut Peruvian emeralds, bestowed by the Emperor Charles V. on the Elector of Saxony, is one of the finest in the world, and a mass of solid native silver from the Himmelfüst mine of Freiberg so well illustrates its richness as to enable me to believe that in fifty years nearly twenty-two hundred tons of silver were obtained from that single mine.

The Saxon regalia there exhibited includes the sword of the elector, carried by the princes at the imperial coronations; the decorations of a miner’s uniform made for the Elector John George; a great number of chains, collars, and orders of the Garter, Golden Fleece, and Polish Eagle; and a curious antique portrait (a cameo of onyx) of Augustus the Strong. A sardonyx six and a half inches long, and four and a half broad, reputed to be the largest extant, attracts much attention from its oval shape and beautiful regularity.

Two rings once worn by Martin Luther appeal not a little to earnest Protestants. One of these, an enamelled seal ring, cut with a death’s head, and the motto “Mori sæpe cogita” (Reflect often on death), is sufficiently mournful in suggestion to satisfy the most dismal of theologians. The other ring is a carnelian bearing a rose, and in its centre a cross.

[Sidenote: A RARE COLLECTION OF JEWELS.]

Then comes a glass case of the rarest and costliest jewels, the first division containing superb sapphires, the largest of them uncut, the gift of Peter the Great. The second division is full of splendid emeralds; the third of magnificent rubies (the two largest weighing forty-eight and sixty carats); the fourth abounding in beautiful pearls, one native set being little inferior to the Oriental; while the fifth division is radiant with diamonds.

Such another collection does not exist anywhere in the world. If these diamonds were sold for the sum they would very readily bring, they would more than pay off, it is said, the entire national debt of Saxony. The diamond decorations for the gala dress of the elector consists of buttons, collar, sword and scabbard, all incrusted with the largest and most valuable stones, some of them weighing fifty carats each. The most remarkable of the stones is a green brilliant, weighing one hundred and sixty carats, and said to be worth two millions of dollars. There are also various orders studded with diamonds and many single gems, yellow, rose, and green in color, as well as pure white.

[Sidenote: DIAMONDS IN ABUNDANCE.]

Admirers of diamonds can have an ocular banquet there; for the collection is magnificent beyond description. I have seen women hang over them until their eyes fairly watered (I wonder if this is the reason they are called gems of the first water), and I have noticed men regard them with a passion for possession that savored of wildness. As mere objects of beauty, they are deserving of all admiration. Those priceless gems are constant miracle-workers. The smallest ray of light that falls upon them is converted into a glorious sheen. They make the very atmosphere brilliant, emitting from every point a radiance which is dazzling. Hardly any conjuration of magic can be greater. The blaze of jewels, when the sunlight touches them, is almost overpowering. The mines of Golconda, as they were in their palmiest days, appear to be open, and all their glorious treasures to be flashing, scintillating, coruscating at once.

[Sidenote: PRECAUTIONS AGAINST THEFT.]

One might imagine that the diamonds and many of the other valuables of the Green Vaults would be in danger from the admission of strangers. The naturalness of this opinion has doubtless given rise to the story that unseen soldiers have their muskets levelled through invisible loopholes in the walls at the head or breast of everybody entering the royal treasury. This is a mere romance, never having had the smallest foundation in fact. Such precautions are not at all necessary; for nobody could steal anything, and get away with it, even if he should try. The costliest objects are covered with strong iron or steel wires, not sufficient to obstruct the view, bµt enough to prevent their seizure by any designing or dishonest person. Moreover, the custodian, who conducts you through the cabinets, locks and bolts each door after him, so that the thief could not easily make his escape; and if he did succeed in getting beyond the walls, an alarm would be immediately given, which would almost necessarily insure his capture.

The value of the entire collection at Dresden it is almost impossible to give. I have heard it estimated at from twenty millions to twenty-five millions of dollars, and even as high as fifty millions. Most of the works of art, as well as the jewels, are actually beyond price; for they could not be replaced. They could not be purchased any more than the Raffaelles, Correggios, and Titians, in the famous Picture Gallery in the same city.

It is said that numerous efforts have been made during the past hundred years to rob the Green Vaults.

One of these was by two Poles, who had had a wide experience in forgery, burglary, and crimes of all sorts, in the early part of the present century. They had at first designed to secure a number of confederates, but afterwards abandoned the idea, fearing that their secret would be unsafe when so many persons shared it. After revolving various plans in their mind, they concluded to depend upon themselves alone, and accordingly entered the vaults, pretending to be Protestant clergymen from Geneva, in company with a large party of visitors, composed mostly of Englishmen and Americans. When they had reached the last cabinet, and while one of them was making particular inquiries of the custodian, and attracting the attention of the party by his large fund of information (he spoke English with remarkable facility), his companion contrived to hide himself in something closely resembling a bale, the material for which he had concealed upon his person. A quarter of an hour after, one of the supposed-to-be clergymen was missed, and his disappearance was explained by the positive statement of his confederate that he had returned to his hotel while they were in the third apartment, having an engagement that demanded his presence. A number of the visitors thought they had seen him a few minutes before; but the disguised Pole was so positive in his declaration, that they naturally fancied themselves mistaken.

