seventy years in mines, Lake County, Colorado part of the USGenWeb Project

SEVENTY YEARS IN THE COAL MINES

ABOUT THE BOOK

My great-grandfather, Philip FRANCIS, was urged by his children and grandchildren to write a book about his colorful life. He wrote the manuscript in the 1930's when he was over eighty years of age. He died March 25, 1945, at the age of 91. As I was less than 2 years of age at that time, this book has been my opportunity to learn about my great-grandfather. As the book was written for family alone, it was never published for distribution outside the family. The publisher was instructed to create hardcover editions for each of his eight children and soft-cover editions for each of his grandchildren. The following has been transcribed from my father's copy, which is now in my possession.

In transcribing the book, I have made very few changes. I have capitalized surnames for easier genealogical searching. I have corrected a few spelling errors that might have misled readers (he misspelled the County of Glamorgan, Wales, as "Glanmorgan" and his name was written as Phillip in the book, although he had always spelled his first name as Philip). I have left many of his misspellings and grammatical errors intact for historical accuracy.
Excerpts from the book were originally posted on the Schuylkill County rootsweb list (PASCHUYL-L@rootsweb.com) and on the Cumberland River list (CUMBERLAND-RIVER@rootsweb.com). I was contacted by the coordinator of the Schuylkill County web site to collate the excerpts and to give my permission to post them on the Schuylkill County site. I was happy to do this, and decided to include the entire book rather than the excerpts. The page numbers are from the original book and are at the bottom of each original page.

In addition to sharing this information that may be of genealogical interest to descendants of individuals named in the book, I would be very interested in obtaining additional information about those individuals. I am especially interested in contacting distant cousins who might exist. They would be descendants of Thomas JAMES, including his son, Arthur C. JAMES, who are half-cousins, and descendants of my second-great grandmother's sister, whose name I do not know. but one of her sons was named James THOMAS, born circa 1850-1855. His widowed mother had remarried and lived with her new husband and blended family on upper Center Street in Mahanoy City, PA circa 1870. I hope that you find the book entertaining and useful.

To contribute information, or to learn more about the people in this book, please contact:
Bailey Francis bfran02@learnlink.emory.edu

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SEVENTY YEARS IN THE COAL MINES

Philip Francis

Manuscript Assembled and Typed by

LOUIS SMITH

Edited by

GEORGE D. DOMINICK

PREFACE

I am now past 90 years of age. Seventy-two years of my life have been working underground, coal mining. There have been three short publications of my life given by newspapers. My relatives and friends asked me to write my full life. Having had only a few months of schooling in a village school when a young lad, the story of my life will be crude. It would be too difficult for me, as I would have to rely on my memory for things that have passed away long ago. My memory still retains scenes that transpired more than 75 years ago. We may wander away and mingle with the world's fierce strife and form new associations and friendships and fancy we have almost forgotten the land of our birth, but at some evening hour, as we listen, perchance to autumn winds, the remembrance of other days comes over the soul and fancy bears us back to childhood scenes. We roam again the old familiar haunts and press the hands of companions long ago since passed on and we listen to the voices that we shall hear on earth no more. It is then that a feeling of melancholy steals over us which, like music is pleasant, though mournful and sad.

After life's rush is over, may you retain memories that are pleasant.

INTRODUCTION

It is not difficult to find self-made men in America. Locating self-made men who have retained their principles while making themselves is more difficult.

Such a man is Phil Francis, as he is lovingly called by thousands who know him and his work in Eastern Kentucky and Tennessee. He climbed from a penniless orphan boy in the anthracite mines of Pennsylvania to a coal operator in the above states, fighting and clawing his way every step of the road, but never losing the consideration and fairness that restrained him from taking advantage of an adversary or claiming more than a modest share of any returns from an accomplishment. He has, therefore, left a benediction in his wake, and today dwells midst the scenes of his labors, universally respected and beloved.

Philip Francis belongs to that group of vanishing Americans who possesses ruggedness of purpose and character, who have not been softened by the modern conveniences of living or commerce, and whose feet are firmly planted upon granite principles which no expediency can persuade them to forsake. Philip Francis was forceful enough to batter down every obstacle that blocked the way to sane, comfortable living for his family, yet soft enough to relish the odor of the most delicate perfume; hard enough to drive the pick's point into anthracite coal faster than

any man on the job, yet soft enough to touch the keys of a piano with the gentleness of a maid; hard enough to conquer with his fists the frontier ruffians of another day, yet soft enough to speak of the love of God to men of this day; hard enough to endure the elements in the mountains for days while prospecting or hewing timbers, yet soft enough to enjoy the flowers around his home; hard enough to rush to the conflict with a zeal clearly displayed in his flashing, black eyes, yet soft enough to admonish all to "Keep Serene" if they would get the most out of life.

Now past ninety years of age, Philip Francis is still vigorously going forward. His hand is to the plow, and he is not looking back except to recount, as in the following pages, some of his experiences along the way. Perhaps because he spent seventy years underground is the reason why he made a hobby of studying the heavens and their plants. Perhaps this study is the reason why he has preserved himself while making himself. Maybe this looking up has lifted him as he has lifted all who came in contact with him. As one of these, I commend this book to its readers and vouch for the character and accomplishments of the man of the story.

T. RUSS HILL
Nov. 10, 1943

SEVENTY YEARS IN THE COAL MINES

In the year of 1853, on the 7th day of June, in Danville, Pennsylvania, the writer, Philip FRANCIS, was born. His parents came from Caerphilly, Glamorgan, South Wales. They arrived in America in the year 1851. Their destination was Danville where my father was to work in an iron mill, as there was considerable demand in America for workers in the iron mills.

Wales at that time was well advertised for that class of labor. Many thousands of the Welsh left Wales with their families and located where there were state quarries and iron works in operation. It was natural for America to look to Wales for that class of labor as there were many skilled iron workers and coal miners there. These skilled laborers were needed in Pennsylvania.

My grandfather's name was Richard FRANCIS. He lived on a farm by the name of Evalt Farm near Caerphilly, Glamorgan, South Wales. I have never visited Wales and cannot give a description of the farms, but when I was about ten years of age, I received a letter from him stating that he would like for me and my sister, Margaret, who was then about 12 years old, to come to Wales and live with him; to take care of the horses and to do other work that was necessary on the farm. I did not know where my sister was as she had been separated from me years before. He also stated in his letter that I was the nearest heir to the property. Having no one to advise me, as my parents were dead, I stayed in Pennsylvania.

My father died when I was only two months old, at Danville. I was informed that he was sick only a few days. My mother then came to Minersville; from there to St. Clair; from there to East Delaware or East Norwegian. This last place mentioned is the first place that I can remember in my childhood days. It was there in a very old frame house, with leaky roof and cheerless surroundings, that mother died. Two years ago, I visited the old house, still there, but almost ready to fall down. Part of it had been removed and I was told it would all be torn down soon. My mother must have had a very hard time, with two small children to take care of. the years 1857-58 were desperate in the coal fields. Just on the verge of civil war between the North and South.

During these years my mind was just beginning to realize the many things that were going on about me. When I would hear some one speak of the colored man, or slave, it was difficult for me to understand. There were no colored people in that part of Pennsylvania near my old home.

There was a small hill called Peacock Hill in East Delaware. Men and women would gather there and listen to some man, who was a good reader, read from a newspaper at the evening hour, the latest news from Washington. I can remember that many of them would become greatly excited when the reader would emphasize certain passages. This reading continued when the war was going on. At that time newspapers were scarce.

I can vividly remember when the Government

called for men to join the Union Army. Some men would hide from the Government officers, sent to bring them. I have seen them run through fields and woods with officers after them. There was no let up until they were caught; then they must go to the front or else find a substitute to take their place.

A few years after my father's death, my mother married again. Her husband was a man named David JAMES, a coal miner. They were married at St. Clair and moved from there to East Norwegian. From that marriage one son was born, Thomas JAMES, four years younger than myself.

At the time of my mother's death I was too young to remember what it all meant to me. Shortly after her death my sister left to live with others. My half brother was also taken care of by some neighbors; leaving me alone with my stepfather. As he drank a good deal, he would leave me alone for several days and nights. He would only come in to sober up. Then he would go to the mines to earn more money. After a few days in the mines he would repeat his drinking spree again. He kept up this drinking habit as long as I knew him.

During those drinking spells, no food was provided for me. I have often been hungry. I would go out on the hills in search of tea leaves, birch bark and slippery elm bark in an effort to ease my hunger. There was plenty of good water to drink. Some times a neighbor would bring in a few slices of home-made bread, very dry and hard, with common lard spread over it in place of butter. Salt was spread on it to

give it seasoning. No matter how hard the bread was, it tasted good to me then.

Without the counsel of a father or the gently hand of a mother to guide me, I was growing up wild. I was left-handed and had the habit of stone throwing. This got me in trouble with other boys; especially Irish Catholic boys, who would make fun of me and call me names which caused me to run them with stones which I always kept handy about me.

Fighting was common in those days with men and boys and also much drinking. It was natural, with such influences around me to grow up wild. I took the stand that I must fight my way through the world, if I expected to live.

Let me relate one incident that made me bitter against those who mistreated me. I was standing alone between a railroad and a creek. A full grown man, an Irishman, called me to come to him. I was always shy of going close to anyone, but I did cautiously go to him. Suddenly he picked me up, carried me to the creek and held my head under the water, almost stopping my breath. The water came from the coal mines and it was strongly impregnated with sulphur. Twelve years after that, I was a grown man. I looked for him but could not find him.

Another incident that caused trouble in my life. I was sent to a public school near by. I had been there but a short time, when I got into a fight with a boy named HINKLE. While we were punching and biting each other between the seats, Mr. KELLY, the teacher, came rushing down to us. I had HINKLE down between the seats. He thought I started the fight.

He threw me out the door over three steps. I landed on my feet, picked up a piece of cinder, the size of a baseball, and as he looked toward me, when he was closing the door, I threw it and struck him on the eye. Next day, I was watching him from a distance, and saw he had a bandage around his head. My school days were over. I was suspended by the trustees. HINKLE and I had fought several times. The teacher should not have placed us on the same seat. I did wrong by throwing at the teacher, but my finger was bitten so badly and pained me so that I had forgotten that I was at school and had no chance to explain.

An incident happened to me shortly after my school trouble that I have never forgotten to this day. I was walking along the railroad track and noticed a man coming toward me. I tried to avoid him but the place was narrow. He spoke to me in a kind voice, placing his hand on my head, he said, 'Where are you going my boy?' Not being accustomed to kind words, I could not look up nor speak to him. Even to this day I have never forgotten the kind tone of his voice. I have followed his example all through my life. Whenever I meet a boy looking like I felt at that time, I can not pass him without speaking to him kindly and giving him some coins, and leaving him with kind words. If I had known, at that time that some day I would write these things down, I would have kept many letters that I have received from men, now grown up, thanking me for my advice and kindness to them when they were boys.

KINDNESS PAYS

I am writing about scenes that happened at East Norwegian. My age when I first went to work, was

about 8 years. In the year 1861, I picked slate a few months in Breaker; then underground as a fan boy; then I helped my step-father to mine coal. This mine was driven down on Slope Way; very gasious; no open lights allowed; lights used were Old Davy safety lamps.

