descended, and on which they stood to work; but the foreman disdained all such implements of precaution, and the three went down a hundred yards deep, and with, perhaps, another hundred yards below them,to stand and work with no more security against falling than though they were mounted on a table-top.

But this was not the full extent of the man Hotchkiss's wicked folly. Having, by means of lowering a candle, discovered the exact height to which the deadly damp had risen in the long disused pit, with a daring that even in a miner is scarcely credible, Hotchkiss deliberately, and with expressed intent, had the skip lowered until it was in such a position that the men could work with their bodies in the choke-damp and their heads out of it. Nor did his two companions see anything in the act sufficiently mad or outrageous to urge them to declare against it. Working thus up to their very necks in the jaws of death, the men continued for a few minutes, and then, in the witnesses' own words, "the damp popped up," and father and son slipped away into the abyss almost before the third man missed them, and in a few seconds lay crushed and dead at the pit's bottom. And now comes the climax of this instructive episode in the life of a miner. The man remaining on the skip threw himself down and across it, and halloed to the banksman to "hold; " but instead the latter allowed the skip to be lowered to the bottom of the shaft, and so, of course, further imperilled the poor fellow's life. The banksman explained to the coroner that directly after the word "hold" reached his ears he heard the men "drop" from the skip, and thought that all of them had fallen off, and that he gave the engine-man the signal to hurry the skip to the bottom, hoping that if any of them were alive they would "crawl on it."

But certain evidence the banksman further volunteered provokes the suspicion that possibly he had misunderstood the cry that came up the shaft. He had been at his post thirty-six hours unceasingly; nor did he speak of it as a something that might possibly astonish his hearers, or as being at all remarkable. "It is not exhausting work," said John Jones, the banksman," but it is work that requires watchfulness and wakefulness," and when one comes to

understand that it is the banksman who controls the engineer having charge of the sole means by which the sinkers in the "black damp" shaft might be raised or lowered, one does not feel disposed to controvert John Jone's last assertion. However, he declared that, although he had been on duty rather more than what a London bricklayer would call three days and a half, full time, he was both watchful and wakeful. The Government inspector, who was present, gave his opinion that not any of the colliery rules had been infringed, although at the same time he expressed his coincidence with the view taken by the coroner, that no man should be allowed to remain at his post so long a time as thirty-six hours; and so, with a verdict of "Accidental Death," the matter terminated.

JACK ASHORE.

THE nautical enthusiast who, in these degenerate days, set out on a pilgrimage to Wapping Old Stairs, in hopes of passing a pleasant hour with the worthy descendants of the heroes and heroines immortalised by the late Mr. Dibdin, would probably find himself disappointed. In vain he would search for that constant Molly whose artless declaration of her virtue-spotless as those trousers which it was her proud privilege to wash-can no more be doubted, than the fact that her love for Thomas was as warm and as sweet as the grog which she made and presented to his manly lips at the very earliest opportunity after his landing from the ship that had so cruelly borne him away from her. Fruitless, too, would be his inquries after Harry Hawser, or Jack Robinson, or Billy Buntline, or any recognisable descendant of those flip-swigging, hornpiping, free-handed noble old bragging sea dogs, brave as lions in battle, playful and blythe as kittens in their shore frolics, and tender as boiled fowl in their greetings and partings with sweethearts and wives. The modern Jack-ashore is altogether a different being from that Jack of old, whose theatre of pleasure extended from Tower Hill to Shadwell Church, and who passed the whole of his time "twixt cruises" in uproarious hilarity, the patron of fiddlers, and the very soul and essence of goodhumour and sprightliness. Here are the old taverns where jolly Jack Tar, both of the Navy and of the Mercantile marine, used to drain his can of flip, jingle his guineas, and, as a worthy son of Britannia that rules the wave, exhibit a proper contempt for land-lubbers, one and all. Here are the old taverns, as well as several of modern build, and they are ablaze with gas and plate-glass, and there are announcement of concerts and dancing-rooms. Men in reefing jackets pass in and out, some alone, and some in close companionship with females in ball-room attire. There is the

sound of music within, and shrill female laughter. This is promising. Let us enter the "Old Frigate," and see how the modern Jack-ashore deports himself.