[Sidenote: CAUGHT IN THE VAULTS.]

The party at last went out, and late that night the concealed villain, who was prepared with matches and a dark lantern, crept out of his spurious bale, and, with instruments provided beforehand, got into the cases, cut the wires, and secured many of the most precious diamonds. He then attempted to get out of the vaults, but, to his astonishment and consternation, they were too strong for him. The partner of his guilt was at his appointed post on the outside, and waited in vain until daylight for the robber who was to come forth at a stated hour with his treasures. The other Pole had secured his great wealth; but, by a strange shortsightedness not uncommon to villains of his class, he had not calculated closely enough upon the means of getting away with it. Finding that the vaults were his prison, he tried to put the jewels back in such a shape that their displacement would not be noticed, and then crept once more into his bale. The custodian entered with a number of sight-seers about noon the day following. His quick eye discovered at once that the diamonds had been tampered with, and this fact, taken in connection with the mysterious disappearance of the previous day, confirmed him in the belief that a robbery had been attempted, and that the robber must be hidden in that particular apartment. Consequently he ordered a guard, and a thorough search having been made, the thief was soon exposed. The scoundrel, knowing it would be useless to deny his design, made a full confession in respect to himself, and was tried and sentenced to prison for twenty-five years, equivalent to life, for he was at the time of his capture more than fifty-five. After serving ten years of his sentence, he made his escape by bribing, as it was supposed, some of the officials, and not long after was killed in Palermo while attempting to break into the house of an English resident of the Sicilian city.

About 1798 some twenty Viennese rogues went to Dresden for the express purpose of robbing the Green Vaults of their most valuable jewels. Their plan was to undermine the treasury, enter it by night, and make their egress by the same channel. Their scheme was bold, and might have prospered, beset as it was with obstacles. Any and all result was frustrated, however, by the betrayal of the gang by one of its number, tempted by the hope of a liberal reward for his treachery. He was, it is asserted, handsomely paid, and the information which he furnished caused the arrest of three of the conspirators; the rest leaving the city suddenly, and placing themselves beyond the reach of the law. Two of the miscreants were sent to prison, and the third, who was a native Greek, and reported to have been for some years a brigand, cheated justice by poisoning himself in his cell.

[Sidenote: MAN ENCLOSED IN A WALL.]

About fifty years ago, as the story is told in Dresden, certain changes were made in the Green Vaults, involving the laying of a new interior wall of brick. This intended addition having become generally known, an enterprising rogue in the city conceived a plan of robbing the treasury by concealing himself in a part of the wall then unfinished; designing to get out at night, after the workmen had gone away, and carry off whatever was lightest and of most value. He did succeed in concealing himself, as he had wished; but unfortunately for him, the masons worked more rapidly than he had supposed they would, and enclosed him completely. Whether he knew at the time what would happen, and was afraid of revealing his presence, or whether he was totally ignorant of the peril of his situation, will forever remain unknown. As may be imagined, the thief, being, like other mortals, unable to live without air, soon succumbed to his peculiar surroundings, though his fate was a secret for years after.

New improvements, then making, caused the removal of the brick wall, and within it the perfect skeleton of a man was discovered. Great and exciting was the mystery at first; but diligent inquiry, and vivid recalling of the date when the work was done, solved the enigma by establishing a connection between the finding of the skeleton and the disappearance of a certain notorious criminal. The skeleton of the thief was put together, and for some time occupied a conspicuous position in the vaults, as a warning to all inclined to follow his example. But it served as an example instead, as was shown by the fact that several attempts at robbery were made there within six months after the grim exposure. The skeleton was then removed from the vaults, and as is popularly supposed, has been transferred in a multiplied form to the private closets of the Dresdeners.

Not a great while ago, a story was started to the effect that the principal diamonds in the Green Vaults had been stolen by some of the officials of the court, and replaced with counterfeit stones. This report obtained wide currency, and was generally believed among the common people. It may be inferred that there was no basis whatever for the tale, as any one who is a judge of jewels may easily determine for himself. If it were possible to make such excellent counterfeits of diamonds as are those now at Dresden, genuine gems would certainly lose much of their value, since there would be no method of distinguishing between the real and spurious.

The contents of the Green Vaults have for generations been a source of anxiety to the Saxon princes. Again and again, during the troublous times in Germany, they have been compelled to carry their treasures to the mountains in the region along the Elbe, known as the Saxon Switzerland, and to keep them there for security until the peril of plunder had passed. This sudden transportation of the royal valuables was very frequent during the Seven Years’ War, and it is reported that many of them were lost in the haste and excitement attending their removal.

[Sidenote: THE GREEN VAULTS A TEMPTATION.]

