The Underground City | Page 8

Then, continuing,
"And can you tell me what you father wants with me?"
"Mr. Starr, my father wishes to tell you himself."
"But you know what it is?"
"I do, sir."
"Well, Harry, I will not ask you more. But let us get on, for I'm anxious to see Simon

Ford. By-the-bye, where does he live?"
"In the mine."
"What! In the Dochart pit?"
"Yes, Mr. Starr," replied Harry.
"Really! has your family never left the old mine since the cessation of the works?"
"Not a day, Mr. Starr. You know my father. It is there he was born, it is there he means to
die!"
"I can understand that, Harry. I can understand that! His native mine! He did not like to
abandon it! And are you happy there?"
"Yes, Mr. Starr," replied the young miner, "for we love one another, and we have but few
wants."
"Well, Harry," said the engineer, "lead the way."
And walking rapidly through the streets of Callander, in a few minutes they had left the
town behind them.
CHAPTER III
THE DOCHART PIT
HARRY FORD was a fine, strapping fellow of five and twenty. His grave looks, his
habitually passive expression, had from childhood been noticed among his comrades in
the mine. His regular features, his deep blue eyes, his curly hair, rather chestnut than fair,
the natural grace of his person, altogether made him a fine specimen of a lowlander.
Accustomed from his earliest days to the work of the mine, he was strong and hardy, as
well as brave and good. Guided by his father, and impelled by his own inclinations, he
had early begun his education, and at an age when most lads
are little more than apprentices, he had managed to make himself of some importance, a
leader, in fact, among his fellows, and few are very ignorant in a country which does all it
can to remove ignorance. Though, during the first years of his youth, the pick was never
out of Harry's hand, nevertheless the young miner was not long in acquiring sufficient
knowledge to raise him into the upper class of the miners, and he would certainly have
succeeded his father as overman of the Dochart pit, if the colliery had not been
abandoned.
James Starr was still a good walker, yet he could not easily have kept up with his guide, if
the latter had not slackened his pace. The young man, carrying the engineer's bag,
followed the left bank of the river for about a mile. Leaving its winding course, they took
a road under tall, dripping trees. Wide fields lay on either side, around isolated farms. In

one field a herd of hornless cows were quietly grazing; in another sheep with silky wool,
like those in a child's toy sheep fold.
The Yarrow shaft was situated four miles from Callander. Whilst walking, James Starr
could not but be struck with the change in the country. He had not seen it since the day
when the last ton of Aberfoyle coal had been emptied into railway trucks to be sent to
Glasgow. Agricultural life had now taken the place of the more stirring, active, industrial
life. The contrast was all the greater because, during winter, field work is at a standstill.
But formerly, at whatever season, the mining population, above and below ground, filled
the scene with animation. Great wagons of coal used to be passing night and day. The
rails, with their rotten sleepers, now disused, were then constantly ground by the weight
of wagons. Now stony roads took the place of the old mining tramways. James Starr felt
as if he was traversing a desert.
The engineer gazed about him with a saddened eye. He stopped now and then to take
breath. He listened. The air was no longer filled with distant whistlings and the panting of
engines. None of those black vapors which the manufacturer loves to see, hung in the
horizon, mingling with the clouds. No tall cylindrical or prismatic chimney vomited out
smoke, after being fed from the mine itself; no blast-pipe was puffing out its white vapor.
The ground,
formerly black with coal dust, had a bright look, to which James Starr's eyes were not
accustomed.
When the engineer stood still, Harry Ford stopped also. The young miner waited in
silence. He felt what was passing in his companion's mind, and he shared his feelings; he,
a child of the mine, whose whole life had been passed in its depths.
"Yes, Harry, it is all changed," said Starr. "But at the rate we worked, of course the
treasures of coal would have been exhausted some day. Do you regret that time?"
"I do regret it, Mr. Starr," answered Harry. "The work was hard, but it was interesting, as
are all