Harper's New Monthly Magazine, No. XI.—April, 1851—Vol. II.Various
General
Harper's New Monthly Magazine, No. XI.—April, 1851—Vol. II.
Various
American literature -- Periodicals; Civilization -- Periodicals; Culture -- Periodicals
My friend was dressed first. He had got a suit which fitted him
tolerably, and which, as far as appearances went, made a regular miner
of him at once. Far different was my case.
The same mysterious dispensation of fate, which always awards tall wives
to short men, decreed that a suit of the big miner's should be reserved
for me. He stood six feet two inches--I stand five feet six inches. I
put on his flannel shirt--it fell down to my toes, like a bed-gown; his
drawers--and they flowed in Turkish luxuriance over my feet. At his
trowsers I helplessly stopped short, lost in the voluminous recesses of
each leg. The big miner, like a good Samaritan as he was, came to my
assistance. He put the pocket-button through the waist button-hole, to
keep the trowsers up, in the first instance; then, he "hauled taut" the
braces (as sailors say), until my waistband was under my armpits; and
then he pronounced that I and my trowsers fitted each other in great
perfection. The cuffs of the jacket were next turned up to my
elbows--the white nightcap was dragged over my ears--the round hat was
jammed down over my eyes. When I add to all this, that I am so
near-sighted as to be obliged to wear spectacles, and that I finished my
toilet by putting my spectacles on (knowing that I should see little or
nothing without them), nobody, I think, will be astonished to hear that
my companion seized his sketch-book, and caricatured me on the spot; and
that the grave miner, polite as he was, shook with internal laughter, as
I took up my tallow-candles and reported myself ready for a descent into
the mine.
We left the counting-house, and ascended the face of the cliff. Then,
walked a short distance along the edge, descended a little again, and
stopped at a wooden platform built across a deep gully. Here, the miner
pulled up a trap-door, and disclosed a perpendicular ladder leading down
to a black hole, like the opening of a chimney. "This is the shaft; I
will go down first, to catch you, in case you tumble; follow me, and
hold tight!" Saying this, our friend squeezed himself through the
trap-door, and we went after him as we had been bidden.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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