The city of Pittsburg, Pennsylvania, is situated upon the point of land formed by the junction of the rivers Alleghany and Monongahela; the last-named flowing from east to west. Though navigable for the lighter craft, these rivers are spanned by bridges, many in number, and no less beautiful than numerous. In the midst of the city, albeit on the north bank of the Monongahela, stands one of those great caravanseras indigenous in these United States. Remarkable, too, is the fact that this hotel, casting aside more resonant titles, bears simply the name of the river which flows near its base.

A panorama most charming is that which may be looked upon--smoke permitting--from the southerly windows of this Monongahela House: charming, certainly, to every lover of human industry and progress. The river is ever alive with an indescribable variety of things floating; coal-barges, lumber-rafts, and steamboats holding, however, the positions of greatest prominence. Stretched along the opposite bank is the town or city of Manchester, made up, in very large part, certainly, of manufactories. Tall chimneys, and taller columns of the blackest smoke, are landmarks alike for glass-works, paint-mills, iron-foundries, and machine-shops. And just behind these there rises a dark-browed mountain--not higher, perhaps, than six or eight hundred feet, but formidable in appearance, because of nearness and abruptness.

Upon this same panorama, from one of these same southerly windows of the Monongahela, I was feasting my eyes, on a bright morning in the late "heated term." A bustling little angel flitted behind me, full of those little preparations which betoken early departure. At length her motion ceased, and, laying a hand upon my shoulder, she asked the use of the ladder-looking frame-work which could be seen, here and there, along the mountain-side. "See, first, those small, black objects moving up and down on the ladders," was my reply.

"They look like great black bugs--what are they?" queried she. And then came a brief description of the mountain of coal upon which we were looking, and how the coal was brought out in little cars, and lowered down these ladder-railways, for use in the two cities, and through all the neighboring country.

When the reader knows that my daughter--the "angel" aforesaid--delights in every desirable experience which conveys practical information, and that she puts her whole self into every pursuit which she undertakes, it will not seem surprising that I was instantly urged to appropriate the few remaining hours of our stay in Pittsburg to the purpose of an exploration in a coal-mine. To my assent, conditioned only that a suitable attire for such an expedition should be obtained, there succeeded an exclamation of pleasure, and an asseveration that she (well emphasized) would attend to the dress--I need give myself no trouble about that.

Five minutes had not elapsed before we were crossing the nearest bridge in search of the Pennsylvania Mine, which our landlord had named as best worth examination. In reply to a series of persistently impertinent questions, I learned that the suitable dress was to be borrowed "somewhere" (angels do not reveal all their plans), and that the sunshade, fan, and more dainty articles, which had been thoughtlessly brought thus far, were to be deposited for safe-keeping in the hands of the bridge-keeper on the Manchester side of the river.

A very few minutes' walk, after leaving the bridge, brought us to the foot of the "ladder," and I entered the adjoining office to make sure of the required permission for exploration--a permission upon obtaining which the search for a suitable dress was to depend.

Just here is opportunity to describe that which, from our hotel window, had seemed a ladder on the mountain-side. Two parallel tracks of railroad it is, built upon trestle-work; and on the tracks are diminutive coal-cars, each no longer than the boxes of such coal-carts as abound in the streets of New York. These trestle-work tracks extend from the base of the mountain far up its sloping side, at an angle of some fifty degrees, to a receiving-house near the mine entrance. Here, below, the loaded cars, as received, are pushed along a variety of side-tracks, and the coal is discharged from them into ordinary railroad cars, for conveyance to distant points inland; into boats whence adjacent river towns derive supply, or into wagons or carts, for immediate use in the city. All this is accomplished with a celerity and precision which, to the uninitiated, appears remarkable.

At the upper end of the "ladder"--in the receiving-house--a large drum-wheel is fixed. Around this may be seen three or four turns of wire rope. One end of this rope extends to the foot of the incline, and is there fastened by an attendant to an empty car. The other end, in the receiving-house, is similarly fastened to a car filled with coal, which has just been brought from the mine. The loaded car is now started upon its downward way on one of the rail-tracks just described, and its superior weight, operating through the medium of the rope and the drum-wheel, serves to draw up the empty car on the adjoining and parallel track. A suitable brake or check is at the same time applied to the drum-wheel, and by this means the speed of the two cars is regulated, and they are stopped entirely at the end of their respective journeys. Then, while the men below detach the loaded car and affix an empty one, those above perform a similar duty in reverse order, so that the entire operation is being almost constantly repeated.

My mission to the coal-office proved fruit-less--fruitless because the office was just then without an occupant. "Well, jump in, if you like," was the response of the man in charge at the foot of the incline to my explanations, and he pointed to an empty car just ready for the ascent. In the twinkling of an eye the car was occupied, the signal given, and we two seekers after knowledge were flying up the mountain's side--flying on the ladder we had seen from our window across the river--flying in a coal car.

