The National tribune., 1893-06-29

| Every house in Silver Hill, no matter how
| humble, has view, for the town is built on
| the side of mountain. The mild evening air
came through the window, and Reckless "
could see the hope-inspiring mountains rising
nobly ont in the west. the sun sinking behind
| them in a gorgeous tnting of clouds He lay
quite quiet, his arms above his head, a. smile
| upon his lips, his eyes looking earnestly be-
yond the struggling. irregular town clinging to
the mountanside, till nothing was left of the
crimson and golden glory but a faint band of
pink, above which star trembled.
The mines of Silver Hill never stop working
By day their whistles count the time for the
miners wives. and at night the steady throb
of the engines pulsing through the high, clear
air, forms their oiiidren's lullaby. Silence is
ominous and cessation means death, either to
the men who are at work underground to
the mines, at once the creators and destr0yers
of life. To miners the sight of a shutdown
mine is an afffction, for it is eloquent of des-
perate men, overworked, weary women, and
Grim nal children.
Yet these mines, which the people of Silver
Hill count such boon, are tyrants taking the
best years OF mans life remorselessy crush
ing out hope and plans for better future,
mocking him with high wages inadequate,
for living is higher), and, having sucked away
youth and strength, they claim at last the
broken down body for sudden horrible death
or the lingering pains of miners consumption.
Woe unto the man who works in the mines
of Silver Hill, if he have imagination, am
bition, or high hopes; or if he long for the
taste of happiness or pleasure; or if he have
even a dim, undeveloped craving for the noble
and beautiful things of life! During his ten
hours of labor down in the damp Depths if he
pause for a deep inspiration and a heartenIng
glance above, there is only the damp earth all
about him, the oppressive underground heat
envelops him his eye strains in vain for the
blessed light but the candles are dim and the
moisture clouds the lanterns.
Yet every day is miracle worked for he
ascends to the surface aud is man again; but
leaden- faced, exhausted, silent man. who
drags his weary limbs up over the hills to the
wife who makes day night and night day.
according to the changing shfts-unless there
be children. Then she steps softly around the
darkened house, hushing their cries. herself
living in an unnatural stiffness and torpor,
that he may rest.
When the miner wakes from his deep sleep,
he is almost human being He may snatch
a short hour to play with the children or walk
with his wife. Other innocent pleasure there
is none The principal street. the Row, as it
threads its crooked way along, is crowded,
when shifts changing, with men whose
lives apart from their work, utterly empty.
There is nothing in Silver Hill to bid a. young
man hope or to help him rise. The men he
meets are like himself, and in the old miners
who work beside him he sees his end, which
was his beginning. However, the fact that his
destiny is inevitable reconeiles him to it. He
is moderately happy, dissatisfied aud envious
or vicious and degraded, according to his tenn
permanent and the degree in which he can with
stand temptation. The men of Silver Hill
need be miracles of purity and strength to
resist the eorrupting influences which flourish
in this uneDlightened, dreary little town up in
the mountains.
At night the men of the 3-o'cock shift walk
up the hill together. When payday comes the
shift is almost complete as it reaches the Row.
but it is broken into squads as the mum berless
saloons and gambling rooms are reached. The
Silver Hill standard Is not very high. and the
miner who does not make detour down the
Row on his way home is exceptional. But to
those who have no home the cherries miners
boarding houses are moro unattractive than
ever on cold night when the stinging wind
blows the fine snow in their faces, and body and
brain are both benumbed. They are boys yet,
many of them, but they spend their nights
here; and, when morning dawns, they have
left behind more than the money for which
they live enslaved.
Merely to live was boon to Reckless"
when he recovered. He felt that it was good
to work. to walk the long distance to the mine,
and breathe the glorious mountain air. Fatigue
itself was part of the benefcent plan. After
he had left the crowd at the Row, and reached
the street whore he and Gertie West had played
together in childhood. the frost-hardened snow
crunched under his quick tread, aud hiss steps
kept time TO the clear, sweet melody he
whistled. 1t rang out from the corner defantly
above the shrieking wind, as if to carry to the
sleeping girl his pRan of love and hope. He
would stop by her gate and stand for moment,
silent, alone i'm the deserted, snow-shrouded,
moonlit street, ON nights like this when his
yet-unconquered spirit strove with fate; but
he fed past the house like guilty, conscience
driven wretch when youth and strength to bat
tie had left him.
For the years that went by brought nothing
to Reckless" to compensate for the gradual
hopeessness that closed him in. Slowly and
despairingly he recognized that his work
merely kept them all alive; his task was too
great; there were too many growing children
to feed and clothe. He smiled bitterly when
lie thought of his boyish plans for rehabilitat-
ing his family, for his mother was white-haired,
embittered, and humbled, and the children
coarse and ignorant in consequence of their
poverty. Yet, for time, " Reckless" strove
and found courage to uphold patiently and
even cheerfully those who leaned 80 heavily
and heedessly upon him. He worked on me-
chanically. hoping at best for freedom from the
insatiate longing for life Of his own, for
lease from the wearisome monotony aud An op-
portunity to show the girl he loved that he was
not unworthy.
When she went away from Silver Hill he
made no effort to see her. There was nothing
for him to say. But he tortured himself won
dering whether she knew cared. At times
the old spirit awakened in him, but every am
bilious hope had become a scourge; it brought
with it nothing but unavaling regret, and
Reckless" bad learned how not to endure un-
pleasant thoughts
Down at the cooling-station the men stood
half naked, wping the perspration that
streamed from their painting chests. Hughes,
the shif boss, fingered behind when the others
went back toward the shaft and, calling
Reckless" to him, said kindly:
"I say. Reckless you'll have to look out
for that smart little brother Of yours"
Whats the matter with Jack?" he asked,
sulenly.
The shift boss laid hand on the young
mans shoulder.
Perhaps of late you haven't given him the
best example yourself; but Jack is going to
the dogs" he said, gravely.
what business -
I" It's none OF my business my boy, so long as
you do your work. Never mind that. Look
here, can't you get him to work? It'll do the
boy no good to run the streets as hedoes. What
change has an idle boy -
"And what chance is there to get him some-
"He's not old enough yet to work in the
mines"
He walked away. Hughes, following, said
in a low voice:
"You seem down on your luck, my lad.