yet so paradoxical is the character of this invisible sprite, and the conduct of men in anything respecting it, that we find such is not in reality always the case. For with the niggardly miser, the phantom Nobody is a particular favourite, and is always a welcome guest at his frugal board; and though he is seldom hospitable, or liberal, to any other body, yet he is ever kind, generous, and benevolent to Nobody.

In the commercial world it also seems to be treated with due respect, and is evidently looked upon as a wise and discreet being; for when a respectable house suddenly fails, the general cry is that Nobody suspected it, and that Nobody is likely to receive much benefit from the occurrence. This phantom must certainly in many cases also be looked upon as exceedingly honourable and upright in principle; for there have been instances, amidst the most ruinous panics, when such a thing as confidence otherwise scarcely existed, that thousands have had confidence in this mysterious phantom. And should times still grow worse and worse, till they appear almost to threaten national bankruptcy, nay, even should that occur, should every person break their faith, the bulk of the community still would, at the worst ebb of commercial affairs, have firm confidence in Nobody.

Yet notwithstanding its mysterious influence, and although it is sometimes treated with respect, nevertheless as a general rule, it seems not only proper, but also profitable, for man to censure, and be particularly severe upon Nobody. Singular as it may appear, it is always better to be on unfriendly terms with this phantom, than on terms of too great intimacy; for amidst the crosses, losses, and bereavements of life, if Nobody visit or condole with us, we are doubly miserable; and amidst the riches, enjoyments, and pleasures of life, if Nobody look aside at us, or associate with us, why riches are valueless, and our pleasures and enjoyments are speedily embittered, and turned to misery. In fact, when Nobody gambols with the child, it becomes dull, stupid, and unhappy—when Nobody associates, walks, or talks with youth, a gloom and discontent soon gather around it—when, at the appointed hour, Nobody appears at the garden gate, the waiting maiden is dejected, and dolefully sings "Nobody coming to marry me, Nobody coming to woo"-when Nobody kicks up a broil, and becomes litigious, the attorney looks blue-the barrister, if Nobody bring him a brief-the surgeon, if Nobody appear as a patient-the merchant, if Nobody become a purchaser of his merchandise, and all who have numerous debts owing to them, are exceedingly disappointed if Nobody offer to pay. The most noble and exalted personage in our land, who may profess to care for and respect the phantom, would be exceedingly chagrined if Nobody should profess to respect or care for them; nay, even all charitable and benevolent societies, formed for the relief of the poor, the benefit of the country, or the general good of mankind, would speedily be overturned if Nobody came forward to their support.

It is thus plainly seen, that although invisible and impalpable, yet the phantom Nobody has great influence among all classes of mankind; nay, so wonderful and magical is its power, so subtle and mysterious its proceedings, so baleful is its influence, that I candidly beleive if Nobody sent articles to this periodical, or if Nobody read it, its present extensive circulation would decrease, its prosperity be clouded, and even "The Odd Fellows' Magazine," with all its popularity, would fade, wither, decline, and speedily die a premature death.

Then, as this Nobody is such a mysterious, paradoxical phantom, as its presence does not seem at all times desirable, and as courting its smiles is not the best way to banish it from our homes, it is after all probably the best way, when we, like schoolboys and household servants, get into scrapes and awkward dilemmas, when our bosoms heave with anger, and our consciences are overburdened with a sense of our own follies, not to tamper with the mysterious phantom, but courageously lay the blame at once where it ought to be, and "cast reflections on Nobody."

Loyal Bolton Lodge, Leyburn.

ELEGIAC VERSES.

Now mingle earth with earth,
Let dust to dust be given;
Sweet spirit 'tis thy second birth,
Thy home is now in heaven.
Thou art not where we see
Thy relics coldly laid,

With worms thou dost not company
Within the grave's dark shade.

In the sweet fields of air

In realms of sunny space,

Thou find'st thy blissful dwelling there,
And show'st thy seraph face;
Light on thy brow descends
From the Great Spirit's throne,
The blessed angels are thy friends,
And claim thee for their own.

