In the autumn of 1823, when I was fifteen years old, I had a most
delightful journey with my father.  It was the first occasion on which
I had been a considerable distance from home.  And yet the journey was
only to Stirling.  My father had received a commission to paint a view
of the castle as seen from the ruins of Cambuskenneth Abbey, situated a
few miles from the town.  We started from Newhaven by a small steamboat,
passing, on our way up the Firth, Queensferry, Culross, and Alloa.
We then entered the windings of the river, from which I saw the Ochils,
a noble range of bright green mountains.  The passage of the steamer
through the turns and windings of the Forth was most interesting.

We arrived at Stirling, and at once proceeded to Cambuskenneth Abbey,
where there was a noble old Gothic tower.  This formed the foreground
of my father's careful sketch, with Stirling Castle in the background,
and Ben Lomond with many other of the Highland mountains in the
distance.  As my father wished to make a model of the Gothic tower,
he desired me to draw it carefully, and to take the dimensions of all
the chief parts as well as to make detailed sketches of its minor
architectural features.  It was a delightful autumn afternoon, and,
before the day had closed, our work at the abbey was done.  We returned
to Stirling and took a walk round the castle to see the effect of the
sun setting behind the Highland mountains.

Next morning we visited the castle.  I was much interested with the
interior, especially with a beautifully decorated Gothic oratory or
private chapel, used by the Scottish kings when they resided at
Stirling.  The oratory had been converted with great taste into an
ante-drawingroom of the governor's house.  The exquisite decorations of
this chapel*
 [footnote...
This exquisite specimen of a carved oak Gothic apartment had a terrible
incident in Scottish history connected with it.  It was in this place
that The Douglas intruded his presence on James the Third.  He urged
his demands in a violent and threatening manner, and afterwards laid
hands upon the king.  The latter, in defending himself with his dagger,
wounded the Douglas mortally; and to get rid of the body the king cast
it out of the window of the chapel, where it fell down the precipitous
rock underneath.  The chapel has since been destroyed by fire.
 ...]
were the first specimens of Gothic carving in oak that I had ever seen,
and they seemed to put our modern carvings to shame.  The Great Hall,
where the Scottish Parliament used to meet, was also very interesting
as connected with the ancient history of the country.

From Stirling we walked to Alloa, passing the picturesque cascades
rushing down the cleft's of the Ochils.  We put up for the night at
Clackmannan, a very decayed and melancholy-looking village, though it
possessed a fine specimen of the Scottish castellated tower.  It is
said that Robert Bruce slept here before the Battle of Bannockburn.
But the most interesting thing that I saw during the journey was the
Devon Ironworks.  I had read and heard about the processes carried on
there in smelting iron ore and running it into pig-iron.  The origin of
the familiar trade term "pig-iron" is derived from the result of the
arrangement most suitable for distributing the molten iron as it rushes
forth from the opening made at the bottom part of the blast-furnace;
when, after its reduction from the ore, it collects in a fluid mass of
several tons weight.  Previous to "tapping" the furnace a great central
channel is made in the sand-covered floor of the forge; this central
channel is then subdivided into many lateral branches or canals, into
which the molten iron flows, and eventually hardens.

The great steam-engine that worked the blast furnace was the largest I
had ever seen.  A singular expedient was employed at these works, of
using a vast vault hewn in the solid rock of the hillside for the
purpose of storing up the blast produced by the engines, and so
equalising the pressure; thus turning a mountain side into a reservoir
for the use of a blast-furnace.  This seemed to me a daring and
wonderful engineering feat.

We waited at the works until the usual time had arrived for letting out
the molten iron which had been accumulating at the lower part of the
blast-furnace.  It was a fine sight to see the stream of white-hot iron
flowing like water into the large gutter immediately before the
opening.  From this the molten iron flowed on until it filled the
moulds of sand which branched off from the central gutter.  The iron
left in the centre, when cooled and broken up, was called sow metal,
while that in the branches was called pig iron; the terms being derived
from the appearance of a sow engaged in its maternal duties.
The pig-iron is thus cast in handy-sized pieces for the purpose of
being transported to other iron foundries; while the clumsy sow metal
is broken up and passes through another process of melting, or is
reserved for foundry uses at the works where it is produced.
After inspecting with great pleasure the machinery connected with the
foundry, we took our leave and returned to Edinburgh by steamer from
Alloa.

Shortly after, I had the good fortune to make the acquaintance of
Robert Bald, the well-known mining engineer.  He was one of the most
kind-hearted men I have ever known.  He was always ready to communicate
his knowledge to young and old.  His sound judgment and long practical
experience in regard to coal-mining and the various machinery connected
with it, rendered him a man of great importance in the northern
counties, where his advice was eagerly sought for. Besides his special
knowledge, he had a large acquaintance with literature and science.
He was bright, lively, and energetic.  He was a living record of good
stories, and in every circle in which he moved he was the focus of
cheerfulness.  In fact, there was no greater social favourite in
Edinburgh than Robert Bald.

