After he had driven the gin for some time at Dewley and Black Callerton,
he was taken on as an assistant to his father in firing the engine at
Dewley.  This was a step of promotion which he had anxiously desired, his
only fear being lest he should be found too young for the work.  Indeed,
he used afterwards to relate how he was wont to hide himself when the
owner of the colliery went round, in case he should be thought too little
a boy to earn the wages paid him.  Since he had modelled his clay engines
in the bog, his young ambition was to be an engineman; and to be an
assistant fireman was the first step towards this position.  Great
therefore was his joy when, at about fourteen years of age, he was
appointed assistant-fireman, at the wage of a shilling a day.

But the coal at Dewley Burn being at length worked out, the pit was
ordered to be "laid in," and old Robert and his family were again under
the necessity of shifting their home; for, to use the common phrase, they
must "follow the wark."  They removed accordingly to a place called
Jolly's Close, a few miles to the south, close behind the village of
Newburn, where another coal-mine belonging to the Duke of Northumberland,
called "the Duke's Winnin," had recently been opened out.

                      [Picture: Newburn on the Tyne]

One of the old persons in the neighbourhood, who knew the family well,
describes the dwelling in which they lived as a poor cottage of only one
room, in which the father, mother, four sons, and two daughters, lived
and slept.  It was crowded with three low-poled beds.  The one apartment
served for parlour, kitchen, sleeping-room, and all.

The children of the Stephenson family were now growing apace, and several
of them were old enough to be able to earn money at various kinds of
colliery work.  James and George, the two eldest sons, worked as
assistant-firemen; and the younger boys worked as wheelers or pickers on
the bank-tops.  The two girls helped their mother with the household
work.

Other workings of the coal were opened out in the neighbourhood; and to
one of these George was removed as fireman on his own account.  This was
called the "Mid Mill Winnin," where he had for his mate a young man named
Coe.  They worked together there for about two years, by twelve-hour
shifts, George firing the engine at the wage of a shilling a day.  He was
now fifteen years old.  His ambition was as yet limited to attaining the
standing of a full workman, at a man's wages; and with that view he
endeavoured to attain such a knowledge of his engine as would eventually
lead to his employment as an engineman, with its accompanying advantage
of higher pay.  He was a steady, sober, hard-working young man, but
nothing more in the estimation of his fellow-workmen.

One of his favourite pastimes in by-hours was trying feats of strength
with his companions.  Although in frame he was not particularly robust,
yet he was big and bony, and considered very strong for his age.  At
throwing the hammer George had no compeer.  At lifting heavy weights off
the ground from between his feet, by means of a bar of iron passed
through them--placing the bar against his knees as a fulcrum, and then
straightening his spine and lifting them sheer up--he was also very
successful.  On one occasion he lifted as much as sixty stones weight--a
striking indication of his strength of bone and muscle.

When the pit at Mid Mill was closed, George and his companion Coe were
sent to work another pumping-engine erected near Throckley Bridge, where
they continued for some months.  It was while working at this place that
his wages were raised to 12s. a week--an event to him of great
importance.  On coming out of the foreman's office that Saturday evening
on which he received the advance, he announced the fact to his
fellow-workmen, adding triumphantly "I am now a made man for life!"

The pit opened at Newburn, at which old Robert Stephenson worked, proving
a failure, it was closed; and a new pit was sunk at Water-row, on a strip
of land lying between the Wylam waggon-way and the river Tyne, about half
a mile west of Newburn Church.  A pumping engine was erected there by
Robert Hawthorn, the Duke's engineer; and old Stephenson went to work it
as fireman, his son George acting as the engineman or plugman.  At that
time he was about seventeen years old--a very youthful age at which to
fill so responsible a post.  He had thus already got ahead of his father
in his station as a workman; for the plugman holds a higher grade than
the fireman, requiring more practical knowledge and skill, and usually
receiving higher wages.

George's duty as plugman was to watch the engine, to see that it kept
well in work, and that the pumps were efficient in drawing the water.
When the water-level in the pit was lowered, and the suction became
incomplete through the exposure of the suction-holes, it was then his
duty to proceed to the bottom of the shaft and plug the tube so that the
pump should draw: hence the designation of "plugman."  If a stoppage in
the engine took place through any defect which he was incapable of
remedying, it was for him to call in the aid of the chief engineer to set
it to rights.

But from the time when George Stephenson was appointed fireman, and more
particularly afterwards as engineman, he applied himself so assiduously
and so successfully to the study of the engine and its gearing--taking
the machine to pieces in his leisure hours for the purpose of cleaning
and understanding its various parts--that he soon acquired a thorough
practical knowledge of its construction and mode of working, and very
rarely needed to call the engineer of the colliery to his aid.  His
engine became a sort of pet with him, and he was never wearied of
watching and inspecting it with admiration.

Though eighteen years old, like many of his fellow-workmen, Stephenson
had not yet learnt to read.  All that he could do was to get some one to
read for him by his engine fire, out of any book or stray newspaper which
found its way into the neighbourhood.  Buonaparte was then overrunning
Italy, and astounding Europe by his brilliant succession of victories;
and there was no more eager auditor of his exploits, as read from the
newspaper accounts, than the young engineman at the Water-row Pit.

