[Illustration: A LOCOMOTIVE AND TENDER.]
THE ROCKET.
THE STORY OF THE STEPHENSONS,
Father and Son.
BY
_H. C. KNIGHT_,
AUTHOR OF "NO GAINS WITHOUT PAINS," ETC.
WITH TWENTY-SIX ENGRAVINGS
London:
T. NELSON AND SONS, PATERNOSTER ROW.
EDINBURGH; AND NEW YORK.
1897
Preface.
A brief book for the boys. God gives you work to do in the world. He
gives you honourable work. There is much done that is mean and
dishonourable. Depend upon it, _that_ is not His. In the beginning of
your work, character grows _out_ of it; as you go on, your character
goes _into_ it. Therefore the Bible declares that "God, without respect
of persons, judgeth according to every man's work." We judge in the same
way. This little book will show you how much the practice of the
virtues, the humbler virtues, has to do with making good work.
But keep ever in mind that these virtues, however useful and important
for your work in this world, have no _saving_ power in them—they form no
plea for the favour of God; the key which unlocks the door of Heaven is
not found among them. Like the young man in the Gospel, you may have the
loveliness of every natural virtue, and yet be lost.
As sinners in the sight of God, you need the atoning blood of the
Redeemer; you need repentance and faith in that blood. Make Jesus
Christ, therefore, the corner-stone of your character; on _that
foundation build_ your character. Cultivate the graces of the Gospel.
Baptize the virtues with your Saviour's love. A noble Christian manhood
can only be attained by the slow and steady endeavours of a heart fixed
on God, and a hand diligent and delighting in the work He has given it
to do.
Contents.
I. LIFE AMONG THE COAL PITS, 9
II. MENDING AND MAKING—LITTLE BOB, 19
III. WHO BEGAN RAILROADS?—"PUFFING BILLY," 30
IV. TWO CITIES THAT WANTED TO GET NEAR EACH
OTHER—A NEW FRIEND, 38
V. HUNTING UP HIS OWN WORK—AN ENTERPRISING
QUAKER—WHAT WAS THE RESULT? 46
VI. THE TWO CITIES TRYING AGAIN—BUGBEARS, 58
VII. GRAPPLING WITH DIFFICULTIES—THE BOG—A
PUZZLE—THE PRIZE OFFER, 72
VIII. ROBERT'S RETURN—A CURIOUS ENCOUNTER—THE
PRIZE ENGINE, 86
IX. OPENING OF THE NEW ROAD—DIFFICULTIES
VANISH—A NEW ERA, 102
X. THE STEPHENSON CENTENARY—HONOUR TO WHOM
HONOUR IS DUE, 121
List of Illustrations.
LOCOMOTIVE AND TENDER, _Frontispiece_
EARLY WORK, 10
A SAFETY LAMP, 11
BIRTHPLACE OF GEORGE STEPHENSON, 12
AT SCHOOL, 17
MENDING THE CLOCK, 21
THE SUN-DIAL, 29
GEORGE STEPHENSON'S FIRST ENGINE, 35
"PUFFING BILLY," 36
THE VISIT TO "PUFFING BILLY," 44
THE TWO STRANGERS, 50
A TALK ABOUT RAILWAYS, 54
SURVEYING AT NIGHT, 63
CHAT MOSS, 74
GOOD SERVICE, 81
A CURIOUS ENCOUNTER, 87
SECTION OF THE FIRST BOILER IN USE, 92
SECTION OF A TUBULAR BOILER, 93
THE FAILURE, 95
TUBES OF A MODERN ENGINE, 96
THE "ROCKET," 97
OPENING THE LINE, 104
WHOLESOME REPROOF, 115
LATER DAYS OF GEORGE STEPHENSON, 116
VICTORIA BRIDGE, MONTREAL, 118
[Illustration]
THE ROCKET.
CHAPTER I.
LIFE AMONG THE COAL PITS.
What useful little fellow is this, carrying his father's dinner to him
at the coal-pit? He takes care, also, of his little brothers and
sisters, keeping them clear of the coal-waggons, which run to and fro
before the cottage door. Then he is seen tending a neighbour's cows.
Now, he is moulding mud engines, putting in hemlock sticks for
blow-pipes; besides cutting many a good caper, and uttering all sorts of
drolleries for the benefit of other little boys, who like himself swarm
round, too poor to go to school, if school there were—but schools there
were none.
The boys called him "Geordie Steve."
A lad is wanted to shut the coal-yard gates after work is over. Geordie
offers his services and gets the post, earning by it twopence a day. A
neighbour hires him to hoe turnips at fourpence. He is thankful to earn
a bit, for his parents are poor, and every little helps. He sees work
ahead, however, more to his taste. What? He longs to be big enough to go
and work at the coal-pits with his father. For the home of this little
fellow, as you already perceive, is in a coal region. It is in the coal
district of Newcastle, in the north-eastern part of England.
[Illustration: EARLY WORK.]
I suppose you never visited a colliery? Coal is found in beds and veins
under ground. Deep holes are made, down which the miners go and dig it
out; it is hoisted out by means of steam-engines. These holes are called
shafts. The pit-men have two enemies to encounter down in the
coal-pits—water, and a kind of gas which explodes on touching the flame
of a candle. The water has to be pumped out; and miners are now provided
with a lamp, called a safety-lamp, which is covered with a fine wire
gauze to keep the gas away from the flame.
[Illustration: SAFETY LAMP.]
The coal is brought up from the pit in baskets, loaded on waggons
running on tram-roads, and sent to the sheds. Tram-roads were a sort of
wooden railway. A colliery is a busy and odd-looking spot.
