A Bit of Old Wales

Arvonia Slate Quarries in Buckingham County
Produce Finest Type of Rock Known

Sprawled over the rough, wooded hills on both sides of Hunt Creek in the eastern part of Buckingham County, down in Old Virginia, is the slate quarry "settlement" of Arvonia, the site of what is said to be the finest slate region in America.

Far back in the early days of Buckingham history, two Englishmen, Edmond Sims and Robert Chatman, first noticed the slate formation of the ridges and bluffs around them. They put their slaves to work digging deep pits in the slaty rocks, (for that was long before the War Between the States), and they took from the sides of the pits great blocks of the stone. Then they used "Niggerhead" rocks to break the blocks to a size small enough to be carried on the shoulder.

But there was no large quarry opened until M. E. Jones and Hugh Hughes of Carnavonshire, North Wales, came to Virginia. These men opened the first quarry of any size. Many Welshmen from the Northern States, then came to Buckingham to work in this quarry, and the one opened by two other Welshmen, John J. Roberts and J. E. Edwards. Quarrymen from Wales then began to come over to share in the enterprise.

Soon the settlement grew to a size where a name was necessary, and these Welsh emigrants, homesick no doubt for the slaty hills of their own homeland, called it "Arvon" after Carnavonshire in Wales. Later the place was called Arvonia, but the railroad station is still "Arvon."

"Old Castle" Stands Alone in Barren Quarry

In the midst of the quarries today stands a lonely, shabby old building that through all the years has been "The Old Castle." There M. E. Jones lived. Here 40 Welsh quarrymen were boarded for a long time.

Here was held the first Sunday School, the first prayer meeting service for the Welsh people are devoted to their religion. They are fond of singing hymns, and reciting poetry, and have meetings called "Eisteddfids," where they enjoy competing in these two activities.

When the services grew too large for the Old Castle to hold the attendance, loyal hearts solicited funds to build the first church, a little chapel that held 300 persons, strangely, yet appropriately called "Bethel."

As the years passed, old age came on the most robust, as well as the frailer flesh, and so they began to lay these "strangers within a strange land" within the shadow of the little chapel. There must have been many a pang of longing for the hills of the Liandberis, Wales, from which many had come as these sojourners felt the end drawing near.

Walking in the silent rooms of the "Old Castle," one thinks of the many reunions that took place there, as kindred and friends came over to join their loved ones. What eager inquiries, what tender reminiscence, what sacred confidences exchanged. But its walls are as quiet as the grave, so far as any revelation of those days long past are concerned.

In the early history of the production of Buckingham slate there was much skepticism of the durability of the stone, and some public buildings, which were covered with this slate, were watched closely for many years to see if "it would fade or disintegrate." When it had proven its worth as a commercial roofing, (and its greatest use is still as roofing), other quarries were opened and with the coming of so many skilled Welsh quarrymen, the operators placed on sale a fine product, for these Welshmen were master workmen. Many bought land and built substantial and comfortable homes while descendants of some are yet living in "Company houses."

Since slate is a heavy stone, transportation of it has always been a problem. In the early days, it was carried by bateau and wagon. Later by railroad and wagon, but now almost entirely by truck.

The settlement--it can not be called a village for it has no streets, only the highway running through it and a slate sidewalk, beside the highway--is about four miles square.

Houses of Slate are Landmarks

Two sights peculiar to this vicinity are houses made entirely of slate, and these serve as landmarks in a section which owing to its wooded characteristics, greatly needs landmarks, and the other is the large number of abandoned quarries, partly full of water. The "swimmin' holes," for it is in these dangerous looking pools, with sheer sides and depths of 75 feet or more, that the youths of Arvonia learn to swim. Yet it is said that in 70 or more years there has been only one drowning.

In late years, overproduction in slate, as in other things, has brought about a slow market. This in turn has brought a dissatisfaction between operators and laborers and there have been several periods when quarrymen were laid off for many months at the time.

To walk the length of the highway through the settlement in idle times is to realize how great is the part work plays in the lives of the people. The tall mast-like timbers that support the network of wires, and in turn are braced by them which make fast the machinery that lifts tons of slate form the bowels of the earth, stand stark and still. No hum of machinery, no busy signals flashing back and forth. The housewives sit on their porches with a hopeless air. To them death begins when the quarries stop. At the several crossroads men and boys gather and tell yarns of past achievements in the quarries. The clerks in the three large commissaries, lean indolently on counters or loaf beside the windows. A deep, blue gloom envelops all the region.

But in better times one can tell by the very atmosphere before reaching the quarries, that "Life is beginning" again.

Fountaine Field where the first quarry was dug: "The Old Castle," the center and circumference for so long of the settlement, the church which replaces Bethel Chapel; and last of all, the quiet cemetery where one lone cedar stands guard over the cherished graves, all form a poignant picture of Arvonia; the Welsh settlement where slate builds homes, paves walks, braces firehearths, roofs houses, purchases food, clothes and other necessities of life, and finally marks the sleeping place of the quarryman and his family in the town's "God's Acre."