e whole drainage of this mine is
effected. If, by any means, these waterwheels should cease to act, the
bell would cease to sound, and the miners would hasten to the day, for no
man could tell how soon his working might be flooded."

"And can it be heard throughout the mine?"

"Through this portion of it. Probably the water acts as a conductor of
the sound; but the miners listen earnestly for its minute tolling."

Toll on, thou messenger of comfort! May thy voice ever tell of safety to
the haggard toiler, deep in the earth!

Our guide now directs us to attire ourselves in the garments disgorged
from the portentous-looking bundle. They consist of a pair of black
calico trousers, a dark, lapelled coat, a leathern semicircular apron,
buckled on behind--the strap of which serves to hook a small lantern on
in front--and a terrible brimless felt hat, which we feel to be a curse
the moment we put it on, and which we never cease to anathematise, up to
the instant when we take it off. These habiliments being drawn over our
ordinary clothing, do not facilitate our motions, or help to keep us in
so cool a state as might be desirable.

Over the edge of the square box, and down a stone staircase cut through
the solid granite, we follow our guide. We pause on the first few steps,
and are just able to distinguish the huge, broad water-wheel, slowly
revolving in its stony chamber: its spokes, like giant arms, sweep
through the wet darkness with scarcely a sound, but a low dripping and
gurgling of water. That terrible staircase! dark and steep and slimy!
Water drips from its roof and oozes from its walls. It is so low, that
instead of bending forward as the body naturally does when in the act of
descent, we are compelled to throw our heads back at the risk of
dislocating our necks, in order that the detestable hat may not be driven
over our eyes by coming in contact with the roof. Down, down the
slippery steps; feeling our way along slimy walls: through the dense
gloom, and heavy, moist air! The way seems to wave and bend we scarcely
know how; sometimes we traverse level galleries, but they only lead us
again to the steep, clammy steps, cut through the tough rock, always at
the same acute angle. Down, down, six hundred feet! and our guide
whispers to us to be careful how we go, for we are in a dangerous place:
he has brought us to this portion of the mine to show us how the water
accumulates when undisturbed.

The vein