There were also numerous stray bits of information and intelligence
contained in these papers, which excited Stephenson's interest.  One of
these related to the Egyptian method of hatching birds' eggs by means of
artificial heat.  Curious about everything relating to birds, he
determined to test it by experiment.  It was spring time, and he
forthwith went a birdnesting in the adjoining woods and hedges.  He
gathered a collection of eggs of various sorts, set them in flour in a
warm place in the engine-house, covering the whole with wool, and then
waited the issue.  The heat was kept as steady as possible, and the eggs
were carefully turned every twelve hours, but though they chipped, and
some of them exhibited well-grown chicks, they never hatched.  The
experiment failed, but the incident shows that the inquiring mind of the
youth was fairly at work.

Modelling of engines in clay continued to be another of his favourite
occupations.  He made models of engines which he had seen, and of others
which were described to him.  These attempts were an improvement upon his
first trials at Dewley Burn bog, when occupied there as a herd-boy.  He
was, however, anxious to know something of the wonderful engines of
Boulton and Watt, and was told that they were to be found fully described
in books, which he must search for information as to their construction,
action and uses.  But, alas! Stephenson could not read; he had not yet
learnt even his letters.

Thus he shortly found, when gazing wistfully in the direction of
knowledge, that to advance further as a skilled workman, he must master
this wonderful art of reading--the key to so many other arts.  Only thus
could he gain an access to books, the depositories of the wisdom and
experience of the past.  Although a grown man, and doing the work of a
man, he was not ashamed to confess his ignorance, and go to school, big
as he was, to learn his letters.  Perhaps, too, he foresaw that, in
laying out a little of his spare earnings for this purpose, he was
investing money judiciously, and that, in every hour he spent at school,
he was really working for better wages.

His first schoolmaster was Robin Cowens, a poor teacher in the village of
Walbottle.  He kept a night-school, which was attended by a few of the
colliers and labourers' sons in the neighbourhood.  George took lessons
in spelling and reading three nights in the week.  Robin Cowen's teaching
cost threepence a week; and though it was not very good, yet George,
being hungry for knowledge and eager to acquire it, soon learnt to read.
He also practised "pothooks," and at the age of nineteen he was proud to
be able to write his own name.

A Scotch dominie, named Andrew Robertson, set up a night-school in the
village of Newburn, in the winter of 1799.  It was more convenient for
George to attend this school, as it was nearer to his work, and only a
few minutes' walk from Jolly's Close.  Besides, Andrew had the reputation
of being a skilled arithmetician; and this branch of knowledge Stephenson
was very desirous of acquiring.  He accordingly began taking lessons from
him, paying fourpence a week.  Robert Gray, the junior fireman at the
Water-row Pit, began arithmetic at the same time; and Gray afterwards
told the author that George learnt "figuring" so much faster than he did,
that he could not make out how it was--"he took to figures so wonderful."
Although the two started together from the same point, at the end of the
winter George had mastered "reduction," while Robert Gray was still
struggling with the difficulties of simple division.  But George's secret
was his perseverance.  He worked out the sums in his bye-hours, improving
every minute of his spare time by the engine-fire, and studying there the
arithmetical problems set for him upon his slate by the master.  In the
evenings he took to Robertson the sums which he had "worked," and new
ones were "set" for him to study out the following day.  Thus his
progress was rapid, and, with a willing heart and mind, he soon became
well advanced in arithmetic.  Indeed, Andrew Robertson became very proud
of his scholar; and shortly after, when the Water-row Pit was closed, and
George removed to Black Callerton to work there, the poor schoolmaster,
not having a very extensive connexion in Newburn, went with his pupils,
and set up his night-school at Black Callerton, where he continued his
lessons.

George still found time to attend to his favourite animals while working
at the Water-row Pit.  Like his father, he used to tempt the
robin-redbreasts to hop and fly about him at the engine-fire, by the bait
of bread-crumbs saved from his dinner.  But his chief favourite was his
dog--so sagacious that he almost daily carried George's dinner to him at
the pit.  The tin containing the meal was suspended from the dog's neck,
and, thus laden, he proceeded faithfully from Jolly's Close to Water-row
Pit, quite through the village of Newburn.  He turned neither to left nor
right, nor heeded the barking of curs at his heels.  But his course was
not unattended with perils.  One day the big strange dog of a passing
butcher espying the engineman's messenger with the tin can about his
neck, ran after and fell upon him.  There was a terrible tussle and
worrying, which lasted for a brief while, and, shortly after, the dog's
master, anxious for his dinner, saw his faithful servant approaching,
bleeding but triumphant.  The tin can was still round his neck, but the
dinner had been spilt in the struggle.  Though George went without his
dinner that day, he was prouder of his dog than ever when the
circumstances of the combat were related to him by the villagers who had
seen it.

