Watson's Magazine, Vol. IV, No. 2, April, 1906Various
History
Watson's Magazine, Vol. IV, No. 2, April, 1906
Various
United States -- Politics and government -- Periodicals
I passed on homeward. Every step seemed weighted with lead. I dragged
myself up the long hill and entered the house. I was shown the wash-room
and my particular washing-tub filled with steaming hot water. The room
was already filled with miners taking a bath. I stripped and found that
though I had been in the mine but a day my body was black with coal-dust.
The next half-hour I spent in trying to remove the grime, with but poor
success. The other miners finished their ablutions and departed. I was
shocked at the manner in which the most of them performed that important
duty. A dash of water on the head and neck, a wet towel over the body,
rubbing off the most evident particles, a brisk scrubbing of the head,
neck and ears, and they were ready for supper. I was so long at my bath
trying to accomplish the impossible that the landlady tapped on the
door and informed me that supper only waited my appearance. I overheard
one of the miners designate me as “that new dude” when I entered the
dining-room. To be cleanly, then, was considered among these sons of
toil as being a species of foppishness. (I soon learned to perform my
ablutions more scientifically, and remove a maximum amount of coal-dust
in a minimum length of time.) I was too tired to eat, too weary to sleep.
All night long I tossed about in that comfortless bed and sighed for the
coming of morning. It came at last and dawned upon another day of labor.
Today we drilled our first hole and placed the first shot. I had the
satisfaction of loading my first box of coal, affixing my leather tag to
it and starting it on its journey toward the weighing office, thereby
satisfying a small part of the Company’s claim against me for the
clothes I wore. My “buddy” had lost his child the night before, and this
afternoon the little one was to be buried in the graveyard on the hill
back of the town. He asked me, as though requesting a favor, whether he
might attend the funeral! Asked me, almost a stranger, whether he might
attend the funeral of his own child! Heavens, what a system! My heart was
so heavy that I could not work, but he seemed to take it all as a matter
of course. In fact I detected a cheerful note in his voice as he informed
me of the demise.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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