We told him of our long walk
the day before, how we had been disappointed in not getting lodgings,
and asked him how far we were away from an inn. He told us we were quite
near one, but it was no use going there, as "they wouldn't get up for
the Queen of England." He further told us he was going to the two
o'clock "shift" at the colliery. "Colliery!" my brother ejaculated; "but
surely there isn't a coal-pit in a pretty place like this?" He assured
us that there was, and, seeing we were both shivering with cold, kindly
invited us to go with him and he would put us near to a good fire that
was burning there. "How far is it?" we asked anxiously. "Oh, only about
half a mile," said the collier. So we went with him, and walked what
seemed to be the longest half-mile we ever walked in all our lives, as
we followed him along a fearfully rough road, partly on the tramlines of
the Canonbie Collieries belonging to the Duke of Buccleuch, where two or
three hundred men were employed.
We each handed him a silver coin as he landed us in front of a large
open fire which was blazing furiously near the mouth of the pit, and,
bidding us "good morning," he placed a lighted lamp in front of his cap
and disappeared down the shaft to the regions below.
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