When Willie Willders knocked at Tom Tippet's door, at the top of the
house, a rich jovial bass voice cried, "Come in." So Willie went in,
and stood before a stout old gentleman, whose voluminous whiskers,
meeting below his chin, made ample amends for the total absence of hair
from the top of his head.
Mr Tippet stood, without coat or vest, and with his braces tied round
his waist, at a carpenter's bench, holding a saw in his right hand, and
a piece of wood in his left.
"Well, my lad, what's _your_ business?" he inquired in the voice of a
stentor, and with the beaming smile of an elderly cherub.
"Please, sir, a note--from a lady."
"I wish your message had been verbal, boy. It's so difficult to read
ladies' hands; they're so abominably angular, and--where _are_ my specs?
I've a mind to have 'em screw-nailed to my nose. Ah! here they are."
He found them under a jack-plane and a mass of shavings; put them on and
read the note, while Willie took the opportunity of observing that Mr
Tippet's room was a drawing-room, parlour, dining-room, workshop, and
old curiosity-shop, all in one. A half-open door revealed the fact that
an inner chamber contained Mr Tippet's bed, and an indescribable mass
of machinery and models in every stage of progression, and covered with
dust, more or less thick in exact proportion to their respective ages.
A dog and cat lay side by side on the hearth asleep, and a small fire
burned in a grate, on the sides of which stood a variety of crucibles
and such-like articles and a glue-pot; also a tea-pot and kettle.
"You want a situation in my office as a clerk?" inquired Mr Tippet,
tearing up his sister's letter, and throwing it into the fire.
"If you please, sir," said Willie.
"Ha! are you good at writing and ciphering?"
"Middlin', sir."
"Hum! D'you know where my office is, and what it is?"
"No, sir."
"What would you say now," asked Mr Tippet, seating himself on his
bench, or rather on the top of a number of gimblets and chisels and
files and pincers that lay on it; "what would you say now to sitting
from morning till night in a dusty ware-room, where the light is so
feeble that it can scarcely penetrate the dirt that encrusts the
windows, writing in books that are so greasy that the ink can hardly be
got to mark the paper? How would you like that, William Willders--eh?"
"I don't know, sir," replied Willie, with a somewhat depressed look.
"Of course you don't, yet that is the sort of place you'd have to work
in, boy, if I engaged you, for that is a correct description of my
warehouse. I'm a sleeping partner in the firm. D'ye know what that is,
boy?"
"No, sir."
"Well, it's a partner that does no work; but I'm wide-awake for all
that, an' have a pretty good notion of what is going on there. Now,
lad, if I were to take you in, what would you say to 5 pounds a year?"
"It don't sound much, sir," said Willie bluntly, "but if you take me in
with the understandin' that I'm to work my way up'ards, I don't mind
about the pay at first."
"Good," said Mr Tippet, with a nod of approval. "What d'ye think of my
workshop?" he added, looking round with a cherubic smile.
"It's a funny place," responded Willie, with a grin.
"A funny place--eh? Well, I daresay it is, lad, in your eyes; but let
me tell you, it is a place of deep interest, and, I may add without
vanity, importance. There are inventions here, all in a state bordering
more or less upon completion, which will, when brought into operation,
modify the state of society very materially in many of its most
prominent phases. Here, for instance, is a self-acting
galvano-hydraulic engine, which will entirely supersede the use of
steam, and, by preventing the consumption of coal now going on, will
avert, or at least postpone, the decline of the British Empire. Able
men have calculated that, in the course of a couple of hundred years or
so, our coal-beds will be exhausted. I have gone over their
calculations and detected several flaws in them, which, when corrected,
show a very different result--namely, that in seventeen or eighteen
years from this time there will not be an ounce of coal in the kingdom!"
Mr Tippet paused to observe the effect of this statement. Willie
having never heard of such things before, and having a thoughtful and
speculative as well as waggish turn of mind, listened with open eyes and
mouth and earnest attention, so Mr Tippet went on:
"The frightful consequences of such a state of things you may conceive,
or rather they are utterly inconceivable. Owing to the foundations of
the earth having been cut away, it is more than probable that the
present coal districts of the United Kingdom will collapse, the ocean
will rush in, and several of our largest counties will become salt-water
lakes. Besides this, coal being the grand source of our national
wealth, its sudden failure will entail national bankruptcy. The
barbarians of Europe, taking advantage of our condition, will pour down
upon us, and the last spark of true civilisation in our miserable world
will be extinguished--the last refuge for the hunted foot of persecuted
Freedom will be finally swept from the face of the earth!"
Here Mr Tippet brought the saw down on the bench with such violence,
that the dog and cat started incontinently to their legs, and Willie
himself was somewhat shaken.
"Now," continued Mr Tippet, utterly regardless of the sensation he had
created, and wiping the perspiration from his shining head with a
handful of shavings; "now, William Willders, all this may be, _shall_
be, prevented by the adoption of the galvano-hydraulic engine, and the
consequent restriction of the application of coal to the legitimate
purposes of warming our dwellings and cooking our victuals. I mean to
bring this matter before the Home Secretary whenever I have completed my
invention, which, however, is not _quite_ perfected.
