Читать книгу Famous Days in the Century of Invention - M. Grace Fickett - Страница 4

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"It is! It is!" chattered the robins at half past three on an early June morning in 1845. Jonathan Wheeler sat up in bed with a start. This was the morning he had been waiting for all the spring, the morning he was to start for Boston with his father, mother, and Uncle William, and ride for the first time on a railway train.

"Is it really pleasant?" was his first thought. "It is! It is!" chirped the robins again. And Jonathan's eyes by this time were open enough to see the red glow through the eastern window. In a second he was out of bed, hurrying into his best clothes that his mother had laid out for him the night before.

Jonathan lived in a little town only thirty miles from Boston; but traveling was not then the easy and familiar experience of to-day. The nearest railway station was at South Acton, fifteen miles away. The Wheelers had planned to start from home in the early morning, and after dining with some friends in the railroad town, leave there for Boston on the afternoon train.

But in those days the Fitchburg railroad had not crossed the river, and had its terminal at Charlestown. From there passengers were carried by stage to the City Tavern in Brattle Street. It would be six o'clock that night before Jonathan could possibly see Boston.

But he lost no moment of his longed-for day. The bothersome dressing and eating were soon over; and Jonathan felt that his new experiences were really beginning when, at seven o'clock, from the front seat beside his father in the blue wagon, he looked down on his eight less fortunate brothers and sisters and several neighbors' children, who, with the hired man, were waiting to see the travelers depart.

"Good-bye! Good-bye, everybody!" called Jonathan, proudly. "I shan't see you for three days, and then I shall be wearing some store clothes!"

For the first few miles the conversation of his elders did not interest him much. He was so busy watching for the first signs of a railway train that the smoke from every far-away chimney attracted his attention; but after a while, when there was nothing to see but the thick growths of birch and maple each side the road, he heard his father saying:

"Well, Betsey, I think thee has earned this holiday. Thee has had a busy spring."

An Old-fashioned Train of Cars

"It has been a busy time," agreed Mrs. Wheeler. "But all the house-cleaning is done and every stitch of the spring sewing. Since April I've cut and made sixteen dresses and six suits of clothes."

"Did thee read in the Worcester Spy last week, Betsey," inquired Uncle William, "of a sewing machine that bids fair to be a success?"

"A sewing machine!" echoed Mrs. Wheeler. "Does thee mean a machine that actually sews as a woman sews? That's too good to be true!"

"But it's bound to come, Betsey," said her husband reassuringly. "We're keeping house to-day much as the early settlers did. We've found better ways of travel, and labor-saving inventions are the next thing." Then, turning to his brother, he added, "Tell us, William, what the Spy said."

"Well, it seems there's a young man in Boston who has a good deal of ingenuity, and he actually has a sewing machine on exhibition at a tailor's there. For some days he's been sewing seams with it, the paper said, at the rate of three hundred stitches to the minute. Perhaps we shall find that tailor's shop to-morrow."

"I should like nothing better," answered Mrs. Wheeler. "Maybe we can buy Jonathan's trousers there."

Jonathan had been an interested listener to this conversation; but just then he caught sight of a moving column of smoke, and for the rest of the drive he thought of little else but the engine he could scarcely wait to see. By ten o'clock came South Acton; then the long hours while his elders ate slowly and talked much; at last the wonderful, puffing, noisy engine and the strange, flat-roofed houses on wheels with their many little windows. Jonathan's world had grown very large indeed when he went to sleep that night at the City Tavern in Brattle Street.

The next morning at the breakfast table, with the aid of the Morning Advertiser and the Boston Transcript of the night before, the Wheelers made their plans for the day's shopping and sight-seeing.

"We'll do the shopping first," decided Mrs. Wheeler. "Here's an advertisement of ready-made clothing." And she read aloud what was, for those days, a rather startling advertisement, beginning:

PERPETUAL FAIR

AT

QUINCY HALL

OVER QUINCY HALL MARKET

BOSTON

"Let's go there," advised Uncle William. "Quincy Market isn't far from here." So the Wheelers' first stopping place that morning was Mr. Simmons's establishment at Quincy Market.

