Thus there existed beneath the county of Stirling
a vast tract, full of burrows, tunnels, bored with caves,
and perforated with shafts, a subterranean labyrinth,
which might be compared to an enormous ant-hill.
Miners, though belonging to different pits, often met, when going
to or returning from their work. Consequently there was a constant
opportunity of exchanging talk, and circulating the stories
which had their origin in the mine, from one pit to another.
These accounts were transmitted with marvelous rapidity,
passing from mouth to mouth, and gaining in wonder as they went.
Two men, however, better educated and with more practical
minds than the rest, had always resisted this temptation.
They in no degree believed in the intervention of spirits,
elves, or goblins. These two were Simon Ford and his son.
And they proved it by continuing to inhabit the dismal crypt,
after the desertion of the Dochart pit. Perhaps good Madge,
like every Highland woman, had some leaning towards the supernatural.
But she had to repeat all these stories to herself, and so she did,
most conscientiously, so as not to let the old traditions be lost.
Even had Simon and Harry Ford been as credulous as their companions,
they would not have abandoned the mine to the imps and fairies.
For ten years, without missing a single day, obstinate and immovable
in their convictions, the father and son took their picks, their sticks,
and their lamps.
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