Many of these families had existed for generations in the mine
of old Aberfoyle; they were now driven to seek the means
of subsistence elsewhere, and they waited sadly to bid farewell
to the engineer.
James Starr stood upright, at the door of the vast shed in which he had
for so many years superintended the powerful machines of the shaft.
Simon Ford, the foreman of the Dochart pit, then fifty-five years of age,
and other managers and overseers, surrounded him. James Starr took
off his hat. The miners, cap in hand, kept a profound silence.
This farewell scene was of a touching character, not wanting in grandeur.
"My friends," said the engineer, "the time has come for us to separate.
The Aberfoyle mines, which for so many years have united us
in a common work, are now exhausted. All our researches
have not led to the discovery of a new vein, and the last
block of coal has just been extracted from the Dochart pit."
And in confirmation of his words, James Starr pointed to a lump
of coal which had been kept at the bottom of a basket.
"This piece of coal, my friends," resumed James Starr, "is like the
last drop of blood which has flowed through the veins of the mine!
We shall keep it, as the first fragment of coal is kept,
which was extracted a hundred and fifty years ago from the bearings
of Aberfoyle. Between these two pieces, how many generations
of workmen have succeeded each other in our pits! Now, it is over!
The last words which your engineer will address to you are a farewell.
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