en come forward, and step with him into
the tub; not a word do they say, but they look quite calm and self-
possessed--they have a work to do, and they will do it. And now the
women are clustered round on the pit-bank in haggard expectation, the
very picture of woe, some wild in their cries, others rocking themselves
to and fro to still, if it may be, their misery; and others bowed down
to the earth, the very image of mute despair. And now the wheels
rapidly revolve, the rope runs swiftly, at last it slackens speed. The
tub reaches the top--two ghastly forms are lifted from it--the women,
with straining eyes, pressing forward to look. Oh, what a sight! the
fiery stream has scorched the faces and limbs of the poor men almost out
of knowledge. Again the tub descends, again other sufferers are raised,
and still the same sad work continues hour after hour, far into the
night. Some of those brought up are quite dead, poor blackened corpses;
others still live, and are borne home, moaning piteously. From the
limbs of many the skin peels with a touch. Some, less terribly injured,
run and leap like madmen when they reach the open fresh air; some come
up utterly blinded. And oh, what a vale of tears is that village of
Langhurst the livelong night! Some call in vain for fathers, husbands,
brothers; they have not yet been found. Some wring their hands over
bodies which can never live again till the resurrection morning; some
lovingly tend those who lie racked with agony on their beds, every limb
writhing with fiery anguish; while some poor victims are so scorched and
blackened that none can be found to claim them--one can only be known by
his watch-chain, so completely is he burnt out of all remembrance. And
what of poor Johnson? Hour after hour Betty and her mother watched near
the pit's mouth, sick with sorrow and suspense, pressing forward as each
fresh tub-load landed its miserable burden, still to be disappointed;
while the wailings, the cries, the tears of those who claimed the dead,
the dying, the scorched, on every fresh arrival, only added fuel to
their burning grief. At last, about midnight, three men were brought up
and laid on the bank, all apparently lifeless.

"Oh, there's fayther!"

"Oh, there's Thomas!" burst from the lips of Betty and her mother.

"Oh, take him home, take him home, live or dead," entreated Betty.

He was placed accordingly on a shutter, and carried by four men to his
home. There t