It was while working at the Water-row Pit that Stephenson learnt the art
of brakeing an engine.  This being one of the higher departments of
colliery labour, and among the best paid, George was very anxious to
learn it.  A small winding-engine having been put up for the purpose of
drawing the coals from the pit, Bill Coe, his friend and fellow-workman,
was appointed the brakesman.  He frequently allowed George to try his
hand at the machine, and instructed him how to proceed.  Coe was,
however, opposed in this by several of the other workmen--one of whom, a
banksman named William Locke, {26} went so far as to stop the working of
the pit because Stephenson had been called in to the brake.  But one day
as Mr. Charles Nixon, the manager of the pit, was observed approaching,
Coe adopted an expedient which put a stop to the opposition.  He called
upon Stephenson to "come into the brake-house, and take hold of the
machine."  Locke, as usual, sat down, and the working of the pit was
stopped.  When requested by the manager to give an explanation, he said
that "young Stephenson couldn't brake, and, what was more, never would
learn, he was so clumsy."  Mr. Nixon, however, ordered Locke to go on
with the work, which he did; and Stephenson, after some further practice,
acquired the art of brakeing.

After working at the Water-row Pit and at other engines near Newburn for
about three years, George and Coe went to Black Callerton early in 1801.
Though only twenty years of age, his employers thought so well of him
that they appointed him to the responsible office of brakesman at the
Dolly Pit.  For convenience' sake, he took lodgings at a small farmer's
in the village, finding his own victuals, and paying so much a week for
lodging and attendance.  In the locality this was called "picklin in his
awn poke neuk."  It not unfrequently happens that the young workman about
the collieries, when selecting a lodging, contrives to pitch his tent
where the daughter of the house ultimately becomes his wife.  This is
often the real attraction that draws the youth from home, though a very
different one may be pretended.

George Stephenson's duties as brakesman may be briefly described.  The
work was somewhat monotonous, and consisted in superintending the working
of the engine and machinery by means of which the coals were drawn out of
the pit.  Brakesman are almost invariably selected from those who have
had considerable experience as engine-firemen, and borne a good character
for steadiness, punctuality, watchfulness, and "mother wit."  In George
Stephenson's day the coals were drawn out of the pit in corves, or large
baskets made of hazel rods.  The corves were placed together in a cage,
between which and the pit-ropes there was usually from fifteen to twenty
feet of chain.  The approach of the corves towards the pit mouth was
signalled by a bell, brought into action by a piece of mechanism worked
from the shaft of the engine.  When the bell sounded, the brakesman
checked the speed, by taking hold of the hand-gear connected with the
steam-valves, which were so arranged that by their means he could
regulate the speed of the engine, and stop or set it in motion when
required.  Connected with the fly-wheel was a powerful wooden brake,
acting by pressure against its rim, something like the brake of a
railway-carriage against its wheels.  On catching sight of the chain
attached to the ascending corve-cage, the brakesman, by pressing his foot
upon a foot-step near him, was enabled, with great precision, to stop the
revolutions of the wheel, and arrest the ascent of the corves at the pit
mouth, when they were forthwith landed on the "settle board."  On the
full corves being replaced by empty ones, it was then the duty of the
brakesman to reverse the engine, and send the corves down the pit to be
filled again.

The monotony of George Stephenson's occupation as a brakesman was
somewhat varied by the change which he made, in his turn, from the day to
the night shift.  His duty, on the latter occasions, consisted chiefly in
sending men and materials into the mine, and in drawing other men and
materials out.  Most of the workmen enter the pit during the night shift,
and leave it in the latter part of the day, whilst coal-drawing is
proceeding.  The requirements of the work at night are such, that the
brakesman has a good deal of spare time on his hands, which he is at
liberty to employ in his own way.  From an early period, George was
accustomed to employ those vacant night hours in working the sums set for
him by Andrew Robertson upon his slate, practising writing in his
copy-book, and mending the shoes of his fellow-workmen.  His wages while
working at the Dolly Pit amounted to from 1 pounds 15s. to 2 pounds in
the fortnight; but he gradually added to them as he became more expert at
shoe-mending, and afterwards at shoe-making.

Probably he was stimulated to take in hand this extra work by the
attachment he had by this time formed for a young woman named Fanny
Henderson, who officiated as servant in the small farmer's house in which
he lodged.  We have been informed that the personal attractions of Fanny,
though these were considerable, were the least of her charms.  Mr.
William Fairbairn, who afterwards saw her in her home at Willington Quay,
describes her as a very comely woman.  But her temper was one of the
sweetest; and those who knew her were accustomed to speak of the charming
modesty of her demeanour, her kindness of disposition, and withal her
sound good sense.

Amongst his various mendings of old shoes at Callerton.  George was on
one occasion favoured with the shoes of his sweetheart to sole.  One can
imagine the pleasure with which he would linger over such a piece of
work, and the pride with which he would execute it.  A friend of his,
still living, relates that, after he had finished the shoes, he carried
them about with him in his pocket on the Sunday afternoon, and that from
time to time he would pull them out and hold them up, exclaiming, "what a
capital job he had made of them!"

Out of his earnings by shoe-mending at Callerton, George contrived to
save his first guinea.  The first guinea saved by a working man is no
trivial thing.  If, as in Stephenson's case, it has been the result of
prudent self-denial, of extra labour at bye-hours, and of the honest
resolution to save and economise for worthy purposes, the first guinea
saved is an earnest of better things.  When Stephenson had saved this
guinea he was not a little elated at the achievement, and expressed the
opinion to a friend, who many years after reminded him of it, that he was
"now a rich man."

