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meal was suspended from the dog's neck, and, thus laden, he proudly walked the road from Jolly's Close to Water-row Pit, quite through the village of Newburn. He turned neither to left nor right, nor minded for the time 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 espied the engine-man's messenger, ran after him and fell upon him with the tin can about his neck. There was a terrible tussle and worrying between the dogs, 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 escaped in the struggle. Though George went without his dinner that day, yet when the circumstances of the combat were related to him by the villagers who had seen it, he was prouder of his dog than ever.

It was while working at the Water-row Pit that Stephenson first learnt the art of brakeing an engine. This being one of the higher departments of colliery labour, and amongst 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 fellowworkman, was appointed the brakesman. He frequently allowed George to try his hand at the brake, and instructed him how to proceed. But in this course, Coe was opposed by several of the other workmen-one of whom, a brakesman named William Locke *, 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 had the effect of putting a stop to the opposition. He forthwith called upon George Stephenson to "come into the brake

He afterwards removed to Barnsley in Yorkshire; he was the father of Mr. Locke the celebrated engineer.

house, and take hold of the machine." No sooner had he done this, than Locke, as usual, sat down, and the working of the pit was stopped. "What's the meaning of this?" asked Mr. Nixon; "what's wrong that the pit is standing?" Coe's answer was that Locke had refused to take the corf. "And why?" asked Nixon. "Because Locke objects to my learning George there (pointing to Stephenson) to brake." Locke, when requested to give an explanation, said that "young Stephenson couldn't brake, and, what was more, never would learn to brake: he was so clumsy that he was like to rive his arms off." 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 in the neighbourhood of Newburn, for about three years, George, with his companion Coe, was removed to Black Callerton Colliery in the year 1801. The pit there belonged to the same masters, Nixon and Cramlington, and George was regularly appointed brakesman at the Dolly Pit.

223

CHAP. IV.

BRAKESMAN AT BLACK CALLERTON.

GEORGE STEPHENSON was now a young man of twenty years of age, a well-knit, healthy fellow,-a sober, steady, and expert workman. Beyond this, and his diligence and perseverance, and the occasional odd turns which his curiosity took, there was nothing remarkable about him. He was no precocious genius. As yet he was comparatively untaught, and had but mastered the mere beginnings of knowledge. But his observant faculties were active, and he diligently turned to profitable account every opportunity of exercising them. He had still only the tastes and ambitions of an ordinary workman, and perhaps looked not beyond that condition. His duties as a 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. Brakesmen 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 two 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, and the brakesman was enabled, by applying his foot to a footstep near him, on catching sight of the chain attached to the ascending corve cage, at once, and with great precision, to stop its revolutions, 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. This duty, during the latter stage, chiefly consisted in sending the 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, Stephenson was accustomed to employ those vacant night hours in working the sums set for him by Andrew Robertson upon his slate, in practising writing in his copy-book, and also in mending the shoes of his fellow-workmen. His wages while working at the Dolly Pit amounted to from 17. 15s. to 27. in the fortnight*;

* William Coe has furnished me with an abstract of the wages book of Black Callerton, from which it appears that George Stephenson's earnings for the

son.

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 which he had at this time formed for a respectable young woman of the village, named Fanny HenderFanny was a servant in a neighbouring farm-house; and George, having found her a high-principled young woman of excellent character, courted her with the intention of making her his wife and setting up in a house of his own. The personal attractions of Fanny Henderson, though these were considerable, were the least of her charms. Her temper was of the sweetest; and those who knew her 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 Stephenson was on one occasion favoured with the shoes of his sweetheart, Fanny Henderson, 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 whip them out and hold them up to sight,-the tiny little shoes that they were,-exhibiting them with exultation to his friend, and exclaiming, "what a capital job he had made of them!" Other lovers have carried about with them a lock of their fair one's hair, a glove, or a handkerchief; but none could have been prouder of their cherished love-token than was George Stephenson of his Fanny's shoes, which he

fortnight were as follows:- -On June 18th, 1801, he was paid 17. 19s. 4d., and a ticket for two shillings' worth of rye; on June 17th, 1802, he was paid 17. 15s. But bread was so dear in those days, that the wages paid to workmen were not really so high as they appear in 1801, wheat was selling at 5l. 18s. 3d., and rye at 31. 19s. 9d. the quarter.

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