In the mean time Weiss, Cist, and Hillegas pushed their coal enterprise on the Mauch Chunk mountain, opening what was afterward known as the Great Summit Mine, and in 1803 started six ark-loads of coal down the Lehigh River, to be floated to its junction with the Delaware, and thence to Philadelphia. Only two of the arks reached their destination, the others having met with disaster on the way, owing to swift currents and unskillful navigation. Of the two cargoes that arrived safely at Philadelphia not a lump could be sold. The owners made strenuous efforts to find a market for it, but people did not wish to purchase a fuel that they could not make burn. At last the city authorities were appealed to, and, after some hesitation, they agreed to take the coal and try to make use of it for a steam-engine employed at the city waterworks. This they did; but all their attempts to make the alleged fuel burn proved unavailing. They finally gave up the task in disgust, declared the coal to be a nuisance, and caused what remained of it to be broken up and spread on the footpaths of the public grounds, in place of gravel. This was indeed a most ignominious failure. It caused a sudden cessation of mining operations at Summit Hill, and for several years the Lehigh Mine Company, utterly discouraged, made no effort to retrieve its fallen fortunes. William Turnbull attempted to revive the project a few years later, but his effort also met with a dismal failure. In 1813 Charles Miner, Jacob Cist, and John W. Robinson, all of Wilkes Barre, renewed the enterprise at Summit Hill with great energy, and on the 9th of August, 1814, started their first ark-load of coal down the river to Philadelphia. Before it had gone eighty rods from the place of starting it struck a ledge which tore a hole in the bow of the boat, “and,” Mr. Miner says, “the lads stripped themselves nearly naked to stop the rush of water with their clothes.” After many and varied adventures on the swift currents of the rivers the ark reached its destination on the following Sunday morning at eight o’clock, having been five days on the way. Its arrival had been anticipated by its owners, and they had called public attention to its cargo by means of handbills printed in both English and German, and distributed freely throughout the city. These handbills, besides advertising the coal, gave information as to the method of burning it in grates, stoves, and smith’s forges. They were also accompanied by printed certificates from blacksmiths and others attesting the value and availability of the Lehigh coal as a fuel. The owners of the ark went still farther. They put up stoves in conspicuous public places in the city, built coal fires in them, and invited the people to stop and inspect them. They went to private houses and prevailed on the inmates to be allowed to kindle anthracite fires in the grates which had been built for the use of Liverpool coals. They attended at blacksmith’s shops, and even