IF there is anything a boy really likes to have, it is a workshop of
his own.
But then it must be really his own; a place where he can pound and
hammer, saw and whittle, and make all the litter and noise he wants to,
without having to clear up things.
A boy likes a place where he can leave a thing half finished and be
sure of finding it again. He wants a key to the door, so that he can
lock up his treasures and know he shall find them safe the next spare
hour he gets to work at some pet notion.
Housemaids, and sometimes even mothers, don’t see the difference
between unfinished work and rubbish, and off into the kindlings goes
something that has cost a boy a lot of thought and work. No wonder a
fellow who isn’t a saint, but only a human boy, gets out of patience
and wishes emphatically, that “folks would just let his things alone!”
So I say, let every boy have his own workshop and a key to it.
Where shall the workshop be?
I don’t think it makes much difference. There must be plenty of light,
of course, and the room must not be damp. My first workshop was in the
attic, with a skylight. I liked it first-rate; but it was a bother to
bring the lumber up-stairs, and then, too, the shavings and chips had
to be carried down. I got along with it capitally though for three
years; but I like my down-stairs shop better. The noise of pounding and
sawing never disturbs any one either, if it is below. One end of the
woodshed can be partitioned off for a shop if there is no room in the
house.
Now you’ve got your workshop, the next thing is, “what shall go into
it?”
There are two ways to fit up a workshop. The easiest and the quickest
is also the most expensive: _i. e._ get your father to tell the
carpenter to fit it up, and then buy a tool chest. The objections are:
the expense and the doubtful quality of the tools in a ready-filled
tool chest; then, to my thinking, you lose a lot of fun yourself. It is
a good lesson in carpentry to make your own work bench and tool chest,
and the money you save that way can go into better tools.
Every boy ought to remember this, a _cheap_ tool is probably a _dear_
tool. The very best is really the cheapest in the end, and you can’t do
good work with poor tools.
Of course the boys I am talking to are not in the infant class. A boy
who has never fooled round with tools, who has never cared enough about
carpentry to try his hand at tinkering up broken chairs and boxes, the
boy who hasn’t got past mashing his fingers when he drives a nail, and
doesn’t know the difference between cutting with a saw and whittling
with a knife, isn’t the boy to care whether he has a workshop or not.
But I should like to help the boys who have had “toy tool chests,” and
have used them enough to find out “they are no good,” and are really
ambitious to do neat, serviceable work, and to know enough about the
right use of good tools to be ready and able to do the hundred little
odd jobs that come up in a house and can often be as well done by a
boy carpenter as by a regular workman. I know one boy who in one year,
doing odd jobs himself, saved the full cost of his outfit.
When I began I couldn’t find anybody to tell me the things I wanted to
know. I had to find them out for myself, and that is just what I am
going to try and tell you. So we start with this understanding. You are
in earnest; you wish to do good, substantial work; you haven’t a great
deal of money to spend, and you are willing to let patience and labor
make up for the lack of money, knowing, too, that the lessons you will
get making your work bench and tool chest will be worth considerable.
If your mother can spare you an old bureau, or an old-fashioned
washstand with a lid and a cupboard, it will be handy in one corner of
the workshop, not only to hold your tools till the chest is made, but
to keep all sorts of odds and ends in by and by.
You ought to have a stout pair of overalls, or a workman’s apron made
of ticking, with a good pocket. I have both, and find them handy. If
it’s a little job, I slip on the apron; if a long one it pays to get
into the overalls. Your clothes keep clean, and there’s nothing to do
when the dinner bell rings but to slip off the working uniform and wash
your hands. Carpentry is cleaner work than printing. I know, for I have
tried both.
Now for the list of essential tools. If it sounds large and expensive,
you must remember that once bought they will last for years, and are
your capital, your stock in trade. From time to time you will add to
them. If you live in Boston or the vicinity, I should advise you to
go to Goodnow and Wightman’s, 176, or to Wilkinson’s, 184 Washington
street, or some other first-rate establishment, and get what you want.
On an order like this there would be quite a discount.
The prices vary from time to time, so those in the list are given
simply that you may have a general idea of the cost.
I will say here that it will pay you to have two or three practical
lessons in the use of a saw, a plane, and a chisel, from a carpenter.
If you are in the city, there are regular classes where you can get
such instructions. It will save patience and tools.
Hammer .75 to $1.00
Saw (cross-cut) 16 to 18 inch 1.25
" (splitting) " " 1.35
Chisel 1 inch socket firmer .60
" ½ " " " .25
Bit brace (plain 1.50) ratchet 2.00
Bits ⅜, ½, ⅝ .80
Small bits ¼ and less for screws, the set .50
Screw-driver (at Wilkinson’s ask for a gunmaker’s
and machinist’s drop forged ) .40
Hatchet .75
2 ft. rule .25
Try square (9 inch) 1.00
Oil stone (1½ or 2 inches wide) .40
Mallet (large wooden) .35
Small iron Block Plane (Bailey’s) 1.25
Jack or Fore Plane, Stanley’s 20 inch 2.25
Draw Knife 7 inch .70
______
$15.10
Nails and screws of various sizes can be got at any hardware store.
If you send an order through the village store, be sure to send to
first-class establishments, and procure the following makes:
Planes, _Bailey’s_ or _Stanley’s_, iron and wood; chisels and gouges,
_Buck_ or _Moulson_; braces, _Barber_; saws, _Henry Diston_; rules and
squares, _Stanley_; files, _Stubs, Greaves and Sons_.