One Sunday evening I stood about 200 feet from the mouth of the Slope. Suddenly I heard a heavy rumbling and the ground shook under my feet. I looked toward the mine and saw heavy timbers being hurled into the air from the entrance of the mine. It being Sunday there was no one in the mine. The mine was wrecked inside. No one could give any explanation as to what caused the explosion. The name of the mine was Old Boreas Slope.

In the year 1862, a change took place in my life. We moved from East Delaware, sometimes called Norwegian. One day my step-father said to me to get ready and go with him and my half-brother Tom who was about five years old, to Pottsville, a distance less than two miles away. After arriving there we met Mrs. GRIFFITHS, a widow. She had three sons with her. Their names were Griff, Edward, and Joseph GRIFFITHS, all under ten years of age. Mrs. GRIFFITHS and my step-father talked in Welsh language. I understood that I was going to a new home and also that I now had a step-mother.

We all left Pottsville and walked up another valley, less than two miles from Pottsville. We stopped at a small house alongside of the road. It was a story and a half high, had three rooms, a frame building. This, I understood was to be my new home. It looked

better to me than where I had lived. It was on the side of a gently sloping hill with about one acre of ground around it. Here Mrs. GRIFFITHS lived with her three sons.

The house has been burned down. The site is now covered with coal and dirt from the Wadesville Shaft which was near by. Wade, as it is now called, is a small village. In the early sixties, four anthracite mines were in operation. At present, September 15, 1936, none are in operation.

Conditions were much better for me in my new home than they were in my old home as I had no one to discipline me or guide me in my former home. I was naturally wild and getting into trouble by fighting and throwing stones; being left-handed, it was easy for me to throw stones.

The three sons of Mrs. GRIFFITHS, now Mrs. David JAMES, were very good boys. They regularly attended Sunday School and church. I can not remember any of them ever getting into trouble. Their quiet behavior surprised me. At my former home I resented all attacks from the boys. I thought it would be the same wherever I went, although the surrounding towns and villages were strange to me. My age at this time was about nine years.

As there have 74 years elapsed since I left my former home to come to Wadesville, many changes have taken place. All the GRIFFITHS boys married. Their children and grandchildren are living in Wadesville, and nearby towns. Griff, the oldest, was killed in the mines by falling slate and coal. Edward moved to another county. He took sick and died. Joseph, the

youngest, died a few years ago of heart trouble. My step-father and step-mother have passed away many years ago. My step-father met a horrible death at a coal mine by being drawn into coal crushing rollers and died almost instantly.

My half brother (Tom JAMES) died in California in the year 1926. The cause of his death was heart trouble. His occupation was a mine expert on metals. He was versed in Geology. During the World War I, he was employed by the U. S. Government to search for rare metals in the U. S. and Mexico. In the year 1880, he married an English girl named Carrie GOUGE. The marriage took place in Mahanoy City, Pennsylvania. The three years previous to this he had been with me in Leadville, Colorado, a silver mining town. He returned to Leadville, took his wife with him and they lived there a short while.

Then his wife returned to Mahanoy City, and lived with her relatives for a while. She received help from her husband to pay her expenses. Then it stopped. About this time she gave birth to a son and named Arthur C. JAMES. I lived in Mahanoy City then and her relatives, with whom I was not very well acquainted, came to my home and wanted information about Carrie's husband; where he was and why he quit corresponding, and that she needed assistance. They seemed to be angry and were under the impression that I knew where he was and the reason why he quit sending her money to provide for her. I told them he had not written to me for some time. The last time I had heard from him, he was in Leadville, Colorado, and that I knew of no reason why he neglected writ-

ing and why he did not provide for his wife. Tom knew that if he kept up his correspondence with me I would have blamed him for not providing for his wife.

After seven years of silence on his part, in the year 1884, I moved from Mahanoy City to Dowlais, Kentucky, a mining town near Jellico, Tennessee. He called on me and he lived in Colorado and was on a visit to Florida. He told me he represented the Rights of Labor in that state and was now on his way to Chicago. For twelve years I heard nothing from him. I was looking over some mining journals from the West and in one advertisement I noticed one name, T. F. JAMES, mine expert. He had no middle letter to his name when he left. I wrote to that address, Los Angeles, California, and received an answer. It was Tom, my step-brother. We corresponded with each other. He wrote that he had married a judge's daughter of Portland, Oregon. After a few years together she died. It was his second marriage. A few years later he married again, but they separated in a few years. Tom had a stroke of paralysis, or heart trouble and died in Los Angeles, California.

Tom's first wife and son are living near Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Mrs. JAMES, number 1, (Carrie GOUGE JAMES) married a grocer. Her son, Arthur C. JAMES, is a Methodist preacher. Let me relate an incident that caused trouble between Tom and Carrie, his first wife. In the year 1878 I left Mahanoy City. Tom was living there also. I went to Leadville, Colorado. While there my partner was killed in a shaft. I sent for Tom to come to Leadville, Colorado. Tom came, as the mines were not working steady in Mahanoy City. One day Tom received a letter stating that Carrie had walked home

From a picnic with a man named PARSEL. Tom and PARSEL had been enemies forsome time and this information made Tom furious as he was engaged to her. He was awfully jealous about her and said he would not go back nor marry her. It was some time before I could reason with him. When I was ready to leave Leadville, I persuaded him to leave with me. When we arrived at Mahanoy City, Tom got married.

Shortly after this Tom took Carrie to Leadville, Colorado. They lived there nearly one year together. Carrie came back to her relatives and lived with them. Tom never returned, nor saw his wife again in the many years they both lived. Although Tom's son was born in Mahanoy City, his son Arthur, never saw his father for nearly forty years after. His mother kept all knowledge from her son about his father. When her son would ask for information about his father she would leave the information with him with impression that his father was dead.

On one of my visits to Philadelphia, I called him up and told him to come to a certain hotel. When he came I told him all I knew about his father and he was greatly surprised. Shortly after this he went to Los Angeles, California and saw his father for the first time. Then he visited Los Angeles for the second time at his father's sudden death. He there met his stepbrother from his father's second wife. He was then living in Los Angeles, California. Nearly five years have passed since I have seen Arthur C. JAMES. I met him at Pottsville, Pennsylvania. He is now living near Philadelphia, Pennsylvania at this writing. I do not know whether his mother is living or not.

I will return to Wadesville, where I spent seven years of my life as a young boy. From the age of nine to sixteen, the first nine years I lived at East Delaware, then moved from there to Wadesville. In the latter place the conditions were much better for me. I received less than three months schooling as I had to go to work in the mines with my stepfather. My stepfather could not read or write. He was a native of Wales and followed coal mining for his living. During my stay with him I never knew him to enter any church. He spent a great deal of his time in saloons drinking always after receiving his pay. While there he would meet others like himself, making bets on dog fighting or selecting their sons to wrestle for a gallon of beer or kegs of beer.

Often on Saturday afternoon I would have to go with him to other places or towns and wrestle with others of my age who were strangers to me, knowing he would be cross with me if I should not come out the victor. I always did my very best. It was more like a fight and suited the rough crowd of miners standing around in a circle and cheering one or the other and betting on which lad would win. In those days miners were paid monthly in cash. Other boys would receive from their fathers a dime or sometimes a quarter. They would ask me, "What did your daddy give you, Phil?" I would answer, "Nothing."

A feeling would come over me that my stepfather was not treating me like the other boys were being treated. I had worked hard for him, loading coal under ground into cars that took all my strength to lift; lifting lumps of coal into cars that were high and

large. Often have I been so tired and weak that it was difficult for me to walk from the mines to my home, two miles. My back ached and my head troubled me from bad air and I would lie down to rest. My stepfather seemed to be indifferent to my condition. I could not call him father. A feeling came over me that those conditions could not continue much longer. I was obedient to both of my stepparents. They always told me that I was bound to them until I was 21 years old. They always received my monthly pay envelope from the mines. Never did I receive a dime. Other boys received small coins from their parents. This aggravated me and caused trouble between me and other boys. Twice I had fights with other boys coming out of Sunday School, and in other places. There was a tough boy whose nick-name was Rhodesy, much heavier and older than I was. I had several arguments with him before we could walk together peaceably.

I had a very strong friendship with some other boys. This I kept until two years ago when the last one, Henry THOMAS, passed away with a heart attack, aged 81 years. His wife died 12 years before him. Henry lived a clean life and never got into trouble; neither did he drink or swear. He was a member of the Methodist Church. In September, 1936, I visited his daughter, Mrs. RAYBOLD, at Pottsville, Pennsylvania, with whom he lived.

In the year of 1865, in Wadesville, the time when Abraham LINCOLN was assassinated, I was in Sunday School when the word came and when the news was read. Many sobbed and tears flowed. They could not

continue the services. We all walked to our homes with sad faces. This continued for several days in our young minds; not knowing what would happen next.

In the year 1866 I worked at The St. Clair Shaft, under ground as a coal pusher with several other boys. An incident happened that almost caused me to change my mind about being a coal miner which I had always wanted to be. One morning I was told to go to a certain chute to push coal down to a man who was loading it into a mine car. As I started to go there through a small door, another boy named PRICE, older than I was, pushed me aside, cursing and said that was his place. I protested but gave way to him. I went to another chute, close by and commenced to work. I only worked a few minutes when another boy by the name of ROGERS came running to me and called out, 'PRICE is killed.' I ran to the place with the man that was loading the car. I saw a large flat lump of coal weighing several tons, which had fallen on the chute, covering PRICE. I could only see part of his hand protruding from under the lump. It had crushed him flat. Soon several men came with levers and wedges and slowly raised the lump so that they could pull his body out. It was crushed so that it was carried out of the mine in a canvas sack. During the excitement, I stood close by thinking what a narrow escape I had. It was known by others that it was my place to have been where PRICE met his death. As this was my first close escape from death, it troubled me a great deal.

On my way over the hill to Wadesville, where I stayed, I came very near deciding that it would be best for me to quit the mines. It was customary in those

days that the mine would suspend operations three days when a miner was killed. After those days were over my stepfather ordered me to go back to work. It was some time before I could forget the scene of PRICE's death, with his loud swearing a few minutes before his death. I never swore in all my long life, nor would I work with one who had the habit of swearing.

In the year, 1867, I worked at Beechwood Colliery, Mt. Laffee, loading coal with my step-father. On one occasion, by only a few minutes, I missed a trip of cars being hoisted up a very steep slope and killing all that was riding on it. My step-father and I arrived just as the crash occurred. After the coal dust settled, I noticed one body lying near by. His name was COX, a one-legged man. Only a wide leather belt was around his body. He worked near me. As he passed me he called out, "Come on home, it's quitting time." Some of his relatives were killed with him.

I have been in this mine when several explosions occurred. Certain parts of the mine were worked with safety lamps. Explosions would often take place and burn miners. I have been tossed around several times with its force. I would lie down close to the bottom, as I could keep timbers or other loose materials from hitting me. Then all that could would rush to the bottom of the slope, anxious to get outside of the mine and know who was burned or injured.

In the year 1868, an incident happened which made a change in my life and caused me to leave Wadesville one autumn evening. Several of my boyhood friends were whistling and calling me to come out with them.

