iery had not been abandoned.

James Starr was still a good walker, yet he could not easily have kept
up with his guide, if the latter had not slackened his pace. The young
man, carrying the engineer's bag, followed the left bank of the river
for about a mile. Leaving its winding course, they took a road under
tall, dripping trees. Wide fields lay on either side, around isolated
farms. In one field a herd of hornless cows were quietly grazing; in
another sheep with silky wool, like those in a child's toy sheep fold.

The Yarrow shaft was situated four miles from Callander. Whilst walking,
James Starr could not but be struck with the change in the country. He
had not seen it since the day when the last ton of Aberfoyle coal had
been emptied into railway trucks to be sent to Glasgow. Agricultural
life had now taken the place of the more stirring, active, industrial
life. The contrast was all the greater because, during winter, field
work is at a standstill. But formerly, at whatever season, the mining
population, above and below ground, filled the scene with animation.
Great wagons of coal used to be passing night and day. The rails, with
their rotten sleepers, now disused, were then constantly ground by
the weight of wagons. Now stony roads took the place of the old mining
tramways. James Starr felt as if he was traversing a desert.

The engineer gazed about him with a saddened eye. He stopped now and
then to take breath. He listened. The air was no longer filled with
distant whistlings and the panting of engines. None of those black
vapors which the manufacturer loves to see, hung in the horizon,
mingling with the clouds. No tall cylindrical or prismatic chimney
vomited out smoke, after being fed from the mine itself; no blast-pipe
was puffing out its white vapor. The ground, formerly black with
coal dust, had a bright look, to which James Starr's eyes were not
accustomed.

When the engineer stood still, Harry Ford stopped also. The young miner
waited in silence. He felt what was passing in his companion's mind, and
he shared his feelings; he, a child of the mine, whose whole life had
been passed in its depths.

"Yes, Harry, it is all changed," said Starr. "But at the rate we worked,
of course the treasures of coal would have been exhausted some day. Do
you regret that time?"

"I do regret it, Mr. Starr," answered Harry. "The work was hard, but it
was interesting, as are all struggles."

"No doubt, my lad. A cont