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A first look round somewhat damps one's expectations; the more so, because it is evident at a glance that the male customers who cluster about the extensive bar are seafaring men, and that the females present are their consorts. terrible-looking lot the latter-brutal, blear-eyed, savage, from fifteen to fifty and over, all with a thirst for gin as ferocious as that of the tiger for blood, and with as little consideration for the victim who supplies it. No blandishment or "blarney" with those bruised and bloated Blackeyed Susans; no ogling or make-believe of affection, or even of affable toleration, for the men whose pockets they are draining. They demand more gin or rum with the air of a Whitechapel fighting man in female disguise, and spill it down their capacious gullets without so much as a bare "thanky." But perhaps these are not fair samples of the modern "lass that loves the sailor." The "concert hall" is at the end of a passage; a curtain screens the entrance to it; and no doubt within its more secluded precincts, Jackashore, and in search of that lovely charmer, a few hours in whose blissful society gives ample reward and consolation for weeks of toil upon the raging main, is more fortunate.

Delusive hope! The "concert hall" was as melancholy a place as could be imagined. At the end of the room there was a raised platform, with a shabby attempt at scenic decoration, and a fiddle and a harp; and at intervals a female " came on" and favoured the company with a song, not much more indecent than many to be heard at any music hall. Afterwards the singer with her low-necked frock and her short skirt and "fleshings," moved among the audience with cigars and tobacco, and received its congratulations, together with any odd pence it might please to bestow on her, over and above the price of the Havannahs. That was all the "fun," if so it may be accounted; which was by no means certain, judging from the apathy and listlessness of the forty or fifty Jacks-ashore who sat at the tables in company with the bare-armed brazen vixens who honoured them with their company. A very large percent

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age of the Jacks had spruced themselves up; and by the flashy rings on their little fingers, and their bran-new silver watch chains, and the sea bloom of bronze on their faces, it was evident that they had been but recently paid off, had put money in their pockets, and come out the spree." It was early in the night, and, though many of them were in that supposed hilarious, devil-may-care condition, known in nautical circles as "half-seas over," there was not a jolly sailor among them. If they were now enjoying themselves, it must indeed be a heart-rending spectacle to see them when they confess to being dejected. They were as flat as though the salt in their veins had all turned to soda; and I don't believe that among them, had every man contributed all he possessed, they would have mustered spirit enough for one good-fashioned hornpipe. They were dull and stolid, and good for nothing but drinking.

This, at least, was evidently what the women thoughtdrinking and fleecing. A heartless, cold-blooded set of ogres! I do not speak exclusively of those assembled at the "Old Frigate," but of the scores and hundreds besides who were to be found that night, or any night, haunting Ratcliff and Shadwell, and lying in wait like beasts of prey for spooney modern Jack-ashore, to hocuss and pillage him. They are a peculiar breed of females, I believe, that have their lairs in Tiger Bay, and Back Church Lane, and Palmer's Folly, and other awful places contiguous to the Docks. They appear different from the vilest creatures of any other part of London, and they act differently. The grit of vice seems to have scoured their natures bare of all that is womanly, while it gives the keenest edge to their cunning and rapacity.

Just imagine one of these petticoated bipeds taking pride in the snowiness of her Thomas's trousers, or treasuring his 'bacca-box! If it would fetch fourpence she would swallow it in a quartern of gin before Tom's ship was out of the river; and as for its being "marked with his name," she would regard that rather as a provoking circumstance than otherwise, since it rendered the article less saleable. Jack-ashore has wonderfully altered with the times. He sits like a fool, and allows a tigress of the "Bay" to get