As I stepped out of the doorway, my stepfather placed a water bucket at my feet without saying a word to me. I understood that it meant for me to go to the spring, some distance away for a bucket of drinking water. This would prevent me from going out with the boys. I knew also that there was sufficient water in the bucket for the next day's use. His only purpose was to prevent me from going out. Up to this time I had always obeyed him, but this time I could not, regardless of the consequences. My temper got the best of me. I gave the bucket a kick on my way out. Suddenly I felt a hard kick which came from him. As he wore heavy boots, it lifted me off my feet. I turned and looked at him for a moment. I felt no pain only that I was being humiliated before my companions. No tears came to give me any relief.

It was several hours afterward before my boy friends came. They gathered around me. I told them to keep away from me as I wanted to be alone. As the shades of night were coming on, I went up the side of the hill to find a place to be alone and to think what to do. One thing was sure. I would not stay in that home nor would I stay in Wadesville. I looked for a place to sleep under some bushes. While waiting for sleep to come over me I heard my stepmother's voice calling me. It was some time before I would answer her. I did not want anyone to know where I was going to stay that night. As we met she wanted me to come into the house, but I answered her, "No", every time she asked me. She then left me. From where I stayed I could see the house. I had made up

my mind I would watch the house for a chance to get in for some clothes that I wanted. I had also a little over two dollars in change there. I had earned this by picking up loose pieces of iron, bone and rags and selling them to the rag man who came around once a month. In those days this was a common way to get a few pennies.

As I looked toward the house the next morning, I saw my stepfather leaving. Then shortly after that my stepmother went out. I came from my hiding place and went into the house. I gathered up my clothes, tied them into a bundle, then walked over the hill, then to St. Clair, then up another hill called Mt. Hope, then I came onto a road that would take me to Mahanoy City, a mining town.

It was a strange way to leave Wadesville and my boy companions whom I thought so much of. I was now on a strange mountain, on a strange road, and going to a strange town and not knowing how far it was away. And when I got there where I would sleep tonight? These thoughts troubled me. But I had slight information that I had an aunt there whom I had never seen; also that I had cousins living there.

After walking 18 miles I came to the top of a mountain, and looking down into the valley, I noticed a town. I walked down to it and found it was Mahanoy City. It was a new mining town. The streets had very little pavements to walk on. The shades of night were falling fast. I must hurry and find my relatives. At last I found that they lived on the upper end of Center Street. It was now getting dark. I went into

the house and asked for James THOMAS, whom I had met in Wadesville, about four years before. He told me he was my cousin as his mother and mine were sisters. He also told me he had three brothers and four stepbrothers and one sister. I explained to him the reason why I left Wadesville. It was now getting bedtime. I noticed the house was not very large. There was already eleven in the house and not many rooms. My aunt said she would make room for me, some way. So she crowded nine of us boys into two beds.

Next morning, cousin James and myself looked over the town and got acquainted with other boys. As we returned to his home I received word that my stepmother from Wadesville had come to take me back to Wadesville. I was bound to them until I was 21 years old. She had papers to that effect. Not knowing whether they had any paper binding me to them, I kept out of the way for three days and nights among large rocks just behind the P. R. Railroad Depot. The two dollars which I had saved in Wadesville came in handy now. My cousin, James, brought bread and sausage up to me. After the third day I got word that my stepmother had left. I was informed that she could not produce the papers. I returned to my aunt's home and made arrangements with her to board with her. There was no more attempt made to take me back to Wadesville. It also cleared the situation as to whether I was bound to them or not, until I reached the age of 21.

As there were many mines around Mahanoy City, and two railroads, P. and R., and the Lehigh Valley

Railroad, I realized soon that I must find work, as my board bill must be paid. My cousin James (THOMAS) was about my age. He had worked, driving a mule in a coal mine. I had inquired at several mines before I found work driving a mule underground at a mine named Meyersville Mine, three miles from Mahanoy City.

It was difficult for a boy to get work as a miner. Coal seams pitched in many mines as high as 65 degrees, making mining dangerous. Only skilled miners were needed for that class of work. In two years I was able to take up mining in pitching seams of coal. This class of mining was by contract, either by yardage or by tonnage. So much per yard or so much per ton. I have always preferred to mine by contract.

My step-uncle decided to move from Mahanoy City to Meyersville. I still boarded with them although we were crowded together. Mines worked irregular for two years, then closed down owing me $140.00. Two years later I received $70.00 as a compromise. In the years 1872 and 1873, business was fast going into bankruptcy. In the year 1873, it affected the coalmines. I could not find work elsewhere and had to go into debt for my board, $122.00. This disturbed me a great deal. At last I found work at a mine called Primrose. The mine was a level seam of coal. I worked extra at nights and paid my board bill in two months time, and this was the last time I ever went in debt. While living in Meyersville, I made the acquaintance of George HUNES. He was about my age, badly pitted with small-

pox marks. We were constant companions. We worked together in the mine. One day in the mine he and another miner named SHANKLIN were having a friendly wrestling match. He could throw my partner. I was called upon to try and throw SHANKLIN, who was larger and heavier than I and somewhat of a bully. I threw him. He got angry and struck my companion full in the face. Then, I struck him in the face as my companion would not return the blow, as he was of a quiet disposition. I took it up for him. I stood in position, expecting SHANKLIN to come on and get even with me, but he did not. He swore a great deal and then quieted down. I had to watch him closely. He had no right to strike my companion. I was the one he should have struck.

There was a state law against striking a man under the ground; a fine of $50.00 was the penalty and then he got his discharge. The next morning, as I arrived at the mine, quite a crowd of the miners were still around preparing to enter the mine. My companion and SHANKLIN were among them. I could see that both of them had a black eye. I expected to be called to the Company office, but no call came nor was I fined or discharged. I never knew why the law was not enforced. I was only too glad to keep quiet, if that would keep me from having to pay a fine.

As the mines were not working regularly many young men of my age were leaving the coal mines to work in the Lehigh Valley railroad shops, at Delano, a small town close by the mines. My companion, George HUNES, quit the mines and got a job as brake-

man on a freight train. There was a wreck and George was killed.

My step-uncle decided to move back to Mahanoy City where he formerly lived. He opened a liquor store on Main Street, but in less than a year he abandoned the business. It had left its effect on him, however, and as long as he lived it stayed with him. Not many years afterward, he died from its use at Shenandoah, Pennsylvania.

By nature he was kind and generous. When he moved to Mahanoy City, I went with him and boarded there for a few months until an incident happened that changed my whole life. Once a year Lanier's troup and brass band from California would play at Mahanoy City. The character of the play this night was East Lynn. I was not in the habit of going to shows or plays, but I decided to go one night. When I arrived at my boarding house, I found the door locked. After a few minutes of thinking, I came to the conclusion that I would change my boarding place. As the night air was chilly, I went up to the Lawton coal mine. I sat near the steam boilers until the early morning. Then I went to the boarding house and got ready to go to work. In the mine, I spoke to a companion of mine, Walter LEWIS. I knew that his father kept a few boarders. I told Walter what happened to me the last night and asked him to see his father about taking another boarder. Next morning Walter told me that there was room for me. I was glad to make the change, but I did not know who I would meet there.

That evening I packed my trunk, threw it on my shoulder and carried it half a mile, to Pine Street. It was not so crowded. I had better conditions there. I got better acquainted with the LEWIS family. There were the father and mother and three sons. After the evening meal, my attention was attracted to a young woman who came in after we all had eaten supper to help Mrs. LEWIS wash the dishes. After we all had eaten we would retire to the second floor. I had no opportunity to see who the young lady was. One day I caught a glimpse of her as she was leaving for her home, only a few doors above. I recognized her as the young singer who sang with another young lady of the same age, at a Welsh Baptist Sunday School exhibition. The title of the song was "Old House at Home Where My Forefathers Dwelt." It was a great surprise to me as I had never forgotten her or the song.

I thought of many ways to get acquainted with her and decided to speak to her when she was leaving the boarding house. As she came out the low floor door I spoke to her and asked her if she would sit on the porch and talk a while. After some hesitation, she said quietly, "If you want to speak, you can come up on my porch." I gladly accepted the invitation. We sat together for about one hour and talked about things that were going on around us and made an engagement to meet again.

As I returned to my boarding house and thought over our conversation, I felt that I had met a real woman and I looked forward to another meeting. Little did I think that that first meeting in the year 1873

would continue, unbroken on to the year, 1933. It was broken then by death.

On November 19, 1936, a beautiful day, I walked to Lynnhurst Cemetery in Knoxville where she now rests. My memory goes back to those happy days. As I stood alone by the mausoleum, my memory went back and I thought of an old song, "We have roamed and we have loved amid the bowers when the downy cheeks were in their bloom; now I stand alone mid the flowers while they mingle their perfume o'er thy tomb." Oh! The hours grow sad while I ponder near the silent spots where thou art laid and my heart bows down when I wander by the streams and the meadows where we strayed.

For nearly two years we kept meetings, thrice a week. One winter evening, January 9, 1875, we decided to go to the pastor, Rev. Thomas, of the Welsh Baptist Church. I can remember right well, some snow was on the ground when we reached his home. We were not sure that we would find him at home as it was then only eight o'clock p.m. We were fortunate in finding the pastor and his wife at home. The pastor's wife was the only witness to our marriage. As we had no arrangements made for our home and knowing that empty houses were hard to find, I went to my boarding house and my wife to her father's.

In about one week, we found two rooms with a private family on the second floor, not a very convenient home to begin a new life in. To reach our rooms we had to go down the front steps leading into a dark alley under the house, to the backyard, and then go

up two flights of stairs to our rooms. We had trouble in getting what little furniture we had up those narrow stairs. Annie and I did not let those little inconveniences worry us. We had to put up with the odor of sauerkraut cooking underneath our rooms. They were a German family with several children and used kraut with every meal. We would both smile when the odor would be unusually strong. We lived here only a few months, then found a better location in the same part of town.

We moved into six different houses in nine years before we were settled. Owners of empty houses would call on Annie, wanting her to rent, as they knew their rent was sure. Our seventh move was to Jellico, Tennessee, in 1884. Our home was in Kentucky, less than a mile from Jellico, a border line town, from the years 1865 to 1875.

There were troublesome times in Schuylkill County, Pennsylvania, in the anthracite coal fields caused by Mollies, a secret organization who murdered all that interfered with their plans, causing a reign of terror. I knew many of the Mollies. I knew also several of those they murdered.

May I relate one incident that happened to me. I was standing on the sidewalk in Mahanoy City one day. From the valley below two thousand miners came up the street. Two of them came from the rank over to me and asked me if I wasn't a miner and did I belong to the union. I told them that I did. Get in line, they said. I knew it was useless not to. They gathered all miners standing around and made them

march in line. First, we marched to the jail to get some miners out who were in jail for being too rough in the city. The police and eighteen citizens were there all armed to defend it. It was then and there that I first saw Jack KEHOE, a leading Mollie, with his pistol in hand, arguing with the police at the jail door. At times they would place their pistols at each other's breast. Just as it got to a critical point an old man with very white hair rushed up. His name was Squire GROODY. He said he would go on the three miners' bonds. The Squire's action saved lives as I found out that many miners, who were strangers to me, had their guns in their hands to shoot the police and the squad of citizens.