The Green Vaults offer a constant temptation to the rogues of the old world, and it would not be at all surprising if some man or men, possessed of a rare genius for pilfering, should yet accomplish what has so frequently failed. Robbery and burglary are so much a profession nowadays, and so much real talent is employed in their behalf, that those who have been graduated in the calling will be inconsiderate of their own interest if they do not some time perfect a scheme which will result in plundering the greatest and richest treasury on the globe.

[Sidenote: CHANCE FOR A BURGLAR.]

A rich reward awaits any one who will enter the Green Vaults of Dresden and carry away their treasures, or so much of them as could be easily carried by one man. Possibly an American or English burglar will yet be found who can succeed in this daring enterprise.

XXI.

THE CATACOMBS OF PARIS.

THE FAIR CAPITAL UNDERMINED.—HISTORY OF THE VAST GRAVEYARD.—SIX MILLIONS OF SKELETONS.—A JOURNEY THROUGH THE CITY OF THE DEAD.—HORRIBLE SENSATIONS OF BEING LOST THERE.—GHASTLY DISPLAY OF SKULLS AND BONES.—TRAGIC AND COMIC INCIDENTS.—TERRIBLE EXPERIENCE IN THE MIGHTY CHARNEL-HOUSE.—SCENES NEVER TO BE FORGOTTEN.

Few persons think, while strolling through the fashionable streets of Paris, and seeking pleasure in its charming precincts, that they are wandering over a vast graveyard, and that only a thin crust of earth separates them from the burial-place of six millions of human beings. Down there lie the remains of a third as many people as the entire French capital contains. A large part of the beautiful city is undermined by vaults, and these vaults, which are the famous Catacombs of Paris, contain the dead of centuries.

The Catacombs of Paris are not used, like the Catacombs of ancient Thebes, Rome, and Naples, as places of original sepulture; for they were once quarries from which the stone employed in building the city was taken. The quarries were beneath the southern part of the town, directly below the Observatory, the Luxembourg, the Odéon, the Pantheon, and many of the well-known streets, such as St. Jacques, La Harpe, Tournou, Vaugirard, and others. Their extent is estimated to be about three millions of square yards; and long before they were cemeteries, they served as refuge and shelter for thieves, incendiaries, assassins, and all the desperate criminals who for many centuries abounded in the city. It is only a little more than a hundred years since Paris has been orderly, or in any sense secure. During the middle ages, and down to the latter half of the past century, property and life were extremely unsafe. Ruffians stalked abroad by day as well as by night, and bade defiance to law and its guardians. In those times the quarries shielded many of the greatest villains in the capital. After committing robbery, arson, or murder, they fled into those excavations, and the men whose duty it was to arrest them were afraid to follow where they would certainly have been massacred. Many are the stories told of policemen and soldiers meeting their death in the subterranean vaults at the hands of the malefactors they were pursuing. These were so familiar with all the recesses and windings of the quarries that they could not only escape, but they could lie in ambush, and fall upon the officers of the law with terrible vengeance. So numerous were the murders committed in the quarries by ruffians of the olden time, that finally none of the king’s minions could be found bold enough to venture into those abodes of mystery, darkness, and crime.

[Sidenote: RESORTS OF THIEVES.]

In 1784 some part of the quarries was broken through from above, and as there was imminent danger of the houses in the streets falling into ruin from similar accidents, a number of the most skilful engineers were ordered by the government to descend into the quarries, make a careful investigation, and render them in future altogether secure. While so engaged, M. Lenoir, lieutenant general of the police, conceived the idea of removing to the vaults the remains that had been buried in the cemetery of the Innocents, then standing on the present site of the Halles Centrales, the principal market of the city. Other graveyards within the municipal limits needed to be emptied, and it was determined that the contents of these graves should also be transferred to the subterranean region; so, on the 7th of April, 1786, a formal consecration of the Catacombs as a place of burial took place with imposing religious rites and ceremonies. The human bones were borne from the graves at night in funeral cars, accompanied by priests decked in their sacerdotal robes, carrying torches, swinging censers, and chanting the Roman Catholic service for the dead, and on arriving at the depository were hurled down a shaft in magnificently miscellaneous confusion. Such a democratic mixture, osseously speaking, of saints and sinners, princes and peasants, reformers and robbers, bishops and beggars, poets and pickpockets, grand ladies and grisettes, coquettes and cocottes, was never before made on the banks of the Seine. This superb disorder remains to the present day, so far as rank and caste are concerned. The skull of a pious prelate rests upon the ribs of a desperate cutthroat, and the thigh-bone of a once renowned beauty of the Faubourg St. Germain touches the grinning teeth of a vulgar conscript shot for desertion. The skeleton arms of a dainty poet are interlocked with those of a hideous hag who poisoned her father and mother in the Rue de la Croix Rouge.

[Sidenote: A BONY CONFUSION.]

