The Sun.
London, England, 1862-01-23 00:00:00

commence at half-past 7.

ASTLEY'S ROYAL AMPHITHEATRE.-
THIS EVENING, 2d appearance of Young GUNE-
RIUS (Ecuyer Norwegien), who created the greatest sensa-
tion at the Cirque, in Paris, in his ork.),lnal performance, Le
Passage du Pont, and' Madame HALVESTON, the most
daring Equestrienne in the World, with their highly-trained
Steeds.
To co nruence with THE COLLEEN DAWN.

New and daring Scenes in the Circle by the Great Nor-
wegian. Wenders.

Concludinz with the Grand Comic Pantomime of
JOHNNY GILPIN'S RIDE TO EDMONTON.

A MORNING PERFORMANCE on Saturday next,
at Two o'clock.

Stage Manager, Mr. W. Searle.

CANTERBURY HALL CONCERTS,
AND FINE ARTS GALLERY.
Triumphant Success of Mr. Marshall's Grand Christmas
Entertainment, "THE ENCHANTED HASH " (SECOND
EDlTlON)—Wonderful Transformations—Every Evening
at a quarter-past ten—in ade4tion to the following Comic
talent : Mr. Frederick French, the great Shakesperian Bur-
lesque Vocalist, Mr. Wood and Son, Mr. J. G. Porde, Miss
Harriet Coveney, and Miss Greene.
Grand Selections from
LA TRAVIATA and TROVATORE,
at ten o'clock,
By Miss Russell, Mr. Herbert, Signor Tivoli, and full Chorus.
Musical Director, Mr. Joughmans.
Admission—Hall, Bd. ; Stalls and Balcony, ls.

CANTERBURY HALL.-VICTOR JULIEN,
" THE FLYING MAN " Every Evening at half-past
Nine o'clock.

T HE 0 X F OR D,
6, OXFORD-STREET,

OPEN EVERY EVENING AT 7 O'CLOCK.
Selections alternately from " Ernani," " Lucrezia Borgia,"
"La Circassienne," "La Traviata," " Simon Boccanegra,"
&a, by the entire Company, Full Band and Chorus.—Conduc-
tor, Mr. F. Jonghmans. Solos by Mr. Viotti Collins (the
great English violinist). And other attractive Entertain-
ments, the Comic portion by Miss Harriet Coveney, Messrs.
Sam Collins, E. Marshall, M. P. Foster, and IV. Randall.
Hall, 6d. ; Stalls and Balcony, Is. ; Private Boxes, 10s. 6d.

HIGH WATER AT LONDON BRIDGE.

This DAY.—Morning, 6h. 40m.—Afternoon, 7h. lm.
To-monnow. -Morning, 7h. 30m.—Afternoon, Bh. Om.

THE WEATHER.—SUN OFFICE, JANUARY 23, 1862.
THERMOMETER, IN THE SHADE.
•
45 —highest since noon yesterday.
33—lowest this morning and during the night.
40—this day at noon.
BA.ROL.LTER-29.68.
WlND—Southerly ; rather fresh, with dull weather.

a
-4,6•1•41.„, " t •:;,c,ll>j•2 •31 0 "Dpejtrij.
• -

THE SUN.

LONDON, THURSDAY, lAN. 23, 1862.

The worst is now known in regard to that
appalling catastrophe at Hartley Colliery. And,
in very deed, it is the worst. All dead ! The whole
of the 215 men and boys, without one exception.
A single spectral form has not emerged from that
dreadful gulf of destruction, to say like each of the
horror-stricken messengers to Jos—" And I alone
have escaped to tell thee." The whole of these 215
labourers may indeed be said, in their laet adven-
ture, to have "gone down into the Pit."

Yesterday, in commenting upon this most afflicting
casualty,we wrote of it as of the most terrible acciden t
that has perhaps ever taken place in our colliery dis-
tricts. And the event now proves that in penning
those words we were not writing in any way in the
language of exaggeration. It is impossible to read
without emotion the simple and affecting record of
the spectacle presented to view, when at length
last evening the yard seam, hard by the engine
drift, was reached by three gallant fellows, who, in
defiance of poisonous gases and of the perilous condi-
tion of the half-cleared shaft, were lowered down
to reconnoitre. Foul and pestilential, almost
deadly, though the atmosphere was in that dreadful
scene of death, nevertheless the three brave-
hearted pitmen who penetrated yesterday into the
yard-seam as volunteers were enabled to see enough
to recognise in its full horror the futility of any
further hope of carrying relief to their entombed
mates. The spectacle witnessed by them was, so
far as the multiplicity of deaths went, like a peep
into some dreadful slaughter-house—like a
glance, after the fight was done, over
the fatallest spot in some destructive
battle-field. Not a survivor was there : all the
buried colliers, men and boys, lay huddled together
in groups—groups, some of them telling eloquently
indeed of the last yearnings of home affections
strong in• life among these poor fellows, strongest of
all in death. Families were there clustered together
—" children in the arms of their fathers; brothers
with brothers." It is consolatory in some sense to
read there immediately afterwards that "most of
them looked placid as if asleep :" though it tells a
tale of the last frantic efforts of some to escape,
when we find it added almost in the same breath,
" but higher up, near the furnace some tall
stout men seem to have died hard." These,
doubtless, were the men who were heard " jowling"
in a last desperate effort to break their way out into
the daylight, as recently as Sunday. Some solace,
at least, it must be to the bereaved relicts and
orphans of the deceased to bear in mind now that
the sufferings of those they loved, and who have
been torn from them suddenly by so dreadful a dis-
aster, are past and gone. What the actual horror
of their situation must have been during four or five
agonising days, it is too painful now seriously or I
deliberately to conjecture. Besides, it would
be utterly idle, of course, to do so. In lieu
of expatiating upon this head, we would
rather turn our regard from the appalling
past to the melancholy future down yonder at
Hartley New Pit, in those desolate wilds of Nor-
thumberland. We would rather take into conside-
ration the possibility of preventing the recurrence
of these dire calamities. We would rather meditate
on the most effectual means of assuaging the anguish
caused down there in so many poor homes by the
frightful slaughter en masse of those who were the
main stays and the manly props of those afflicted
households.

Is it not practicable that is the first
thought—is it not in some way practicable
to prevent the recurrence of these awful
catastrophes ? Is it not at once manifest
—that is the reflection the instant afterwards—
is it ❑ot at once manifest that much may easily
be done towards the relief of those whose hus-
bands and fathers have thus been lamentably