SCIENCE- G OS SIP. 



33i 



THE BALTIC AMBER MINES. 



By M. Lane. 



(Concluded from page 274 ) 





r rHE cliff above the mines is a headland near the 

 sea of about sixty feet in height. It consists 

 of a thin stratum of vegetable earth at the top and a 

 •deep vein of dark blue clay underneath. This clay 

 is the repository of vegetable and animal fossils. 

 Here beyond doubt for the first time (he real origin 

 of amber has been established. Those who have 

 wandered through a fir or pine wood must have 

 seen the yellow sap running from more or less slight 

 mounds in the bark of the trees. It trickles down in 

 globular or pear-shaped drops ; also it forms pegs, or 

 like breast-plates of armour surrounds the tree- 

 trunks. All these shapes, and many more, are 

 repeated in pieces of amber found in the blue clay. 

 There it came to us, as it were, out of the hands of 

 Nature itself, not smoothed, polished and altered in 

 shape by the waves of the sea. One sees drops of 

 all shapes and sizes, some as big as a hen's egg, the 

 size of a walnut or a hazel-nut ; some are globular, 

 others pear-shaped, some smooth, others wrinkled 

 when the liquid mass dried too quickly. Now and 

 then pieces have been flattened by having while still 

 soft suddenly dropped to the ground. Sometimes 

 there is found an already hardened drop enclosed in 

 another piece, or flies, gnats, spiders, beetles, bees, 

 .and ants caught by the liquid mass. Thus embalmed 

 in a transparent medium, they are handed down to 

 wondering posterity. Mosses, tiny leaves, twigs, 

 ■or catkins of coniferous trees are more rarely en- 

 closed. 



A small fee paid to the miners' hospital fund 

 entitles visitors to see the works. To the same 

 ■charitable institution the money goes for the views 

 .and small amber collections sold on the premises. Of 

 the three mines, one has been worked for a few years 

 ■only, another is exhausted, and the third is that for 

 which we were bourd. It lies near the fishing village 

 of Kraxtepellen, ten minutes' walk from the counting- 

 house and other parts of the works, which are close 

 to the railway station. A tram line runs straight 

 across the fields, in order to convey wood, coals, and 

 other necessaries to the miners. We chose a foot- 

 path passing through the village, then along the sea. 

 We had then to cross a deep winding glen whose 

 little stream forms a cove, where on while sands the 

 fishermen dry their nets and shelter their boats in 

 stormy weather. The glen was gay with bright 

 autumn flowers and red haws. The orange-coloured 

 berries of the sea-buckthorn were also conspicuous. 

 Having crossed the streamlet on a wooden plank, 

 and climbed the steep bank opposite, we came across 

 a part of the village which lies in ruins. The roofs 



of the cottages have sunk in ; the black holes of the 

 windows and doors stared at us like lifeless eyes ; 

 while the walls showed cracks and fissures, as if an 

 earthquake had shaken their foundations. Not sub- 

 terranean fires, however, but human activity had 

 wrought these devastations. The neighbouring 

 fields, loo, lie waste ; they are railed in, and placards 

 everywhere warn everybody from going within the 

 fence-rails. Under fields and houses run numerous 

 passages, shown by the oddly hooded air-shafts that 

 rise in the fields like gigantic mushrooms. After 

 having passed those fields, we descended a slope, and 

 were in sight of the works. Some weather-beaten 

 posts and palings sticking out from the brow of the 

 cliff were, we are told, remains of ?n old shaft dug 

 about a century ago, but soon abandoned. 



The buildings above the ground at the mine form 

 a square, fenced in on all sides. In one of the long 

 wooden sheds the main entrance of the mine is 

 situated. It is a big square black hole, with a 

 ladder for descending. On a blackboard ab ive, (he 

 number of workmen occupied in the mine is written 

 in chalk ; also the number of bags in which thi 

 men put particularly valuable pieces of amber, lor 

 which special rewards are given. Along the walls 

 of the shed there hang ihe workmen's clothes and 

 tools, in rough cupboards, for the place also serves 

 as a dressing-room. 



The mine is not \erv deep. Tram rails lead from 

 the main shaft into an intricacy of passages. Deep 

 square two-wheeled carls, drawn bj horses, run on 

 the rails. For weeks these animals do not -ee the 

 upper world. The workmen break the clay 

 throw it into the carls, which are taken to the lifts, 

 and wilh the regularity of clockwork a full cart rises 

 while an empty one descends. The contents arc- 

 emptied into a long wooden trough, which is inclined 

 at an angle of sixty to seventy degrees, and in it wire 

 gratings are fastened vertically at certain distances from 

 each other. A swift strong current of water is con- 

 stantly rushing along the channel, washing away the 

 clay and at the same time leaving the amber against 

 the gratings, which, becoming more and more narrow, 

 sort the pieces according to their size. Then it is put 

 into hi" rotating wooden barrels, where it is 1 ' 

 from all impurities that may still cling to the pieces. 

 Afterwards factory girls sort it again, according to its 

 colour. 



Large pieces of amber being rare, a process has 

 been invented for pressing small bits of the same 

 colour into big lumps, in order to cut large objects 

 from them. This is now so well done that 



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