six miles from Redruth. Many inquiries were necessary to learn my road, but at last, though “by what bye-paths and indirect crooked ways” I know not, I reached the mine, and found myself in a large enclosure, bounded on one side by a fence, through a gate in which I had entered, on the opposite side by an engine-house and buildings, on a third side by a large heap of black-looking slag, which might have been the refuse of the mine mixed with cinders, and on a fourth by a low range of buildings, to one of which I was directed as the place where I should find the agents or overseers of the mine. Lifting a latch in the door of one of these sheds I found myself in a low room with a sanded floor, and in the presence of three rough looking men, who were smoking long pipes, and talking very loudly over a can of beer, which journeyed from one to the other with sensible diminution of its contents.
They had not seen me enter, as there was a high wooden settle before the door, but hearing me shut it the talking was suspended, and the smoking also. Advancing, I took from my pocket Mr. Tredgar’s letter and showed it, without a word, to one of the men.
“Will you go with this gentleman, Bill?” he inquired of his vis-à-vis at the small table.
“No, you’d better go, Jim,” was Bill’s deprecating rejoinder.
So Jim apparently resolved to undertake the duty, and said, turning to me—
“Will you go down at once, sir?”
“Yes,” I replied, uncertain whether the floor would open and reveal the mouth of the mine, and equally ignorant of the mode of our descent.
“You’d better come in ’ere and shift, sir,” said Jim, leading the way to a small room adjoining that in which we were standing, and adding, as he introduced me to it:
“I’ve had the things ready and well aired, in case anyone should come.”
The sight of these “things,” however was too much for me. I saw there was great probability that I should come to grief by putting head-gear on my feet, or by committing other absurdities which would disclose my unprofessional character to the miners, so I resolved without delay to unveil myself to Jim, who was to be my conductor.
“I may as well tell you,” I said, “that I am a tourist only. I do not understand anything about mining, and I am going to inspect your mine only for my pleasure. I shall be happy to pay you for accompanying me, and greatly obliged if you will show me the mode of working, and anything that may be interesting in the mine.”
“Well, sir, I thou’t you didn’t look much like a miner,” was Jim’s remark upon this revelation.
“Now, sir,” he continued,” as you don’t know nothing about it, I must tell you—you must change everything—”
“Not my boots,” I said, “surely—look how strong they are.” And I showed him the thick soles and the rows of large nails.
“They’d be pretty things by the time you come back. Lor’ bless yer—why I’m going to change everything. You’ll be smothered in mud and slush before you come back.”
This did not seem to promise much pleasure; but I had resolved to go as far down the Great Fowey Mine as possible, so I proceeded at once to obey the miner’s instructions.
Soon I had dressed myself in a clean, comfortable suit of thick white flannel, consisting of shirt, drawers and socks; over this I had drawn a very muddy and well-worn canvas suit, stiff with clayey mud. I put on an old pair of shoes, which possessed the double virtue of letting water in and out again. On my head the miner adjusted a white cotton skull cap, and over this a species of wide-awake, made of thick tin, which was not uncomfortable,—and would be serviceable, so Jim assured me. After a disappearance for a few minutes, he came in similarly dressed.
“Now, sir,” said Jim, “I think we’re a’most ready, ain’t we?”
“Really, I don’t know,” was all I could say.
“We want candles,” said the miner, and going up to a bundle which hung on the wall, he cut off six, and taking two passed a piece of rope-yarn through the loop at the end of them, and, to my surprise, tied them firmly to one of the buttons of my jacket. Doing the same on his own jacket, and giving me one to hold in my hand, he prepared to start.
“We shall be back in three hours, Bill,” said the miner, as we passed through the outer room. I followed him, in a state of the most complete unconsciousness as to how or where we were going, my clothes so stiff that I could hardly bend them, my candles dangling at my buttons, my general appearance presenting a picture so grotesque that I could hardly help laughing.
We had not far to walk to the mine. There were a few planks lying over what seemed to be a large well-hole, from an open part of which a ladder projected some four feet. So little did I think that this could be our means of descent, that I was passing it, before I saw that Jim was on the ladder, and his body fast disappearing through the opening.
“Come along, sir,” was his invitation. He had previously told me that we were going about 1200 feet deep, and when I stepped on this ladder, I do assure the readers of this narrative that I was entirely ignorant as to whether it was or was not twelve hundred feet long.
As it was perfectly dark when we got below the boarding, my sight did not help me much to realise our situation. I had descended about twenty steps of the ladder when Jim, whose head was just on a level with my feet, called out—
“Hold on, sir. Stan’ o’ one side a little.”
As in compliance with his wishes, I got to one side of the ladder, he ascended several steps, until his hands were on a level with mine, then, striking a light, lit a candle, which enabled me to take a hurried survey of our position. We were about twelve feet below the surface of the ground, the atmosphere was stifling and very hot, our support a roughly-made ladder, and the hole in which we were was about six feet in diameter, hewn in hard stone, but of no particular shape. Water was trickling in several places slowly down the walls, moistening the lumps and veins of slimy clay which were occasionally visible among the stony strata.
Clawing a handful of this clay, Jim proceeded