Bald was very fond of young people, and he became much attached to me.
He used to come to my father's house, and often came in to see what I
was about in the work-room.  He was rejoiced to see the earnest and
industrious manner in which I was employed, in preparing myself for my
proposed business as an engineer.  He looked over my tools, mostly of
my own making, and gave me every encouragement.  When he had any
visitors he usually brought them and introduced them to me.  In this
way I had the happiness to make the acquaintance of Robert Napier,
Nelson, and Cook, of Glasgow; and in after life I continued to enjoy
their friendship.  It would be difficult for me to detail the acts of
true disinterested kindness which I continued to receive from this
admirable man.

On several occasions he wished me to accompany him on his business
journeys, in order that I might see some works that would supply me
with valuable information.  He had designed a powerful pumping engine
to drain more effectually a large colliery district situated near
Bannockburn--close to the site of the great battle in the time of
Robert the Bruce.  He invited me to join him.  It was with the greatest
pleasure that I accepted his invitation; for there would be not only
the pleasure of seeing a noble piece of steam machinery brought into
action for the first time, but also the enjoyment of visiting the
celebrated Carron Ironworks.

The Carron Ironworks are classic ground to engineers.  They are
associated with the memory of Roebuck, Watt, and Miller of Dalswinton.
For there Roebuck and Watt began the first working steam-engine; Miller
applied the steam-engine to the purposes of navigation, and invented
the Carronade gun.  The works existed at an early period in the history
of British iron manufacture.  Much of the machinery continued to be of
wood.  Although effective in a general way it was monstrously cumbrous.
It gave the idea of vast power and capability of resistance, while it
was far from being so in reality. It was, however, truly imposing and
impressive in its effect upon strangers.  When seen partially lit up by
the glowing masses of white-hot iron, with only the rays of bright
sunshine gleaming through a few holes in the roof, and the dark, black,
smoky vaults in which the cumbrous machinery was heard rumbling away in
the distance--while the moving parts were dimly seen through the
murky atmosphere, mixed with the sounds of escaping steam and rushes of
water; with the half-naked men darting about with masses of red-hot
iron and ladles full of molten cast-iron--it made a powerful
impression upon the mind.

I was afterwards greatly interested by a collection of old armour, dug
up from the field of the Battle of Bannockburn close at hand. They were
arranged on the walls of the house of the manager of the Carron
Ironworks.  There were swords, daggers, lances, battle-axes, shields,
and coats of chain-armour.  Some of the latter were whole, others in
fragmentary portions.  I was particularly interested with the admirable
workmanship of the coats of mail.  The iron links extended from the
covering of the head to the end of the arms, and from the shoulders
down to the hips, in one linked iron fabric.  The beauty and exactness
with which this chain-armour had been forged and built up were truly
wonderful.  There must have been "giants in those days."  This grand
style of armour was in use from the time of the Conquest, and was most
effective in the way of protection, as it was fitted by its flexibility
to give full play to the energetic action of the wearer.  It was
infinitely superior to the senseless plate-armour that was used, at a
subsequent period, to encase soldiers like lobsters.  The chain-armour
I saw at Carron left a deep impression on my mind.  I never see a bit
of it, or of its representation in the figures on our grand tombs of
the thirteenth century, but I think of my first sight of it at Carron
and of the tremendous conflict at Bannockburn.

Remembering, also, the impressive sight of the picturesque fire-lit
halls, and the terrible-looking, cumbrous machinery which I first
beheld on a grand scale at Carron, I have often regretted that some of
our artists do not follow up the example set them by that admirable
painter, Wright of Derby, and treat us to the pictures of some of our
great ironworks.  They not only abound with the elements of the
picturesque in its highest sense, but also set forth the glory of the
useful arts in such a way as would worthily call forth the highest
power of our artists.

To return to my life at Edinburgh.  I was now seventeen years old.
I had acquired a considerable amount of practical knowledge as to the
use and handling of mechanical tools, and I desired to turn it to some
account.  I was able to construct working models of steam-engines and
other apparatus required for the illustration of mechanical subjects.
I began with making a small working steam engine for the purpose of
grinding the oil-colours used by my father in his artistic work.
The result was quite satisfactory.  Many persons came to see my active
little steam-engine at work, and they were so pleased with it that I
received several orders for small workshop engines, and also for some
models of steam-engines to illustrate the subjects taught at Mechanics'
Institutions.

[Image]  Sectional model of condensing steam-engine.  By James Nasmyth

I contrived a sectional model of a complete condensing steam-engine of
the beam and parallel motion construction.  The model, as seen from one
side, exhibited every external detail in full and due action when the
flywheel was moved round by hand; while, on the other or sectional
side, every detail of the interior was seen, with the steam-valves and
air-pump, as well as the motion of the piston in the cylinder, with the
construction of the piston and the stuffing box, together with the
slide-valve and steam passages, all in due position and relative
movement.