"Isn't this fun?" queried the "angel."

We were grasping the forward edge of the car with both hands, and looking back over our shoulders upon the receding city and down from the growingly dizzy height. The descending loaded car had whizzed by with a most unearthly squeak, and we were being somewhat familiar with our surroundings. That I gave a strongly affirmative answer will excite no comment when I shall have described the questioner's appearance. In the abandon of the moment she had thrown herself upon the floor of the car, as though it were a nicely-cushioned coach, prepared expressly for the daintiest of earth's fairies. That her light-colored traveling-dress had not thereby been improved in beauty will be easily understood. I have already intimated that the day was warm. Perspiration oozed from every pore of those who rested quietly in the best attainable shade. More than simple perspiration was the inevitable result of so much exertion and excitement as had fallen to our lot. The necessity for securely holding to the car prevented the abstraction of a handkerchief from the pocket; and my companion had but found opportunity to remove the beaded drops from her glowing face by hasty hand-rubs. Imagine, then, the transfer of coal-dust from car-front to face-front, and wonder no more at my quick response,

"Yes, indeed, it is fun!"

How I looked after that jerk up the mountain-side I can not affirm; but I should have been slow to recognize my daughter in the soiled face and soiled dress which appeared with our car at the receiving-house had I not thus previously witnessed the transformation.

Other empty cars which preceded ours had been formed in a miniature train, and ours was speedily made fast last in line. The "locomotive" was a good-sized mule. Without whistle or bell he started, and dragged, as best he might, a train of so many times greater weight than his own body that I marveled whether the much-vaunted superiority of steam-power were indeed a reality. At the distance of but a few rods we entered a mine--or rather that which had been one--and many seconds had not elapsed before darkness closed around. Yet was the darkness of no great duration. We traversed less than half a mile before emerging again into daylight.

We had passed through an old mine--long since worked out--and now, from the back side of the mountain, must travel on, two or three miles, to the new one. Presently, a jolly little "real" locomotive took us in charge, and we were whirled along in more approved style. Rocks and trees flew by at such a rate, and the little rattle-boxes of cars seemed so incessantly bent upon jumping from the track, that some minutes elapsed before we became accustomed to the noisy excitement. And now came a new sensation. A gossamer bridge spanned the deep valley--chasm rather--between the mountain-side where we were and the adjoining mountain into the bowels of which we were soon to enter. Nor had we more than discovered the bridge before we were upon it. The timbers seemed but spider-webs, and the depths below were dizzily distant, if not unfathomable. Only the conviction that heavy-loaded trains had safely passed before us, times without number, imparted any feeling of security.

At no great distance from the bridge we came to an extensive screening apparatus, and learned that our cars were not immediately destined for the working mine. That mine-level proved to be some five-and-twenty feet higher than the track on which we were, and the difference of elevation was made available in screening the dust and assorting the coal.

This screening apparatus is both simple and efficient. The loaded cars, as they come from the mine on the upper level to which I have alluded, pass into a rude building which partially overhangs the track upon which we had come. Here, by the temporary removal of an end piece, the coal is made to fall upon a large and large-meshed screen, fixed beneath the floor at an angle of some fifty degrees. At the lower end of this screen is a slide or open trough, of lesser inclination, which terminates immediately over a branch of the railroad track on the lower level. Below the first screen is fixed a second one, finer meshed, and from this another slide leads over another branch of railroad track. Yet other screens of gradually diminishing mesh, and each provided with a slide which terminates over a branch track, distinct from the others, are placed below those already spoken of. An empty car being first placed below the end of each slide or trough, it follows that while the large lumps of coal, which do not fall through the meshes of the screen first named, are carried down the slide into the first car, those next in size, and which are rejected on the second screen, are, in the same way, carried into the second car. The same system of assorting and screening is continued to the extent needed, and until the almost valueless dust, which passes the lowest screen in the series, drops unheeded upon the earth for a final rest.

While on the upper level the emptied cars give place to full ones, it is the full which give place to empty cars on the level below. Duplicate sets of screens are also in use, though all are not constantly required. The quantity of coal which can, by these means, and with small labor, be unloaded from the miners' cars, assorted in needful sizes, screened from dust, and loaded for transportation to market, is almost beyond computation.

We had but time for a comprehensive glance at these arrangements when a train for the working mine was announced. At its head we found another locomotive of the "mule persuasion." The exuberant spirits of the angel gained at once the kindly attention of the "gentlemanly conductor;" for, certainly, the appearance of a face so strongly suggestive of that old-time play, "A Kiss in the Dark," could not have contributed to the conquest.