If the opinion be well founded, that on the day of judgment the dead will arise in their proper persons, the unfortunates buried in the Catacombs of Paris will find it an extremely arduous task to collect themselves together. One might imagine, in such a universal resumption of long-cast-off and worn-out fleshly garments, that some nondescript individual might appear on the awful scene with the head of a marquis on the trunk of a rag-picker, borne along by the legs of a ballet dancer, and a cripple gesticulating to the angelic host with the right arm of a cardinal and the left arm of a lorette. It has long been a theological problem whether, on that solemn occasion, the dead will recognize each other; but it will be a matter of even more serious moment to them whether many of the Parisians will be able, so strangely will they be made up, to recognize themselves. That there will be a rattling among the dry bones no one who has entered the Catacombs can doubt, and that much of the rattling will arise from Monsieur Bonjour’s effort to make a complete conjunction with his remains, and from Madame Beaujoli’s endeavor to hunt herself up, must be plain to everybody. Some of these anticipated troubles may be partially obviated, however, by the fact that the bones from one cemetery have been kept apart from the bones of another; and as this predicted resurrection is not likely to occur for some time, we need not concern ourselves in regard to the hypothetical awkwardness and inconveniences of so distant a future.

[Sidenote: ENTERING THE CATACOMBS.]

Until within a few years, admission to the Catacombs could be readily obtained; but their insecurity, resulting in a number of accidents, has recently prevented the authorities from opening these gloomy recesses to the public more than once annually,—usually about the first of October,—when a few persons are permitted, after obtaining tickets from the inspector general, to accompany him in his subterranean tour. The first time I visited Paris I was extremely anxious to wander through the Catacombs; but finding many obstacles in my way, and being much occupied otherwise, I quitted the city without gratifying my curiosity. I returned, however, ere long, and was so diligent in prosecuting my purpose that one pleasant autumn morning, in company with a dozen strangers, I descended from the garden of the city custom-house at the Barrière d’Enfer to explore the stony chambers of the dead.

We had provided ourselves with wax tapers, which we lighted, each of us carrying one, before we went down a circular flight of some one hundred steps leading to the dismal galleries running in every direction, and containing the ghastly remains of millions of our fellow-creatures, once as merry and ambitious, as fond and foolish, as hopeful and as vain, as any of us are to-day. At the bottom of the staircase a guide placed himself at our head, and, observing that our tapers were all in good order, took the lead, after exhorting us to keep together, and on no account, if we valued our lives, to attempt to explore any other than the main avenues through which we were to pass.

The Catacombs hold the victims of the different revolutions so frequent in Paris; and now, moreover, the common graves (les fosses communes) in the three principal cemeteries of Montmartre, Mont Parnasse and Père la Chaise, are emptied every five years, and the plebeian relics consigned to the Catacombs, to make room for more bodies in those populous burying-grounds. Thus are the great vaults steadily and rapidly increasing their lifeless hosts, and adding to the horrors of a region necessarily horrible from the first.

[Sidenote: THE FIRST OF THE PASSAGES.]

[Sidenote: YAWNING PITS AND CAVERNS.]

Several hundred yards from the base of the steps which we had descended is an octagonal vestibule, and over it an inscription in Latin to this effect: “Beyond these boundaries repose those who await a blessed immortality.” We passed through a door leading into a long gallery lined with bones from the floor to the roof; the arm, leg, and thigh-bones being closely and regularly piled together in front, their uniformity relieved by three rows of skulls at equal distances, while behind these the smaller bones are thrown, regardless of arrangement of any kind. The gallery conducts to several apartments resembling chapels, called Tombs of the Revolutions, and Tombs of the Victims, because they hold the relics of those who had perished in popular insurrections against existing authority. I had noticed, before reaching the vestibule, and what may be considered the Catacombs proper, that the passage was very narrow,—only two persons being able to walk abreast therein,—and little more than six feet in height. This passage soon made a sharp turn, and at the corner the names of the streets directly above were cut into the stone, and two black arrows painted upon it, one pointing to the entrance of the vaults, and the other to the great charnel-house we were about to explore. We were in chambers of hewn-out rock. Rock was above us, below us, and on every side. The walls were very damp, the water in many places dripping through what might be termed the ceiling, in which were so many cracks and crevices that it seemed as if the walls might tumble and bury us at any moment. Two or three of my companions grew very nervous as they perceived about them such alarming signs of insecurity, and expressed the wish that they had not undertaken what they declared to be a foolhardy enterprise. As I walked along, I saw at different turnings of the passage what appeared to be deep, yawning pits; and feeling a curiosity to examine them, I stopped and stretched my taper over the side. Appearances were not deceitful. The deep pits were really there—dark, awful, and impenetrable. I could not help thinking how easy it would be for any one who should get lost and become bewildered, to stumble into one of those fearful holes and dash his brains out. Even such a dreary death would be infinitely preferable to the long agony of confinement in, without any hope of release from, such a place of horrors. While I was speculating on the possibility of the situation, the little procession got quite beyond me, and I was aroused from my gloomy reverie by the echoing voice of the guide urging the members of our party to keep close together. I hurried forward just in time to see the door of the vestibule open, and to go in with the rest.