The first of these sectional models of the steam-engine was made for
the Edinburgh School of Arts, where its uses in instructing mechanics
and others in the application of steam were highly appreciated.
The second was made for Professor Leslie, of the Edinburgh University,
for use in his lectures on Natural Philosophy.  The professor had,
at his own private cost, provided a complete and excellent set of
apparatus, which, for excellent workmanship and admirable utility,
had never, I believe, been provided for the service of any university.
He was so pleased with my addition to his class-room apparatus, that,
besides expressing his great thanks for my services, he most handsomely
presented me with a free ticket to his Natural Philosophy class as a
regular student, so long as it suited me to make use of his instruction.
But far beyond this, as a reward for my earnest endeavours to satisfy
this truly great philosopher, was the kindly manner in which he on all
occasions communicated to me conversationally his original and masterly
views on the great fundamental principles of Natural Philosophy--
especially as regarded the principles of Dynamics and the Philosophy of
Mechanics. The clear views which he communicated in his conversation,
as well as in his admirable lectures, vividly illustrated by the
experiments which he had originated, proved of great advantage to me;
and I had every reason to consider his friendship and his teaching as
amongst the most important elements in my future success as a practical
engineer.

Having referred to the Edinburgh School of Arts, I feel it necessary to
say something about the origin of that excellent institution.
A committee of the most distinguished citizens of Edinburgh was formed
for the purpose of instituting a college in which working men and
mechanics might possess the advantages of instruction in the principles
on which their various occupations were conducted.  Among the committee
were Leonard Horner, Francis Jeffrey, Henry Cockburn, John Murray of
Henderland, Alexander Bryson, James Mline, John Miller, the Lord Provost,
and various members of the Council.  Their efforts succeeded, and the
institution was founded.  The classes were opened in 1821, in which
year I became a student.

In order to supply the students, who were chiefly young men of the
working class, with sound instruction in the various branches of
science, the lectures were delivered and the classes were superintended
by men of established ability in their several departments.
This course was regularly pursued from its fundamental and elementary
principles to the highest point of scientific instruction.
The consecutive lectures and examinations extended, as in the
University, from October to May in each year's session.  It was, in
fact, our first technical college.  In these later days when so many of
our so-called Mechanics' Institutes are merely cheap reading-clubs for
the middle classes, and the lectures are delivered for the most part
merely for a pleasant evening' s amusement, it seems to me that we have
greatly departed from the original design with which Mechanics'
Institutions were founded.

As the Edinburgh School of Arts was intended for the benefit of
mechanics, the lectures and classes were held in the evening after the
day's work was over.  The lectures on chemistry were given by Dr. Fyfe
--an excellent man.  His clearness of style, his successful
experiments, and the careful and graphic method by which he carried his
students from the first fundamental principles to the highest points of
chemical science, attracted a crowded and attentive audience.  Not less
interesting were the lectures on Mechanical Philosophy, which in my
time were delivered by Dr. Lees and Mr.Buchanan.  The class of
Geometry and Mathematics was equally well conducted, though the
attendance was not so great.

The building which the directors had secured for the lecture-hall and
class-rooms of the institution was situated at the lower end of Niddry
Street, nearly under the great arch of the South Bridge.  It had been
built about a hundred years before, and was formerly used by an
association of amateur musicians, who gave periodical concerts of vocal
and instrumental music.  The orchestra was now converted into a noble
lecture table, with accommodation for any amount of apparatus that
might be required for the purposes of illustration.  The seats were
arranged in the body of the hall in concentric segments, with the
lecture table as their centre.  In an alcove fight opposite the
lecturer might often be seen the directors of the institution--
Jeffrey, Horner, Murray, and others--who took every opportunity of
dignifying by their presence this noble gathering of earnest and
intelligent working men.

A library of scientific books was soon added to the institution, by
purchases or by gifts.  Such was the eagerness to have a chance of
getting the book you wanted that I remember standing on many occasions
for some time amidst a number of applicants awaiting the opening of the
door on an evening library night.  It was as crowded as if I had been
standing at the gallery door of the theatre on a night when some
distinguished star from London was about to make his appearance.
There was the same eagerness to get a good place in the lecture-room,
as near to the lecture table as possible, especially on the chemistry
nights.

I continued my regular attendance at this admirable institution from
1821 to 1826.  I am glad to find that it still continues in active
operation.  In November 1880 the number of students attending the
Edinburgh School of Arts amounted to two thousand five hundred!  I have
been led to this prolix account of the beginning of the institution by
the feeling that I owe a deep debt of gratitude to it, and because of
the instructive and intellectually enjoyable evenings which I spent
there, in fitting myself for entering upon the practical work of my
life.

The successful establishment of the Edinburgh School of Arts had a
considerable effect throughout the country.  Similar institutions were
established, lectures were delivered, and the necessary illustrations
were acquired--above all, the working models of the steam-engine.
There was quite a run upon me for supplying them.  My third working
model was made to the order of Robert Bald, for the purpose of being
presented to the Alloa Mechanics' Institute; the fourth was
manufactured for Mr. G. Buchanan, who lectured on mechanical subjects
throughout the country; and the fifth was supplied to a Mr. Offley, an
English gentleman who took a fancy for the model when he came to
purchase some of my father's works.

The price I charged for my models was #10; and with the pecuniary
results I made over one-third to my father, as a sort of help to
remunerate him for my "keep," and with the rest I purchased tickets of
admission to certain classes in the University.  I attended the
Chemistry course under Dr. Hope; the Geometry and Mathematical course
under Professor Wallace; and the Natural Philosophy course under my
valued friend and patron Professor Leslie.  What with my attendance
upon the classes, and my workshop and drawing occupations, my time did
not hang at all heavy on my hands.