We all got orders to form in line, marched a short distance to a small mine called a drift mine; there we gathered around the opening of the mine. Now our number was five thousand. Orders were sent into the mine for all to cease work and come on out. Suddenly a voice called out, "Here comes Sheriff WARREN" of Pottsville, a town eighteen miles away.

With a posse of eighteen and two uniformed police on each side of him, the sheriff ordered the crowd to disperse. No one moved. He then drew out a long document and began reading it. There was so much shouting and cursing, I could not hear his voice although I was only a few feet from him. A pistol cracked and the crowd, paused from its noise, forced those in front on towards the sheriff and police. Suddenly I saw several hands reach over and heckle the police. ELLISON, standing by the side of the sheriff, was picked up bodily and passed back over their heads.

ELLISON was a very large man and was fully able to put up a strong fight. Why he allowed himself to be handled in that way I never could understand nor find out unless he was in sympathy with the miners. No harm was done to him. The other policeman stood his ground and told them not to crowd him. His name was LIGHTENBERGER, a German. He had served four years in the Civil War. But the crowd in the rear kept pushing us on. It was impossible for me to get out of line of the shoving which I knew would soon commence. I could see LIGHTENBERGER's eyes and his firm chin. He backed away about twenty feet, placed both elbows to his side and began shooting rapidly. There was no need to aim. We stood so close together. Every shot found its mark. After every shot we could hear cries of "Oh! Oh!". A large man on my left cried out in pain, "I'm shot", and fell over on me in a faint. I got my shoulder under his arm pit and pushed him and partly carried him to the side of the hill out of the range of the shooting. He wore a heavy flannel shirt. I tore this from his neck where I saw much blood where the bullet entered, smashing his shoulder and part of his neck. When he could, he called on the blessed Mary to save him. After examination I told him that the bullet did not enter his body. I thought he would get all right. I asked him his name and he told me his name was Shean and he lived down the valley close by us. Some miners were lying behind rocks shooting with carbines. The miners were leaving hurriedly, fearing state troopers would arrive. As a miner, I never was in sympathy with others in violating the

laws. It was rumored that several were killed. When I looked over the ground, I expected to see several bodies lying around. They must have been carried off with the wounded man, Shean. Not much was said about the shooting as it might cause future trouble for them.

It was after the panic of 1873 that times were very hard. Strikes occurred often. In the years 1874 and 1875 I had been idle; at one time, seven months. House rent and provisions were getting me down too close. Feeling uneasy over these conditions, I decided to leave this coal field after a strike of seven months.

Primrose mine commenced operation, where I worked under a 33% reduction. I was very eager to work and wanted to work every hour that I could as I was getting down close to my last dollar. The few months the mine worked that year, 1875, I worked with four different buddies or partners. Ventilation was very bad. We had to use much powder in blast mining a Buck Mountain seam. My first partner to fall down near me was Johnny BEVAN. It kept him from worrying (I think he meant "working") again for six months. Then came, next, Dave RICHARDS, then, a John EVANS. Then my half-brother, Thomas JAMES. All these were my sick men. Not once did I fall, but kept on my feet and was able to carry out my men to where they could get better ventilation until they recovered. It was quite amusing to hear them say their first words, "How did I get here?" I would explain to them what had happened. It affected me with a very severe headache and burning in my eyes, causing me to see rings of different colors around a light. I was anxious to work so I kept

on working, doing my best to get ahead again and knowing more strikes would take place again or that slack work would come again soon.

In the year 1876, Mr. Jack JEFFRIES, a coal miner, told me he was going to Knoxville, Tennessee, to work in the mines there that his brother-in-law operated. I at once decided to go with him. On January 1, 1876, we left Mahanoy City for Knoxville. My first impression of Knoxville was agreeable to me. We left for the mines, nearly 40 miles away, on the Southern Road and came to a small town called Caryville. We worked in a drift mine and batched together in a private home and rented an upstairs room. We could earn three dollars a day each. We could live on less than twenty dollars for both each month.

The Coal Creek mines were only seven miles away. One mine, the Fraterville Mine, came out on a strike. State convicts were brought in to take the places of the strikers and it caused trouble, crowding the mine where JEFFRIES and I worked. JEFFRIES left with many others. I remained a month longer. As the mines in Pennsylvania commenced to work
again, I decided to go back to Mahanoy City again which I left four months before. There were six Welsh miners at Caryville and four of them were from Mahanoy City. The last one died more than twenty-five years ago, before 1900. Jack JEFFRIES got killed in a Missouri mine by falling slate.

Another one of our party who was a fine looking man, died by poisoning. He was too fond of whiskey and women. He had a wife in Mahanoy City, but

neglected to write her. She came to Tennessee to hunt him up. His Tennessee woman heard that Jack WILLIAMS' wife from Pennsylvania had come to hunt him up. So she put poison in his whiskey and gave it to him to drink. He walked a short distance from her cabin and laid down and died. She said if she could not have him no other woman should. As far as I know nothing was done to the woman. It was a sad Mrs. WILLIAMS who returned to Pennsylvania. I went back to Pennsylvania and worked in the mines until the fall of 1878. Work was not steady enough for me, so I decided to try the West. Railroads had many posters put up in their depots advertising the West. Reading them I decided to go West. So I went to Denver, Colorado.

My family had now increased. Two children were born: Margaret and Louis. Margaret was born December 18, 1875 and Louis was born July 31, 1878. After carefully thinking over my plans, I purchased a ticket at the Lehigh Valley Railroad Station for Denver, Colorado. My first change was at Buffalo, New York, at nighttime. My only baggage was a valise and a blanket rolled up. I had a few hours to wait there before I took the next train to Detroit.
I felt I could pass the time better by taking a short walk up the street near the depot in Buffalo. The streets were lighted in some places. There had been a heavy fall of snow. The snow was piled high on either side of the pavements. Walking slowly along I turned quickly around and noticed three men near a street light, looking toward me. It seemed to me they had been whispering together. They were not there

when I passed a few minutes before. I walked fast for a block and then turned on a side street, making my way back to the depot. I felt that they were still following me. Looking back as if I was indifferent as to what was going on, I could see them skulking in the shadows and still trying to head me off. Every step brought me nearer to the depot. They disappeared when they got near the station.

I had read a great many books on "sharpers" and "bunco men" and I had confidence that I could take care of myself, but new traps were laid. Many posters, placed in stations, stated to look out for "sharps" and stay in the station. Trains were slow in those days with long waits. I had purchased a low rate emigrant ticket, forty dollars to Denver. At last there was a train call for Detroit, and we started for Detroit. I boarded a very common looking car and I noticed that the train was a long one. I found a seat and the conductor came along and looked my ticket over. He said for me to back in another car. I picked up my baggage and took my seat in another car thinking I am right now. Along comes the conductor and calls for my ticket again. I handed it to him. Again he gave orders for me to go to another coach. Picking up my baggage once more, I walked back and came to a car that looked like a box car. As I opened the door, I could see it was crowded with Italians, emigrants going West with their wives and children. I had never before seen so many of them. They were in strange costumes. Men with heavy red sashes tied around their waists and with daggers stuck in their waists. They had a common heating stove chained to

the floor and doing their cooking on it. One young woman was their guide. They had all just come over from Italy. It was a show for me to ride with them to Detroit.

I had to make another change at Detroit and had to wait over three hours for the next train to Cheyenne, Wyoming. I sat in the station observing the things around me. I got into a conversation with an old Irishman, who had been to Ireland and was now on his way back to Nebraska.

While we sat talking, a man about thirty years of age sat down near me. He asked me if I had the time. I gave him the time. Then he asked if that was Buffalo time. I told him it was. He then started up a conversation with me. He wanted to know where I came from and where I was headed for. I told him that my work was mining. He then told me he had an uncle who was a foreman of a silver mine in Colorado and would help me to get work in his mine. When he told me he could assist me in getting work, his words sounded good to me for that was my purpose in going West. It put me off guard.

He said his wife and mother-in-law were here in Detroit and he was now waiting for them to come to the station as they had planned to take the train to Denver. He was uneasy about them not being there. He then said to me, "I am going to the place where I left them", and asked me if I would go with him; that he had left some packages of silk at a wholesale house; had left them there to be shipped, but now

if I would go with him we could bring the packages to the station. I went with him.

As we walked along, he kept up a regular conversation. I asked him his name. He said his name was THOMPSON. We kept on walking. I asked him how much further did we have to go. Only a short distance, he said. I noticed that we were getting too far from the station. Nobody was in sight. Then we heard a voice, "Hello, THOMPSON." Looking back to the corner of the street we had just passed, I saw a short, heavy built man with a very long black overcoat on. He walked hurriedly up to where we were standing. I noticed that he kept both of his hands in his overcoat pockets. It was not very cold. THOMPSON introduced us. I did not like his face. I noticed the sign of coal dust in the corners of each of his eyes. I could not see his hands. He kept them in his pockets.

My suspicions were aroused and I kept both in front of me. THOMPSON asked him if his wife had paid him for the goods he bought from him. THOMPSON had introduced him as a merchant and I had a feeling he was trying to act like one. THOMPSON reached into his inside coat pocket and took out a large check book and commenced to write. He then handed the check to the merchant, but the merchant refused to take it, stating that the banks were closed at this hour and he wanted the cash. Then THOMPSON said, "I'm sorry that I haven't got the cash with me. I intended to take the next train to Denver with my

friend here." The merchant said, "I will have to detain you." Then looking at me, he said, "Has your friend got the money to lend you?" While they talked, I had a feeling that something was going wrong.

I also noticed the way that they looked at each other. THOMPSON said to me, "The amount is only two hundred dollars. I will give it back to you when we get to Denver." I said to him, "I haven't got the money." He said "search" to the merchant with his hands in his overcoat pockets. He kept moving closer trying to get behind me. This I did not let him do. I had a two dollar bill loose in my pocket. I drew this out, quickly folded in my hand and said to them, "That is all the money I've got", although I had sixty dollars in another inside pocket. One of them saying "search" was all the time trying to get behind me. This I would not let them do. Had I known at that time that they intended to rob me by using their billy on me, most likely there would have been trouble. Turning to THOMPSON, I said to him, "I am going to the station", and as I was going into the station, it suddenly occurred to me that they were "bunco sharps".

The old Irishman who sat near me when THOMPSON came up, (I had left my blanket and valise with him to take care of) I told him about the trip. He said to me that the man I went out with was a "sharp". I made a resolve then and there that I never would go out on another such trip with strange men. If they wanted me they would have to carry me. That resolve helped me in less than two years later.

A call came for the train for Omaha and all points

West. I got on the day coach. It was an all night's ride. When morning came I noticed we were in a flat country nearing the plains. At one place, several buffaloes were in an enclosure near the railroad track and also near the railroad track there was a prairie dog village that could be seen. Then again the train started ahead and startled a herd of deer that were grazing near the railroad. They scampered away. Some of the passengers lifted up their windows and drew heavy revolvers and commenced shooting at them, but I did not see any of them fall. The deer were soon out of range. I was seeing those things that were new to me.

