have had the disagreeable experience know that the first intimation that they must have recourse to spectacles is one of the most painful experiences of ordinary human life. At all times the want of sufficient light to see by is a hard trial. The more need there is of attentive vision, or the more the eye perceives the failing of its own power, the more intolerable is the hardship. Now, in mining the attention has to be kept vividly directed to the effect of every blow of the pick. There are many kinds of work which can be done with but little exertion of eyesight. Mining is not one of them. In a fair face of coal the operation of "getting," as it is called, may be a straightforward one; but this is far from being always the case. We have seen, too, that it is not always to the face of the coal that the chief care of the miner has to be directed. One third of the lives lost are due to falls, of face or of roof. With every blow of the miner's pick that danger has to be borne in mind. It is a danger increased tenfold by obscurity. The experience of our public works is enough to prove that, if the workings of our mines could be made as light as day, both shaft accidents and accidents from fall of roof would be enormously diminished in number. Does the reader know how the miner has to ascertain whether the roof is coming in upon him, or whether the "creep" from below is overpowering his hastily fixed props and polling boards? We can tell him from experience.
A piece of damp clay is, or should be, always at hand in a mine. Frequently it is to be met with in the workings. If not, some should always be brought down. In cases where there is no fear of explosion, and indeed in all cases fifty years ago, a bit of wet clay forms the usual miner's candlestick. In cases where luxury is studied, a bit of wood with a hole in it carries the "farthing dip." But even this fastidious candlestick, if it has to be set down on the ground, is made secure from a casual overset by a dab of wet clay. Now, if any undue cracking is heard in the timbers, or if a rattle from above gives warning that the roof is not altogether in a stable condition, what does the miner do? He smears a bit of wet clay into any crack that he observes in a prop, polling board, or junction of the timbering of the mine, and then quietly watches, to see whether the damp clay cracks. If not, it is probable that the timbering is sufficient for its work. If it does, the timbering has, in all haste, to be strengthened. Peril of life is on the one hand, anxiety to see as clearly as possible on the other. The miserable ray thrown by the miner's lamp seems only to mock his anxiety. Is there any wonder if he affronts the more distant peril in his desire to avoid the more threatening one? His nose, he may think, will give him timely warning of the neighborhood of "fire-jack." To guard against the more fatal danger of roof-fall he has only his eyes. Is there any wonder that he seeks for more light, even at the risk of a naked flame?
We do not, of course, for a moment intimate that it is only for the
