the man,
and that I shall never cease to be affectionately grateful for it.

There were two instances of escape at the Pelsall Hall disaster which
seem worth recording. Every mine has what is known as an 'upcast
shaft'--a perpendicular tunnel which runs side by side with the working
shaft, and is connected with it at the foot by an airway which serves to
ventilate the workings. When the first rush of water, breaking in from
some old deserted working, came tearing down, a man and a boy were
standing at the bottom of the downcast. They were carried on the crest
of the wave clean through the airway, borne some distance upwards in
the upcast, and were there floated on to the floor of a skip, where they
were found insensible, but living, some hours later. No other creature
was brought to bank alive.

One special correspondent turned up at Pelsall on a Sunday, just as
the pumping apparatus, which had broken down, was on the point of being
repaired, and when everybody concerned was working for the bare life. It
had not then been finally established that hope was over, and everybody
was inspired with an almost superhuman vigour. The correspondent, who
was a mighty person in his own esteem, sent his card to the manager, who
sent him back a sufficiently courteous message, saying how busy he was
and asking to be excused for an hour or two.

'Take back that card,' said the special (I was a witness of the scene),
'say that I represent' (he named one of the most influential of the
London dailies), 'and that I insist upon an interview.'

This time a sufficiently discourteous message came back; and the mighty
personage, after loafing about for an hour or two, retired and wrote
an article in which he described the people of the Black Country as
savages, and revived a foolish old libel or two which at one time had
currency concerning them. The old nonsense about the champagne was
there, for one thing. I know the Black Country miners pretty well--I
ought to do so, at least, for I was born in the thick of them and
watched their ways from childhood to manhood--and I never knew a working
miner who had so much as heard of champagne. Now and then a prosperous
'butty' (_Anglice_, chartermaster) may have tried a bottle; but the
working collier's beverage is 'pit beer.' The popular recipe for this
drink is to 'chuck three grains of malt into the cut, and drink as much
as ye like of it.'

I remember the story of one wine party which met at th