I got up early in the mornings to work at my father's lathe, and I sat
up late at night to do the brass castings in my bedroom.  Some of this,
however, I did during the day-time, when not attending the University
classes.  The way in which I converted my bedroom into a brass foundry
was as follows:  I took up the carpet so that there might be nothing
but the bare boards to be injured by the heat.  My furnace in the grate
was made of four plates of stout sheet-iron, lined with fire-brick,
corner to corner.  To get the requisite sharp draught I bricked up with
single bricks the front of the fireplace, leaving a hole at the back of
the furnace for the short pipe just to fit into.  The fuel was
generally gas coke and cinders saved from the kitchen.  The heat I
raised was superb--a white heat, sufficient to melt in a crucible six
or eight pounds of brass.

Then I had a box of moulding sand, where the moulds were gently rammed
in around the pattern previous to the casting.  But how did I get my
brass?  All the old brassworks in my father's workshop drawers and boxes
were laid under contribution.  This brass being for the most part soft
and yellow, I made it extra hard by the addition of a due proportion of
tin.  It was then capable of retaining a fine edge.  When I had
exhausted the stock of old brass, I had to buy old copper, or new,
in the form of ingot or tile copper, and when melted I added to it
one-eighth of its weight of pure tin, which yielded the strongest alloy
of the two metals.  When cast into any required form this was a treat
to work, so sound and close was the grain, and so durable in resisting
wear and tear.  This is the true bronze or gun metal.

When melted, the liquid brass was let into the openings, until the
whole of the moulds were filled.  After the metal cooled it was taken
out; and when the room was sorted up no one could have known that my
foundry operations had been carried on in my bedroom.  My brass foundry
was right over my father's bedroom.  He had forbidden me to work late
at night, as I did occasionally on the sly.  Sometimes when I ought to
have been asleep I was detected by the sound of the ramming in of the
sand of the moulding boxes.  On such occasions my father let me know
that I was disobeying his orders by rapping on the ceiling of his
bedroom with a slight wooden rod of ten feet that he kept for measuring
purposes.  But I got over that difficulty by placing a bit of old
carpet under my moulding boxes as a non-conductor of sound, so that no
ramming could afterwards be heard. My dear mother also was afraid that
I should damage my health by working so continuously.  She would come
into the workroom late in the evening, when I was working at the lathe
or the vice, and say, "Ye'll kill yerself, laddie, by working so hard
and so late".  Yet she took a great pride in seeing me so busy and so
happy.

Nearly the whole of my steam-engine models were made in my father's
workroom.  His foot-lathe and stove, together with my brass casting
arrangements in my bedroom, answered all my purposes in the way of
model making.  But I had at times to avail myself of the smithy and
foundry that my kind and worthy friend, George Douglass, had
established in the neighbourhood.  He had begun business as "a jobbing
smith," but being a most intelligent and energetic workman, he shot
ahead and laid the foundations of a large trade in steam-engines.
When I had any part of a job in hand that was beyond the capabilities
of my father's lathe, or my bedroom casting apparatus, I immediately
went to Douglass's smithy, where every opportunity was afforded me for
carrying on my larger class of work.

His place was only about five minutes' walk from my father's house.
I had the use of his large turning-lathe, which was much more suitable
for big or heavy work than the lathe at home.  When any considerable
bit of steel or iron forging had to be done, a forge fire and anvil
were always placed at my service.  In making my flywheels for the
sectional models of steam-engines I had a rather neat and handy way of
constructing them.  The boss of the wheel of brass was nicely bored;
the arm-holes were carefully drilled and taped, so as to allow the arms
which I had turned to be screwed in and appear like neat columns of
round wrought iron or steel screwed into the boss of the flywheel.

In return for the great kindness of George Douglass in allowing me to
have the use of his foundry, I resolved to present him with a specimen
of my handiwork.  I desired to try my powers in making a more powerful
steam-engine than I had as yet attempted to construct, in order to
drive the large turning-lathe and the other tools and machinery of his
small foundry.  I accordingly set to work and constructed a 
direct-acting, high-pressure steam-engine, with a cylinder four inches
in diameter.  I use the term direct acting, because I dispensed with
the beam and parallel motion, which was generally considered the
correct mode of transferring the action of the piston to the crank.

The result of my labours was a very efficient steam-engine, which set
all the lathes and mechanical tools in brisk activity of movement.
It had such an enlivening effect upon the workmen that George Douglass
afterwards told me that the busy hum of the wheels, and the active,
smooth, rhythmic sound of the merry little engine had, through some
sympathetic agency, so quickened the stroke of every hammer, chisel,
and file in his workmen's hands, that it nearly doubled the output of
work for the same wages!