Not long after he began to work at Black Callerton as brakesman, he had a
quarrel with a pitman named Ned Nelson, a roistering bully, who was the
terror of the village.  Nelson was a great fighter; and it was therefore
considered dangerous to quarrel with him.  Stephenson was so unfortunate
as not to be able to please this pitman by the way in which he drew him
out of the pit; and Nelson swore at him grossly because of the alleged
clumsiness of his brakeing.  George defended himself, and appealed to the
testimony of the other workmen.  But Nelson had not been accustomed to
George's style of self-assertion; and, after a great deal of abuse, he
threatened to kick the brakesman, who defied him to do so.  Nelson ended
by challenging Stephenson to a pitched battle; and the latter accepted
the challenge, when a day was fixed on which the fight was to come off.

Great was the excitement at Black Callerton when it was known that George
Stephenson had accepted Nelson's challenge.  Everybody said he would be
killed.  The villagers, the young men, and especially the boys of the
place, with whom George was a great favourite, all wished that he might
beat Nelson, but they scarcely dared to say so.  They came about him
while he was at work in the engine-house to inquire if it was really true
that he was "goin to fight Nelson?"  "Ay; never fear for me; I'll fight
him."  And fight him he did.  For some days previous to the appointed day
of battle, Nelson went entirely off work for the purpose of keeping
himself fresh and strong, whereas Stephenson went on doing his daily work
as usual, and appeared not in the least disconcerted by the prospect of
the affair.  So, on the evening appointed, after George had done his
day's labour, he went into the Dolly Pit Field, where his already
exulting rival was ready to meet him.  George stripped, and "went in"
like a practised pugilist--though it was his first and last fight.  After
a few rounds, George's wiry muscles and practised strength enabled him
severely to punish his adversary, and to secure an easy victory.

This circumstance is related in illustration of Stephenson's personal
pluck and courage; and it was thoroughly characteristic of the man.  He
was no pugilist, and the very reverse of quarrelsome.  But he would not
be put down by the bully of the colliery, and he fought him.  There his
pugilism ended; they afterwards shook hands, and continued good friends.
In after life, Stephenson's mettle was often as hardly tried, though in a
different way; and he did not fail to exhibit the same resolute courage
in contending with the bullies of the railway world, as he showed in his
encounter with Ned Nelson, the fighting pitman of Callerton.

                       [Picture: Colliery Whimsey]

            [Picture: Stephenson's Cottage at Wallington Quay]




CHAPTER III.
ENGINEMAN AT WILLINGTON QUAY AND KILLINGWORTH.


George Stephenson had now acquired the character of an expert workman.
He was diligent and observant while at work, and sober and studious when
the day's work was over.  His friend Coe described him to the author as
"a standing example of manly character."  On pay-Saturday afternoons,
when the pitmen held their fortnightly holiday, occupying themselves
chiefly in cock-fighting and dog-fighting in the adjoining fields,
followed by adjournments to the "yel-house," George was accustomed to
take his engine to pieces, for the purpose of obtaining "insight," and he
cleaned all the parts and put the machine in thorough working order
before leaving it.

In the evenings he improved himself in the arts of reading and writing,
and occasionally took a turn at modelling.  It was at Callerton, his son
Robert informed us, that he began to try his hand at original invention;
and for some time he applied his attention to a machine of the nature of
an engine-brake, which reversed itself by its own action.  But nothing
came of the contrivance, and it was eventually thrown aside as useless.
Yet not altogether so; for even the highest skill must undergo the
inevitable discipline of experiment, and submit to the wholesome
correction of occasional failure.

After working at Callerton for about two years, he received an offer to
take charge of the engine on Willington Ballast Hill at an advanced wage.
He determined to accept it, and at the same time to marry Fanny
Henderson, and begin housekeeping on his own account.  Though he was only
twenty-one years old, he had contrived, by thrift, steadiness, and
industry, to save as much money as enabled him to take a cottage-dwelling
at Willington Quay, and furnish it in a humble but comfortable style for
the reception of his bride.

Willington Quay lies on the north bank of the Tyne, about six miles below
Newcastle.  It consists of a line of houses straggling along the
river-side; and high behind it towers up the huge mound of ballast
emptied out of the ships which resort to the quay for their cargoes of
coal for the London market.  The ballast is thrown out of the ships'
holds into waggons laid alongside, which are run up to the summit of the
Ballast Hill, and emptied out there.  At the foot of the great mound of
shot rubbish was the fixed engine of which George Stephenson acted as
brakesman.

The cottage in which he took up his abode was a small two-storied
dwelling, standing a little back from the quay with a bit of garden
ground in front. {33}  The Stephenson family occupied the upper room in
the west end of the cottage.  Close behind rose the Ballast Hill.

When the cottage dwelling had been made snug, and was ready for
occupation, the marriage took place.  It was celebrated in Newburn
Church, on the 28th of November, 1802.  After the ceremony, George, with
his newly-wedded wife, proceeded to the house of his father at Jolly's
Close.  The old man was now becoming infirm, and, though he still worked
as an engine-fireman, contrived with difficulty "to keep his head above
water."  When the visit had been paid, the bridal party set out for their
new home at Willington Quay, whither they went in a manner quite common
before travelling by railway came into use.  Two farm horses, borrowed
from a neighbouring farmer, were each provided with a saddle and pillion,
and George having mounted one, his wife seated herself behind him,
holding on by his waist.  The bridesman and bridesmaid in like manner
mounted the other horse; and in this wise the wedding party rode across
the country, passing through the old streets of Newcastle, and then by
Wallsend to Willington Quay--a ride of about fifteen miles.

