Treats of Difficulties to be Overcome.

One afternoon a council—we may appropriately say of war—was held in St. Just. The scene of the council was the shop of Maggot, the blacksmith, and the members of it were a number of miners, the president being the worthy¹ smith himself, who, with a sledge-hammer under his arm in the position of a short crutch², occupied the chair, if we may be allowed so to designate the raised hearth³ of the forge.

The war with poverty had not been very successfully waged of late, and, at the time of which we write, the enemy had apparently⁴ given the miners a severe check, in the way of putting what appeared to be an insuperable obstacle in their path.

“Now, lads,” said Maggot, with a slap on the leathern apron⁵ that covered his knees, “this is the way on it, an’ do ’ee be quiet and hould yer tongues while I do spaik.”

The other men, of whom there were nearly a dozen, nodded and said, “Go on, booy; thee’s knaw tin, sure;” by which expression they affirmed their belief that the blacksmith was a very knowing fellow.

“You do tell me that you’ve come so close to water that you’re ’fraid to go on? Is that so?”

“Iss, iss,” responded the others.

“Well, I’ll hole into the house, ef you do agree to give un a good pitch,” said Maggot.

“Agreed, one and all,” cried the miners.

In order that the reader may understand the drift of this conversation, it is necessary to explain that the indefatigable⁶ miner, David Trevarrow, whom we have already introduced in his submarine workshop, had, according to his plan, changed his ground, and transferred his labour to a more hopeful part of the mine.

For some time previous the men had been at work on a lode⁷ which was very

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