The sympathy of activity acting upon the workmen's hands cannot be
better illustrated than by a story told me by my father.  A master
tailor in a country town employed a number of workmen.  They had been
to see some tragic melodrama performed by some players in a booth at
the fair.  A very slow, doleful, but catching air was played, which so
laid hold of the tailors' fancy that for some time after they were
found slowly whistling or humming the doleful ditty, the movement of
their needles keeping time to it; the result was that the clothing that
should have been sent home on Saturday was not finished until the
Wednesday following.  The music had done it!  The master tailor, being
something of a philosopher, sent his men to the play again; but he
arranged that they should be treated with lively merry airs.
The result was that the lively airs displaced the doleful ditty;
and the tailors' needles again reverted to even more than their
accustomed quickness.

However true the story may be, it touches an important principle in
regard to the stimulation of activity by the rapid movements or sounds
of machinery, which influence every workman within their sight or
hearing.  We all know the influence of a quick merry air, played by
fife and drum, upon the step and marching of a regiment of soldiers.
It is the same with the quick movements of a steam-engine upon the
activity of workmen.

I may add that my worthy friend, George Douglass, derived other
advantages from the construction of my steam-engine.  Being of an
enterprising disposition he added another iron foundry to his smaller
shops; he obtained many good engineering tools, and in course of time
he began to make steam-engines for agricultural purposes.  These were
used in lieu of horse power for thrashing corn, and performing several
operations that used to be done by hand labour in the farmyards.
Orders came in rapidly, and before long the chimneys of Douglass's
steam-engines were as familiar in the country round Edinburgh as corn
stacks.  All the large farms, especially in Midlothian and
East Lothian, were supplied with his steam-engines. The business of
George Douglass became very large; and in course of time he was enabled
to retire with a considerable fortune.

In addition to the steam-engine which I presented to Douglass,
I received an order to make another from a manufacturer of braiding.
His machines had before been driven by hand labour; but as his business
extended, the manufacturer employed me to furnish him with all engine
of two-horse power, which was duly constructed and set to work,
and gave him the highest satisfaction.

[Image]  James Nasmyth's Expansometer, 1826.

I may here mention that one of my earliest attempts at original
contrivance was an Expansometer--an instrument for measuring in bulk
all metals and solid substances.  The object to be experimented on was
introduced into a tube of brass, with as much water round it as to fill
the tube.  The apparatus was then plunged into a vessel of boiling
water, or heated to boiling point; when the total expansion of the bar
was measured by a graduated scale, as seen in the annexed engraving.
By this simple means the expansion of any material might be ascertained
under various increments of heat, say from 60deg to 2l2deg.
It was simply a thermometer, the mass marking its own expansion.
Dr. Brewster was so much pleased with the apparatus that he described
it and figured it in the Edinburgh Philosophical Journal, of which he
was then editor.

[Image]  The road steam-carriage.  By James Nasmyth.

About the year 1827, when I was nineteen years old, the subject of
steam carriages to run upon common roads occupied considerable
attention.  Several engineers and mechanical schemers had tried their
hands, but as yet no substantial results had come of their attempts to
solve the problem.  Like others, I tried my hand.  Having made a small
working model of a steam-carriage, I exhibited it before the members of
the Scottish Society of Arts.  The performance of this active little
machine was so gratifying to the Society that they requested me to
construct one of such power as to enable four or six persons to be
conveyed along the ordinary roads.  The members of the Society, in
their individual capacity, subscribed #60, which they placed in my
hands as the means for carrying out their project.

I accordingly set to work at once.  I had the heavy parts of the engine
and carriage done at Anderson's foundry at Leith.  There was in
Anderson's employment a most able general mechanic named Robert
Maclaughlan, who had served his time at Carmichaels' of Dundee.
Anderson possessed some excellent tools, which enabled me to proceed
rapidly with the work.  Besides, he was most friendly, and took much
delight in being concerned in my enterprise.  This "big job" was
executed in about four months.  The steam-carriage was completed and
exhibited before the members of the Society of Arts.  Many successful
trials were made with it on the queensferry Road, near Edinburgh.
The runs were generally of four or five miles, with a load of eight
passengers sitting on benches about three feet from the ground.

The experiments were continued for nearly three months, to the great
satisfaction of the members.  I may mention that in my steam-carriage
I employed the waste steam to create a blast or draught by discharging
it into the short chimney of the boiler at its lowest part, and found
it most effective.  I was not at that time aware that George Stephenson
and others had adopted the same method; but it was afterwards
gratifying to me to find that I had been correct as regards the
important uses of the steam blast in the chimney.  In fact, it is to
this use of the waste steam that we owe the practical success of the
locomotive-engine as a tractive power on railways, especially at high
speeds.

The Society of Arts did not attach any commercial value to my steam
road-carriage.  It was merely as a matter of experiment that they had
invited me to construct it.  When it proved successful they made me a
present of the entire apparatus.  As I was anxious to get on with my
studies, and to prepare for the work of practical engineering,
I proceeded no further.  I broke up the steam-carriage and sold the two
small high-pressure engines, provided with a compact and strong boiler,
for #67, a sum which more than defrayed all the expenses of the
construction and working of the machine.

