is now, what it was then, an ordinary labourer’s dwelling—its walls are unplastered, its floor is of clay, and the bare rafters are exposed overhead.
Robert Stephenson, or “Old Bob,” as the neighbours familiarly called him, and his wife Mabel, were a respectable couple, careful and hard-working. It is said that Robert Stephenson’s father was a Scotchman, and came into England as a gentleman’s servant. Mabel, his wife, was the daughter of Robert Carr, a dyer at Ovingham. When first married, they lived at Walbottle, a village situated between Wylam and Newcastle, afterwards removing to Wylam, where Robert was employed as fireman of the old pumping engine at that colliery.
An old Wylam collier, who remembered George Stephenson’s father, thus described him:—“Geordie’s fayther war like a peer o’ deals nailed thegither, an’ a bit o’ flesh i’ th’ inside; he war as queer as Dick’s hatband—went thrice aboot, an’ wudn’t tie. His wife Mabel war a delicat’ boddie, an’ varry flighty. Thay war an honest family, but sair hadden doon i’ th’ world.” Indeed, the earnings of old Robert did not amount to more than twelve shillings a week; and, as there were six children to maintain, the family, during their stay at Wylam, were necessarily in very straitened circumstances. The father’s wages being barely sufficient, even with the most rigid economy, for the sustenance of the household, there was little to spare for clothing, and nothing for education, so none of the children were sent to school.
Old Robert was a general favourite in the village, especially amongst the children, whom he was accustomed to draw about him whilst tending the engine-fire, and feast their young imaginations with tales of Sinbad the Sailor and Robinson Crusoe, besides others of his own invention; so that “Bob’s engine-fire” came to be the most popular resort in the village. Another feature in his character, by which he was long remembered, was his affection for birds and animals; and he had many tame favourites of both sorts, which were as fond of resorting to his engine-fire as the boys and girls themselves. In the winter time he had usually a flock of tame robins about him; and they would come hopping familiarly to his feet to pick up the crumbs which he had saved for them out of his humble dinner. At his cottage he was rarely without one or more tame blackbirds, which flew about the house, or in and out at the door. In summer-time he would go a-birdnesting with his children; and one day he took his little son George to see a blackbird’s nest for the first time. Holding him up in his arms, he let the wondering boy peep down, through the branches held aside for the purpose, into a nest full of young birds—a sight which the boy never forgot, but used to speak of with delight to his intimate friends when he himself had grown an old man.
The boy George led the ordinary life of working-people’s children. He played about the doors; went birdnesting when he could; and ran errands to the village. He was also an eager listener, with the other children, to his father’s curious tales; and he early imbibed from him that affection for birds and animals which continued throughout his life. In course of time he was promoted to the office of carrying his father’s dinner to him while at work, and it was on such occasions his great delight to see the robins fed. At home he helped to nurse, and that with a careful hand, his younger brothers and sisters. One of his duties was to see that the other children were kept out of the way of the chaldron waggons, which were then dragged by horses along the wooden tramroad immediately in front of the cottage-door. This waggon-way was the first in the northern district on which the experiment of a locomotive engine was tried. But at the time of which we speak, the locomotive had scarcely been dreamt of in England as a practicable working power; horses only were used to haul the coal; and one of the first sights with which the boy was familiar was the coal-waggons dragged by them along the wooden railway at Wylam.
Thus eight years passed; after which, the coal having been worked out, the old engine, which had grown “dismal to look at,” as one of the workmen described it, was pulled down; and then Robert, having obtained employment as a fireman at the Dewley Burn Colliery, removed with his family to that place. Dewley Burn, at this day, consists of a few old-fashioned low-roofed cottages standing on either side of a babbling little stream. They are connected by a rustic wooden bridge, which spans the rift in front of the doors. In the central one-roomed cottage of this group, on the right bank, Robert Stephenson lived for a time with his family; the pit at which he worked standing in the rear of the cottages.
Young though he was, George was now of an age to be able to contribute something towards the family maintenance; for in a poor man’s house, every child is a burden until his little hands can be turned to profitable account. That the boy was shrewd and active, and possessed of a ready mother wit, will be evident enough from the following incident. One day his sister Nell went into Newcastle to buy a bonnet; and Geordie went with her “for company.” At a draper’s shop in the Bigg Market, Nell found a “chip” quite to her mind, but on pricing it, alas! it was found to be fifteen pence beyond her means, and she left the shop very much disappointed. But Geordie said, “Never heed, Nell; see if I canna win siller enough to buy the bonnet; stand ye there, till I come back.” Away ran the boy and disappeared amidst the throng of the market, leaving the girl to wait his return. Long and long she waited, until it grew dusk, and the market people had nearly all left. She had begun to despair, and fears crossed her mind that Geordie must have been run over and killed; when at last up he came running, almost breathless. “I’ve gotten the siller for the bonnet, Nell!” cried he. “Eh Geordie!” she said, “but hoo hae ye gotten it?” “Haudin the gentlemen’s horses!” was the exultant reply. The bonnet was forthwith bought, and the two returned to Dewley happy.
George’s first regular employment was of a very humble sort. A widow, named Grace Ainslie, then occupied the neighbouring farmhouse of Dewley. She kept a number of cows, and had the privilege of grazing them along the waggon-road. She needed a boy to herd the cows, to keep them out of the way of the waggons, and prevent their straying or trespassing on the neighbours’ “liberties;” the boy’s duty was also to bar the gates at night after all the waggons had passed. George petitioned for this post, and, to his great joy, he was appointed at the wage of twopence a day.
It was light employment, and he had plenty of spare time on his hands, which he spent in birdnesting, making whistles out of reeds and scrannel straws, and erecting Lilliputian mills in the little water-streams that ran into the Dewley bog. But his favourite amusement at this early age was erecting clay engines in conjunction with his chosen playmate, Bill Thirlwall. The place is still pointed out where the future engineers made their first essays in modelling. The boys found the clay for their engines in the adjoining bog, and the hemlocks which grew about supplied them with imaginary steam-pipes. They even proceeded to make a miniature winding-machine in connexion with their engine, and the apparatus was erected upon a bench in front of the Thirlwalls’ cottage. The corves were made out of hollowed corks; the ropes were supplied by twine; and a few bits of wood gleaned from the refuse of the carpenter’s shop completed their materials. With this apparatus the boys made a show of sending the corves down the pit and drawing them up again, much to the marvel of the pitmen. But some mischievous person about the place seized the opportunity early one morning of smashing the fragile machinery, much to the grief of the young engineers.
As Stephenson grew older and abler to work, he was set to lead the horses when ploughing, though scarce big enough to stride across the furrows; and he used afterwards to say that he rode to his work in the mornings at an hour when most other children of his age were asleep in their beds. He was also employed to hoe turnips, and do similar farm-work, for which he was paid the advanced wage of fourpence a day. But his highest ambition was to be taken on at the colliery where his father worked; and he shortly joined his elder brother James there as a “corf-bitter,” or “picker,” to clear the coal of stones, bats, and dross. His wages were then advanced to sixpence a day, and afterwards to eightpence when he was set to drive the gin-horse.
Shortly after, George went to Black Callerton to drive the gin there; and as that colliery lies about two