Fair as thou wert on earth,
Thou art still fairer now;
Bright garlands of immortal worth
Adorn thy lovely brow.

And O, that we could see

The bloom thy cheeks now wear,

And walk yon happy worlds with thee,
And all thy glory share!

We try to check our tears
When thinking what thou art,
We try to chase away our fears,
And calm our troubled heart ;-
We lift our wistful eyes
To yon bright realms of air;

We try to pierce the silent skies,

And fancy thou art there.

But when we think of all

Thy beauty and thy worth-

The charms that did our hearts enthrall, And made a heaven of earth;

And when we think how kind

And good thou wert-how pure,
No language can our sorrow find-
No measure and no cure.

We know thou art not here
In this sepulchral gloom,-
We know that thou dost not appear
Array'd in deathless bloom;
But still 'twas in this guise

On earth that thou wert clad;
In this thou didst enchant our eyes,
And make our bosoms glad.

And so with tearful care

To thy dear grave we go,

there,

And think, with pensive sorrow,
On him who sleeps below.
And though we feel that thou
Abid'st not in that gloom,
Our souls are with thy relics now-
Our hearts are in thy tomb!

Perchance, when troubled years
Have o'er us sadly sped,

And we shall quit this

Vale of tears,"

And mingle with the dead,

Our souls to thine shall soar,

And wing their wondrous way

To worlds where we shall weep no more,
And dwell in cloudless ray!

But now o'er joys we weep
That shall no more return,-
A midnight watch with grief we keep,
And o'er thy image mourn;

With thee sweet hopes have flown-
From gay delights we sever;

We only feel that thou art gone

From us and earth for ever!

Siroud, August 30th, 1843.

A VISIT TO A COAL PIT.

Ir is scarcely possible, for one residing in Newcastle-upon-Tyne, not to take an interest in the operations of that immense coal district, of which it is the metropolis and the centre. I had therefore felt a strong desire for some time to visit one of those vast mines, for which that country is so famed. I had mentioned my intention to the librarian of the Mechanics' Institute, of which I am a member, and through his connections, an opportunity was soon afforded for myself and three of my friends to visit a mine. It was in the month of February, when, after spending a happy evening at the apartments of one of our party, we set out from Newcastle at one o'clock in the morning, attired in the worst clothes our wardrobe afforded. It was a clear frosty morning, and as the distance was not more than two miles and a half, we arrived long before the hour. Our guide was still slumbering in the arms of Morpheus, but we did not suffer him to continue his enjoyment long after our arrival. Whilst he was preparing himself we strolled through the village; no one was abroad at that hour, and everything lay in tranquil silence, whilst the calm clear moonlight assisted to lend repose and beauty to the scene.

Our guide at length emerged from his habitation, clad in the costume of his profession, and a strange sight did he present to our eyes in his array of dingy flannels, ill-fitted as they seemed to that inclement atmosphere. His dress consisted of a pair of strong shoes, with footless stockings, and drawers open at the knees, a sleeveless shirt, and a flannel jacket over it, his neck was bare, and on his head was a hat which seemed to owe its origin to the last century; if you add to this the never failing accompaniment of a short pipe, you have his dress complete. He carried in a side pocket a tin box, containing his shots and straws, in one hand he held an iron drill about three feet long, with some candles, forty-eight to the pound, and over his shoulder he carried his pick, his "Davy," as the pitmen term the safety lamp, of which the invention is well known, was slung to him. There he stood before us fully equipped; and as we viewed his light and active figure, we could not help personifying the words of the old song,

"Thou naws i' my hoggers and drawers,

I'se nane o' your scratters nor clawers

Frae the trap door bit laddie. to the spletter his daddie,
Nane handles the pick like Bob Crankie."

