Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1896-05-22
MISCELLANY.
A MAID OF THE MINE,
by J. Monk Foster.
copyright, 1896, by the Author.l

regular, old fashioned country tavern of
the kind that were only built hundreds
Of years ago, being low rooted, far
spreading, many roomed, with great
porch lined with stone benches, where
on dozen men could sit and drink and
smoke in comfort. Behind the house
were an orchard, garden and bowl
ing green. In front was the village
green, and from the door of the Blue
Bell were to be seen the headgears and
chimneys of three or four collieries
whereat the men and lads, the women
and lasses, of the hamlet found employ
ment
One Saturday evening in late Septem-
Der several years ago large crowd of
villagers was gathered in front Of the
Blue Bell The pitmen and their draw
ers, the pit brow lasses, their mothers
and relatives were standing in a great
ring, inside which the local band was
trumpeting lifting tune and knot of
morris dancers was performing.
Being Saturday, the whole hamlet
was astir; the pits were closed, the
miners had received their wages and
the numerous apartments of the tavern
were we'll filled with customers who
filed the porch and peered out of the
open windows.
Among the crowd, at different points,
however, stood three persons-two
young men and woman-who are to
play the leading roles in this short
drama. The first was Harry Marston,
60 xryo11 lrnggo1 I'd pnph
looking young fellow of 30. That he
was no native Of Shevingston was APP
parent at glance. He had, in fact, only
come to the village that morning, and
was now noting his surroundings-vil-
layers, musicians and dancers-with in
terest.
The other man was Jack Kendall,
strongly built, honest looking man of
%, plainly attir . and simple of speech.
as was the mani \ Of those among whom
he had been bred and horn and lived all
his days. But Jack was hard headed and
sound hearted; was not afraid of hard
work and meant to make his way in the
world. For the rest it will be enough to
say that he was fireman" at one of
the village collieries and was in love
with and engaged to Peg Holland.
Peg was pit brow girl. Six Of her
IS years had been spent ON the surface
Of the mine without any serious injury
to either her physical or moral qualities,
and one could have found very much
worse samples of Eng fish womanhood in
the higher walks Of life.
Margaret Holland was dark haired
and brown eyed, with clear, dark skin
and a sweet oval face. She was shapely
nodded from the crown of her small
head to the tip of the neat foot which
was usually shod in brightly polished
clog, and was an industrious lass of a
loving and kindly nature.
Presently the band ceased playing, the
morris dancers brought their caperings
to an end, and a move was made toward
the Blue Bell, in the large clubroom
of which the remainder of the evening
was to be spent in feasting and frivolity.
1t was the first night of the pastry feast
held annually in almost all the Ian
cashire villages, and already the long
tables up stairs were laden with the
huge, savory shilling pasties which
the different miners had ordered for
themselves and their friends, sweet
hearts and wives.
Jack Kendall was about to enter the
tavern with a comrade he had dropped
across when his gaze fell upon Peg
and leaving his friend for awhile he
went toward her. She had CHANGED to
see him also, and they met half dozen
PAGES from the wide porch and the noisy
miners who filled it.
81 didn't see you, Marg ct" he cried,
a smile lighting up his strongly marked
face and his whole bearing eloquent of
the love he bore for the handsome lass
before him.
"Nor I you, Jack" she answered,
"till Mamie Wray spoke. But thowt
you weren't goin to the pasty feast at
the Bell" she added, with the slightest
shade of displeasure in her voice.
"I'm not goin. was only about to
ha' drink with Sam Sloane, theer,
when seed you. 1 have to go to work
toneet, you know. If hadn't, should
like to buy pasty for us. But we con
have one on Monday meet"
$50 we CON-" the girl answered
"Well, good meet, Jack; must be off.
I promised to go to Wigan toneet with
my mother"
"You won't come in an ha' drink
with me an Sam?" he asked.
"I'd rather not, Jack.
"Well, goodneet. After drink I'm
off whoam to get ready for t. pit. "
They nodded smiling good night to
each other and went their ways, the
girl seeking her home at the other end
of the hamlet, while her lover entered
the Blue Bell and in the company of
other miners had glass or two of ale
before joining the night shift men at
the California colliery.
But Margaret Holland did not go to
Wigan, which was the nearest market
town to Shevingston, with her mother
that night. While she was attiring her
self for the journey Mrs. Holland was
sent for by neighbor who had been
suddenly attacked by illness of some
kind.
Not caring to go to town alone, Peg
strolled through the village, thinking
she might meet some Of her acquaint-
ances who were going to Wigan, and
near the Blue Bell she came face to
face with a couple of sprightly lasses
who, like herself, worked ON the pit
bank. They were dressed in their best,
and Peg asked as they stopped in front
Of the tavern porch:
care yo' going to Wigan, lasses? If
yo' are, should be fain of yo're COM
pany."