Chapter 1 - Page 2

different uses, locomotives, steamers, gas works,
&c., were not likely to fail for want of the mineral fuel;
but the consumption had so increased during the last few years,
that certain beds had been exhausted even to their smallest veins.
Now deserted, these mines perforated the ground with their
useless shafts and forsaken galleries. This was exactly the case
with the pits of Aberfoyle.

Ten years before, the last butty had raised the last ton of coal
from this colliery. The underground working stock, traction engines,
trucks which run on rails along the galleries, subterranean tramways,
frames to support the shaft, pipes--in short, all that constituted
the machinery of a mine had been brought up from its depths.
The exhausted mine was like the body of a huge fantastically-shaped
mastodon, from which all the organs of life have been taken,
and only the skeleton remains.

Nothing was left but long wooden ladders, down the Yarrow shaft--the only
one which now gave access to the lower galleries of the Dochart pit.
Above ground, the sheds, formerly sheltering the outside works,
still marked the spot where the shaft of that pit had been sunk,
it being now abandoned, as were the other pits, of which the whole
constituted the mines of Aberfoyle.

It was a sad day, when for the last time the workmen quitted the mine,
in which they had lived for so many years. The engineer, James Starr,
had collected the hundreds of

workmen which composed the active and courageous population of the mine.
Overmen, brakemen, putters, wastemen, barrowmen, masons, smiths,
carpenters, outside and inside laborers, women, children, and old men,
all were collected in the great yard of the Dochart pit, formerly heaped
with coal from the mine.

Many of these families had existed for generations in the mine
of old Aberfoyle; they were now driven to seek the means
of subsistence elsewhere, and they waited sadly to bid farewell
to the engineer.

James Starr stood upright, at the door of the vast shed in which he had
for so many years superintended the powerful machines of the shaft.
Simon Ford, the foreman of the Dochart pit, then fifty-five years of age,
and other managers and overseers, surrounded him. James Starr took
off his hat. The miners, cap in hand, kept a profound silence.
This farewell scene was of a touching character, not wanting in grandeur.

"My friends," said the engineer, "the time has come for us to separate.
The Aberfoyle mines, which for so many years have united us
in a common work, are now exhausted. All our researches
have not led to the discovery of a new vein, and the last
block of coal has just been extracted from the Dochart pit."
And in confirmation of his words, James