As we rattled into the mine entrance, near at hand, our conductor secured, from a crevice in the rock, his miner's lamp. A miniature tin coffee-pot it was; with the handle made into a hook, and the spout serving for a wick-tube. He wore a close-fitting cap of wool, and into this, upon his forehead, the lamp was hooked--after being first lighted. The old mine, through which we first passed, had furnished a somewhat enjoyable means of passage, because worked into a goodly-sized tunnel for the accommodation, when required, of the little locomotive. While there we could stand erect and quite at ease, but here we found ourselves in quarters which might be considered as uncomfortably close. Scarcely might we now peer above the car's low sides lest, in the deep darkness, our heads should come in contact with unseen points of projecting rock. Yet, for himself, our conductor-friend assumed a larger liberty. Recognizing, from landmarks wholly undistinguishable to our unaccustomed eyes, the varying portions of the way through which we passed, he rose to his feet from time to time, and, after standing for a while, would prostrate himself, wholly or partially, as might be needful. To him it was an unquestioned habit, and certainly never seemed to interfere with the whistling or humming in which he constantly indulged.

Without apparent cause our little train was often brought to a stand-still. These occasions were preceded by the conductor jumping from his station on the foremost car into some recess in the rock, and there waiting while the train passed by. Then, with still unbroken whistle or hum, he would detach the last car, and push it, on some unseen side-switch, into darkness. Thus on and still on we went, our train shortening, and the distance from daylight lengthening, until we had traversed a space of some two miles. At last there remained but a single pair of cars, and we were occupants of the last of these. We had been informed that our car was destined for one of the finest chambers in the mine, and were quite willing to follow its fortunes.

"Hal-loo-o, Jim! I've brought you company!"

The shout was accompanied by a vigorous push, and for a few seconds we rolled on in a darkness which might indeed be felt. The hail had not been answered! The conductor and his light had disappeared! There are those whose hearts would throb faster under such circumstances. We were without light, and far, far under the ground, as also miles from any outlet. With lights, even, it were doubtful if we could have found our way from among the many side-cuts, and effect escape unaided. Such was the tenor of my thought, when I heard the query, out of the merriest of merry laughs,

"Isn't it fun?"

The sacrifice to Momus which followed this exclamation proved most conclusively that my vein of thought had been but surface deep. Jim heard the laugh, and his light twinkled a reply. The introduction could not have been improved. So much of hearty glee had perhaps never been heard in those deep recesses. As our car rolled slowly to its journey's very end Jim stopped work to greet his "company."

The greeting was a kindly one. Large lumps of glistening coal were arranged for seats, and we were made quite at home. Then followed such an avalanche of questions as must have silenced a less hospitable host than ours. But Jim good-naturedly told how many hours of the twenty-four were devoted to his work; how many bushels of coal was the product; how much he was paid, and how much he had been paid per bushel; how the work was done, and what were the habits and customs of the miners; entering the while into much of the minutiae which it were tiresome to repeat. Jim spent from thirteen to sixteen hours of every day in such a dark hole (chamber, indeed!) as that in which we found him. Few and rare were his visitors--never half a dozen in the whole year's round was he thus interrupted. Save the man who, once in three or four hours, brought an empty car and removed the loaded one, he almost never saw a human being. A hundred bushels of coal, at four cents per bushel, was a fair day's work for Jim; and on some twenty dollars per week, thus earned, he supported a large family, no one of whom had ever seen so much of his daily life and labor as we his guests. They lived in the light of day; he labored in the darkness of a constant night. Yet from his words and tone I gathered that they all enjoyed a full average of human happiness.

The coal is usually found in horizontal seams or strata, of from one to two feet thickness, imbedded in a slate formation which may be cut away almost as easily as the coal itself. To secure the coal in the largest pieces possible is one of the miner's objects, because upon this depends, in no small degree, the amount of pay received. The instrument with which he works is a diminutive pick-axe, weighing only some two or three pounds, and provided with a handle not more than twelve or fifteen inches long. With this, and lying on his side upon the chamber floor, he chips out, by oft-repeated and gentle blows, from immediately beneath the vein of pure coal, a narrow space. This he does with the greatest care, as well to prevent a premature falling of the coal from above the space as to attain a considerable depth, so that the coal may come away in the coveted large pieces. When he has been successful this channel-space, some three inches in width, has been picked to a depth of, say, fifteen or eighteen inches, and to a length of six or eight feet. And now a few slight and properly directed blows near the upper edge of the coal-vein bring down the mass. His two hours of gentle pick-picking has loosened a whole car-load--perhaps more--of the glistening coal. But he rests only to throw the lumps into the car, which stands conveniently near, and, leaving the finer coal to accumulate for another occasion, resumes again the pick. Occasionally, however, it becomes necessary to remove and throw aside large quantities of refuse coal and rock, which would otherwise obstruct the legitimate work of mining. For this purpose heavier tools and vigorous blows are needed. Sometimes, indeed, more than a single pair of hands are necessary to attain some special object, and then the miners prove good and willing neighbors to each other.