"Then, again," continued Mr Tippet, becoming more and more enthusiastic
as he observed the deep impression his explanations were making on
Willie, who stood glaring at him in speechless amazement, "here you have
my improved sausage-machine for converting all animal substances into
excellent sausages. I hold that every animal substance is more or less
good for food, and that it is a sad waste to throw away bones and hair,
etcetera, etcetera, merely because these substances are unpalatable or
difficult to chew. Now, my machine gets over this difficulty. You cut
an animal up just as it is killed, and put it into the machine--hair,
skin, bones, blood, and all--and set it in motion by turning on the
galvano-hydraulic fluid. Delicious sausages are the result in about
twenty minutes.
"You see my dog there--Chips I call him, because he dwells in the midst
of chips and shavings; he sleeps upon chips, and if he does not exactly
eat chips, he lives upon scraps which have a strong resemblance to them.
The cat has no name. I am partial to the time-honoured name of `Puss.'
Besides, a cat is not worthy of a name. Physically speaking, it is
only a bundle of living fur--a mere mass of soft animated nature, as
Goldsmith would express it. Intellectually it is nothing--a sort of
existent nonentity, a moral void on which a name would be utterly thrown
away. Well, I could take these two animals, Chips and Puss, put them in
here (alive, too, for there is a killing apparatus in the instrument
which will effectually do away with the cruel process of slaughtering,
and with its accompanying nuisances of slaughter-houses and butchers)--
put them in here, I say, and in twenty minutes they would be ground up
into sausages.
"I know that enemies to progress, ignorant persons and the like, will
scoff at this, and say it is similar to the American machine, into one
end of which you put a tree, and it comes out at the other end in the
shape of ready-made furniture. But such scoffs will cease, while my
invention will live. I am not bigoted, William. There may be good
objections to my inventions, and great difficulties connected with them,
but the objections I will answer, and the difficulties I will overcome.
"This instrument," continued Mr Tippet, pointing to a huge beam, which
leant against the end of the small apartment, "is only a speculative
effort of mine. It is meant to raise enormous weights, such as houses.
I have long felt it to be most desirable that people should be able to
raise their houses from their foundations by the strength of a few men,
and convey them to other localities, either temporarily or permanently.
I have not succeeded yet, but I see my way to success; and, after all,
the idea is not new. You can see it partially carried out by an
enterprising company in this city, whose enormous vans will remove the
whole furniture of a drawing-room, almost as it stands, without packing.
My chief difficulty is with the fulcrum; but that is a difficulty that
met the philosopher of old. You have heard of Archimedes, William--the
man who said he could make a lever big enough to move the world, if he
could only get a fulcrum to rest it on. But Archimedes was weak in that
point. He ought to have known that, even if he did get such a fulcrum,
he would still have required another world as long as his lever, to
enable him to walk out to the end of it. No, by the way, he might have
walked _on_ the lever itself! That did not occur to me before. He
might even have ridden along it. Come, that's a new idea. Let me see."
In order the better to "see," Mr Tippet dropt the piece of wood from
his left hand, and pressed his fingers into both eyes, so as to shut out
all earthly objects, and enable him to take an undistracted survey of
the chambers of his mind. Returning suddenly from the investigation, he
exclaimed:
"Yes, William, I don't quite see my way to it; but I can perceive dimly
the possibility of Archimedes having so formed his lever, that a line of
rails might have been run along the upper side of it, from the fulcrum
to the other end."
"Yes, sir," exclaimed Willie, who, having become excited, was entering
eagerly into his patron's speculations, and venting an occasional remark
in the height of his enthusiasm.
"Such a thing _might_ be done," continued Mr Tippet emphatically; "a
small carriage--on the galvano-hydraulic principle, of course--might run
to and fro--"
"With passengers," suggested Willie.
"Well--with passengers," assented Mr Tippet, smiling. "Of course, the
lever would be very large--extremely large. Yes, there _might_ be
passengers."
"An' stations along the line?" said Willie.
Mr Tippet knitted his brows.
"Ye-yes--why not?" he said slowly. "Of course, the lever would be very
long, extremely long, and it might be necessary to stop the carriages on
the way out. There might be breadth sufficient on the lever to plant
small side stations."
"An' twenty minutes allowed for refreshments," suggested Willie.
"Why, as to that," said Mr Tippet, "if we stop at all, there could be
no reasonable objection to refreshments, although it is probable we
might find it difficult to get anyone sufficiently enterprising to
undertake the supply of such a line; for, you know, if the lever were to
slip at the fulcrum and fall--"
"Oh!" exclaimed Willie, "_wouldn't_ there be a smash; neither!"
"The danger of people falling off, too," continued Mr Tippet, "might be
prevented by railings run along the extreme edges of the lever."