George Stephenson's daily life at Willington was that of a steady
workman.  By the manner, however, in which he continued to improve his
spare hours in the evening, he was silently and surely paving the way for
being something more than a manual labourer.  He set himself to study
diligently the principles of mechanics, and to master the laws by which
his engine worked.  For a workman, he was even at that time more than
ordinarily speculative--often taking up strange theories, and trying to
sift out the truth that was in them.  While sitting by his wife's side in
his cottage-dwelling in the winter evenings, he was usually occupied in
studying mechanical subjects, or in modelling experimental machines.
Amongst his various speculations while at Willington, he tried to
discover a means of Perpetual Motion.  Although he failed, as so many
others had done before him, the very efforts he made tended to whet his
inventive faculties, and to call forth his dormant powers.  He went so
far as to construct the model of a machine for the purpose.  It consisted
of a wooden wheel, the periphery of which was furnished with glass tubes
filled with quicksilver; as the wheel rotated, the quicksilver poured
itself down into the lower tubes, and thus a sort of self-acting motion
was kept up in the apparatus, which, however, did not prove to be
perpetual.  Where he had first obtained the idea of this machine--whether
from conversation or reading, is not known; but his son Robert was of
opinion that he had heard of the apparatus of this kind described in the
"History of Inventions."  As he had then no access to books, and indeed
could barely read with ease, it is probable that he had been told of the
contrivance, and set about testing its value according to his own
methods.

Much of his spare time continued to be occupied by labour more
immediately profitable, regarded in a pecuniary point of view.  In the
evenings, after his day's labour at his engine, he would occasionally
employ himself for an hour or two in casting ballast out of the collier
ships, by which means he was enabled to earn a few extra shillings
weekly.  Mr. William Fairbairn of Manchester has informed us that while
Stephenson was employed at Willington, he himself was working in the
neighbourhood as an engine apprentice at the Percy Main Colliery.  He was
very fond of George, who was a fine, hearty fellow, besides being a
capital workman.  In the summer evenings young Fairbairn was accustomed
to go down to the Quay to see his friend, and on such occasions he would
frequently take charge of George's engine while he took a turn at heaving
ballast out of the ships' holds.  It is pleasant to think of the future
President of the British Association thus helping the future Railway
Engineer to earn a few extra shillings by overwork in the evenings, at a
time when both occupied the rank of humble working men in an obscure
northern village.

Mr. Fairbairn was also a frequent visitor at George's cottage on the
Quay, where, though there was no luxury, there was comfort, cleanliness,
and a pervading spirit of industry.  Even at home George was never for a
moment idle.  When there was no ballast to heave out at the Quay he took
in shoes to mend; and from mending he proceeded to making them, as well
as shoe-lasts, in which he was admitted to be very expert.

But an accident occurred in Stephenson's household about this time, which
had the effect of directing his industry into a new and still more
profitable channel.  The cottage chimney took fire one day in his
absence, when the alarmed neighbours, rushing in, threw quantities of
water upon the flames; and some, in their zeal, even mounted the ridge of
the house, and poured buckets of water down the chimney.  The fire was
soon put out, but the house was thoroughly soaked.  When George came home
he found everything in disorder, and his new furniture covered with soot.
The eight-day clock, which hung against the wall--one of the most
highly-prized articles in the house--was much damaged by the steam with
which the room had been filled; and its wheels were so clogged by the
dust and soot that it was brought to a complete standstill.  George was
always ready to turn his hand to anything, and his ingenuity, never at
fault, immediately set to work to repair the unfortunate clock.  He was
advised to send it to the clockmaker, but that would cost money; and he
declared that he would repair it himself--at least he would try.  The
clock was accordingly taken to pieces and cleaned; the tools which he had
been accumulating for the purpose of constructing his Perpetual Motion
machine, enabled him to do this readily; and he succeeded so well that,
shortly after, the neighbours sent him their clocks to clean, and he soon
became one of the most famous clock-doctors in the neighbourhood.

It was while living at Willington Quay that George Stephenson's only son
was born, on the 16th of October, 1803.  The child was a great favourite
with his father, and added much to the happiness of his evening hours.
George's "philoprogenitiveness," as phrenologists call it, had been
exercised hitherto upon birds, dogs, rabbits, and even the poor old
gin-horses which he had driven at the Callerton Pit; but in his boy he
now found a much more genial object for the exercise of his affection.

The christening took place in the school-house at Wallsend, the old
parish church being at the time in so dilapidated a condition from the
"creeping" or subsidence of the ground, consequent upon the excavation of
the coal, that it was considered dangerous to enter it.  On this
occasion, Robert Gray and Anne Henderson, who had officiated as bridesman
and bridesmaid at the wedding, came over again to Willington, and stood
godfather and godmother to little Robert,--so named after his
grandfather.

