ottom of the mine. For
nearly a year the engine worked away in vain, till at last, one
Saturday afternoon, Geordie Stephenson went over to examine her.
"Well, George," said a pitman, standing by, "what do you think of her?"
"Man," said George, boldly, "I could alter her and make her draw. In a
week I could let you all go the bottom." The pitman reported this
confident speech of the young brakesman to the manager; and the
manager, at his wits' end for a remedy, determined to let this fellow
Stephenson try his hand at her. After all, if he did no good, he would
be much like all the others; and anyhow he seemed to have confidence in
himself, which, if well grounded, is always a good thing.

George's confidence WAS well grounded. It was not the confidence of
ignorance, but that of knowledge. He UNDERSTOOD the engine now, and he
saw at once the root of the evil. He picked the engine to pieces,
altered it to suit the requirements of the case, and set it to work to
pump without delay. Sure enough, he kept his word; and within the
week, the mine was dry, and the men were sent to the bottom. This was
a grand job for George's future. The manager, a Mr. Dodds, not only
gave him ten pounds at once as a present, in acknowledgment of his
practical skill, but also appointed him engine-man of the new pit,
another rise in the social scale as well as in the matter of wages.
Dodds kept him in mind for the future, too; and a couple of years
later, on a vacancy occurring, he promoted the promising hand to be
engine-wright of all the collieries under his management, at a salary
of 100 pounds a year. When a man's income comes to be reckoned by the
year, rather than by the week or month, it is a sign that he is growing
into a person of importance. George had now a horse to ride upon, on
his visits of inspection to the various engines; and his work was
rather one of mechanical engineering than of mere ordinary labouring
handicraft.

The next few years of George Stephenson's life were mainly taken up in
providing for the education of his boy Robert. He had been a good son,
and he was now a good father. Feeling acutely how much he himself had
suffered, and how many years he had been put back, by his own want of a
good sound rudimentary education, he determined that Robert should not
suffer from a similar cause. Indeed, George Stephenson's splendid
abilities were kept in the background far too long, owing to his early
want of regular