The Catacombs are laid out very much like the old quarters of Paris, the different avenues being named after the streets above them, and the principal buildings overhead being indicated on the walls. It seemed very strange that certain famous structures, with which I am very familiar, should be only eighty or a hundred feet from where we were walking, as those sepulchral caverns appeared hundreds of miles away from the bright and beautiful city we had quitted half an hour before. Nothing can be more dismal and depressing than the Catacombs, with their miles and miles of human bones and skulls confronting you wherever you turn, and seeming to dance and grin as the light and the shadow of the passing tapers fall upon them.

How easily we are cheated by the imagination! I could almost have sworn, as I hurried by, that I saw some of the thigh-bones move to and fro, and the jaws of the skulls open and shut, and extend, in ghastly grimace, a repulsive welcome from the dead to the living, who would soon be no more than those hideous remains. There is a certain fascination, however, I must confess, in the sombre, subterranean city. The parade and panoply of grim mortality held me like a spell, and again and again I found myself far in the rear of the solemn excursionists. I liked to fall behind and watch the thick shadows which gave way before and closed in behind them, and listen to the hollow and dreary echoes of their voices murmuring through the mighty vaults. I fancied the babbling company to be a crew of resurgent spirits, whose duty it was to visit the cemeteries of the globe, and awake the dead to judgment. They had a certain weird semblance as they flitted on in the dim distance, and their tones came back to me as if they had fallen from tongues long silent in the grave. The fancy pleased me, and I indulged it, and the kindred fancy that the heaps of bones were animated, until, sometimes, so strong were the suggestions of the place, I really confounded the living with the dead.

Once, in going by an avenue running to the right, I yielded to a temptation to step into it, to look at an extraordinary heap of bones. This did not occupy more than thirty seconds,—at least, it did not appear longer,—and yet, when I stepped back into the broader passage (the main avenues in the Catacombs are much wider than those I have mentioned outside the vestibule), I found, to my utter consternation and horror, that my companions had left me; I could not see the light of their tapers, nor could I hear the least echo of their steps or voices.

[Sidenote: LOST IN THE CATACOMBS.]

[Sidenote: FEELINGS OF HORROR.]

Lost in the Catacombs! How often I had imagined it! and now, indeed, it had become a terrible reality. Horror almost paralyzed me for the moment. I seemed to be all nerve and brain, and these thrilled and throbbed so wildly that I was forced to lean against the rock for support. I thought I should go mad, for there was something in the very idea of being shut up in that awful cavern, in the awful silence and awful darkness, doomed to perish by inches, every hour expanding to an age, which rendered any other means of death blissful by contrast. My head swam, and I believed I was about to swoon, when, feeling that to do so was to be destroyed, I roused my will and almost involuntarily sprang forward. My movement was so sudden that my taper was extinguished, and an inky blackness fell upon me like a pall. The horror of my situation was a hundred-fold increased. If I could have lighted my little candle again, I should have been almost happy; and yet, a few seconds before, I had regarded myself as the most miserable of mortals. My brain seemed to be absolutely bursting, and my heart forcing itself into my throat. I was conscious of a sense of suffocation, and I was not sure that the rocky walls were not pressing together to crush me. I remember having an anxious longing that they might do so, and end the agony I was enduring. I frankly admit I had never known before what human suffering can be. I had not supposed myself capable of such mental anguish; it was ten thousand times more, and worse, than death—an indefinable and overwhelming dread of something which might not be named, but that could be pictured with miraculous power. I had confronted death often, in sickness, in catastrophe, in battle, on land and water, by falling, and by fire, and the so-called King of Terrors had not shown himself half so terrible as I had anticipated. But then and there, in those silent and rayless Catacombs, I was unnerved, overpowered, and horrified, by a crushing dread of the unknown. Every moment was a month. Every feeling was a minister of horror. Exactly what I did I shall never know, though I seem to have a misty recollection that I strove to kill myself by dashing my head against the rocks. For some time I was incapable of determining my conduct; and then, with all my exquisite sense of mental pain, I was aware of hurrying rapidly through the thick darkness.

How long this continued I know not; but of a sudden I saw beyond me a flash of light like the aurora in the far northern sky. Was I really mad? Was I dreaming? Was I dead, and waking from the sleep of death? I rubbed my eyes, I pinched myself, I tried to scream, but I could not make a sound. Burning as my throat was, and all on fire as I seemed from head to foot, my voice froze as I sought to give it utterance.

Still, I was not deceived. There was a light before me, and as I dashed on involuntarily, I saw that it proceeded from the tapers of my companions, whom I had nearly overtaken. The reaction of my feelings almost prostrated me. My heart beat like a tilt hammer, my breath was well nigh spent, my pulses leaped with fever, and yet I felt that my face must be blanched, and I should not have been surprised if my hair had turned gray.

