Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1877-02-01
Boys in Pennsylvania Coal Mines.

Several miles from this place, near the
little mining town of st. Clair, is the
Hickory Colliery, one of the oldest mines
in the old Schuylkill region. The
entrance to the mine is from the top of the
precipitous hill, which, covered with the
black refuse of scores of wears, bears the
semblance of a mountain of coal dust
From the doors and open windows of the
colliery buildings great cloud of black
dust is ever streaming, settling on every
thing about till not an object in the neigh
borhood but is black as the black diamond
itself. The interior of the buildings is a
cloud Of haZy blackness; and the black,
silent men, as they appear and disappear
in the dust, seem like so many evil genii
floating in dark storm clouds.
The buildings at one time were evident
| ly well kept, with some attention to the
comfort of the men who worked in them,
! but now they are going to rack and ruin.
| The ricketv wooden stairs, leading over
| depths that make the head swim to look
| into them, are so shaky and unsafe that
! it is only with the greatest care that one
who is unaccustOmed can make his way
over them. The doorways are open and
| bare, and there is nothing to prevent the
cold winds from whistling through the
| old rOOkerY.
With these somber surroundings it is
no wonder that the men are silent and
| lowering. In these works 300 men and
| boys are employed; and when I went
| through the buildings and through the
mine yesterday | saw them all. Among
! all these 800, although I was with them
for hours, did not hear laugh or even
see a smile. Each one had his routine to
| gOthrough, and he went through it just
as steam engine or a clock. And when
| quitting time came each one went back to
his home in the regular groove, just as
the steam goes out of the boiler when its
work is done, and then dropped off into
sleep, his only pleasure. | have seen far
more cheerful bodies of men in prisons
1t may be their black and dreary surround
ings; it may be their knowledge of con-
slant and terrible danger; it may be the
strain of the great physical labor-I know
nOtIwhat tits, but sor, ething there is about
these mines that wears the life and soul
out IF the men, leaving only the weary,
blackened shell.
In little room in this big, black shed
a room not twenty feet square-where a
broken stove, red hot, tries vanity tn
warm the cold air that comes in through
the open window, forty boys are picking
their lives away. The floor of the room
is an inclined plane, and stream of coal
| pOurs constantly in from some unseen
place above, crosses the room, and pours
out again into some unseen place below.
| Rough board seats stretch across the room,
five or six rows of them, very low and
very dirty, and on these the boys sit and
separate the slate from the coal as it runs
down the inclined plane. 1t is painful
sight to see the men going so silently and
! glOomily about their work, but it is a
| thousand times worse to see these boys
They work here, in this little black hole,
all day and every day, trying to keep cool
IN summer, trying to keep warm in win
ter, picking away among the black Goals,
bending over till their little spines are
curved, never saying word all the live
long day.
| stood and watched these boys for a
! long time, without being seen by them,
for their backs are turned toward the en-
| trance door, and the coal makes such a
racket that they cannot hear anything a
foot from their ears. They were muffied
up in old coats and old shawls and old
scarfs, and ragged mittens to keep their
hands from freezing; and as they sat and
picked and picked, gathering little heaps
of blackened slate by their sides, they
looked more like so many black dwarfs
than like party of fresh young boys
The air was cold enough and the work
was lively enough to paint any boys
cheeks in rosy colors; but if there was a
red cheek in the room it was we'll hidden
under the coating of black dust that COW
cred everything. These little fellows go
to work in this cold, dreary room at seven
| O'Clock in the morning and work till it is
too dark to see any longer. For this they
get from one dollar to three dollars
week. One result of their work is the
clean, free coal, that burns away to ashes
in the CRATE; another result | found in
| little miners graveyard, beside a pretty
little church, where more than every
| other stone bears the name Of some little
fellow under fifteen years of age.
The boys are of ali sizes and ages, from
little fellows scarce big enough to be
wearing pantaloons up to youths of fifteen
and sixteen. After they reach this age
| they go to work in the mine, for there
they can make more money. Not three
boys in all this roomful could read or
write. Shut in from everything that is
pleasant, with no chance to learn, with no
knowledge of what is going on about
them, with nothing to do but work, work,
grinding their little lives away in this
lAoStg IOOui, llItY art uO more bIlal the
wire screens that separate the great Jumps
of coal from the small. They have no
games; when their days work is done
they are too tired for that. They know
nothing but the difference between slate
and coal.
The smallest of the boys do not get
more than one dollar week, and from
this the pay goes up to two dollars and
three dollars. Some of them live several
miles from the colliery, and are carried
to the mine every morning III the cars and
back again every night, the company
charging them ten cents for each trip and
deducting the fares from their wages at
the end of the month. Sometimes, after
the boys have got to the mine, they find
that some accident has stopped the work;
then they have nothing to do Tor the day
and get no pay. In this way, am told,
it is no unusual thing for boy to find, at
the end Of the month, that his indebted
ness to the company for railroad fares is
some dollars more than the company's in
debtedness to him for labor; so that he
has worked all the month for few dollars
less than nothing.-P0ttsUGHe Pa Cor.
Philadelphia Times
IN Paris there are contractors who pay
the city S2O, 600 per annum for the privi-
lege OF keeping the streets clean. The
work is done under the supervision of the
4 ! -