Page:Scenes in my Native Land.pdf/224

220 came upon them as suddenly as the shower of flaming cinders that enveloped Pompeii. At nine in the evening, while many of the villagers were in the act of retiring to rest, a whirlwind passed over them, and in the short space of two minutes, laid the greater number of their dwellings in ruins. A church, and a bridge of solid timber, were rent in fragments, and dispersed as swiftly, as those of slighter material and foundation. The storm fortunately moved in a narrow vein, but whatever stood in its pathway, was displaced, or destroyed. Yet amid all this unexpected desolation, the uprooting of trees, and the atmosphere filled with flying missiles, the Hand of mercy so protected the inhabitants, that no lives were lost.

At Carbondale is a specimen of the celebrated and inexhaustible coal-mines of Pennsylvania. A shaft of two thousand feet in extent, carried into the side of a mountain, we explored, riding on the car of the miners, and lighted only by the flickering lamps, which they bore in their hands. The walls of anthracite rose on either side, and o'er-canopied our heads, like an arch of polished ebony, while occasionally the sound of trickling waters oozing out amid utter darkness, reminded us of the regions of Erebus. Hundreds of tons daily, are the product of these mines, which are borne by the power of steam up a steep hill of six hundred feet, for the purposes of transportation. A community of miners from Ireland and Wales, exist here in distinct settlements, each preserving their national habits and