" GEORDIE PITMAN."

ACCORDING to Mr. Smillie the pitman, miner or collier, as he is variously styled in the North and in the South, is a " wage-serf " and a down-trodden individual enchained by the blood-sucking capitalist. But nothing can be further from the truth than this presentation, for there is no freer, heartier, healthier, more hospitable, or more independent man in the world than the pitman, and none with a greater capacity for enjoying life or a keener love of sport. As every one knows, " Geordie's " thoughts of a future life, where he was to achieve " wings," were concentrated on " fleeing the Priest for a sove- reign."

Far from being down-trodden ho is more like to treat you to a scornful pity than to suffer any " impittance " from yourself, and if you engage in argument with him 'tis you, not he, who will cry " touché" or " d moi." Once you have recognized his incontestable superiority he will become your friend and patron and give you " wrinkles " as to the art of life. " Champions " abound in the pit villages of the North and are infinite in their variety. Thus in a single village you may come across a " Pansy Champion," a " Quoits Champion," a " Draughts Champion," and the writer, who lived years ago close beside various pit centres, employed a pitman as a sort of assistant game-keeper or watcher. He was, according to his own account, the cham- pion " sparrwe (sparrow) shutter," and when he sustained

defeat attributed it to his being " tarr'ble trashed oot wark," and boldly maintained his title to the championship. He was a terror, so he affirmed, to the evil-disposed, and when as he sat watching " ahint the dyke " he marked the approach of sus- picious individuals he would put his whistle to his lips whereat they " elwis ran like greyhoonds."

Pit villages are not beautiful, and in some Scottish districts the housing is scandalously inadequate and insanitary, yet the interior of some of these small and ugly houses is often warm and cosy to an extraordinary degree. We may hate other people's " froust " ; we enjoy our own. The writer remembers one cottage in particular that was well lined with books. The owner, an overman or deputy, was an authority on social questions, and once when it was suggested that the late Principal of Newnham would like to call upon him, he evinced no sign of gratification, for he " knew what she was after—she wants to pick maa brains." Another cottage wo remember which was lit with electric light— one of the sons was an engineer or electrician and obtained power from the colliery, and another son had musical tastes and had fitted up a small organ, whilst the father had made for him- self a fine collection of fossils. In another colliery centre, a few miles eastward, the writer well remembers giving an address on George Meredith in an excellent institute, the chairman being the then mine's manager, later to become H.M.'s Chief Inspector and a K.C.B. This is mentioned because the general public knows nothing of " Geordie," and, relying on Mr. Smillie's speeches, would naturally believe such an incident, over twenty years ago, to have been impossible. " Geordie," in short, resembles the Maid of Dove in that he lives so remote from big towns that there are few to know him and " very few to love." It has been said that " Geordie " in Northumberland plays the violin, while south of Tyne, in the ancient bishopric of Durham, he keeps a greyhound or a whippet, but in either event the like

heartiness prevails in either district, though with its teeming population a greater admixture of " funinors " is found, a

number of Irishmen and " Cousin Jacks " (Cornishmen), &c., being employed in Durham County.

The writer was some years ago on his way to attend the Durham Miners' Gala, and beside Framwellgate Bridge, within

the shadow of the great Cathedral of St. Cuthbert, chanced to speak to one who was evidently of the mining fraternity- Alert, well-built, clean-shaven as a Polly, he was a fine specimen of humanity. " Ho-way in an' her a drink," said he, with a jerk of the thumb towards the public-house. This offer of hospitality having been meanly evaded on the score of indiges- tion, Geordie exclaimed : " Indigestion ! Aa divvn't knaa what the ward means. Wey, as cud digest a paving-stone," and he pointed to the cobbles upon the street. Another magnificent

figure recurs to the mind's eye of a burly veteran hewer, six feet high and broad in proportion, who could hew coal with the best of the young men. Though over sixty years of age, he was

in no mind to " take the cowl " ; he had still, he confessed, several " follies " to get through and still had his " favorytes amongst womenkind. He could demolish a leg of mutton at a sitting, and as for the " gills " he could dispose of he would have

delighted Rabelais.

Though this calling is arduous and dangerous, none can deny that it keeps a man in excellent physical " fettle," and the writer for one would far sooner be a hewer of coal than an agricultural labourer. Many improvements in housing are of course overdue, as is now generally recognized, and an increase of wages could be admitted if an increase of production were assured. What one fears is that the preaching of " ea' canny " and discontent with his calling inculcated by the President of the Miners' Federa- tion may sap the heartiness, the independence and the former fine morale of the pitmen as a class.

To maintain, as some do, that there has been no improvement in the conditions under which the pitman lives is stark nonsense.

A hundred years ago he was indubitably a " serf," being truly adscriptus fame. " The youthful portion of a pitman's life," wrote Thomas Wilson in his Pitman's Pay (first published in Mitchell's Magazine, 1826), " in those days was passed in the most galling slavery. Eighteen or nineteen hours a day for weeks together being spent in almost insupportable drudgery."

" Thou knaws for weeks aw've gyen away, At twee o'clock o' Monday mornin', And nivver seen the leet o' day Until the Sabbath day's returnin'.

" The slav'ry borne by Blackymoors They've lang been ringin' wor ears, But let them try a luik at wors, And tell us which the warat appears."

In short, when Mr. Smile compares the present-day pitman t. a " serf " he is a hundred years behind the times.

A COAL COMPANY DIRECTOR.