I still continued to make investigations as to the powers and
capabilities of the steam-engine.  There were numerous breweries,
distilleries, and other establishments, near Edinburgh, where such
engines were at work.  As they were made by different engineers, I was
desirous of seeing them and making sketches of them, especially when
there was any special peculiarity in their construction.  I found this
a most favourite and instructive occupation.  The engine tenters became
very friendly with me, and they we re always glad to see me interested
in them and their engines.  They were especially delighted to see me
make "drafts," as they called my sketches, of the engines under their
charge.

My father sometimes feared that my too close and zealous application to
engineering work might have a bad effect upon my health.  My bedroom
work at brass casting, my foundry work at the making of steam-engines,
and my studies at the University classes, were perhaps too much for a
lad of my age, just when I was in the hobbledehoy state--between a
boy and a man.  Whether his apprehensions were warranted or not, it did
so happen that I was attacked with typhus fever in 1828, a disease that
was then prevalent in Edinburgh.  I had a narrow escape from its fatal
influence.  But thanks to my good constitution, and to careful nursing,
I succeeded in throwing off the fever, and after due time recovered my
usual health and strength.

In the course of my inspection of the engines made by different makers,
I was impressed with the superiority of those made by the Carmichaels
of Dundee.  They were excellent both in design and in execution.
I afterwards found that the Carmichaels were among the first of the
Scottish engine makers who gave due attention to the employment of
improved mechanical tools, with the object of producing accurate work
with greater ease, rapidity, and economy, than could possibly be
effected by the hand labour of even the most skilful workmen.  I was
told that the cause of the excellence of the Carmichaels' work was not
only in the ability of the heads of the firm, but in their employment
of the best engineers' tools.  Some of their leading men had worked at
Maudslay's machine shop in London, the fame of which had already
reached Dundee; and Maudslay's system of employing machine tools had
been imported into the northern steam factory.

I had on many occasions, when visiting the works where steam-engines
were employed, heard of the name and fame of Maudslay.  I was told that
his works were the very centre and climax of all that was excellent in
mechanical workmanship.  These reports built up in my mind, at this
early period of my aspirations, an earnest and hopeful desire that
I might some day get a sight of Maudslay's celebrated works in London.
In course of time it developed into a passion.  I will now proceed to
show how my inmost desires were satisfied.


CHAPTER 7.  Henry Maudslay, London

The chief object of my ambition was now to be taken on at Henry
Maudslay's works in London.  I had heard so much of his engineering
work, of his assortment of machine-making tools, and of the admirable
organisation of his manufactory, that I longed to obtain employment
there.  I was willing to labour, in however humble a capacity, in that
far-famed workshop.

I was aware that my father had not the means of paying the large
premium required for placing me as an apprentice at Maudslay's works.
I was also informed that Maudslay had ceased to take pupils.
After experience, he found that the premium apprentices caused him much
annoyance and irritation.  They came in "gloves;" their attendance was
irregular; they spread a bad example amongst the regular apprentices
and workmen; and on the whole they were found to be very disturbing
elements in the work of the factory.

It therefore occurred to me that, by showing some specimens of my work
and drawings, I might be able to satisfy Mr. Maudslay that I was not an
amateur, but a regular working engineer.  With this object I set to
work, and made with special care a most complete working model of a
high-pressure engine.  The cylinder was 2 inches diameter, and the
stroke 6 inches.  Every part of the engine, including the patterns,
the castings, the forgings, were the results of my own individual
handiwork.  I turned out this sample of my ability as an engineer
workman in such a style as even now I should be proud to own.

In like manner I executed several specimens of my ability as a
mechanical draughtsman; for I knew that Maudslay would thoroughly
understand my ability to work after a plan.  Mechanical drawing is the
alphabet of the engineer.  Without this the workman is merely a "hand."
With it he indicates the possession of "a head" I also made some
samples of my skill in hand-sketching of machines, and parts of
machines, in perspective--that is, as such objects really appear when
set before us in their natural aspect.  I was the more desirous of
exhibiting the ability which I possessed in mechanical draughtsmanship,
as I knew it to be a somewhat rare and much-valued acquirement.
It was a branch of delineative art that my father had carefully taught me.
Throughout my professional life I have found this art to be of the
utmost practical value.

Having thus provided myself with such visible and tangible evidences 
of my capabilities as a young engineer, I carefully packed up my 
working model and drawings, and prepared to start for London.
On the 19th of May 1829, accompanied by my father, I set sail by the
Leith smack Edinburgh Castle, Captain Orr, master.  After a pleasant
voyage of four days we reached the mouth of the Thames.  We sailed up
from the Nore on Saturday afternoon, lifted up, as it were, by the tide,
for it was almost a dead calm the whole way.

The sight of the banks of the famous river, with the Kent orchards in
full blossom, and the frequent passages of steamers with bands of music
and their decks crowded with pleasure-seekers, together with the sight
of numbers of noble merchant ships in the river, formed a most glorious
and exciting scene.  It was also enhanced by the thought that I was
nearing the great metropolis, around which so many bright but anxious
hopes were centred, as the scene of my first important step into the
anxious business of life, The tide, which had carried us up the river
as far as Woolwich suddenly turned; and we remained there during the
night.  Early next morning the tide rose, and we sailed away again.
It was a bright mild morning.  The sun came "dancing up the east"
as we floated past wharfs and woodyards and old houses on the banks,
past wherries and coal boats and merchant ships on the river,
until we reached our destination at the Irongate Wharf, near the
Tower of London.  I heard St. Paul's clock strike six just as we 
reached our mooring ground.