I thought of the contrast that had taken place in a few days. The Pennsylvania mountains were rough and many of them. The land around me now was level as far as one could see. Those scenes around me caused a feeling of newness to come over me. I was thinking as I rode along what other new things would I see and when and where would I find work. Suddenly a passenger cried out, "Look at the Rocky Mountains." All the passengers looked toward the place he pointed out. With me the sight was wonderful. Peak upon peak kept rising higher and higher, all snow-capped. The more you looked at them, the more you wondered at their grandeur, a sight one can not forget.

The train was now nearing Cheyenne, Wyoming. There, we had to change for Denver, one hundred and ten miles away. Cheyenne is a typical western town. I noticed the people were looking toward mountains called the "black hills", 150 miles away. It was there that CUSTER and his company of soldiers were slain by

Indians a few years ago by Chief Sitting Bull. Again came the call to take the train for Denver.
We reached Denver that evening. While walking around to find a sleeping place, I noticed a large foundation being laid. I was told it was TABORS, who struck it rich in Leadville, Colorado. There was great excitement in Denver over silver found in Leadville. Miners were crowding in from all the states by the thousand. All headed for Leadville.

Next morning was Sunday. I met two men from Missouri. They were large and heavy built. They also headed for Leadville. We agreed to go together and walk all the way. We looked toward the mountains which appeared to only be a few miles away. At that time I did not know that rarefied air deceives you. It makes objects seem so much closer than they really are. The real distance from Denver to the foot of the mountain was nearly 23 miles. When the three of us started out that morning we expected that we could be at the foot of the mountain in two hours.

All around, strange and wonderful things could be seen. We traveled through South Park. All Nature's work, but it seemed like the hand of man had helped, but I was told that it was all Nature's work. I could see coyotes running across the park. We were now getting further into the mountains and we came upon a gang of Chinese looking for mineral. They had many red flags out and they said it was to keep the evil one away. My age was now about twenty-five years. These were the first Chinese I ever saw. Their peculiar dress and appearance were strange to me. Their camp

was close to the trail leading to Leadville by way of Mosquito Pass.

We were told that a storm was raging on the mountain top and that it was unsafe to go that route. My companions and I decided that we would go the south end of the mountain way, many miles further. I noticed that my two companions were slowing up in their walk. They said their legs were giving away and that they would have to stop at the first camp we came to. When we came to one, there they stopped. That was the last I saw of them.

I went on. Kept on the stage road that was the only means of conveyance for passengers from Denver to Leadville at that time. It was very rough riding on them as they were build unusually strong. In some places it was dangerous. Stages were crowded, inside and on top. There were six fast horses to each coach and driven as fast as they could stand it. Many of them dropped dead; I could see many of them lying in the snow. Every ten miles horses were changed at a camp provided for that purpose. In a few minutes fresh horses were in their places. Then off they go again as fast as flesh can stand it. Breathing is difficult in rarefied air. If you go too fast, the heart will stop suddenly.

Many hundred of men were also walking, all with packs on their backs, hurrying on. Some machinery was being hauled in wagons with signs on them reading, "Leadville or bust". At last I reached a camp at the foot of a mountain. A heavy snow was falling, stopping us all from going on. We all had to sleep

on the floor or on the outside in the snow. I rolled up in my blanket. Some had buffalo skins. These were fine in a snow bed. My blanket was very short and light. My boots were also light. I was getting a whole lot of experience. Many of the men were rough and drunk. It was my good luck to meet a man there who was looking for a place to lie down and get some rest and sleep. He said, "Pard, I am hunting a spot, too." I said, "Yes, there's a place over there among that crowd lying on the floor."

I was fortunate in meeting this man whose name was HARRIS. He told me he was a merchant going to see about finding a location in Leadville. As we stepped over men lying around on the floor we came to a small place just large enough for us both to lie down. My blanket was small and too light for stormy weather. He had a large buffalo robe which covered both of us. It kept me warm all night. When morning came it was still snowing. Men were in groups talking about venturing over the mountains. Many of them advised us not to risk it as the trail was covered with several feet of snow. They were all eager to reach Leadville as soon as possible, but decided to wait for the storm to cease.

While we were waiting, my friend HARRIS said to me, "Pard, your boots are not heavy enough for this snowy country. There is not a place nearer than Denver to buy them. I can help you." He looked around and found a coffee sack and some twine. I did not know that the coffee sack was called a "gunny sack". He cut the sack in two; one part he wrapped around my boot, commencing at the toe of my boot

and up to my knee; then he laced twine over it. He did the same with the other part of the sack, making it more comfortable for walking in deep snow. I was certainly getting new experiences. I had always thought I could face any snow storm. We live to learn. My condition was good. I had two loaves of bread inside the lining of a short overcoat with two pounds of bolony.

Then came word that the storm was ceasing and to get ready to go and that some men with cattle would lead the way and we were to follow in their tracks. We started but could not see the front of the line nor the end. I noticed all of them had blankets over their heads for protection when the top of the mountain was reached. A wise precaution. The wind was terrific. We could not speak with each other nor could we look up. We kept our eyes on the tracks in the snow. It was impossible to look up. At last the mountain top was reached and we began to descend. For some distance down we could hear the storm still roaring above us. As far as I know we all got over safely. We were traveling now with less effort. The lower altitude made breathing easier. The snow was two feet deep. This was now being packed on top of snow that had fallen earlier and was tramped down by men and animals going to Leadville.

I have seen scores of fine looking horses, lying dead, along the side of the narrow trail. They had slipped off the trail into deeper snow and it was very difficult to get them back on the trail. Many had died from being driven too hard. Their hearts would stop suddenly. I left Denver early Sunday morning and

arrived at Leadville late Thursday evening, nearly five days tramping in the snow and it was still snowing.

I thought of my friend, HARRIS. I missed him as we lined up to go over the mountain peak. The "gunny sack" he wrapped and laced over my light boots was still in fair condition. I was told that it was hard to find a place to sleep. I came to a low shed that had been hurriedly built. I found a place to lie down on the rough floor among others at a cost of 50 cents per night. There was no undressing, but just rolled up in your own blanket. I soon fell asleep as I had walked nearly two hundred miles.

A little after midnight, I was awakened by a big burly man with a candle in his hand and a pistol in the other, demanding to know who I was. I told him who I was and that I was hunting for work and that I had only slept a few hours. He told me that some S. of a B. had committed a nuisance on the floor and that he would kill him if he could find him. The odor was strong. I went back to sleep again.

Early in the morning, I was awakened by men talking around me and hurrying to get out to stake out lots for building purposes. It was government land. Any land that was not staked, you had a right to stake it by placing light logs in form as if you were going to build. This would hold a lot for six days. By that time you were supposed to make some improvement on it to keep possession of it longer. As there were thousands of fallen fir trees, that had fallen and dried up lying around, it was easy to put logs up. Hundreds

of men were doing this and they all expected to realize on them in this silver mining camp rush.

It was all strange to me, but I was learning slowly. My only thought was to hunt a job of any kind. I walked around and listened to rough men with two guns hanging on their belts. They were talking of silver strikes in different places. Looking up the street, I noticed a man loading a pack on a burro. As I stood by, a hand was placed on my shoulder. I turned to see who it was and the man said, "Pard, are you looking for a job?" I told him that I was. I was weary looking for it.

I looked him over and had a feeling that he was all right. He told me he was up against it now looking for work of some kind. He had only been here a few days. Had just come from Texas and had had bad luck there by fire which burned up $8,000.00 worth of ties for a new railroad. We walked around and found a man who wanted an out-house moved and then wanted a stable built. We purchased a hand saw and a hatchet and went to work and finished the job. It was built of rough lumber.

We walked around some more and heard some men saying that a business man would grub stake two men. We hunted him up and made arrangements to meet him next day. We met at a supply store. He purchased the supplies and told us that we should go with him to a new mining field about thirty miles away. New strikes were being made in silver and miners were rushing to new fields.

Our sled was finally loaded and pulled by two

horses. In one place the driver said, "We are on top of a divide. This is a small pond of water. Should you kick some water that way it would go into the Pacific Ocean. Then do the same on the other side and it would go into the Atlantic Ocean. One by way of the Arkansas River and the other by way of the Colorado River." All around, the scenery was wonderful. Mountains were covered with snow. At the foot of the mountains, there was a ring of green fir trees, giving them grandeur.

We could not linger. The shades of night would be coming soon and we must be at the camp, miles away, so we hurried on. I noticed a whole side of beef lying in the snow. The driver said it must have fallen off the sled of someone going ahead. He said it would not spoil for sixty days or more. The road we were now on connected Leadville and Georgetown, a mining town further north. It was near getting dark with a few miles to go. At last the driver stopped and said here we must unload. After unloading we stood around awhile, my partner and I, deciding whether we should sleep here or not. All around it was very dark. Suddenly we saw a light a few hundred feet away. We both went in the direction that we saw the light. We found a cabin with two men in it.

We knocked on the door and a voice said, "Come in." I told them we had a load of supplies unloaded at the trail and wanted some place to sleep. They were kind enough to give us a place. We carried our supplies to the cabin. They told us they were prospectors. We told them that we were hungry and would like to have something to eat and some hot coffee. We had

flour and coffee which we had brought from Leadville. I never had any experience in making biscuits or coffee. I watched very closely how one of those men made it. All cooking was done on a light sheet-iron wood stove, very light to pack and carry over mountains. A mixture of flour, baking powder and water poured in a square tin pan, then placed in the oven and quickly baked. My partner and I enjoyed this quick lunch. We slept on the cabin floor that night. Next morning we looked around. We were informed that there was a tent close by where we could send and receive mail. It was called "ALEY's and DUN's tent". Another place close by just forming, was called "Kokomo".

As there were many shafts being operated, prospecting for ore was profitable. Some of them had found paying ore. Many claims had been staked out. A claim was 1500 feet by 500 feet, all Government land. My partner, Frank BRISBANE, decided that we would prospect on the other side of the mountain From where we stood. We carried our supplies across a flat bottom of land

about one and a half miles to a place where it was thickly timbered with fir trees. Having no nails, we placed a pole across between two trees resting on branches. Then we cut the tops off of other trees leaning on one side of the pole, then covered them over thickly with branches to keep the snow off our bed. We scattered small branches in one corner to sleep on. The top of the trees we used for a door. We had been told that wild animals were around.

After sleeping quarters were finished, we located nearby, a place to sink the shaft. We had nothing to

guide us that mineral would be found in that place. Snow was several feet deep everywhere. We just took a chance and sank a shaft down 65 feet. No sign of mineral was found. My partner BRISBANE began to complain and was getting more discouraged every day. He said he was not used to living like this and that he had a good home in Saginaw, Michigan; had a wife and two children. We would both try and sing some song to try to keep from getting too lonesome when the shades of night would come. He left and went back to Leadville and found a job as clerk in the Clarendon Hotel that had just been built, on a salary of $125.00 per month.

Prospecting to me was fine, but I had my wife and two small children depending on my earnings. While I was prospecting, I was not earning but spending. One day I went over to "ALEY and DUN's tent" to look for mail. I received a letter that my son, Louis, had died suddenly. He was only fourteen months old. He was buried several weeks before I received word. Mail was slow in those days.

