Part 5

We believe we are correct in stating that this is the first attempt to illuminate the whole of the interior of a colliery pit, and its workings and offices, by this useful medium; and it is impossible to over-estimate the value of an incandescent light, and yet one of extraordinary brilliancy, in such a place as a coal-mine, subject to the escape of gases which are liable at any moment, on coming in contact with an unprotected flame, to occasion an explosion involving terrible and deplorable consequences. Now, this is one source of danger which the use of this system of lighting prevents; and if this is found to succeed, it is to be hoped that it may be adopted in all underground works, where the advantage of a brilliant light to work by is recognised; a marvellous contrast to the safe but gloomy and light-obstructing ‘Davy.’ There can really be no reason why this plan should not be universally applied to mines, unless the objection may be on the score of expense, for when once the necessary driving-machinery is built, the rest is simple enough, and the advantages almost untold.

A LAST ‘GOOD-NIGHT.’

Love, I see thee lowly kneeling, Claspèd hands and drooping head, While the moonbeams pale are stealing Sadly round my dying bed. Dearest, hush thy bitter weeping; Lay thy tearful cheek to mine, While the stars, their death-watch keeping, Softly through the lattice shine. Through the trees, low winds are sighing, And my hand, so worn and white, On thy clustering hair is lying. Love, my only love, good-night!

Ah! I hear thy broken sobbing. Faint and low, thy voice hath grown; And I feel thy fond heart throbbing, Oh, how wildly, ’gainst mine own! Dear, my spirit still delaying, Loves to hover near thee now, Like the moonbeams fondly straying O’er thy pallid cheek and brow. Yes, my soul, to share thy sorrow, Pauses in its heavenward flight, And will comfort thee to-morrow. Love, my dearest love, good-night!

Now, for one sweet moment only, Fold me closely to thy breast. When thy life seems dark and lonely, Oh, remember I am blest! Though thy voice with grief be broken, Smile once more, and call me fair. Darling, as my last love-token, Take this little lock of hair. Feeling these, thy last caresses, Tears must dim my failing sight. Kiss once more my wandering tresses, Then a long, a last good-night!

Shades of death are round me closing; Tears and shadows hide thy face; Still I fear not, thus reposing, In thy faithful, fond embrace. Though thou lingerest broken-hearted, All thy thoughts to me shall soar; We shall seem but to be parted; I’ll be near thee evermore. Brightly on my soul’s awaking, See, yon gleam of heavenly light! Now, behold the morn is breaking. Love, my faithful love, good-night!

FANNY FORRESTER.

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Printed and Published by W. & R. CHAMBERS, 47 Paternoster Row, LONDON, and 339 High Street, EDINBURGH.

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