in another sheep with silky wool, like those in a child's
toy sheep fold.

The Yarrow shaft was situated four miles from Callander. Whilst walking,
James Starr could not but be struck with the change in the country.
He had not seen it since the day when the last ton of Aberfoyle coal had
been emptied into railway trucks to be sent to Glasgow. Agricultural life
had now taken the place of the more stirring, active, industrial life.
The contrast was all the greater because, during winter, field work is at
a standstill. But formerly, at whatever season, the mining population,
above and below ground, filled the scene with animation. Great wagons
of coal used to be passing night and day. The rails, with their
rotten sleepers, now disused, were then constantly ground by the weight
of wagons. Now stony roads took the place of the old mining tramways.
James Starr felt as if he was traversing a desert.

The engineer gazed about him with a saddened eye.
He stopped now and then to take breath. He listened.
The air was no longer filled with distant whistlings and the panting
of engines. None of those black vapors which the manufacturer
loves to see, hung in the horizon, mingling with the clouds.
No tall cylindrical or prismatic chimney vomited out smoke,
after being fed from the mine itself; no blast-pipe was puffing
out its white vapor. The ground,

formerly black with coal dust, had a bright look, to which James Starr's
eyes were not accustomed.

When the engineer stood still, Harry Ford stopped also.
The young miner waited in silence. He felt what was passing