After working for several years more as a brakesman at the Willington
machine, George Stephenson was induced to leave his situation there for a
similar one at the West Moor Colliery, Killingworth.  It was not without
considerable persuasion that he was induced to leave the Quay, as he knew
that he should thereby give up the chance of earning extra money by
casting ballast from the keels.  At last, however, he consented, in the
hope of making up the loss in some other way.

The village of Killingworth lies about seven miles north of Newcastle,
and is one of the best-known collieries in that neighbourhood.  The
workings of the coal are of vast extent, and give employment to a large
number of work-people.  To this place Stephenson first came as a
brakesman about the beginning of 1805.  He had not been long in his new
place, ere his wife died (in 1806), shortly after giving birth to a
daughter, who survived the mother only a few months.  George deeply felt
the loss of his wife, for they had been very happy together.  Their lot
had been sweetened by daily successful toil.  The husband was sober and
hard-working, and his wife made his hearth so bright and his home so
snug, that no attraction could draw him from her side in the evening
hours.  But this domestic happiness was all to pass away; and George felt
as one that had thenceforth to tread the journey of life alone.

                      [Picture: West Moor Colliery]

Shortly after this event, while his grief was still fresh, he received an
invitation from some gentlemen concerned in large spinning works near
Montrose in Scotland, to proceed thither and superintend the working of
one of Boulton and Watt's engines.  He accepted the offer, and made
arrangements to leave Killingworth for a time.

Having left his little boy in good keeping, he set out upon his long
journey to Scotland on foot, with his kit upon his back.  While working
at Montrose he gave a striking proof of that practical ability in
contrivance for which he was afterwards so distinguished.  It appears
that the water required for the purposes of his engine, as well as for
the use of the works, was pumped from a considerable depth, being
supplied from the adjacent extensive sand strata.  The pumps frequently
got choked by the sand drawn in at the bottom of the well through the
snore-holes, or apertures through which the water to be raised is
admitted.  The barrels soon became worn, and the bucket and clack
leathers destroyed, so that it became necessary to devise a remedy; and
with this object the engineman proceeded to adopt the following simple
but original expedient.  He had a wooden box or boot made, twelve feet
high, which he placed in the sump or well, and into this he inserted the
lower end of the pump.  The result was, that the water flowed clear from
the outer part of the well over into the boot, and being drawn up without
any admixture of sand, the difficulty was thus conquered. {38}

Being paid good wages, Stephenson contrived, during the year he worked at
Montrose, to save a sum of 28 pounds, which he took back with him to
Killingworth.  Longing to get back to his kindred, his heart yearning for
the son whom he had left behind, our engineman took leave of his
employers, and trudged back to Northumberland on foot as he had gone.
While on his journey southward he arrived late one evening, footsore and
wearied, at the door of a small farmer's cottage, at which he knocked,
and requested shelter for the night.  It was refused, and then he
entreated that, being tired, and unable to proceed further, the farmer
would permit him to lie down in the outhouse, for that a little clean
straw would serve him.  The farmer's wife appeared at the door, looked at
the traveller, then retiring with her husband, the two confabulated a
little apart, and finally they invited Stephenson into the cottage.
Always full of conversation and anecdote, he soon made himself at home in
the farmer's family, and spent with them a few pleasant hours.  He was
hospitably entertained for the night, and when he left the cottage in the
morning, he pressed them to make some charge for his lodging, but they
refused to accept any recompense.  They only asked him to remember them
kindly, and if he ever came that way, to be sure and call again.  Many
years after, when Stephenson had become a thriving man, he did not forget
the humble pair who had succoured and entertained him on his way; he
sought their cottage again, when age had silvered their hair; and when he
left the aged couple, they may have been reminded of the old saying that
we may sometimes "entertain angels unawares."

Reaching home, Stephenson found that his father had met with a serious
accident at the Blucher Pit, which had reduced him to great distress and
poverty.  While engaged in the inside of an engine, making some repairs,
a fellow-workman accidentally let in the steam upon him.  The blast
struck him full in the face; he was terribly scorched, and his eyesight
was irretrievably lost.  The helpless and infirm man had struggled for a
time with poverty; his sons who were at home, poor as himself, were
little able to help him, while George was at a distance in Scotland.  On
his return, however, with his savings in his pocket, his first step was
to pay off his father's debts, amounting to about 15 pounds; and shortly
after he removed the aged pair from Jolly's Close to a comfortable
cottage adjoining the tramroad near the West Moor at Killingworth, where
the old man lived for many years, supported entirely by his son.

Stephenson was again taken on as a brakesman at the West Moor Pit.  He
does not seem to have been very hopeful as to his prospects in life about
this time (1807-8).  Indeed the condition of the working class generally
was very discouraging.  England was engaged in a great war, which pressed
upon the industry, and severely tried the resources, of the country.
There was a constant demand for men to fill the army.  The working people
were also liable to be pressed for the navy, or drawn for the militia;
and though they could not fail to be discontented under such
circumstances, they scarcely dared even to mutter their discontent to
their neighbours.

