service he rendered in this respect. He has the honor of being
the inaugurator of the system of progressive improvement in fire-arms,
which has gone on steadily and without flagging for now fully sixty
years past.

Some time before abandoning the manufacture of the cotton gin, Mr.
Whitney established an arms factory in New Haven, and obtained a
contract from the Government for ten thousand stand of arms, to be
delivered in two years. At this time he not only had to manufacture the
machinery needed by him for this purpose, but had to invent the greater
part of it. This delayed the execution of his contract for eight years,
but at the expiration of that time he had so far perfected his
establishment, which had been removed to Whitneyville, Conn., that he at
once entered into contracts for thirty thousand more arms, which he
delivered promptly at the appointed time. His factory was the most
complete in the country, and was fitted up in a great measure with the
machinery which he had invented, and without which the improved weapons
could not be fabricated. He introduced a new system into the
manufacture of fire-arms, and one which greatly increased the rapidity
of construction. "He was the first manufacturer of fire-arms who carried
the division of labor to the extent of leaking it the duty of each
workman to perform by machinery but one or two operations on a single
portion of the gun, and thus rendered all the parts adapted to any one
of the thousands of arms in process of manufacture at the same time."

His success was now marked and rapid. His factory was taxed to its
fullest capacity to supply the demand for arms. His genius was rewarded
at last, and he acquired a fortune which enabled him not only to pass
the evening of his days in comfort, but also to leave a handsome estate
to his family. He married a daughter of Judge Pierpont Edwards, a lady
of fine accomplishments and high character. He died at New Haven on the
8th of January, 1825, in his sixtieth year.

CHAPTER XVI.

CHAUNCEY JEROME.

Any readers of these pages doubtless remember the huge old-fashioned
clocks, tower-like in shape, that in the days of their childhood
ornamented the remote corner of the hall, or stood solemnly near the
chimney in the sitting-room of the old homestead,--such a clock as that
which greeted little Paul Dombey, when he commenced to be a man, with
its "How, is, my, lit, tle, friend?--how, is, my, lit, tle, friend?"
Very d