In a few seconds I had joined my party and relighted my taper. Nobody knew through what a crisis I had passed, nor did I say anything about it except to remark, casually, that I had extinguished my candle by letting it fall. From inquiries I learned that from the moment I had missed my companions until I had rejoined them, not more than two minutes had elapsed; and still, by the measure of my mind, I had lived through months of pain.

If I had not already known it, I should have been convinced then that time can be reckoned only by feeling; that no clock can keep the record of the heart; and that the soul strikes hours every moment of its existence.

[Sidenote: ADVICE TO EXPLORERS.]

I would advise those who may feel inclined to go through the Catacombs to take a box of wax matches in their pocket, and a little luncheon besides, so that if their taper be blown out, or they be lost, they may at least be relieved from the terror of absolute darkness and immediate starvation. When persons are missed down there, a search is immediately made for them, and nobody would feel half so uncomfortable while he had light and food as he would in the midst of gloom, and haunted by the necessity of dining on himself.

The moist and grave-like odor which fills the Catacombs, added to the images of death on every side, intensifies their sepulchral aspect, and makes those wandering in the ghastly haunts seem to themselves only half alive. The faces of those with me did not appear any more natural than their voices, and all of us had a certain taint of the tomb. Even the tapers flickered and sank in the unwholesome atmosphere, as though even fire, which rages in the centre of the earth, could not support itself in that dusky Golgotha.

In some places the skulls have been arranged in the form of crosses and set into the wall—probably by the priests of Paris, who, like all their tribe, delight in symbols and devices coupling death and religion; forgetting that the creed they preach declares there is no death, that true religion leads to eternal life. Monks of all ages—and there are many monks who have never taken orders—have been little more than sacerdotal sextons, revelling in disease and decay, lamentation and funerals, as if Nature had set their spirits to the music of bereavement and woe.

Bones, bones, bones! Skulls, skulls, skulls! I can well believe six millions of mortal remains have been deposited in the Catacombs, which look as if they might have been the graveyard of the globe since the dawn of creation. They furnish the most extensive bone-yard I have ever visited. They do not contain nearly so many dead, in all probability, as the Catacombs of Rome; but on the Seine the dead are exhibited to much more advantage than on the Tiber. The French make the most of everything, and their osseous arrangement and display are not equalled anywhere.

[Sidenote: FONDNESS FOR SOUVENIRS.]

Americans have often been laughed at for their fondness for relics, and very deservedly too; for they seek mementos in all places, and under every variety of circumstances. I should never have suspected any of my countrymen of a disposition to deprive the Catacombs of any of their horrors; and yet several of them actually carried off shin and thigh bones in order to recall the pleasure they had experienced in Paris. One fellow—I think he was a medical student from Boston—tried to secure a whole skull; but as he could not very conveniently get it into his pocket, he was reluctantly forced to leave it behind. Possibly he was an admirer of the first Napoleon, and anxious to obtain a souvenir of Bonaparte. I presume I have met men who, if they were given time and opportunity, would despoil that horrid vault of a very large proportion of its revolting treasures.

During our ramble we encountered a well of pure water enclosed by a wall. In it are a number of gold-fish that manage to live by some mysterious means, though the guide informed us that they did not spawn. The well comes from a spring which some of the workmen discovered while making repairs many years ago, and gave it the name of the Spring of Forgetfulness, afterwards changed to the Fountain of the Good Samaritan. The water is declared to be sweet; but I should need to be extremely thirsty before drinking what would seem infected with death.

[Sidenote: MAXIMS FOR VISITORS.]

The Roman church, always on the alert to point morals and preach sermons, has filled the Catacombs at convenient intervals with inscriptions designed to be impressive. Some of these are,—

“Happy is he whose hour of death is ever before his eyes!”

“Be not proud or boastful, O mortal; for this is the end of the loftiest ambition and the highest glory!”

“Death recognizes not rank—in his eyes the prince and the peasant are the same!”

“Come, all ye busy worldlings into this silent retreat, and listen to the solemn voice that rises from the tomb!”

“Remember, O man, the mercies of thy God, and remember He will call thee when thou least expectest to hear His voice!”

“The grave is dark; but the paths that lead from it are, to the righteous, strewn with eternal flowers!”

“Mock not the lowly, for in the courts of Heaven the lowly may stand before thee, shorn of thy worldly pride!”

No doubt there is a great deal of truth in these maxims; but in spite of them, and many more like them, death has never been rendered very attractive to persons enjoying good health and a fair degree of prosperity. Death bears about the same relation to life that the Catacombs do to Paris; and I have never yet known any man or woman who would willingly quit the gay Boulevards or the delightful Champs Elysées to walk in the bone-lined and noisome vaults of the subterranean city.

We passed only through the main avenues of the Catacombs,—there is very little variety in them,—and after spending nearly three hours underground, having supped full of material horrors, we reached another staircase, and once more ascended to the light of day, and the blessed sunshine. I had no idea where we were, and I was somewhat surprised to find that we came out nearly a mile and a half from where we had gone down. The charming capital never, I think, appeared quite so charming as it did on that delicious afternoon when I returned from death and decay to the living and the loving, to the comforts and the joys, of the upper world.

