Burnham Breaker, by Homer 
Greene 
 
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Title: Burnham Breaker 
Author: Homer Greene 
Release Date: December 13, 2003 [eBook #10449] 
Language: English 
Character set encoding: US-ASCII 
***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BURNHAM 
BREAKER*** 
E-text prepared by Charles Aldarondo, Keren Vergon, William Flis, 
and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team. 
Special thanks to Mike Greene and the Little Greene Schoolhouse 
(http://www.users.nac.net/mgreene/HomerGreeneMuseum.html) for 
supplying missing pages for this rare book.
BURNHAM BREAKER 
BY 
HOMER GREENE 
AUTHOR OF "THE BLIND BROTHER" 
 
TO MY FATHER, 
WHOSE GRAY HAIRS I HONOR, AND WHOSE PERFECT 
MANHOOD I REVERE, 
THIS VOLUME IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED BY THE 
AUTHOR. 
HONESDALE, PENN., SEPT. 29, 1887. 
 
CONTENTS. 
CHAPTER 
I. 
A SURPRISE IN THE SCREEN-ROOM 
II. A STRANGE VISITOR 
III. A BRILLIANT SCHEME 
IV. A SET OF RESOLUTIONS 
V. IN SEARCH OF A MOTHER 
VI. BREAKING THE NEWS
VII. RHYMING JOE 
VIII. A FRIEND IN NEED 
IX. A FRIEND INDEED 
X. AT THE BAR OF THE COURT 
XI. THE EVIDENCE IN THE CASE 
XII. AT THE GATES OF PARADISE 
XIII. THE PURCHASE OF A LIE 
XIV. THE ANGEL WITH THE SWORD 
XV. AN EVENTFUL JOURNEY 
XVI. A BLOCK IN THE WHEEL 
XVII. GENTLEMEN OF THE JURY 
XVIII. A WRIT OF HABEAS CORPUS 
XIX. BACK TO THE BREAKER 
XX. THE FIRE IN THE SHAFT 
XXI. A PERILOUS PASSAGE 
XXII. IN THE POWER OF DARKNESS 
XXIII. A STROKE OF LIGHTNING 
XXIV. AT THE DAWN OF DAY 
CHAPTER I. 
A SURPRISE IN THE SCREEN-ROOM.
The city of Scranton lies in the centre of the Lackawanna coal-field, in 
the State of Pennsylvania. Year by year the suburbs of the city creep up 
the sides of the surrounding hills, like the waters of a rising lake. 
Standing at any point on this shore line of human habitations, you can 
look out across the wide landscape and count a score of coal-breakers 
within the limits of your first glance. These breakers are huge, dark 
buildings that remind you of castles of the olden time. They are 
many-winged and many-windowed, and their shaft-towers rise high up 
toward the clouds and the stars. About the feet of those in the valley the 
waves of the out-reaching city beat and break, and out on the hill-sides 
they stand like mighty fortresses built to guard the lives and fortunes of 
the multitudes who toil beneath them. But they are not long-lived. Like 
human beings, they rise, they flourish, they die and are forgotten. Not 
one in hundreds of the people who walk the streets of Scranton to-day, 
or who dig the coal from its surrounding hills, can tell you where 
Burnham Breaker stood a quarter of a century ago. Yet there are men 
still living, and boys who have grown to manhood, scores of them, who 
toiled for years in the black dust breathed out from its throats of iron, 
and listened to the thunder of its grinding jaws from dawn to dark of 
many and many a day. 
These will surely tell you where the breaker stood. They are proud to 
have labored there in other years. They will speak to you of that time 
with pleasant memories. It was thought to be a stroke of fortune to 
obtain work at Burnham Breaker. It was just beyond the suburbs of the 
city as they then were, and near to the homes of all the workmen. The 
vein of coal at this point was of more than ordinary thickness, and of 
excellent quality, and these were matters of much moment to the 
miners who worked there. Then, the wages were always paid according 
to the highest rate, promptly and in full. 
But there was something more, and more important than all this, to be 
considered. Robert Burnham, the chief power in the company, and the 
manager of its interests, was a man whose energetic business qualities 
and methods did not interfere with his concern for the welfare of his 
employees. He was not only just, but liberal and kind. He held not only
the confidence but the good-will, even the affection, of those who 
labored under him. There were never any strikes at the Burnham mines. 
The men would have considered it high treason in any one to advocate 
a strike against the interests of Robert Burnham. 
Yet it was no place for idling. There were, no laggards there. Men had 
to work, and work hard too, for the wages that bought their daily bread. 
Even the boys in the screen-room were held as closely to their tasks as    
    
		
	
	
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