As the miner's chamber grows in size--the vein of coal still promising a good yield--it becomes necessary to provide some artificial support for its roof or ceiling. This, which is the Company's work, is effected by posts of rough wood, from three to seven or eight inches in diameter, cut to the proper length, and driven tightly into place by honest sledge-blows. In height these chambers do not vary much from four feet, and they rarely exceed twenty in width. When the coal-vein extends to a greater width a thick wall of partition is left standing, and an adjoining chamber is worked. In length the miner's chamber knows no limit. As it grows on and on, by force of those little blows and the removal of precious coal, the rude track of the little railroad is extended, and the car is thus ever kept within easy reach. The appearance of a wide and long miner's chamber, with its hundreds of timber columns, and the miner's light twinkling behind and among them, if not intensely attractive, is never devoid of interest.

In such a dreamy underground space as this we chatted on; now of things about us in the dark earth, and now of things out in the bright sunlight beyond. Our conductor had joined the little circle and taken part in the running conversation. Both seemed as much interested in the sound of our voices as we had been in searching out the mysteries of their subterranean life.

At last there came a halt. The conductor had overstaid his time, and I was not unmindful of the distance to our trunks, nor of the time required to prepare for the journey yet before us. Yet could not my daughter say her adieux to the miner and his mine until, with her own hands, the pick had been used and sundry fragments of coal and specimens of the adjacent slate and rock gathered as souvenirs.

And then arose the important question how we should leave the mine. The returning cars were coal-filled! Could we walk? Not impossible, but certainly not comfortable. Jim, who had been awakened to new life in our long conversation, suggested that, as his neighbor-miner Tom did not come in that morning, we might have the use of an empty car from his chamber. And, as conductor Harry (we had learned his name from the miner) was nothing loth to serve his lady friend, the car was speedily produced and more speedily occupied. In a mood for merriment no whit reduced we were outward-bound.

The loaded cars clattered gayly, and our conductor maintained his ceaseless whistle. Increasing speed and frequent "chocking" of the wheels indicated a down grade which I had not noticed when we entered the mine. From time to time other loaded cars appeared on side-switches, and were tackled on behind. And so, in good time, daylight gleamed upon us. We bade "our Harry" good-by, and ran down the bank to join the train of loaded cars which we saw in waiting.

The locomotive screamed its parting cry; there was no time to procure another empty car, had that been otherwise possible. We could wait another train only at the risk of inflicting disappointment upon expectant friends by postponement of our day's travel eastward.

"Wouldn't it be fun just to hang on between these loaded cars?" asked the angel.

"Dare you attempt it?" was my instant reply; and surely I magnified none of the apparent dangers of the undertaking in putting the question, for I was willing rather to meet a risk than fail in an appointment.

A moment more and that coal-train moved off--moved with two passengers "hanging on." Fool-hardy it may have seemed; but, fool-hardy or not, our present safety depended mostly upon strength of gripe and steadiness of foot long continued. And to that we applied ourselves. Narrow projecting ledges there were--the floor ends of the cars--and on these our feet rested, while two pairs of hands grasped the upper edges of the car-boxes, regardless of bruise or scratch which might be inflicted by the shaken coal within. After our long sojourn in the cool recesses of the mine the outer air seemed suffocatingly oppressive, and this, with the excitement and exertion of the moment, set free anew the tide of perspiration.

Away we flew! We could see all of that gossamer bridge now--see every thing below, above, around. Well that our nerves were strong and under full control! When the moments needed to develop confidence in present safety had elapsed our two pairs of eyes met. What there may have been in my appearance to provoke a fresh burst of merriment I know not; but I could not look unmoved upon the face and figure of the angel. The sight of those beaded drops coursing down the once fair cheeks, cutting furrows of partial cleanliness through the sooty streaks which marked previous experiences--of those wildly flying curls of auburn under that crumpled hat, and of the scullery-looking traveling dress, was more than my thinly-veiled sobriety could bear against. My half-restrained laugh proved contagious, and presently two voices joined in a chorus that startled the engineer, and, when he looked our way, visibly affected his features.

Without other incident, and, happily, without accident, we again entered the receiving-house. Thence down the mountain by the winding road and across the bridge we sped our way on foot, and reached our hotel without exciting more attention than might have been the portion of any lady chimney-sweep and her crocky-looking escort, in a city whose ever-present smoke renders such sights neither uncommon nor infrequent.

"An Angel in a Coal-Mine" by M.S. Beach originally appeared in Harper's Weekly, October 1868.

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