[Sidenote: AN ENGLISHMAN’S OPINIONS.]

While we were in that vast subterranean graveyard, I was struck by the different effect it produced upon different persons in our party. An Englishman, who was extremely anxious to “do the thing, you know,” was superlatively disgusted after he had passed the vestibule, and declared the Catacombs the “beastliest place” he had ever seen. He grumbled like Vesuvius before eruption, and swore that the French authorities ought to be exposed for permitting the subjects of Her Majesty to thrust themselves into such a “bloody” hole. He even suggested that it was a French trick to get rid of certain true and noble Britons, and, of course, threatened to write to the Times on the subject. He was constantly predicting that the rock overhead would tumble down and bury us all, and really seemed uncomfortable because something horrible did not happen. After he had gone half way through, he wanted to go back, and when he had reached the end of the route, he was much dissatisfied that we hadn’t done a great deal more. He fretted and fumed every minute of the three hours, and did his best to render every one as nervous and discontented as himself.

Several Americans ran all sorts of saws on the Englishman, and prophesied some terrible calamity at every step, saying they never would have thought of coming into the gloomy region unless they had expected that a fair proportion of the excursionists would be killed. Two of my countrymen insisted that they had made their wills before they had left their hotel, and a third averred that he had a vial of prussic acid and a revolver in his pocket for the express purpose of committing suicide, if he should be lost in the cavernous windings. He asked the Briton if he had not taken the same precaution, and pronounced him superlatively reckless because he had not, explaining the advantage of self-destruction over a lingering and horrible death. John Bull, remarkable to relate, had not the slightest suspicion that the “Yankees” were poking fun at him. On the contrary, he regarded all their jests as solemnly sincere, and asserted that it was exactly like our nation never to enjoy anything that was not accompanied by a bloody murder of some sort.

A young Italian, who was quite good-looking, and far more conscious of the fact than anybody else, endured martyrdom in the Catacombs from quite another cause. He was very carefully and daintily dressed, and appeared to consider dust or soil upon his clothes as a sovereign evil. He was the dandiest of dandies, and the most fastidious of fools. He looked rather blank, as I had noticed, when we first began the descent of the circular staircase in the Custom House garden. He was in advance, and before we had gone down a dozen steps, I observed a number of large drops falling from the blazing tapers above him upon his new hat and coat. Some kind friend pointed these out to him, and he actually turned pale with wrath and chagrin.

[Sidenote: INCONVENIENCES OF A VISIT.]

“Who could have done this? Such conduct is disgraceful! I did not come here to have my clothes ruined. I wish the Catacombs were in the bottomless pit.” These and other phrases he ejaculated in choice Tuscan, which very few understood, but which those who did understand enjoyed not a little. After the marring of his wardrobe, there could be no pleasure for him. If he had been shown all the wonders of the world, he could not have forgotten his tarnished garments. His misfortunes followed him. The water dropped through the crevices upon his august person, and as he was unusually tall, he crushed his hat every few minutes against the overhanging rock, which struck oaths out of him as steel strikes fire out of flint. I fancied sometimes that he envied the skeletons he passed, because they had no clothes to spoil. Long before he had finished his underground journey, his beauty of person and raiment was sadly injured, and I am confident that he will remember the Catacombs, and curse them for the harm they did his garments, till the end of his days.

[Sidenote: INQUISITIVENESS OF AN AMERICAN.]

A native of Maine entertained us by inquiring constantly of the guide, who could not speak a word of English, while the New Englander had not the least knowledge of French, in regard to the probable cost of the Catacombs, and whether they paid as an investment. He was very desirous to know, also, whose skull this one might be, and whose that, evidently under the impression that all the monarchs and historic characters of France were buried there. Our guide, too polite not to pretend to comprehend the inquisitive fellow, gabbled away in bewildering generalities. The Maine man asseverated again and again, that he would give five dollars to know what the Frenchman said; and therefore I assumed to tell him. I informed him, though the Catacombs had cost five hundred millions of dollars, that they paid a larger interest than any property in the country; that they were owned by the Rothschilds, who received one hundred dollars from the government for every skull put into the vaults; and that, as there were six millions of them, he could calculate the profits. “By thunder!” he replied; “no wonder those old Jews are so rich. I never knew before how they made all their money. I wonder if a chap couldn’t buy a little Catacomb stock.”

That mighty charnel-house is not without its tragic history. A number of persons have been lost there in spite of all the precautions against accidents; but these have been very rare of late, because so few persons could obtain admission.

A few years ago, a newly-married couple arrived in Paris from the provinces, having gone to the city on their bridal tour. It was their first visit to the capital, and they were naturally desirous to see its lions. The bride had heard a great deal of the Catacombs, and would not be satisfied without exploring them, albeit her husband endeavored to dissuade her from such a dismal enterprise. She was bent on going, and so they went together. He kept close to her side, constantly fearing she might be lost. He admitted that he had a presentiment respecting her, and sure enough it was realized.

