is past recovery," he said,
and went on to attend to others. Little Mark sat by his dead brother's
side, gazing at him with awe. No one disturbed him. Mrs Gilbart
waited on, hope not yet abandoned. More men came up, some fearfully
injured. They reported that the rest were in the workings far away--
already the mine was on fire, the heat and smoke unbearable--that it was
a miracle any had escaped, that all but themselves must have perished.
Heartrending were the wailings and shrieks and moanings which arose at
this announcement, confirmed by the viewer and overmen. Still many
lingered on in the hopes that the corve might be again sent down, but
the viewer forbade any to descend, as it must prove their destruction.
At length some men came to carry young Gilbart's corpse to his mother's
cottage. She and Mark followed with tottering steps. The sad truth had
forced itself on her that she was a widow--the two bread-winners of her
household gone. Still it was some poor consolation to have recovered
the body of her son. Many had not that--they were destined never again
to see those they loved. More explosions took place, and the report was
spread that the whole mine was destroyed. This was, however, not the
case. Science enabled the manager to triumph over the fiery element
raging below. By completely closing the mouths of the shafts, the
atmospheric air was excluded, and the flames extinguished. After nearly
three months' labour, the mine was explored, and the bodies of the dead,
scorched and dried to mummies, were recovered. None could be
recognised, and they were buried in a common grave. Mrs Gilbart knew
that her husband was among them. The pit was again opened. Fresh
labourers arrived from other parts, and once more those dark galleries
became the scene of active industry. The cottages were required by the
fresh comers, and Mrs Gilbart, with her son and her little girl Mary, a
year younger than Mark, would have been compelled to go forth houseless
and penniless into the cold world, had not an uncle of her late husband,
a hewer at a pit a few miles away, offered to receive her and her
children into his house. She thankfully went, hoping to maintain
herself and others by her needle.

Simon Hayes had been a miner from his boyhood. Though there were some
soft places in his heart, he was rough and untutored, and he had many of
the faults common among men of his class. He had a wife much like
himself in se