We now proceeded to the house of his "marrow," for your pitmen are social animals, and always work in pairs; he soon made his appearance, a perfect fac simile of our companion. We then proceeded to the pit, which was situated about half-a-mile from the village; and although we kept up our appearance of cheerfulness, yet there were strange misgivings haunting our minds at the thought of going down into that awful hole. We soon arrived at the spot, the "pit heap" illuminating all around us, and

giving an idea of grandeur to the scene. This heap is formed of the refuse and rubbish of the coal, which igniting by spontaneous combustion, continues on fire for years, in fact as long as the pit is at work, and soon accumulates into an immense mass.

These numerous fires give a splendid appearance to the counties of Northumberland and Durham, and especially to the eye of him who may for the first time travel through them in the night. The cotton factories of Lancashire illuminate the darkness by their brilliant appearance, but their systematic regularity, if we may use the term, at once accounts for them; whilst the wild glare of the pit fire sets conjecture at defiance, and offers no solution to the eye of the stranger. So numerous also are they, that the country seems literally studded with them; there are places, Tanfield to wit, where you may count a score of them without shifting from your position. You might imagine yourself in the realms of the Cyclops, or if imbued with border lore, of which every spot in this country is rife in recollections, you might convert them into the bale fires blazing around you, and calling upon the warlike inhabitants to resist some aggression of their restless neighbours beyont the Tweed.

When we arrived at the "shaft," as the mouth or entrance of the pit is termed, and looked downwards, there seemed but little inducement for us to follow our guide. Imagine that yawning gulph upwards of three hundred and seventy fathoms deep, with a smoke constantly issuing from it, a thick rope, of which the continuation was lost in the darkness, and the end of another with a large chain attached, which hung over that fearful abyss, ready to receive us. The large fire which was blazing at the pit mouth only served to render more distinct the rude cabin erected for the accommodation of the men, and the dark and sombre buildings, which contained the immense machinery necessary to raise the coal and to pump off the water. The few beings who were flitting around, contrasting more strongly in their dingy dress with the wild glare of the bright fire, might seem to an excited fancy to be attendant demons ready to usher us to a passage to another lower world. The whole arrangement seemed so uninviting, that I certainly felt very much disposed to make my exit, only that it was now rather too late to retreat. A piece of stick, about a foot long, was presented to us, for the purpose of keeping us from coming in contact with the sides of the shaft in descending, and also to use as a walking-stick when we got to the bottom, if ever that consummation should arrive. The moment at last arrived, and as four were the number to descend at one time, it was arranged that one of my friends, our guide, an "overman," and myself, should go first. It was well I was one of the first batch, for I believe I should not have waited for the second turn. The word was given,—all ready; the hook at one end of the chain was secured to one of the links, so as to form a loop, through which our guide put one leg, and clasped the chain with his arm; he desired my friend to do the same; two persons thus sitting in one loop ;—and in a moment they hung suspended over that "deep profound." They were then gently lowered a few feet down, when another loop was formed, and the overman and myself followed the example of those who had preceded us: we were then gently lowered down into the midst of that smoke and darkness. We found the sensation really pleasing, although we now and then came in contact with the sides of the shaft, when our sticks proved of great service to us. As we descended we found the warmth sensibly increase, until at last I imagined that we should be landed in the midst of a fire. However, I had short time for reflection, as I soon heard the clank of the chain below, and in another moment I found rest for my feet again. As soon as I got myself disentangled from the chain, I cast a look around me, and by the light of a lamp I perceived my friend in the act of rising from the ground, as not being prepared for the sudden termination of the descent, he lost his equilibrium, and was comfortably landed upon his back. Having been warned myself, I escaped the felicity of being stretched on the wet floor; however, we congratulated each other on our safe descent, and in a few moments the rope by which we came down took an upward direction, and was soon lost to our view. We had now to await the arrival of our friends, who soon joined us, accompanied by two men belonging to the pit.