[Sidenote: AN UNHAPPY HONEYMOON.]

They had been in the Catacombs something more than an hour, when, having stopped to examine a curious skull, he called for her to look at it, and discovered, to his horror, that she was missing. There were nearly two hundred in the party, and nobody had observed when or where she had disappeared. They all retraced their steps, entered the adjoining passages, and shouted themselves hoarse to attract her attention; but all in vain. Not the least vestige of her could be discovered. The bridegroom was beside himself with grief, declaring that he knew she would never be found, and calling upon the rocks to fall, and relieve him of his misery. It became necessary to drag him from the sepulchral vault, and when this was done, he proved to be a raving maniac. He was sent to an asylum, where such was the violence of his paroxysms night and day, that he died of exhaustion in less than a fortnight. Diligent search was made for the missing bride, though to no purpose. Not the slightest clew was obtained to her fate, and it was finally conjectured that she must have wandered into some tortuous avenue, and fallen into one of the pits which I have described. Such was the melancholy ending of a honeymoon before it had fairly begun.

Another couple, who had been married a number of years, and who had long lived so inharmoniously that they had gone apart several times, entered the Catacombs in the spring of 1853. The wife was missing when the party came out,—it is always the custom to count the number at the beginning and end of the journey, so as to see that none are lost,—and the husband asserted that he had seen her only a few seconds before. Still, she could not be found on that day or the next; but about a fortnight after, a body answering to her description was discovered in one of the narrow passages into which excursionists are never taken. She had evidently been dead some time, and a deep wound on her temple indicated that she might have perished from violence. Her husband was not free from suspicion of having murdered her; but as she might have been so injured by a fall, he was never openly accused of the crime. The story was generally circulated, and the anti-matrimonial jesters of the capital insinuated that more than a thousand unhappy husbands immediately applied for permission to make the subterranean tour with their wives, in the hope that they might be as fortunate as the ungrieving widower.

[Sidenote: IMPRISONED FOR THREE HOURS.]

Walking one day on the Boulevards, my companion pointed out to me a well-dressed man, who had a certain prematurely old look, and whose hair was perfectly white. I was told he was only thirty-five, and that, five years before, he had gone into the Catacombs with a young lady to whom he was engaged, and had hidden himself away from the sepulchral pilgrims for a few minutes, that he might learn how his supposed loss would affect his betrothed. He hid himself so very effectually, that three hours elapsed before he could be found. He had in that time entirely surrendered all hope of release, and the physical changes of years had fallen upon him. He has often described his sensations during those hours, and has represented them as the most terrible he could conceive of. (I can imagine, yes, even understand, what they must have been by my own experience.) The revolution in his mental was as great as the revolution in his physical nature; and after his distressing sensations, all his freshness and buoyancy of feeling departed. With a strange morbidity, he associated the young lady on whom he had wished to try the sentimental experiment with the agony he had endured, and though she was as wretched as any woman ought to be when he was missed, he broke off his engagement, and refused to see her again after that eventful day. The gentleman may be living still; for, in spite of appearances, he had an excellent constitution and vigorous health. He was in good circumstances, and went to dine regularly at the Café Anglais, where he had told his story so often, that he had received the name of “Catacombes” Beaudinet. Nothing remarkable except that had ever happened to him, and as he was a Frenchman, and fond of prattle, his one adventure filled him, and rendered him a bore of the first water.

[Sidenote: A MANIA FOR SUICIDE.]

As is well known, the French not only have a passion for suicide, but a passion for committing it at certain places, and in certain ways, that seems to be contagious. Forty years ago, a young journalist, while exploring the Catacombs in company with many of his acquaintances, naturally fell to talking on the subject of death, and expressed his opinion that there was nothing awful in it, or even unwelcome. Some of his friends rallied him on this position, and told him he would think very differently if he were conscious that death was near at hand. He stoutly denied that it would change his sentiments in the least, and when nobody appeared to believe him, he suddenly drew a small knife from his pocket, and before any one was aware of his intention, he thrust it into his heart. His suicide, in such a place too, filled his friends with horror, and the press, as he had been a member of the guild, gave detailed accounts of the tragedy, accompanied by strange theories and analyses of the causes that must have led to it. For several weeks, the Paris journals were full of communications on the subject; and they so aroused public attention and curiosity, that in less than six months nearly twenty men stabbed themselves to death in the Catacombs—all of them unquestionably the effect of example.

The Catacombs are the reverse side of the fair picture of Paris. Never since my journey through them have I been able to forget that they lie black and yawning under some of the most beautiful quarters of the capital. When the sunshine is brightest along the Seine, I think of the darkness below. When the city smiles fairest, I recall the millions of grinning skeletons underneath. When the music from the gardens, and the concerts, and the operas sounds sweetest, I fancy mingling among the strains a mournful dirge for the departed and forgotten, so confusedly heaped together in the awful dreariness of the Catacombs.

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