While at ALEY's tent I heard that men were wanted to shovel snow on a stage route and that they would pay four dollars per day and so I went to work. I noticed that some men had goggles on, protection for their eyes. I did not do anything to mine, thinking they were strong enough to stand the glare of the sun on glistening snow. After a week's work my eyes began to trouble me. I had to stay in the Spruce House for several days. It seemed like they were full of sand. It was hard to keep them open or shut. Let

me say I was getting a whole lot of western experience that one cannot forget.

After my eyes were strong enough I decided that I would go to the top of a very high mountain peak. I could see a dark formation of rock that looked very much like a coal seam. I prepared two pieces of light box board three feet long and ten inches wide. I cut holes through them with my pocket knife so I could tie them on my boots with strong cord. Without this protection I would sink deep in soft snow. When I reached the steep part of the mountain I could take them off and carry them with me. I rose early the next morning. The sun was shining and I saw it would be a nice day. I shuffled along on my home-made snow shoes. I noticed several large jack rabbits would sit up and look at me, only a few feet away. I knew I would have to keep moving to find my way to the top of the peak. I heard the peak was 14,000 feet high. It would take some effort to get there.

I had to walk in a gulch called "May Flower". I notice heavy tracks in the snow going in the direction that I was going, so I took my heavy pocket knife and cut a good sized club from a fir tree. As I moved along, the tracks turned to the right behind a large boulder. The tracks made were larger than a man's fist and about one foot apart. I kept on going until I reached the foot of the mountain. I started to climb slowly. Breathing was difficult in that high altitude. The higher I went, the more difficult it was to breathe. I was determined not to give up. I rested a few minutes at a time to get my breathing more regular. I felt strong as I was in good condition. At last, I reached

rocky ground. Above the cliffs ahead of me was gently rising ground. I could not see the top nor could I stand up and walk. I got down on my hands and feet. I could then only go thirty feet without stopping. I was getting some more experience of the great Rockies.

I kept moving slowly upward looking toward the top and using all my will power to keep going on. I noticed some small animal nearly the size of a small rabbit, (white) and also a bird the size of a quail and as white as the snow. It made a peculiar noise. It was hard to see them unless they were moving for all was pure white around them. After eight hours of climbing, I reached the top of the peak. I would not look around until I got my breathing right, then I stood up on my feet. I felt something give way at the very bottom of my lungs. Then I felt it roll up in my throat. I spat it down at my feet. It was three small dry balls of anthracite coal dust. There was no pain nor any blood. I was aware that it occurs at high altitudes. Nor did I feel any great distress when I stood still.

The sun was shining brightly and the wind was not stirring. That was something unusual. Where I stood, the snow had been blown clear away. I looked toward the east. What a wonderful view right at my feet. You could look down three thousand feet. Mountain after mountain could be seen as far as the range of my eyes could see. Glistening lakes among the mountains, making a picture not often seen nor ever forgotten. Then I turned and looked west and another magnificent scene was before me to gaze upon. As I looked I could see the Mount of the Holy Cross. I had

heard of it and now I could see it. It appeared to be less than fifty miles away. It was hard to leave such a wonderful view. I almost forgot what I had struggled up the mountain for. I looked along the side of the peak and saw the dark croppings on my right. Making my way toward it, I came suddenly to a gap, fully 150 feet across it. This could not be seen at the foot of the mountain. There was no way only by going down to the foot of the mountain and making another effort. I could now feel a gentle wind stirring.

I made haste to go down and sat on my snow shoes and slid down some distance to the cliffs. It was late that day when I reached my bush cabin. I slept very soundly that night. The next morning I decided to investigate "May Flower Gulch", less than a mile away, which led me up to the top of the range that I was on yesterday. As I traveled up the gulch I noticed what looked to me like a small mound of snow. I went to it, brushed the snow off with my foot and found ore. It looked like dark iron ore. Someone had been there before me and dug it up. Having no shovel to move the snow, I could not see the place where it came from as it was on a line with a cropping on top of the high peak which I had tried to reach the day before. As all land around was Government land, the first prospector has a right to place stakes with marks stating his claim. A claim in Lake County, Colorado, is 500 feet wide by 1500 feet long. You are supposed, after you stake a claim to do a certain amount of work on it every year to hold it, according to Government law.

A few days before my partner, Frank BRISBANE left me to go back to Leadville, we made a trip to Elk

Mountain, only a few miles away, having heard that silver was found there in places. We took just enough food along for one day and also some tools to work with. We prospected on the south side of the mountain. In many places the snow had melted away around sage brushes exposing the surface. Many prairie chickens would fly a short distance away and look at us, probably never having heard the sound of a gun. We could also see many large bones lying around, supposed to be elk bones or mountain sheep bones that had died years before. The Ute Tribe of Indians reservation is not far from this mountain. Prospectors were not allowed on their land. I could see prospectors' holes and shafts with windlass on them, but no miners were in sight. Some were located on ore seams, but other shafts had not yet found ore. BRISBANE and I found good cropping indications of ore after digging and following the ore cropping. I would give out at times and BRISBANE would shout out, "This looks good. Right now I would not sell this property for anything." Then he would say, "FRANCIS, what will you take for your part?" In a few hours more digging it gave out. We both felt discouraged over it.

The next day BRISBANE left me and went to Leadville to clerk in the Claredon Hotel which had recently been built. Two months later I met him in Leadville. One day a man came to my brush home and said his name was William JAMES and that he was from Joplin, Missouri. He said that he was just looking around and that he had followed the snow tracks which led him up there. I said to him, "You are of Welsh nationality." He said , "Yes, my people are in Wales, but I

can not speak Welsh." He was short of stature and heavy built and about thirty-five years old. We discussed conditions around us and decided to be partners. He left me saying he would be back in a few days with his pack.

I was glad to have another partner. I was very lonesome when the night came. I had been alone two weeks. I would listen to the sighing of the wind in the tree tops. It was interesting to see squirrels by the hundreds leaping from one branch to another just before sundown, then the stillness of night came on and I was alone with my thoughts, thinking of home and those left behind with its comforts; but I stopped dreaming. I had come here for a purpose and I must carry it out.

When morning came, I could see fresh tracks of different animals in the snow around the cabin. Having no gun of any kind, I kept a heavy axe at the head of my bed when I slept. There was no door to the cabin. The tope of the trees served for a door. My bed was a blanket with small spruce branches laid one foot thick on poles. I called it a Colorado feather bed.
While waiting for my new partner to come, a man from "ALEY's and DUN's Tent" brought me news that two men from Pennsylvania wanted to see me. I went back with them. This place took the place of the post office. It was there I sent and received mail. I was surprised to meet Richard MEYRICK, my father-in-law, and William REESE, both from Mahanoy City, Pennsylvania. MEYRICK was an old 1849 California miner and he wanted to try it again in this desert.

After our greeting MEYRICK said, "We must leave in the morning. Neither of us can breathe in this high altitude." As there was no place to sleep here they got their packs together and started over to my shack. I had to carry both packs. Both of them were past middle age and were troubled with coal miners' asthma. It was difficult for them to breathe regularly, neither could they do any work. When morning came I started them back to Leadville and from there they went by stage to Denver. Two years later I met them both in Mahanoy City, Pennsylvania. They said they were both glad to get away from that climate.

The following day my new partner, JAMES, came back with his pack. That night we discussed the situation around us. As he was the oldest, I let him take the lead. We decided to go down Eagle River for one day and look for prospects. The next morning we had early breakfast: biscuits, beans and coffee. We took away a few extra biscuits. In many places, the top of the snow was firm enough to hold one's weight from breaking through as the snow was deep. Many times we would break through, delaying us and making our trip slow and tiresome. My partner, JAMES, was a slower walker than I was. I would have to stop and wait for him. Our plan was to go down Eagle River as far as we could. Then turn to the right and come back by the way of Elk Mountain-a high mountain.

As we traveled onward, we came to a place where several large trees were recently cut down as if some prospector or hunter was going to build a cabin, but no one was seen near. We went on some distance

further. Suddenly we heard in the distance a rumbling sound. As we continued on, the sound was getting louder and we decided it was a waterfall. Both of us wanted to see it. On our right there was a gulch leading up to the place where a large body of solid water fell over a cliff nearly 100 feet high with a continuous roar. It was impossible for us to speak to one another and be heard. We could only motion to each other. Mountains around us were like huge bee hives towering up into the sky. We could not see the tops, they were so close together. It was very easy to get lost or to lose our sense of direction.
It was now afternoon and getting shady as if snow would come. If we should be caught by it we would be in a bad fix. We knew many prospectors who had lost their lives in just such surroundings as we were now in should a storm come up. Signs were now appearing that one was on the way. We now turned our faces back toward the place we started from by going over Elk Mountain. Just as we got above the timber line the snow commenced to fall slowly. By hurrying on I thought we could get across before the snow fell thickly and prevented us from seeing our way ahead, as there were no markers or signs to guide us. Before we reached the top of the mountain the snow began falling thickly.

A slight wind commenced to blow by the time we reached the top. It was terrific, almost lifting us off our feet and every minute getting stronger. We had a feeling that we must leave as soon as possible. It was impossible for us to speak with each other on account of the velocity of the wind. I have always had

a good sense of direction and felt sure of the way I was going although I had no guide to go by. My experience in coal mining helped me now. I made motions to my partner by pointing in a certain direction. He pointed in another direction and started away from me. I did not know how much experience he had had in this kind of weather and on a mountain top and thinking also that it would not do for us to separate, I gave in and followed him.

I had noticed that when we reached the top of the mountain we turned slightly to the right. I now had a feeling that he was going down another gulch in the direction of the waterfall. We traveled down the gulch and when we got down into the timber line of spruce and fir, we could speak to each other. The storm was now raging overhead and it was still snowing heavily. I spoke to JAMES and told him that we were going the wrong way, that we were turning away from ALEY and DUNN's Tent, but he argued against me. I tried to convince him where he made his mistake when he turned to the right on the top of the mountain and kept leaning to the right for some distance on account of the strong wind blowing against our left side and forcing us to the right more and more as we struggled along. The shades of night were coming on fast. We were getting hungry and our struggles through deep snow were using up our strength. The more we argued about the right direction to go, the more bitterness came into our voices and finally we both stopped saying anything. Who was right and who was wrong? I turned to my partner and said to him, "Well then if it must be, you take the lead and I will follow." He

started and went some distance. We walked on some distance. It was now getting darker and the snow continued to fall heavily. The wind was moaning in the tops of the trees. I did not feel any bitter cold. All our walking was done in silence. At times I felt like leaving him, knowing that I was risking my life by following him. Should we continue on much further we would get bewildered and lose our sense of direction. That is the end of many prospecting miners. We were both aware of this danger. JAMES stopped. We both stood still. I could see fear in my partner's face. I spoke to him and said, "Bill, we are lost", with a voice that had a tremor in it. He said, "Yes, I believe we are."

Knowing it was useless for me to again bring up argument as to where he lost his course on top of the range, I did tell him that I thought we were now between seven and eight miles from the top of the range and if we want to get our bearings right again we must locate the waterfall we found this morning. So we continued on in silence. I took the lead because I could see Bill was getting worried and also tired and hungry and walking slower every hour. Being heavier than me, he was a slower walker. At last I heard a sound like distant thunder miles away. We came to the foot of the gulch where the waterfalls were located, then we turned our faces east. We kept on struggling through the snow.