The place where we stood was a cavern, about thirty feet by fifteen, and perhaps seven feet high. All was silent, save the water dropping from a spout into a stone trough, and the solitary lamp was insufficient to light that gloomy hole. Two men soon made their appearance, each bearing a candle, and who seemed not a little surprised at beholding us, as we certainly seemed out of character with all around us. One of them proved to be the boucheeper, and the other the man who attended the furnace; upon

learning our motives, they were exceedingly civil, and desired us to accompany them to their respective departments. We first went with the horsekeeper to view the stables. There were fifteen horses enjoying their provender, and everything seemed as comfortable as in the best appointed stables above ground; and we could scarcely imagine that we were so far below the surface of the earth. The stable, as well as the cavern, were hewn out of the solid rock, for the seam of coal was not here more than four feet thick. We then accompanied the man to the furnace, and on our road to it, we were shown into a small room, where the lamps were cleaned and filled with oil; here were arranged a hundred or more ready for use, and all in the most complete and exact order. Thence we proceeded to the furnace, by a very awkward passage, through which we had to creep on all fours. On emerging from it we came upon a large fire, placed at the bottom of the shaft, and this fully accounted for the smoke and heat which we encountered in our descent.

Although to a stranger this immense fire may seem unnecessary, it is in reality one of the most powerful adjuncts to the successful working of the mines; as without a thorough ventilation it would be almost impossible to exist in them. There are two shafts for the purpose; the fresh air from above descends by one, and by a series of admirable arrangements it is often made to travel through miles of workings before it reaches the furnace. The air, when thus heated, becoines rarified, and consequently specifically lighter than the atmosphere, and ascends the shaft to which the furnace is attached; the air in the pit then rushes from all parts to supply the vacuum, and thus a constant supply of fresh air is kept up throughout the whole of the workings. After viewing the furnace we returned to the bottom of the main shaft, and were about to proceed with our guide to the place where he had to work; but the overman proposed that we should accompany him, as he had to examine the various parts of the mine to see that there was proper ventilation, &c., previous to the men commencing work, and therefore we should have an opportunity of seeing more of the pit. We agreed to do so, and followed him through a passage, about five feet wide, and varying from six to seven feet in height; a rail was laid down, and we could perceive the track of horses. We found it to extend nearly a mile in length; the sides consisted of coals, and wood props were placed in various parts to support the roof. The overman pointed out to us passages out of use, which were carefully built up to preserve the proper current of air. We passed through several doors which are placed to produce a proper degree of ventilation. The floor here was covered with a dry and almost impalpable dust, in many places several inches thick. We now arrived at the "crane," where the putters bring the coal on a tram, a low carriage on four wheels, which are here transferred to the "corves," as the large baskets are called, in which the coal is transported to the shaft, on a larger carriage termed a rolly, which is drawn by horses.

We had hitherto proceeded in an erect posture, but the nature of the passage now required that we should assume a different position, as the roof was not above three feet high; our sticks now came into requisition, but even with that aid we found it difficult to proceed. The overman, a man nearly six feet high, took the lead, with a lamp in his hand, and admonished us, "to spread our knees out, and keep our heads down;" the neglect of this advice often caused our craniums to come in awkward contact with the roof. We now began to perspire very profusely, and the frequent application of the handkerchief acting upon the particles of coal dust which had settled upon our faces, caused such an intolerable smarting, that we were glad to forego it, and endure the lesser evil in patience. There was nothing to interest us in this part of our journey— there was coal on each side, the rock above, and the intolerable dusty path below. We had travelled for some distance in this direction, when our guide stopped, and desired us to proceed onwards, and he would shortly meet us, as the path which he wished to take was subject to foul air, and therefore danger was always to be apprehended. He then left us, taking his "Davy" with him. There is nothing which has conduced so much to the preservation of those, who, to increase our comforts, are doomed to toil in the bowels of the earth, as the invention of the safety lamp-it is indeed the pitman's palladium; warned by this unerring guide, the first appearance of danger is made manifest to him, and thus he is enabled to secure a safe locality for his operations. Long may the name of Sir Humphrey Davy be held in its proper estimation, as one of the greatest benefactors of mankind,