“I HEARD THE WARNING, BUT I HEEDED IT NOT.”
By Hart Hall
A True Story and Its Parallel.
From many years’ labor in the mines employed as a watchman on the day-shift, Perry Wilson was accustomed to the deathlike stillness of the deep shaft, and so the rumble of the mills, the crash of the coal as it fell from the trucks into the sieves, and from the sieves into the cars below, and the locomotive switching the heavily-loaded cars about, sounded strangely loud to him as he made his way, dinner-pail in hand, to the mouth of the great Peanut shaft in southern Illinois. But as the huge iron cage, loaded with men, mules, and coal-trucks, descended into the depths, the noise above ground died away to a faint murmur, and finally was lost in the rattle of the trucks, as they were hauled away from the cage far into the mine, and side-tracked before the chambers where, two by two, the men labored. The last crew of the day-shift had passed into the mine, and soon the night-shift, blackened and fatigued with their hard labor, came ambling roughly along toward the shaft, their hat-lamps flaring brightly in the draft. The mules followed dejectedly along, braying occasionally in hungry anticipation. As the men passed the watchman and packed themselves into the cages, they attempted various pleasantries, such as, “Any breakfast left, Perry?” or, “Is the sun shinin’?” “How’s the fresh-air supply?” etc., and then the cage, creaking as it rubbed the races, would begin its ascent to the surface, while the alternate cage descended with its load of trucks. Returning from his first beat through the shaft, Perry found a driver cursing and beating his mule, which was struggling frantically to pull a long string of trucks up an incline, slippery from the moisture dripping from the walls. “Hadn’t I better help you up this grade?” the watchman inquired. “It’s pretty bad footing there for your jinny.” “There’s a hull lot more water here this mornin’, for some cause or other,” growled the driver angrily. “The old mule don’t want to pull anything either.” Perry took a position behind the last truck and pushed energetically, while the driver again belabored the mule. This time the car started, and the animal, encouraged at starting its load, soon had it where the grade was easier. While pushing with all his might against the trucks, the watchman had felt a splash of water on his back; and after the trucks were started, he went back to the place, and holding his hat-lamp up, saw, to his alarm, a stream of water splashing down the side of the tunnel, and, as he looked, the slate and soil began to wash loose and fall, then a larger piece burst away, and before anything could be done, a flood of water was pouring through the opening and rushing rapidly along the shaft. “Leave that mule and run for the cage!” the watchman shouted to the driver, now almost out of hearing. “The mine is flooding; I will warn the men!” Catching up a pick, Perry, conscious of his peril, but resolved to do his duty, ran to the first chamber, and striking the plank door heavily three times (the signal of danger), rushed on to the next, shouting to the workmen as they ran out of the chambers, “Run, run for your lives to the air-shaft!” On and on the brave man ran, into the intersecting tunnels, beating the alarm upon every door, while above the noise of the fleeing men’s footsteps he could hear the sullen roar of the advancing waters. The mine was fully a mile long, and with his strength almost gone, and bruised from falling over the rough footing, and many times nearly cut off from escape by the rising water, sometimes having to hold his breath and run, or, more correctly, swim with his head under water as he passed a low-hanging section of the tunnel, he finally reached the narrow air-shaft, to find a hundred or more crazed men struggling with each other for the chance to climb the rickety old ladder, rotten and slimy from the dampness, and badly in need of repairs, which the carpenter had neglected because of the improbability of its being used. Perry still clutched the pick, and waving it above his head, he beat his way through the crowd, and then standing at the foot of the ladder, he threatened death to every man who should attempt to force his way; and bidding the shortest men to go up first, he stood holding the ladder firmly with one hand until the last man had ascended; and then, and not until then, he drew himself out of the black, swirling water that had nearly reached his shoulders, climbed slowly to the surface, and fell over unconscious. The men had not remained to see that he got out safely; but anxious to see what damage had been done, and to assure their friends and families of their own safety, they hurried away as fast as they got out; and not until the foreman, surrounded by the crowds of anxious workmen and villagers, began to call the roll of names, did they think of the man whose bravery and hardihood had saved them. Then hurrying back, they found him as he had fallen, still unconscious; and with hearts of self-reproach they carried him to tender care and skilful treatment. Only one other man failed to answer the foreman’s roll-call. And the man who had worked with him in the mine stepped up, amid the excitement, to explain the reason. They had been working away together with their picks when the watchman’s alarm had sounded on their door. He ran to the door to inquire what the matter was, but the only reply he received from the fleeing watchman was, “Run, run for your lives!” “What do you suppose is the matter?” he asked his partner, who had remained at his pick. “Surely there can’t be anything the matter with the mine; it’s perfectly safe; the watchman must be crazy, poor man.” Again swinging his pick, the miner continued his work upon the wall of coal. But the other was uneasy, and quietly dropping his pick, he quickly followed the watchman. It is supposed that the unfortunate man hacked away at his work until the black, foamy water began swirling around his feet, and then attempted to escape. But the chambers were higher than the tunnels that led to them, so that the heavy coal cars might descend the easier; and thus, when the water covered the floor of the chamber, it completely filled the tunnels. Finding escape impossible, the man climbed to the highest part of the chamber, above the props and supports, and there, while awaiting his fate, wrote on a piece of shingle used in wedging, these words: “I heard the warning, but I heeded it not.” And there they found him, months afterward, when the hole in the river-bed above had been repaired and the mine had been pumped dry. This is a true story, and the parallel is plainly seen. We are down in the depths of the iniquity of the world, and we have received many warnings of impending destruction, not by flood, for the Lord has sealed His promise in the heavens that He will not again destroy the world with a flood. But the destruction is sure, and certain and soon. It has been foretold in the Scriptures for thousands of years. All the prophets have preached it, and we know by their prophecies that soon, in this age of the world, the destruction is to come; and we, the people of this time, are the ones who will see it come. It comes with the appearing in the heavens of the Lord Jesus Christ, who, with His angels, is revealed “in flaming fire taking vengeance on them that know not God, and that obey not the Gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ.” 2 Thess. 1:8. He comes to gather His little flock,—the few who have looked and prayed for His coming. The multitude of all ages has scoffed at this, and declared the faithful watchmen insane (Isa. 59:15, margin); and even to nominal Christians it is as a tale that is told, without interest—a sign of unbelief. The poor man in the mine wrote, “I heard the warning, but I heeded it not.” How close a parallel this is to the ones who, the Scriptures tell us, shall cry in their awful despair as they see their lost condition, “The harvest [of God] is past, the summer [of His grace] is ended, and we are not saved.” Shall we, dear reader, you and I, flee from the destruction that is to come by giving our hearts to God and becoming one of His “little flock” that He comes to save? or shall we stay down in the depths? Read what the Lord says in the last two verses of the 26th chapter of Isaiah: “Come, My people, enter thou into thy chambers, and shut thy doors about thee; hide thyself as it were for a little moment, until the indignation be overpast. For, behold, the Lord cometh out of His place to punish the inhabitants of the earth for their iniquity: the earth also shall disclose her blood, and shall no more cover her slain.” HART HALL.