After walking several miles Bill took the lead again. I noticed that he turned off at a right angle from the course that I thought we should take. It was still snowing heavily. I called to him. He was

going off the course we should go. He said, "No, that he was on the right course for DUNN's Tent." I told him we were not and that I would not follow him going that way. Right there and then we separated. Every once in a while I could hear his voice calling and I would answer back. We got further apart until we could hear no sound from each other. It was now near midnight and each one of us for himself.

This year, 1879, May 13th, brings back memories of hard struggles for mind and body. Let me describe my feelings on this date. When I told my partner we were lost his answer was, "Yes." He said it in such a manner that it left no hope that we could find our way out. For myself, I was not sure. We could hear water falling. My partner was silent and gloomy and it was making its impression on me. The surroundings we were in added to our feelings and I wondered if this was my end and would I ever see my wife and children again.

Such thoughts would come over me as we walked silently along and listened for the waterfalls. If the worst came I would keep struggling on as long as my strength held out. When the location was found a feeling of relief came, although we would have to travel some distance to be safe. When Bill and myself separated, I kept on a course that only my sense of direction gave me. A thought came to mind that I might come to a place where trees had been recently cut down. Snow was still falling, now more slowly. Suddenly I thought I saw a flash of light ahead of me. I stood still and waited, thinking I might see it again, but did not. I kept on my course and saw a light

again. I kept on a direct line to it. I noticed it was a candle light in a newly built log cabin. The snow ceased, making it easier for me to find my way. I approached the cabin, found the door and knocked. A voice said, "Hello! Who's there?" I answered that I was lost in the snow storm and wanted to know my way to DUNN's Tent. I did not expect him to open the door and let me in and he did not. He told me that trees were newly barked 5 feet above around every 60 feet back of the cabin and the distance to DUNN's Tent was three and one-half miles. For more than twenty hours I had very hard walking without a rest. I was getting tired, but a few miles more did not discourage me because I now felt safe. I followed the blazed marks on trees and at last reached DUNN's Tent.

I called them up and told them who I was and that I was hungry and tired. They let me in and warmed some coffee and biscuits. I soon felt strong again. I told them that my partner, Bill JAMES and myself, separated and that we could not agree about the direction we should take. I told them that the distance from here to where we separated would be, according to my guess, about eight miles. They said that if he should keep on the same course he was on when he left you, he would most likely hit the new stage road being cut through the snow between Leadville and here. They thought it best to wait eight or ten hours and should he not turn up by that time we would try and get a party and trace him up.

The following afternoon my partner, JAMES, came struggling into DUNN's Tent, a hungry and tired man. He was surprised to find me there. He felt sure that

I had taken the wrong direction. After he had eaten and rested, we went across to another mountain where our shack was. We argued a great deal as to which one of us made the mistake. I contended that when we hit the blizzard on top of Elk Mountain that he turned too much to the right. He would not give in. The subject got to be very unpleasant and our feelings were being aroused. I have read that it is easy for men to quarrel over trivial things when alone in the mountains. There is something in the air or the surroundings that causes bitter disagreement.

Both of us agreed to go to Leadville and find work as we needed some cash. We got our packs ready and left early the next morning. As there was a stage road going to Leadville, we followed it. The snow was beaten down, making walking easier. On one side of the road, I noticed four newly covered graves with no marking. Later on we met other prospectors. We asked them about the new graves. They told us that some young bucks or Indians had killed them. They were four white men. They also said that Sitting Bull had been on the warpath with two hundred Indians and that they thought they were the slayers. It was very easy for Indians to surprise prospectors in the mountains and slay them. Many miners had no weapons to defend themselves. Although the U. S. Government had Indian scouts to watch the Indians, the Ute Tribe of Indians on their reservation were just over the mountain where white men were not supposed to trespass on their land.

After we reached Leadville, we were told that Indians had slain the PRICE and MEEKER families in a

sudden uprising and understood that these families were on the reservation to instruct the Indians how to cultivate their land. It was rumored in Leadville that the Indians had sent word that they would massacre all white men in Leadville. This was too big a job for them and they never tried it. Many Indians could be seen now and then in Leadville, but they seemed friendly.

I remember one 4th of July, several Indians came to Leadville to take part in the celebration, such as wrestling and racing against the white men. These exercises were different on account of the high altitude, especially with newcomers or "tender feet" as they were called. Indians were more accustomed to the climate and they carried off most of the prizes.

My partner, JAMES, and myself agreed to separate and to in different ways to hunt work of any kind and we would meet at a certain place that evening and also to find a place where we could sleep that night. After some hours of walking around, I was fortunate enough to meet a working man. I told him what I wanted. He said he had a half interest in a cabin on Stray Horse Gulch. It is less than a half mile from the center of Leadville, and that he would sell me his interest for thirteen dollars. His partner who owned a half interest never came back. He had left him a few days before for a six months trip down the Gunniston River to prospect and the Indians may have gotten him. He was a Frenchman. I took him up on his proposition and paid him the thirteen dollars. I hunted up my partner, JAMES, and told him where we could sleep. We found the cabin easily and

we both thought it a fair start to have a cabin. We were satisfied with the trade we had made.

The following morning, after a good night's rest, we started out to look for work. We went in different directions. I overheard some men speaking. They wanted a man to work sinking a well, who was familiar with the use of dynamite. I told them I could handle the explosive. He gave me directions how to find the place. I hurried to be the first on the job. I found a man whose name was LLOYD, a real Yankee from Maine. He had recently built a rough residence and a stable for his horses. His occupation was that of a teamster. Hauling was in demand between Denver and Leadville and also into the mountains for prospectors. He happened to be in his stable. I asked him if he wanted to hire a man to work in a well. He said he did and he spoke to me about dynamite. I told him I was used to handling it. He showed me the well and it had a windlass over it. The man who had sunk it down nearly twenty feet struck rock and said he could not handle explosives.

It was arranged for me to commence the next morning. He would pay me two dollars per day and board. I went back to my cabin in the gulch and met my partner, JAMES. I told him I had found a job and that I would be away for a few days. I was on hand early the next morning. Mr. LLOYD had a hand to windlass for me. I was lowered down into the well with some tools and commenced to work. I found the rock was not a solid foundation and was easily broken through. I did not need to use explosives. Mr. LLOYD was pleased as he was in need of water. I worked three

days and struck a good stream of water. I ate my meals in his house. Two women cooked the meals-his wife and a sister.

After finishing the well job, Mr. LLOYD asked me to work another day to cut some kindling wood for him. He had a pile of dried spruce trees near the house for that purpose. Early the next morning I commenced to chop the wood for him. It was snowing but not cold; at least I did not feel the cold. I can remember the day well. I felt good and strong. My lung power was fine in that high altitude. The call to dinner for me sounded good for my appetite was very keen. I took my place at the dinner table with the other men. I had plenty of boiled beef and beans, just the right kind of food for a working man in that climate. As soon as I was done eating I hurried back to my chopping place. I had a good pile already cut. My day's work would not cease until dark came. Snow was still falling slowly. Whenever I looked toward the house I could see the two women watching me all the afternoon, and knowing they could not find anything wrong with my work. I had already quite a large pile of wood cut and it was growing larger every hour.

When supper time came I ate with the rest of the men. Then we sat around for a few hours talking before retiring to the barn where we all slept. As we were all about to go out, Mr. LLOYD, whom I had not seen all day, called me aside and told me not to leave for a while. I wondered what he wanted with me. So I waited and at last he came and said he wanted me to come back to the kitchen. He told me to sit on a bench at the table and I did so. Soon his

wife and sister came in smiling with a large pan full of ginger cake just baked. It smelled good. He cut it in blocks or squares. Mr. LLOYD said, "Let's eat", and we did eat. Why the rest of the workers were not invited I do not know. Mr. LLOYD may have looked at the pile of cut wood which would do him for quite a while. Whenever I eat ginger cake I always think of Mr. LLOYD.

I went back to my cabin on Stray Horse Gulch and found my partner, JAMES. He had found some odd jobs, but no regular work. There were several miners on Fryer Hill shipping silver ore. I had some experience traveling around looking for work. Many of the superintendents were Irish and others were Odd Fellows, and as I was neither, I was not employed.

I wanted work in an ore producing mine. It was safer and more regular and not as wet as shaft sinking. Shafts were most dangerous. You had to use high grade explosives and also the flimsy machinery to let a man down and to hoist him up. At last I found work at a shaft named El Paso and very wet. A miner with rheumatism or weak lungs could not work many days. Conditions in shaft sinking would soon lay him up. Three eight hour shifts with from one to two men on shifts, and size of shaft three by six in the clear and the depth fifty to five hundred feet. Should paying ore be found, the shaft was made larger.

I worked in El Paso shaft several months. DUVALS, from California, was the owner. I had considerable trouble with water. It would rise eight feet per hour when the pump would fail. My cabin was one-half

mile from the shaft. They would send a man after me to get the pump working again. One month I had forty-five days to my credit. I felt no serious effect from the dampness, only a numbness and weakness about my ankles. Mr. DUVAL told me he would build a house for me and pay my expenses if I would move here from Pennsylvania. I could not think for a moment of bringing my wife and two small children to such a rough country. My partner, JAMES, found work for both of us in another shaft called the Olive Branch. It was not so deep. It was only two hundred feet and was not for from El Paso. Olive Branch worked three shifts with one man on each shift. JAMES and myself worked about three months. We got along agreeably in our cabin and also in the mine. On this week my shift was from 7 a. m. to 3 p. m. JAMES followed me from 3 p. m. to 11 p.m.

One night about ten o'clock I was sleeping soundly in the cabin when I heard a voice calling me. "Ho, FRANCIS." It woke me up. I felt at once that there was something wrong by the tone of his voice. I got up quickly and asked him what was the matter. He told me that JAMES was badly hurt. I asked him where JAMES was. He told me at the bottom of the shaft. I hurried over to the shaft and just got there in time to take hold of him as his head and shoulders came through the opening top of the shaft. He stood upright in the bucket with one arm around the rope which was attached to the bucket as the hoisting rope was pulled up on the drum by horse-power-very slowly hoisting. A wood fire was burning near. We moved him to it; took off his rubber coat and his hip boots

and we realized that he was badly injured. His right shoulder was crushed and his arm was injured. When I took off his boots blood poured from them and a large hole just above his right hip could be seen. Blood was flowing from his side. JAMES was a strong man in the prime of his life, but I could see that he was getting weaker. Something must be done and that quickly.

The opener of the shaft came and looked at JAMES' shoulder and said that his arm would have to be taken off. JAMES heard him and cried out, "No, no. I won't have it off." He was growing weaker now and getting very weak. Someone said, "Let's take him down to Leadville. There is a Sister Hospital just opened up there." I had not known this. We hurriedly placed some boards together and carried him to Leadville, less than a mile away. JAMES was growing weaker but was not complaining. He surely had a lot of nerve. Not even a groan came from his lips. It was rough carrying. The hour was midnight. When we reached the hospital, they opened the door and we carried JAMES in. A doctor instructed us to lay him on a platform or a table and he made a quick examination; then he shook his head. We understood.