Captain Orr was kind enough to allow us to make the ship our hotel
during the Sunday, as it was by no means convenient for us to remove
our luggage on that day.  My father took me ashore and we walked to
Regent's Park.  One of my sisters, who was visiting a friend in London,
was residing in that neighbourhood.  My father so planned his route as
to include many of the most remarkable streets and buildings and sights
of London.  He pointed out the principal objects, and gave me much
information about their origin and history.

I was much struck with the beautiful freshness and luxuriant growth of
the trees and shrubs in the squares; for spring was then in its first
beauty.  The loveliness of Regent's Park surprised me.  The extent of
the space, the brilliancy of the fresh-leaved trees, and the handsome
buildings by which the park was surrounded, made it seem to me more
splendid than a picture from the Arabian Nights.  Under the happy
aspect of a brilliant May forenoon, this first long walk through
London, with all its happy attendant circumstances, rendered it one of
the most vividly remembered incidents in my life.  After visiting my
sister and giving her all the details of the last news from home, she
joined us in our walk down to Westminster Abbey.  The first view of the
interior stands out in my memory as one of the most impressive sights I
ever beheld.  I had before read, over and over again, the beautiful
description of the Abbey given by Washington Irving in the Sketch Book,
one of the most masterly pieces of writing that I know of I now found
one of my day-dreams realised.

We next proceeded over Westminster Bridge to call upon my brother
Patrick.  We found him surrounded by paintings from his beautiful
sketches from Nature.  Some of them were more or less advanced in the
form of exquisite pictures, which now hang on many walls, and will long
commemorate his artistic life.  We closed this ever memorable day by
dining at a tavern at the Surrey end of Waterloo Bridge.  We sat at an
upper window which commanded a long stretch of the river, and from
which we could see the many remarkable buildings, from St. Paul's to
Westminster Abbey and the Houses of Parliament, which lay on the other
side of the Thames.

On the following day my father and I set out in search of lodgings,
hotels being at that time beyond our economical method of living.
We succeeded in securing a tidy lodging at No.  14 Agues Place,
Waterloo Road.  The locality had a special attraction for me, as it was
not far from that focus of interest--Maudslay's factory.  Our luggage
was removed from the ship to the lodgings, and my ponderous cases,
containing the examples of my skill as an engineer workman,
were deposited in a carpenter's workshop close at hand.

I was now anxious for the interview with Maudslay.  My father had been
introduced to him by a mutual friend some two or three years before,
and that was enough.  On the morning of May the 26th we set out
together, and reached his house in Westminster Road, Lambeth.
It adjoined his factory.  My father knocked at the door.  My own heart
beat fast.  Would he be at home?  Would he receive us?  Yes!  he was at
home; and we were invited to enter.

Mr. Maudslay received us in the most kind and frank manner.  After a
little conversation my father explained the object of his visit.
"My son," he said, pointing to me, "is very anxious to have the
opportunity of acquiring a thorough practical knowledge of mechanical
engineering, by serving as an apprentice in some such establishment as
yours" "Well," replied Maudslay, "I must frankly confess to you that my
experience of pupil apprentices has been so unsatisfactory that my
partner and myself have determined to discontinue to receive them--no
matter at what premium.  This was a very painful blow to myself; for it
seemed to put an end to my sanguine expectations.

Mr. Maudslay knew that my father was interested in all matters relating
to mechanical engineering, and he courteously invited him to go round
the works.  Of course I accompanied them.  The sight of the workshops
astonished me.  They excelled all that I had anticipated. The beautiful
machine tools, the silent smooth whirl of the machinery, the active
movements of the men, the excellent quality of the work in progress,
and the admirable order and management that pervaded the whole
establishment, rendered me more tremblingly anxious than ever to obtain
some employment there, in however humble a capacity.

Mr. Maudslay observed the earnest interest which I and my father took
in everything going on, and explained the movements of the machinery
and the rationale of the proceedings in the most lively and kindly
manner.  It was while we were passing from one part of the factory to
another that I observed the beautiful steam-engine which gave motion to
the tools and machinery of the workshops.  The man who attended it was
engaged in cleaning out the ashes from under the boiler furnace,
in order to wheel them away to their place outside.  On the spur of the
moment I said to Mr. Maudslay, "If you would only permit me to do such
a job as that in your service, I should consider myself most fortunate!"
I shall never forget the keen but kindly look that he gave me.  "So ,"
said he, "you are one of that sort, are you?" I was inwardly delighted
at his words.

When our round of the works was concluded, I ventured to say to
Mr. Maudslay that "I had brought up with me from Edinburgh some
working models of steam-engines and mechanical drawings, and I should
feel truly obliged if he would allow me to show them to him?"
"By all means," said he; "bring them to me tomorrow at twelve o'clock."
I need not say how much pleased I was at this permission to exhibit my
handiwork, and how anxious I felt as to the result of Mr. Maudslay's
inspection of it.

