The Silent Men of the Powder Mill

How do you think you would like to live, fearing every moment to be blown up, not daring to speak loud, or to jar anything, for fear of starting an explosion that would send you in an instant to the other world? You don't think it would be very pleasant. Well, it isn't; yet hundreds of men live in just that state, working and living in the very sight of death. A powder-mill is a fearful place to visit. They are built far from any town, in the woods, and each branch of the work is done in a separate building. These houses are quite a distance from each other, so that if one blows up, it won't blow up the rest. But in spite of every care, sometimes a whole settlement of the powder-mills will go off almost in an instant, and every vestige of the work of years will be swept away. In the mill where ingredients are ground, the wheel is moved by water power, and every man leaves the place while the machinery does its terrible work alone. In the graining house, the men are obliged to attend to it every moment, and you may be sure no laugh or joke is ever heard within its walls. Every one who goes in has to take off his boots and put on rubbers, because one grain of the dangerous powder, crushed by the boot, would explode the whole in an instant. The men are silent, and often look like very black negroes, working in the blackest of powder in a room whose walls and floors are blacker than the rest. It has a very singular look to a stranger, and, added to the horrible silence, makes one feel that the whole world has gone into mourning.