by this new translation of the boy's own narrative. Some buried their heads behind their desks; some cried; some looked askant at each other, and many hastened down to the desk of the teacher, with apologies, regrets, and acknowledgments without end. All were freely pardoned, but were cautioned that they should be more civil for the future, to inoffensive travelers, and more respectful to the aged and infirm. Years have passed by the lads are men, though some have found an early grave-the "manly boy" is "in the deep bosom of the ocean buried." They who survive, should this story meet their eye, will easily recall its scenes, and throw their memories back to the "Schoolhouse in Federalstreet," and to their old friend and well wisher, the teacher. LESSON CIX. A Mining Scene near Valparaiso. BLACKWOOD'S MAG. "He that will lose his life shall save it." THE mine, which our friends were destined to aid in working, was about ten days' journey from the coast. At some remote period of time, it had been worked with great success by the Indians; but till its recent re-discovery by a singular accident, when it passed into the hands of a wealthy English company, it had remained unknown; the secret of its locality having died with the Indian chief, whose hatred of the rapacious Spaniards had caused him to fill up the shaft, and hide all traces by which it could be found. There was a continual ascent. For a few days they passed through comparatively peopled lands, and usually stopped at some village or hamlet by the river's side, where provisions or refreshments could be obtained for themselves or their mules, without trenching on their stores. Indeed, the abundant wild fruits, and rich and luxuriant grasses, would have stood them in good stead, with but little other assistance. But the last three days of their journey was through savage and sterile hills, by rocky gorges cut in the hard soil by streams now nearly dry; and the unbeaten track told them that travelers but rarely intruded on this lonely district. At length they reached their journey's end, and set stoutly to work to erect huts, and establish themselves for the coming winter. Numbers of Indians and half-castes soon joined them to assist in the simple labors of the mine, and supply the workmen with provisions and other necessaries of life. Twelve of the Cornish men were employed in this party. Their first labors were directed to sinking a shaft of considerable depth in the mountain's side, at the place which the discoverer pointed out. Some months elapsed before the miners arrived at any satisfactory indications of precious ores; but, confident in ultimate success, our friends had got the clerk to write for them to Polly to say "all 's well," and that she must not fail to come, as they were now housed, and ready to make her and the little ones comfortable, in that strange country. At the time of the expected arrival of the ship which was to bear her, the completion of the great shaft was close at hand, the appearance of the veins of ore was such as to create the most sanguine expectations, and a day was fixed for finishing off the shaft previous to commencing to raise the precious object of their labors. They worked till late on the evening of the appointed day, in boring and tamping for a large blast, which was to clear away the last ledge of rock lying between them and the vein of metal. When the charge was completed, William Wakeham and John Short were left below to fire it. The other workmen were raised upon a stage, by the windlass, in the usual manner; and, with most culpable carelessness, hastened off to the spirit-shop, which had already cursed the little settlement with its presence, to make merry for having arrived at this stage of their labors, leaving only a weakly boy of fourteen or fifteen years of age at the windlass. There was some delay in fixing the match; and ere all was ready, the short twilight of those sultry regions had darkened into night, and William's old friends, the stars, looked down on him again through the deep well, as they had often done of yore. Then he and John talked of the old times and the old country, and of Polly's coming soon, and how the little ones would have grown, and how, in a few years, they would all go back home again over that terrible sea, and lay their bones to rest at last under the Cornish soil. They had no business to linger so over their work; but having begun to talk over such things as these, it was hard to stop them. "Now we have done with this weary blast," said Wakeman, as he lighted the fuse, and stepped with his brother on to the stage. He then sounded the whistle, the usual signal for working the windlass to raise them. They rose very slowly unpleasantly so, indeed, for the fuse would burn but for five minutes. 66 Hurry on, wind faster," shouted William. Instead of that the stage stopped altogether, and a feeble childish voice from the top of the deep pit cried, "You are too heavy, I can only raise one at a time." "Get help quickly, or we 'll be blown up," shouted William, now seeing the imminent peril. For some twenty feet below in the dark hole he saw the match burning rapidly down, fizzing and flashing as if running a race with them for life. "Get help," again he shouted. But the feeble voice, now in a terrified tone, told them that all had gone away but that one weak boy. "But I think I can raise one." There was but a moment to spare --perhaps not even that. What passed through William Wakeham's mind, at that tremendous time, no tongue can ever tell.. He dearly loved life; his pulse beat in the full vigor of sturdy health; he had learned but little of that hope whose fulfilment "passeth all understanding; " he had never read how the Roman or the Greek sought death in a good cause, and gave their name to brighten history's page and gain what in our vain human talk is immortality. But that great Being whose power and love had spoken to him in the bright stars and pleasant fields, had planted in the rude miner's breast a good and gallant heart, and in that time of trial he did as brave a deed as ever poet sang. "Good-by, John." One grasp of his brother's hand, and he leaped from the stage down into the darksome pit. Now the windlass winds freely up: there is hope for the one left; but the match burns quickly too, and writhes and flashes close down to the charge. Lay on stoutly! lay on!strain every nerve, weak boy! on every pull is the chance of a human life! John Short reaches the mouth of the shaft in safety; but before he springs out on the ground he turns one look below. His brother lay motionless on the bottom, on one side of the rich vein of metal; at the other the terrible match blazed up just as it reached the charge. Senseless with terror, he fell on his face at the pit's mouth, and the next moment up burst the mine, shooting the rent rock and the heavy clay into the air above. you!' instead of When John Short recovered himself from his stupor, he looked, with hopeless agony, down into the gloomy hole, from whence the heavy sulphurous smoke of the powder still ascended; and as he wrung his hands he cried, -"O! poor Bill, dear boy, would that I had been there But stop-surely that is a voice — listen God of mercy! he is alive still! Up from the bowels of the earth comes that cheery, hearty voice, not a tone the worse. How my heart warms as I tell this tale! - Would that words came now at my desire, to stir up the spirit to love and admiration! Gallant William Wakeham - noble child of nature - chivalrous boor - hero unstained by slaughter! Were there in the sight of the Omnipotent aught of glory in any human action, surely your brave deed would shine before him in a brighter light than "the sun of Austerlitz" shed upon the bloody field where the power of an empire was trampled in the dust. Down went the stage. -up came Bill, blackened and bruised a little to be sure, but not to signify a jot: he had struck his head, in falling, against the side of the shaft, and was stunned by the blow. It so happened, by one of those wonderful contingencies which sometimes occur when, in human eyes, escape seems impossible, that he fell in a corner protected by the tough metallic vein which projected a little above the level of the bottom. The explosion bent this by its force, instead of shattering it like the surrounding rock, and turned the ledge over him. This, in a great measure, defended him from the stones, which fell back again into the mine. The shock aroused him from the stunning effect of the blow, which he had received in falling, and he shouted heartily, “All right, John! all right!" LESSON CX. A Rhyme for the Time.* — J. C. PRINCE. ON! ye have glorious duties to fulfil, Nor faint, nor fear upon the weary way, Marshal the millions for the moral fray; We languish to behold; exalt the age, And write your names in fire on Truth's unspotted page! With hopeful heart, and faith-uplifted brow, * From the London People's Journal. |