Mr. Reynolds was generally pleased with meeting his men, and would readily enter into their whims, and turn such interviews to account. By such means he often obtained from them a knowledge of their wants, and received hints and suggestions that aided him in carrying out improvements in the works. The same disruption of social ties did not then exist as now; that mutual relation that beautified the olden time, and gave men and master an interest in each others welfare existed. A master, then, was more like the chief of a tribe, the father of a family; he had generally sprung from the ranks, he felt himself to be of the same flesh and blood, removed only a little by circumstances, and bound by a community of interest. Money-making had not then been reduced to a science, nor men to machines. With some degree of pride the men laid their stony treasures at the master’s feet. There were amongst them what the colliers call millers’ thumbs, horses’ hoofs, snails’ houses, “shining scales,” “crucked screws,” “things-like-leaves, and rotten wood.” “You should have heard,” said an old sage, “Mr. Reynolds give a description of them, and have seen the effect upon his audience. If I remember rightly, millers’ thumbs were orthoceratites, shells—as the name implies—like horns, but not pointed, and having several air-chambers. Horses’ hoofs, were portions of others, coiled, and spiral—that could float on the water, sink to the bottom, or rise to the surface, by a peculiar mechanical apparatus—like the forcing pump of a steam engine. The shining scales, were scales of fish coated with armour, hard as flint, and furnished with carvers to cut up the smaller fry on which they fed.” He showed that the nodules of ironstone contained exact impressions of leaves and fruits that grew beneath the golden beams of a tropical sun; that the bits called rotten wood were really wood, showing the beautiful anatomy of the tree, that it had been water-worn by being carried down the dancing stream into the soft and yielding mud in which it ultimately sank and was preserved. Coal, he explained, was nothing more than the vegetation of former periods, which accumulated where it grew, or was swept down by rains or streams into beds where it was hermetically sealed, fermented, and converted into mineral fuel for future use. “Lord, sir,” said our informant, “you should have seen how they all stared. Flukey F’lyd, one of the butties of Whimsey pit, said he little thought they were working in the gutters, or grubbing in the mud-banks of slimy lakes of a former world; he had seen stems of trees and trunks in the roof, but he thought they had got there at the Flood, and turned to stone. Gambler Baugh, of the Sulphur pit, said he thought the coal had been put there at the creation, and was intended to be used to burn up the world at the last day; and that he sometimes considered it a wrong thing to get it, believing they ought to use wood, and concluded