I went back to my cabin and prepared to go to work at the shaft by seven o'clock a. m. It was a one man shift. It was important that I should be on time and also I wanted to know how the accident occurred. There was a man from Scranton, Pennsylvania who operated the hoisting of the bucket. His name was REES. As the bucket was hoisted above the trap doors on top of the shaft he failed to close them. A one hundred and fifty pound truck was kept close by to

lower heavy buckets on. Then it was pushed out and dumped. When he pushed the truck it fell down the shaft 260 feet and struck JAMES. He failed to close the trap door. I worked until three o'clock, the end of my shift. I felt badly about my partner, JAMES. I hurried to my cabin, cleaned up a bit. I had only the one suit that I worked in.

Then I went down to Leadville. When I came to the hospital door an elderly sister met me and asked if the injured man we brought in last night was my partner. I told her that he was. Then she told me he was dying and that if I had any questions to ask him I should ask them quickly, that he would soon be unconscious. As I reached his bedside he faintly recognized me. I asked him about his relatives. He had never told me anything about them. He faintly answered, "Bag Knorving"-he had an old-fashioned carpet bag. Knorving he should have about two hundred dollars." I asked him about it. He whispered faintly "Corner cabin. Cobble stone." These words came faintly, slower and slower. JAMES was dying far from his home in Wales. I stood by seeing my partner passing out. After JAMES died, I left the hospital and notified all hands that worked at the shaft. The next morning four of us dug his grave outside of Leadville in ground set aside for that purpose as many unknown men were being buried there.

Death comes quickly to one in sickness or to one who gets injured here. They lose their identity and surroundings. We prepared to bury JAMES late in the afternoon. Just five of us carried him all the way to the grave. A Cornish miner had an extra suit of

clothes which he loaned me for the funeral as I had no extra suit for that occasion. After we filled the grave up I spoke to Mr. REES, the man from Scranton, Pennsylvania, who had made the mistake in pushing the truck into the open shaft, causing the accident to JAMES. I told him to come with me to my cabin.

I looked for JAMES' money and his belongings there. We searched the cabin in one corner. We found the cobble stone and right behind it in a hole we found his leather pocketbook with nearly two hundred dollars in it. Then we looked through his clothes and then searched his satchel or carpetbag. In it we found a half-written letter to a friend in Joplin, Missouri. We also found the photograph of a young woman on a card. We also found a slip of paper with a name and an address on it. Betsy JAMES, 127 Wellington St., Glamorganshire, S. Wales. I wrote to that address the William JAMES was seriously hurt. A few months later I received a reply from Mrs. JAMES stating that she had a son in America somewhere.

I wrote her again that William JAMES had died and was buried in Leadville and that I had some money belonging to JAMES and I would like to send it to his relatives and could she send me references that she had a son. I enclosed the young woman's photograph in the letter. After some waiting I received a letter informing me that she had a son here and the photo of the young woman was also verified. As there was some little expense from the funeral which I paid and what was left I took to the bank at Leadville and received a draft from them for twenty-seven pounds and ten shillings. This amount I sent to his mother.

Later on another letter came from her thanking me for the money sent and stating that her son had some money in a bank and could it be found out some way? Having no papers or other information, I could not find out whether he had or not. At least there were no papers to that effect in his valise.

As I was walking the street one day in Leadville, I heard a voice say, "Hello, FRANCIS." I looked back to see who it was and found that it came from my first partner, Frank BRISBANE, who left me back in the mountains six months ago. He said he was bookkeeper for the Clareton Hotel and was getting along all right. He persuaded me to come to a show with him that night, that it would not cost us anything. My work at the shaft commenced at 11 o'clock p. m., so I thought I could go and see the show. BRISBANE told me the play was "Rip Van Winkle". I was not in the habit of going to shows. I noticed as we went in we passed the doorkeeper with a nod, then we ascended a flight of stairs. When we landed on the second floor there was a drinking bar. The most kind of drinks was champagne. BRISBANE led the way to a row of private boxes. We selected one and both sat down. I noticed that there were two rows of private boxes curtained all around on each side. The opening could be in front to look down on the stage. Boxes on the opposite side were all occupied by men and girls drinking. The floor below was crowded with rough miners.

The music started with piano, violin, and cornet. I was fond of music and I listened to the strains of music. My partner, BRISBANE, said to me, "I am going

downstairs for a while," and I said to him, "All right, will wait." As I listened intently to the music, a woman's voice said, "Don't you want company?" I noticed she was very young and was dressed as if she was a stage girl. I said to her, "I have a partner," and she withdrew. The play was now beginning. I was getting interested in the acting. There were no dull minutes. When an actress pleased the audience there was a shower of gold pieces thrown to her and at her feet. This would cause her to come back for an encore and to pick up all the pieces of gold. Many of these gold pieces were ten dollars and twenty dollars. Such men as Travor HILL would throw the money around by the thousands of dollars when they were pleased with the play.

All these scenes were new to me. I finally wondered why my partner did not return. It was now nearing the time when I would have to leave so as to be at the shaft ready for work by 11 o'clock. As I leaned over the railing looking down on the stage, a voice said, "Hello!" I turned around in my chair and a young girl had parted the curtains and came in. She smiled and said, "A fine show, ain't it?" I said, "Yes." With that she sat down in my lap. She began to pet and smiled some more. She was real young and nice looking. She had on a light gauzy dress and looked as if she were a stage girl. It was supposed that when a girl came to interest you that you would order champagne from the bar nearby. It would cost about three dollars per glass. She would receive a per cent from the drinks. It was time now for me to

treat or retreat. I made up my mind to retreat, which I did.

As I passed the bar, several girls were standing near and they followed me to the top of the stairway saying, "Where are you going?" I told them I was coming back again. I was glad to get on the outside. I suspicioned that Mr. BRISBANE had something to do with sending those girls to me. I always had on my working clothes. It was money those girls wanted. Clothes made no impression on them. Money was their sole object and the making of money was good in Leadville, but what a life! Soon they fade.

I hurried back to my cabin and got ready to go to work in a short time. What a change from music and laughter to the bottom of a gloomy and wet shaft for eight hours. How lonesome! Your only companions are a pick and shovel and a stick of dynamite. One month after BRISBANE left me at the theater, I accidentally met him on the street. He was walking slowly and was looking very sick. I asked him what was wrong and he told me he was so weak and sick and that he was going to his room. He hinted to me that he had been going too fast since he came to Leadville. I was sorry for him. He was an engineer. He had a good education and a home in Saginaw, Michigan. He also had a wife and two small children. His father, Gen. BRISBANE, took position hunting Indians for the U. S. Government who were implicated in Gen. CUSTER's massacre. I tried to find out what became of Frank BRISBANE. He passed out of my life. I often wondered whatever became of him.

I went back to my cabin thinking about the uncertainty of health and life. I decided that I ought to have another partner. I had a half brother a few years younger than myself who was a coal miner in Mahanoy City, Pennsylvania. I sent for him to come to Leadville. I sent him a tracing to show him how to find my cabin on Stray Horse Gulch. I was now working in a shaft called "Montana Load". This was a very wet and dangerous shaft. It had caved in several times on account of bad timbering. On each shift there were two men.

A new man came to me and said, "Superintendent?" I told him to work with me. We both went down into the shaft in the same bucket. With one hand you held your candle while the other grasped the rope attached to the bucket with one foot outside to guide it and to keep it from springing around and to keep the bucket from striking the timbers that were projecting out into the shaft. I told my partner to hold fast to the rope with both hands. He let his candle drop if he was not sure of one hand holt. The wooden drum that dropped us down was not round and would suddenly let us go rapidly for twenty feet. This was repeated all the way down. If there was no swinging of the bucket or striking of timbers, it would not be so dangerous. When we reached the bottom of the shaft and got out of the bucket my companion drew a long breath and did not speak. If he did he knew it would be troublesome. By the light of the candle I could see his pale face. Breathing was difficult, caused by black damp. We could not strike a match. Only the best sperm candles would burn when dynamite was

near. Its fumes gave you a terrible headache. My pard, as we called each other with only a slight acquaintance, told me he wanted to work so that he could send some money home to his parents in England. I like the way he talked and I had a feeling that he would not be able to work his eight hours. There was a space behind the timbers 150 feet up the shaft that at that place had caved in frequently. Mud and small pieces of rock would fall down on our heads, causing a feeling that the shaft was closing in on us. My pard said, "Let me go up. It is too wet. I ma getting weak and can't work." I signaled to the man on top to hoist slowly, man coming up. Three rings. We signaled by pulling a small rope attached to a clapper placed near the hoisting man.

I had no companion to work with me the next day. After my day's work, I went to my cabin where my partner was and found him in his rough bed suffering from rheumatism. I was sorry for him. His hopes were not bright. I do not know what became of him.

The bottom of the shaft was not nearing where we should be. One morning as I came to the top of the shaft to commence work at seven o'clock a. m., I was told by Mr. LOVE, superintendent, that he had charge of the six men; that shaft had closed in near the bottom. He gave me instructions about timbering, to make the shaft smaller. It was now seven o'clock in the morning. I stepped into the bucket and I was lowered down to the place 150 feet from the bottom; the place where the former cave-in occurred. It was poorly timbered. The shaft narrowed at that

point. The timbers appeared to be twisted. Let me say that I knew the danger of going 150 feet below and staying there eight hours.

When I was lowered to the bottom of the shaft I commenced to load the bucket with mud and water. I could not lower it any. I noticed that mud came from the space behind the timbers 150 feet from the bottom of the shaft. I knew it was useless to keep sending the loose mud up as the two shifts did before me. It was like poking your finger in the river and pulling it out and trying to see the hole. With a plan in my mind, I rang the bell to be hoisted up.

I found Mr. PETERSON, one of the owners. He was anxious to know how conditions were. I told him and then I told him the plan I had in mind to keep the shaft the same size. I prepared short pieces of boards, then I descended down the shaft with them in the bucket. It took me near two hours to place them in position. After this was completed I began to fill the bucket. After a few buckets of mud and water were taken out of the way, I rang the bell for them to send down timbers full size. After placing the first set in place it completely stopped the caving in at the bottom. I rang the bell again to hoist me up. When I reached the top of the shaft, Mr. ANDERSON, one of the company, stepped up to me and said, "Well, you stopped the caving in." He looked pleased. I tried to speak back to him but could not utter a word. My voice was gone. It was some time after that I had warmed myself by a wood fire that my voice came slowly back. I had been

down the shaft over fourteen hours. In all this time I had not used my voice, any. It was chilly and very wet. Mr. PETERSON would not let the 11 o'clock shift change me so that is why I stayed down over two shifts.

The next morning when I came to work Mr. PETERSON came to me and told me to take charge of the timbering and the workers with increased pay. With the continued sinking good signs of ore were commencing to show.

Let me relate one incident that took place in this shaft. On this shift I worked alone. I had charged a hole with very high explosives, lighted the fuse and rang the bell; stepping quickly into the bucket I was hoisted up six feet. The bucket stopped. I could feel a slight jerking movement on the ropes. With every movement I expected to be hoisted away from the blast. I realized there must be something wrong with the machinery on top. I was always customary when a charge was lighted to hoist quickly when the bell rang. If possible there should