Stephenson was drawn for the militia: he must therefore either quit his
work and go a-soldiering, or find a substitute.  He adopted the latter
course, and borrowed 6 pounds, which, with the remainder of his savings,
enabled him to provide a militiaman to serve in his stead.  Thus the
whole of his hard-won earnings were swept away at a stroke.  He was
almost in despair, and contemplated the idea of leaving the country, and
emigrating to the United States.  Although a voyage thither was then a
much more formidable thing for a working man to accomplish than a voyage
to Australia is now, he seriously entertained the project, and had all
but made up his mind to go.  His sister Ann, with her husband, emigrated
about that time, but George could not raise the requisite money, and they
departed without him.  After all, it went sore against his heart to leave
his home and his kindred, the scenes of his youth and the friends of his
boyhood; and he struggled long with the idea, brooding over it in sorrow.
Speaking afterwards to a friend of his thoughts at the time, he said:
"You know the road from my house at the West Moor to Killingworth.  I
remember once when I went along that road I wept bitterly, for I knew not
where my lot in life would be cast."

In 1808, Stephenson, with two other brakesmen, took a small contract
under the colliery lessees for brakeing the engines at the West Moor Pit.
The brakesmen found the oil and tallow; they divided the work amongst
them, and were paid so much per score for their labour.  It was the
interest of the brakesmen to economise the working as much as possible,
and George no sooner entered upon the contract than he proceeded to
devise ways and means of making it "pay."  He observed that the ropes
which, at other pits in the neighbourhood, lasted about three months, at
the West Moor Pit became worn out in about a month.  He immediately set
about ascertaining the cause of the defect; and finding it to be
occasioned by excessive friction, he proceeded, with the sanction of the
head engine-wright and the colliery owners, to shift the pulley-wheels
and re-arrange the gearing, which had the effect of greatly diminishing
the tear and wear, besides allowing the work of the colliery to proceed
without interruption.

About the same time he attempted an improvement in the winding-engine
which he worked, by placing a valve between the air-pump and condenser.
This expedient, although it led to no practical result, showed that his
mind was actively engaged in studying new mechanical adaptations.  It
continued to be his regular habit, on Saturdays, to take his engine to
pieces, for the purpose, at the same time, of familiarising himself with
its action, and of placing it in a state of thorough working order.  By
mastering its details, he was enabled, as opportunity occurred, to turn
to practical account the knowledge he thus diligently and patiently
acquired.

Such an opportunity was not long in presenting itself.  In the year 1810,
a new pit was sunk by the "Grand Allies" (the lessees of the mines) at
the village of Killingworth, now known as the Killingworth High Pit.  An
atmospheric or Newcomen engine, made by Smeaton, was fixed there for the
purpose of pumping out the water from the shaft; but somehow it failed to
clear the pit.  As one of the workmen has since described the
circumstance--"She couldn't keep her jack-head in water: all the
enginemen in the neighbourhood were tried, as well as Crowther of the
Ouseburn, but they were clean bet."  The engine had been fruitlessly
pumping for nearly twelve months, and began to be spoken of as a total
failure.  Stephenson had gone to look at it when in course of erection,
and then observed to the over-man that he thought it was defective; he
also gave it as his opinion that, if there were much water in the mine,
the engine would never keep it under.  Of course, as he was only a
brakesman, his opinion was considered to be worth very little on such a
point.  He continued, however, to make frequent visits to the engine, to
see "how she was getting on."  From the bank-head where he worked his
brake he could see the chimney smoking at the High Pit; and as the men
were passing to and from their work, he would call out and inquire "if
they had gotten to the bottom yet?"  And the reply was always to the same
effect--the pumping made no progress, and the workmen were still "drowned
out."

One Saturday afternoon he went over to the High Pit to examine the engine
more carefully than he had yet done.  He had been turning the subject
over thoughtfully in his mind; and seemed to have satisfied himself as to
the cause of the failure.  Kit Heppel, one of the sinkers, asked him,
"Weel, George, what do you mak' o' her?  Do you think you could do
anything to improve her?"  Said George, "I could alter her, man, and make
her draw: in a week's time I could send you to the bottom."

Forthwith Heppel reported this conversation to Ralph Dodds, the head
viewer, who, being now quite in despair, and hopeless of succeeding with
the engine, determined to give George's skill a trial.  At the worst he
could only fail, as the rest had done.  In the evening, Dodds went in
search of Stephenson, and met him on the road, dressed in his Sunday's
suit, on the way to "the preaching" in the Methodist Chapel, which he
attended.  "Well, George," said Dodds, "they tell me that you think you
can put the engine at the High Pit to rights."  "Yes, sir," said George.
"I think I could."  "If that's the case, I'll give you a fair trial, and
you must set to work immediately.  We are clean drowned out, and cannot
get a stop further.  The engineers hereabouts are all bet; and if you
really succeed in accomplishing what they cannot do, you may depend upon
it I will make you a man for life."

Stephenson began his operations early next morning.  The only condition
that he made, before setting to work, was that he should select his own
workmen.  There was, as he knew, a good deal of jealousy amongst the
"regular" men that a colliery brakesman should pretend to know more about
their engine than they themselves did, and attempt to remedy defects
which the most skilled men of their craft, including the engineer of the
colliery, had failed to do.  But George made the condition a _sine qua
non_.  "The workmen," said he, "must either be all Whigs or all Tories."
There was no help for it, so Dodds ordered the old hands to stand aside.
The men grumbled, but gave way; and then George and his party went in.