"Yes," interrupted Willie, whose vivid imagination, unused to such
excitement, had taken the bit in its teeth and run away with him; "an'
spikes put on 'em to keep the little boys from swinging on 'em, an'
gettin' into mischief. Oh! what jolly fun it would be. Only think!
we'd advertise cheap excursion trains along the Arkimeedis Line, Mondays
an' Toosdays. Fares, two hundred pounds, fust class. No seconds or
parleys allowed for love or money. Starts from the Fuddlecrum Sta--"
"Fulcrum," said Mr Tippet, correcting.
"Fulcrum Station," resumed Willie, "at 2:30 a.m. of the mornin'
precisely. Stops at the Quarter, Half-way, an' Three-quarter Stations,
allowin' twenty minutes, more or less, for grub--weather permittin'."
"Your observations are quaint," said Mr Tippet, with a smile; "but
there is a great deal of truth in them. No doubt, the connection of
such ideas, especially as put by you, sounds a little ludicrous; but
when we come to analyse them, we see their possibility, for, _if_ a
lever of the size indicated by the ancient philosopher were erected (and
theoretically, the thing _is_ possible), then the subordinate
arrangements as to a line of railway and stations, etcetera, would be
mere matters of detail. It might be advertised, too, that the balance
of the lever would be so regulated, that, on the arrival of the train at
the terminus, the world would rise (a fact which might be seen by the
excursionists, by the aid of enormous telescopes, much better than by
the people at home), and that, on the return of the train, the world
would again sink to its ancient level.
"There would be considerable risk, no doubt," continued Mr Tippet
meditatively, "of foolish young men and boys getting over the rails in
sport or bravado, and falling off into the depths of illimitable
profundity, but--"
"We could have bobbies stationed along the line," interrupted Willie,
"an' tickets put up warnin' the passengers not to give 'em money on no
account wotsomedever, on pain o' bein' charged double fare for the
first offence, an' pitched over the rails into illimidibble
pro-what's-'is-name for the second."
"I'll tell you what it is, William," said Mr Tippet suddenly, getting
off the bench and seizing the boy's hand, "your talents would be wasted
in my office. You'll come and assist me here in the workshop. I'm
greatly in want of an intelligent lad who can use his hands; but, by the
way, can you use your hands? Here, cut this piece of wood smooth, with
that knife."
He handed Willie a piece of cross-grained wood and a blunt knife.
Willie looked at both, smiled, and shook his head.
"It would take a cleverer feller than me to do it; but I'll try."
Willie did try; after a quarter of an hour spent in vain attempts, he
threw down the wood and knife exclaiming, "It's impossible."
Mr Tippet, who had been smiling cherubically, and nodding approval,
said:
"I knew it was impossible, my lad, when I gave it to you, and I now know
that you are both neat-handed and persevering; so, if you choose, I'll
engage you on the spot to come on trial for a week. After that we will
settle the remuneration. Meanwhile, shake hands again, and allow me to
express to you my appreciation of the noble character of your brother,
who, I understand from my sister's letter, saved a young relative of
mine from the midst of imminent danger. Good-night, William, and come
to me on Monday next, at nine o'clock in the morning."
Willie was somewhat perplexed at this prompt dismissal (for Mr Tippet
had opened the door), especially after such a long and free-and-easy
conversation, and he felt that, however much license Mr Tippet might
permit, he was a man of stern will, who could not be resisted with
impunity; so, although he was burning to know the object and nature of
innumerable strange pieces of mechanism in the workshop, he felt
constrained to make a polite bow and depart.
On his way downstairs, he heard the voices of men as if in angry
disputation; and on reaching the next floor, found Mr Barret standing
at the open door of his room, endeavouring to hold Ned Hooper, who was
struggling violently.
"I tell you," said the latter, in a drunken voice, "that I w-will go
out!"
"Come, Ned, not to-night; you can go to-morrow" said Barret soothingly,
yet maintaining his hold of his friend.
"W-why not? ain't night the best time to--to--be jolly?--eh! L-me go, I
shay."
He made a fierce struggle at this point; and Barret, ceasing to
expostulate, seized him with a grasp that he could not resist, and
dragged him forcibly, yet without unnecessary violence, into the room.
Next instant the door was shut with a bang and locked; so Willie
Willders descended to the street, and turned his face homewards,
moralising as he went on the evils of drink.
It was a long way to Notting Hill; but it was not long enough to enable
Willie to regain his wonted nonchalance. He had seen and heard too much
that night to permit of his equilibrium being restored. He pursed his
mouth several times into the form of a round O, and began "Rule
Britannia"; but the sounds invariably died at the part where the
"charter of the land" is brought forward. He tried "The Bay of Biscay,
O!" with no better success, never being able to get farther than
"lightning's vivid powers," before his mind was up in the clouds, or in
Mr Tippet's garret, or out on the Archimedes-Lever Railway.
Thus wandering in dreams he reached home, talked wildly to his anxious
mother, and went to bed in a state of partial insanity.