Graham guardian., 1901-12-13
THE MINERS LOT.

inspector:
With hearty good bye to their
families and Il hearty hello to their
friends, the little army of miners
streamed into the tunnel or sank
cheerily down the shaft in cage
loads at the Smuggler Union at
noon last Wednesday.
The mine was well ventilated,
the ground was sound, the appli-
ances perfect, there was no danger.
All no, but at that sunny hour
when hope and cheer through their
beauteous light over every object
and even the deep black stope
rang with the happy fearless gest
and laughter of the men repairing
to the scenes of their labors, the
Angel Of death stood at the en-
trance of the tunnel ready to reap
his harvest. Ready to strike down
the strong, in unspeakable agony
and crush the weak in inconsolable
grief, with neither hope of happi-
ness, maintenance or education.
The click of the hammersman,
and the axe blow of the timber
man had scarcely commenced when
each man turns uneasily and asks
Of his partner what is that? The
rush Of the draft, the presence of
smoke, the ominous roar from the
tunnel warned the experienced ear
of the miner that disaster is at
hand, thinking only of life, wife
or children or all, they rush with
a common impulse, some to the
shaft, some to the ladder, every
one according to his experience,
his situation and his knowledge of
the locality, but the terrible draft
blows their candles out and they
stumble over timbers and blocks
Of ore and heaps Of waste and as
they arise the stifiing smoke
makes the next fall welcome as
they have some relief with their
mouths close to the bottom of the
drift, then they think Of wife and
babies again and arise for mother
attempt. They reach the shaft
but men desperate with the
thought of self preservation are
packed about it in a manner which |
precludes their approach, The
cage is working TO its fullest CAL
pacity but 1t is inad~-
the ta~'';' roto wb;Ia
-..lole draft up the shaft
carrying the smoke with deadly
density brings more dead to the
surface than live ones. Then the
others turn 10 the ladders. The
miner summons his resolution for
the terrible undertaking, he clings
and climbs and grasps, then falls
backward to death carrying score
more with him who are struggling
up the ladder below him, and the
deadly work goes on until noble
heaats are still in death, the pro-
truding eyes and ghastly faces
showing the agony which attend
ed the final scene, and all this in
quartz mine and yet the corpora
tion press of Arizona will tell you
that the miner has snap, that he
has no right to an official mine in
spector to provide against such
horrible disaster as this, but the
wailing widow thinks he has, and
the unsheltered orphan knows he
has. Then the sweet scented cor
poration press feel that s hours of
peril, 8 hours of toll and perspira-
ton, 8 hours of powder smoke and
lead and copper dust is not enough
for the miner, but the common
sense man, the man with o heart
in his breast, the man who does
not carry combination key to
the corporation vault says it is
enough.
Yet there are business men in
Globe, almost exclusively depend
ent upon the miner for living,
who have no more sympathy for
him than the Bedouin has for his
manacled slave. Let this terrible
disaster be an object lesson to the
miners Of Globe to rememb Der those
who are against them.