The engine was taken entirely to pieces.  The cistern containing the
injection water was raised ten feet; the injection cock, being too small,
was enlarged to nearly double its former size, and it was so arranged
that it should be shut off quickly at the beginning of the stroke.  These
and other alterations were necessarily performed in a rough way, but, as
the result proved, on true principles.  Stephenson also, finding that the
boiler would bear a greater pressure than five pounds to the inch,
determined to work it at a pressure of ten pounds, though this was
contrary to the directions of both Newcomen and Smeaton.  The necessary
alterations were made in about three days, and many persons came to see
the engine start, including the men who had put her up.  The pit being
nearly full of water, she had little to do on starting, and, to use
George's words, "came bounce into the house."  Dodds exclaimed, "Why, she
was better as she was; now, she will knock the house down."  After a
short time, however, the engine got fairly to work, and by ten o'clock
that night the water was lower in the pit than it had ever been before.
It was kept pumping all Thursday, and by the Friday afternoon the pit was
cleared of water, and the workmen were "sent to the bottom," as
Stephenson had promised.  Thus the alterations effected in the pumping
apparatus proved completely successful.

Dodds was particularly gratified with the manner in which the job had
been done, and he made Stephenson a present of ten pounds, which, though
very inadequate when compared with the value of the work performed, was
accepted with gratitude.  George was proud of the gift as the first
marked recognition of his skill as a workman; and he used afterwards to
say that it was the biggest sum of money he had up to that time earned in
one lump.  Ralph Dodds, however, did more than this.  He released the
brakesman from the handles of his engine at West Moot, and appointed him
engineman at the High Pit, at good wages, during the time the pit was
sinking,--the job lasting for about a year; and he also kept him in mind
for further advancement.

Stephenson's skill as an engine-doctor soon became noised abroad, and he
was called upon to prescribe remedies for all the old, wheezy, and
ineffective pumping-machines in the neighbourhood.  In this capacity he
soon left the "regular" men far behind, though they in their turn were
very mach disposed to treat the Killingworth brakesman as no better than
a quack.  Nevertheless, his practice was really founded upon a close
study of the principles of mechanics, and on an intimate practical
acquaintance with the details of the pumping-engine.

Another of his smaller achievements in the same line is still told by the
people of the district.  At the corner of the road leading to Long
Benton, there was a quarry from which a peculiar and scarce kind of ochre
was taken.  In the course of working it out, the water had collected in
considerable quantities; and there being no means of draining it off, it
accumulated to such an extent that the further working of the ochre was
almost entirely stopped.  Ordinary pumps were tried, and failed; and then
a windmill was tried, and failed too.  On this, George was asked what
ought to be done to clear the quarry of the water.  He said, "he would
set up for them an engine little bigger than a kail-pot, that would clear
them out in a week."  And he did so.  A little engine was speedily
erected, by means of which the quarry was pumped dry in the course of a
few days.  Thus his skill as a pump-doctor soon became the marvel of the
district.

In elastic muscular vigour, Stephenson was now in his prime, and he still
continued to be zealous in measuring his strength and agility with his
fellow workmen.  The competitive element in his nature was always strong;
and his success in these feats of rivalry was certainly remarkable.  Few,
if any, could lift such weights, throw the hammer and putt the stone so
far, or cover so great a space at a standing or running leap.  One day,
between the engine hour and the rope-rolling hour, Kit Heppel challenged
him to leap from one high wall to another, with a deep gap between.  To
Heppel's surprise and dismay, George took the standing leap, and cleared
the eleven feet at a bound.  Had his eye been less accurate, or his limbs
less agile and sure, the feat must have cost him his life.

But so full of redundant muscular vigour was he, that leaping, putting,
or throwing the hammer were not enough for him.  He was also ambitious of
riding on horseback, and, as he had not yet been promoted to an office
enabling him to keep a horse of his own, he sometimes borrowed one of the
gin-horses for a ride.  On one of these occasions, he brought the animal
back reeking; when Tommy Mitcheson, the bank horse-keeper, a rough-spoken
fellow, exclaimed to him: "Set such fellows as you on horseback, and
you'll soon ride to the De'il."  But Tommy Mitcheson lived to tell the
joke, and to confess that, after all, there had been a better issue to
George's horsemanship than that which he predicted.

Old Cree, the engine-wright at Killingworth High Pit, having been killed
by an accident, George Stephenson was, in 1812, appointed engine-wright
of the colliery at the salary of 100 pounds a year.  He was also allowed
the use of a galloway to ride upon in his visits of inspection to the
collieries leased by the "Grand Allies" in that neighbourhood.  The
"Grand Allies" were a company of gentlemen, consisting of Sir Thomas
Liddell (afterwards Lord Ravensworth), the Earl of Strathmore, and Mr.
Stuart Wortley (afterwards Lord Wharncliffe), the lessees of the
Killingworth collieries.  Having been informed of the merits of
Stephenson, of his indefatigable industry, and the skill which he had
displayed in the repairs of the pumping-engines, they readily acceded to
Mr. Dodds' recommendation that he should be appointed the colliery
engine-wright; and, as we shall afterwards find, they continued to honour
him by distinguished marks of their approval.

                     [Picture: Killingworth High Pit]

                   [Picture: Glebe Farm House, Benton]