"Has thee any linen trousers for this little boy to wear with the dark blue jacket he has on?" inquired Mrs. Wheeler of the young man who came forward to serve them.

"We have, madam, I am sure." And deftly the polite young man picked out a pair of dark blue and white striped linen trousers from the middle of a neat pile of garments. Sure enough, the trousers were of the right size; and, to the Wheelers' astonishment, the price was less than they had expected to pay.

"There must be some profit, madam, you see," explained the clerk; "but if we could make these garments by machine, as a young man in the next room says he can, we could afford to sell them for almost nothing."

"We have heard of that young man and his machine. Will it be possible for us to watch him sew with it?" replied Mrs. Wheeler.

Howe's First Sewing Machine

"Certainly, madam. Just step this way, if you please." And he ushered the Wheelers into an adjoining workshop, well filled with men and women, many of the men, as Jonathan found out later, being dealers in ready-made clothing in the larger towns near Boston.

"Oh, mother, there he is!" whispered Jonathan excitedly, and he hurried forward to see better.

A kindly-faced young man, not more than twenty-five years old, sat at a table before what seemed to Jonathan a sort of little engine without wheels. With one hand he was turning a crank and with the other he was guiding a seam on a pair of overalls. A bright needle flashed in and out of the blue cloth till it reached the end of the seam. Then the sewer stopped the machine, cut the thread, and handed the garment about for inspection.

"That took just one minute, Mr. Howe," announced a man who stood near, watch in hand.

"One minute!" echoed a woman standing beside Jonathan. "I could not sew that seam in fifteen minutes."

"How long would it take thee, mother?" whispered Jonathan, aside.

"I'm not sure, little boy," his mother whispered back. "I think I could do it in ten minutes."

"An experienced seamstress could not sew that seam in less than five minutes," then spoke Mr. Howe, as if in answer to a question.

"I don't quite believe that," objected one man.

"Well, why not have a race?" challenged Mr. Howe. "Mr. Simmons," he continued, addressing the proprietor, "will you let five of your best sewers run a race with me? I'll take five seams to sew while each of them does one. Are you willing?"

"Agreed!" said Mr. Simmons. And it was but the work of a moment to select an umpire and prepare the seams. Then the umpire gave the command to start and the race began.

It was an exciting contest. The girls sewed "as fast as they could, much faster than they were in the habit of sewing." Mr. Howe worked steadily but carefully.

"If he wins, how many times as fast as each girl is he sewing?" asked Jonathan's uncle suddenly, of the little fellow. Jonathan was too bright to be caught and answered quickly, "More than five, isn't he?"

"That's right, Jonathan. And he really is sewing more than five times as fast. Look!"

It was true. Mr. Howe held up his finished seam. Every girl was still at work. "The machine has beaten," announced the umpire. "And moreover," he added after careful inspection, "the work on the machine is the neatest and strongest."

"Now, gentlemen," said Mr. Howe, "may I not have your orders for a sewing machine? See what a money-saver it will be! I can make you one for seven hundred dollars. It will pay for itself in a few months, and it will last for years."

Jonathan expected to hear many of the tailors present order a machine at once. But he was witnessing, although he did not know it till years afterward, "the pain that usually accompanies a new idea." The invention which was to make the greatest change of the century in the manufacturing world lay for several years unused and scorned by the public. The short-sighted tailors over Quincy Hall Market made one objection after another.

"It does not make the whole garment."

"My journeymen would be furious."

"Truly, it would beggar all handsewers."

Faneuil Hall, Boston, Adjoining Quincy Market

"The Cradle of Liberty."

"We are doing well enough as we are."

"It costs too much."

"Why, Mr. Howe, I should need ten machines. I should never get my money back."

Jonathan was sorry for Mr. Howe. "I'll buy a machine some day," he announced.