I carefully unpacked my working model of the steam-engine at the
carpenter's shop, and had it conveyed, together with my drawings,
on a hand-cart to Mr. Maudslay's next morning at the appointed hour.
I was allowed to place my work for his inspection in a room next his
office and counting-house.  I then called at his residence close by,
where he kindly received me in his library.  He asked me to wait until
he and his partner, Joshua Field, had inspected my handiwork.

I waited anxiously.  Twenty long minutes passed.  At last he entered
the room, and from a lively expression in his countenance I observed in
a moment that the great object of my long cherished ambition had been
attained!  He expressed, in good round terms, his satisfaction at my
practical ability as a workman engineer and mechanical draughtsman.
Then, opening the door which led from his library into his beautiful
private workshop, he said, "This is where I wish you to work, beside
me, as my assistant workman.  From what I have seen there is no need of
an apprenticeship in your case."

He then proceeded to show me the collection of exquisite tools of all
sorts with which his private workshop was stored.  They mostly bore the
impress of his own clearheadedness and common-sense.  They were very
simple, and quite free from mere traditional forms and arrangements.
At the same time they were perfect for the special purposes for which
they had been designed.  The workshop was surrounded with cabinets and
drawers, filled with evidences of the master's skill and industry.
Every tool had a purpose.  It had been invented for some special
reason.  Sometimes it struck the keynote, as it were, to many of the
important contrivances which enable man to obtain a complete mastery
over materials.

There were also hung upon the walls, or placed upon shelves, many
treasured relics of the first embodiments of his constructive genius.
There were many models explaining, step by step, the gradual progress
of his teeming inventions and contrivances.  The workshop was thus
quite a historical museum of mechanism.  It exhibited his
characteristic qualities in construction.  I afterwards found out that
many of the contrivances preserved in his private workshop were
treasured as suggestive of some interesting early passage in his useful
and active life.  They were kept as relics of his progress towards
mechanical perfection.  When he brought them out from time to time,
to serve for the execution of some job in hand, he was sure to dilate
upon the occasion that led to their production, as well as upon the
happy results which had followed their general employment in mechanical
engineering.

It was one of his favourite maxims, "First, get a clear notion of what
you desire to accomplish, and then in all probability you will succeed
in doing it."  Another was "Keep a sharp look-out upon your materials;
get rid of every pound of material you can do without; put to yourself
the question, 'What business has it to be there? avoid complexities,
and make everything as simple as possible."  Mr. Maudslay was full of
quaint maxims and remarks, the result of much shrewdness, keen
observation, and great experience.  They were well worthy of being
stored up in the mind, like a set of proverbs, full of the life and
experience of men.  His thoughts became compressed into pithy
expressions exhibiting his force of character and intellect.
His quaint remarks on my first visit to his workshop, and on subsequent
occasions, proved to me invaluable guides to "right thinking" in regard
to all matters connected with mechanical structure.

Mr. Maudslay seemed at once to take me into his confidence.  He treated
me in the most kindly manner--not as a workman or an apprentice,
but as a friend.  I was an anxious listener to everything that he said;
and it gave him pleasure to observe that I understood and valued his
conversation.  The greatest treat of all was in store for me.
He showed me his exquisite collection of taps and dies and screw-tackle,
which he had made with the utmost care for his own service.
They rested in a succession of drawers near to the bench where he worked.
There was a place for every one, and every one was in its place.
There was a look of tidiness about the collection which was very
characteristic of the man.  Order was one of the rules which he 
rigidly observed, and he endeavoured to enforce it upon all who were in
his employment.

He proceeded to dilate upon the importance of the uniformity of screws.
Some may call it an improvement, but it might almost be called a
revolution in mechanical engineering which Mr. Maudslay introduced.
Before his time no system had been followed in proportioning the number
of threads of screws to their diameter. Every bolt and nut was thus a
speciality in itself, and neither possessed nor admitted of any
community with its neighbours.  To such an extent had this practice
been carried that all bolts and their corresponding nuts had to be
specially marked as belonging to each other.  Any intermixture that
occurred between them led to endless trouble and expense, as well as
inefficiency and confusion,--especially when parts of complex
machines had to be taken to pieces for repairs.

None but those who lived in the comparatively early days of machine
manufacture can form an adequate idea of the annoyance, delay, and cost
of this utter want of system, or can appreciate the vast services
rendered to mechanical engineering by Mr. Maudslay, who was the first
to introduce the practical measures necessary for its remedy.  In his
system of screw-cutting machinery, and in his taps and dies, and
screw-tackle generally, he set the example, and in fact laid the
foundation, of all that has since been done in this most essential
branch of machine construction.  Those who have had the good fortune to
work under him, and have experienced the benefits of his practice, have
eagerly and ably followed him; and thus his admirable system has become
established throughout the entire mechanical world.

Mr. Maudslay kept me with him for about three hours, initiating me into
his system.  It was with the greatest delight that I listened to his
wise instruction.  The sight of his excellent tools, which he showed me
one by one, filled me with an almost painful feeling of earnest hope
that I might be able in any degree to practically express how thankful
I was to be admitted to so invaluable a privilege as to be in close
communication with this great master in all that was most perfect in
practical mechanics.