His friends would listen politely to him.
But he said he knew they did not believe in him.
He often, as he walked about, heard people laugh and sneer at him.
But at last the boat was done.
The sun rose smiling on that August morning.
The world was enjoying its morning nap.
Only a few people were on the shores.
Gracefully the boat was moved from the Jersey shore.
[Illustration: THE CLERMONT, 1807
By permission of Providence & Stonington Steamship Co.]
Those who saw were amazed.
Old sailors were frightened.
When they saw a boat with no sails, they thought it an evil spirit.
But the long line of black smoke which they saw was only the breath
of the dear old giant, Steam.
At last he had something to do.
This boat was called the Clermont.
It passed the city of New York.
It passed the beautiful Highlands of the Hudson.
It puffed patiently on until it reached Albany.
All along the shores people watched it breathlessly.
Everybody stopped sneering and cheered.
The Clermont had gone one hundred and fifty miles in thirty-two
hours.
Except that the ocean steamships are larger, handsomer, and more
finely finished, they are much like Mr. Fulton's Clermont.
Who can doubt Mr. Fulton's joy at his success.
At last he had found a way to make all nations know each other.
Mr. Fulton had other troubles after this.
Wicked people tried to steal his invention from him.
But no one else has ever been given credit for it.
Everyone who tried a ride upon the boat found it much nicer than
jolting along in a stage coach.
In two years a regular line of boats was running between the great
city of New York and its capital city.
Mr. Fulton built other boats.
Some of them were ferry-boats.
[Illustration: BROOKLYN BRIDGE AND FULTON FERRY.]
A ferry from New York to Long Island is still called by his name,
Fulton Ferry.
Do you suppose the thousands of people who cross by it, ever think
of patient, industrious, hard-working, Robert Fulton?
In January, 1815, Mr. Fulton went to Trenton, New Jersey, as witness
in a lawsuit.
The weather was very severe.
Mr. Fulton became much chilled.
In coming back his boat was caught in the ice.
It was several hours before it could be moved.
You remember Mr. Fulton was not very strong.
He was ill for several days.
He was very anxious about a boat which he was building.
He left his bed too soon.
He was then taken very ill indeed.
And upon the twenty-fourth of February, 1815, the world lost this
great man.
Everyone mourned his loss.
The great city of New York was in mourning.
He was buried in the Livingston vault in Trinity Churchyard, New
York.
No monument has ever been raised over this great man.
But the boats which every year ply back and forth upon lake, river,
and ocean, are constant reminders of his great work for the world.
[Illustration: ELI WHITNEY.]