"Thank you, little boy," answered Mr. Howe. "I've no doubt you will."

But the tailors laughed and shook their heads.

Before they left the workshop, Jonathan's party had a long talk with Mr. Howe.

"We are from the country," they said, "with no money to buy a machine of this sort. But we are interested in it, and we believe it has a future. Will thee tell us more about it?"

"Gladly," said Mr. Howe. "I've been at work on the machine most of the time for the last five years—ever since I was twenty-one, in fact. I was born up in Worcester County, in Spencer. When I was eleven, I was bound out to a farmer, but I liked machinery better. I went to Lowell as soon as my parents were willing, and worked a while in a cotton mill. But I did not like that very well, it was so monotonous, and I came down here to work for Mr. Davis in Cornhill. One day a man who was trying to construct a knitting machine came in to see if Mr. Davis could make him a suggestion. But Davis really made the suggestion to me. 'Why don't you make a sewing machine?' he asked.

"'I wish I could,' the man answered, 'but it can't be done.'

"'Oh, yes,' cried Davis, 'I could make one myself.'

"'Well,' was the rejoinder, 'you do it, Davis, and I'll insure you an independent fortune.'

Lock Stitch (above) and Chain Stitch (below)

The lock stitch is made with two threads, and the chain stitch with one.

"Now I don't know that Davis or the other man has thought of the matter since. As for me, I've thought of little else. A year ago last October I had planned out the chief parts of the machine—the two threads, the curved, eye-pointed needle, and the shuttle. A rough model that I made convinced me that such a machine would work; and last December I prevailed upon my friend, Mr. Fisher of Cambridgeport, to let me, with my wife and children, live at his house and construct my machine in his garret. He gave me five hundred dollars besides for material. In return for those favors, I've agreed to give Fisher half my profits. But," he added rather gloomily, "so far it's been a bad bargain for Fisher."

"Is the machine patented?" inquired Uncle William.

"Not yet," answered Mr. Howe. "I need some money first, for, you know, I shall have to make a model to deposit at Washington."

The Wheelers thanked Mr. Howe for his kindness in satisfying their curiosity and wished him all good fortune.

"Sometime," added Jonathan's father, "I expect thy machine will find its way into homes as well as into shops."

"Indeed, Mr. Howe," added Mrs. Wheeler, "it would be the greatest boon the farmer's wife could ask."

"I prophesy, Betsey," said Uncle William, "that before many years thee will make Jonathan some overalls with a machine of thine own. Meantime," turning to Mr. Howe, "I want to buy him the pair thee sewed in the race. They were boys' trousers, were they not?"

"Yes," answered Mr. Howe, "and I'm sure Mr. Simmons will be glad to sell them to you. He does not put too high a value on them, you know," he added soberly. "Anyway, I shall be glad to know that my machine has sewed for so engaging a little fellow," he finished, with a pleasant smile.

As for Jonathan, he was almost too excited to speak. Two new pairs of "store" trousers in one day, and one of these sewed by a machine! "Thank you, Uncle William," he gasped. And he must say something to Mr. Howe. "Thank you, too, Mr. Howe. I shall surely buy a machine some day."

Jonathan returned to the country the next day, a much traveled little boy for the year 1845. All his experiences remained vividly in his memory: the wonderful railway train, the stage coach clattering over the city pavements, the waiter at the hotel who stood politely near the table and anticipated his wants—all these recollections made his farm life happier and his farm tasks easier. Of all his Boston memories, however, none were more vivid or more persistent than the sight of that marvelous sewing machine and its exciting race with the skilled sewers.

"What has become of Mr. Howe?" thought Jonathan more than once. "Has he given up trying to persuade people that sewing by hand was often a needless drudgery?" For a year and a half Jonathan could only wonder. Then, one day in February, 1847, Uncle William read in the Boston Advertiser that Elias Howe and his brother had taken passage in a packet for England to interest Londoners in the curious machine that could work faster and more skillfully than human fingers.