Geordie's family lived in one room—father, mother, four boys, and two
girls. Snug quarters, one would think; but the working-men of England at
that time had smaller wages and poorer homes than they now have—for
Geordie was born in 1781, in the little village of Wylam, seven miles
from Newcastle, and his full name is George Stephenson.
[Illustration: BIRTHPLACE OF GEORGE STEPHENSON.]
James, an elder brother, is "picker;" and by-and-by George is old enough
to be a picker too, going with his father and brother to their daily
tasks, like a man. To clear the coal of stones and dross is their
business. There are a number of pits around, and each one has a
name,—"Dolly Pit," "Water-run Pit," and so on.
I do not know how long he was picker, but we next find him driving a
gin-horse, at a pit two miles off, across the fields. Away he goes in
the early morning, gladdened all along by many bird songs. George and
the birds are fast friends. He knows where their nests are in the
hedgerows, and watches over them with fatherly affection. At home he has
tame birds, whose pretty, knowing ways are the wonder of the
neighbourhood. For many years a tame blackbird was as much one of the
family as George himself, coming and going at pleasure, and roosting at
night over his head. Sometimes it spent the summer in the woods, but was
sure to come back with cold weather, to share his care and crumbs
through the winter.
George, too, had a famous breed of rabbits; and as for his dog, it was
one of the most accomplished and faithful creatures in the district. In
fact, the boy had an insight into dumb-brute nature, as we shall find he
had into other things, that gave him power over it—a power which he
never abused, but used kindly and well.
George next rose to be assistant fireman with his father, at a shilling
a day. He was fourteen, but so small of his age that he used to hide
when the inspector came round, lest he should be thought too small for
his wages. If small in body, he was large in heart, intent in all things
to _do his best_. And this made his work so well done, that it could not
escape the notice of his employers. When he went to the office on
Saturday night to receive his wages, double pay was given him—twelve
instead of six shillings! George could scarcely believe in his good
luck. When he found it was really no mistake, he took the money and
rushed out of the office, exclaiming, "I am now a made man for life!"
George rapidly shot ahead of his father, a kind old man, who always
stayed fireman, while his boy climbed one round after another up the
ladder of promotion. At seventeen we find him plugman. What duty is
that? A plugman has charge of a pumping-engine, and when the water in
the pit is below the suction-holes, he goes down the shaft and plugs the
tube, in order to make the pump more easily draw. The post required more
skill and knowledge of machinery than any he had filled before, and he
proved himself equal to it.
Indeed, he loves his engine as he loves his birds. It is a pet with him.
He keeps it in prime order. He takes it to pieces, and cleans it, and
studies it; pries into the whys and wherefores, and is never satisfied
until he understands every spring and cog of the machinery, and gets the
mastery of it. You never find him idling away his time. In leisure
moments he is at his old kink, moulding clay engines, and putting new
thoughts into them.
He wished to know the history of engines, and how they were thought out
at first. Somebody told him about Watt, the father of steam-power, and
that there were books which would satisfy his curiosity. Books! what
good would books do poor George? He cannot read. Not read? No. He is
eighteen, and hardly knows his letters. Few of the colliers did. They
were generally an ignorant, hard-working, clannish set of men, whose
pay-day was a holiday, when their hard-won earnings were squandered at
cock-fights and in ale-houses.
If one was found who _did_ read, what a centre of light was he! At night
the men and boys gathered around him, when, by the light of his engine
fire, he would give them the news from an old newspaper, or a scrap of
knowledge from some stray magazine, or a wild story from an odd volume;
and on these occasions no one listened with more profound attention than
George.
Oh! it was so wonderful to read, he thought. It was to open the gates
into great fields of knowledge. Read he must. The desire grew upon him
stronger and stronger. In the neighbouring hamlet of Welbottle, old
Robin Cowens taught an evening school.
"I'll go," cried George.
"And I too," echoed Tommy Musgrove, a fellow-workman, quite carried away
by George's enthusiasm.
Now they went to Robin's school three evenings a week. I do not know how
it was with Tommy, but old Robin never had a better scholar than George;
indeed, he soon outlearned his master! His schooling cost him threepence
a week, and, poor as it was, put into his hand the two keys of
knowledge, reading and writing.
These mastered, he longs to use them. Andrew Robertson opens an evening
school nearer than Welbottle, and Andrew proposes to teach arithmetic, a
branch George is anxious to grapple with next. "And he took to figurin'
wonderful," said Master Andrew, speaking of his new scholar, who soon
left his classmates far behind. And no wonder. Every spare moment to
George was more precious than gold dust, and was used accordingly. When
not on duty, he sits by his engine and works out his sums. No beer-shop
ever enticed him to its cups; no cock-fight ever tempted him to be its
spectator. He hated everything low and vulgar.
[Illustration: AT SCHOOL.]
Andrew was proud of his pupil, and when George removed to another pit,
the old schoolmaster shifted his quarters and followed him. His books
did not damage his interest in business. Was the plugman going to stay
plugman? No. Bill Coe, a friend of his advanced to be a brakeman,
offered to show George. The other workmen objected. And one in
particular stopped the working of the engine when George took hold of
it; "for," he cried angrily, "Stephenson can't brake, and is too clumsy
ever to learn."
A brakeman has charge of an engine for raising coal from a pit. The
speed of the ascending coal, brought up in large hazel-wood baskets, is
regulated by a powerful wooden brake, acting on the rim of the
fly-wheel, which must be stopped just when the baskets reach the
settle-board, where they are to be emptied. Brakemen were generally
chosen from experienced engine-men of steady habits; and in spite of the
grumbling of older colliers, envious perhaps at his rise, it was not
long before George learned, and was appointed brakeman at the Dolly Pit.
This was in 1801.