Captains of Industry | Page 2

18
Elihu Burritt, the Learned Blacksmith 27
Michael Reynolds, Engine-Driver 36
Major Robert Pike, Farmer 43
George Graham, Clock-Maker, buried in Westminster Abbey 51
John Harrison, Exquisite Watch-Maker 58
Peter Faneuil, and the Great Hall he built 65
Chauncey Jerome, Yankee Clock-Maker 79
Captain Pierre Laclede Liguest, Pioneer 89
Israel Putnam, Farmer 96
George Flower, Pioneer 104
Edward Coles, Noblest of the Pioneers, and his Great Speech 117
Peter H. Burnett, Banker 126
Gerrit Smith 133
Peter Force, Printer 140
John Bromfield, Merchant 148
Frederick Tudor, Ice Exporter 156
Myron Holley, Market-Gardener 163
The Founders of Lowell 170
Robert Owen, Cotton-Manufacturer 180
John Smedley, Stocking-Manufacturer 188
Richard Cobden, Calico Printer 195
Henry Bessemer 206
John Bright, Manufacturer 212
Thomas Edward, Cobbler and Naturalist 224
Robert Dick, Baker and Naturalist 232
John Duncan, Weaver and Botanist 240
James Lackington, Second-Hand Bookseller 247
Horace Greeley's Start 254
James Gordon Bennett, and how he founded his "Herald" 264
Three John Walters, and their Newspaper 275
George Hope 288
Sir Henry Cole 294
Charles Summers 300
William B. Astor, House-Owner 307
Peter Cooper 313
Paris-Duverney, French Financier 332
Sir Rowland Hill 342
Marie-Antoine Car��me, French Cook 349
Wonderful Walker, Parson of all Work 355
Sir Christopher Wren 363
Sir John Rennie, Engineer 372
Sir Moses Montefiore 379
Marquis of Worcester, Inventor of the Steam-Engine 385
An Old Dry-Goods Merchant's Recollections 392

PORTRAITS.
PAGE ICHABOD WASHBURN Frontispiece.
CHAUNCEY JEROME 79
GERRIT SMITH 133
MYRON HOLLEY 163
JOHN BRIGHT 212
JOHN DUNCAN 240
PETER COOPER 313
SIR ROWLAND HILL 342

CAPTAINS OF INDUSTRY.

DAVID MAYDOLE,
HAMMER-MAKER.
When a young man begins to think of making his fortune, his first notion usually is to go away from home to some very distant place. At present, the favorite spot is Colorado; awhile ago it was California; and old men remember when Buffalo was about as far west as the most enterprising person thought of venturing.
It is not always a foolish thing to go out into the world far beyond the parent nest, as the young birds do in midsummer. But I can tell you, boys, from actual inquiry, that a great number of the most important and famous business men of the United States struck down roots where they were first planted, and where no one supposed there was room or chance for any large thing to grow.
I will tell you a story of one of these men, as I heard it from his own lips some time ago, in a beautiful village where I lectured.
He was an old man then; and a curious thing about him was that, although he was too deaf to hear one word of a public address, even of the loudest speaker, he not only attended church every Sunday, but was rarely absent when a lecture was delivered.
While I was performing on that occasion, I saw him sitting just in front of the platform, sleeping the sleep of the just till the last word was uttered.
Upon being introduced to this old gentleman in his office, and learning that his business was to make hammers, I was at a loss for a subject of conversation, as it never occurred to me that there was anything to be said about hammers.
I have generally possessed a hammer, and frequently inflicted damage on my fingers therewith, but I had supposed that a hammer was simply a hammer, and that hammers were very much alike. At last I said,--
"And here you make hammers for mankind, Mr. Maydole?"
You may have noticed the name of David Maydole upon hammers. He is the man.
"Yes," said he, "I have made hammers here for twenty-eight years."
"Well, then," said I, shouting in his best ear, "by this time you ought to be able to make a pretty good hammer."
"No, I can't," was his reply. "I can't make a pretty good hammer. I make the best hammer that's made."
That was strong language. I thought, at first, he meant it as a joke; but I soon found it was no joke at all.
He had made hammers the study of his lifetime, and, after many years of thoughtful and laborious experiment, he had actually produced an article, to which, with all his knowledge and experience, he could suggest no improvement.
I was astonished to discover how many points there are about an instrument which I had always supposed a very simple thing. I was surprised to learn in how many ways a hammer can be bad.
But, first, let me tell you how he came to think of hammers.
There he was, forty years ago, in a small village of the State of New York; no railroad yet, and even the Erie Canal many miles distant. He was the village blacksmith, his establishment consisting of himself and a boy to blow the bellows.
He was a good deal troubled with his hammers. Sometimes the heads would fly off. If the metal was too soft, the hammer would spread out and wear away; if it was too hard, it would split.
At that time blacksmiths made their own hammers, and he knew very little about mixing ores so as to produce the toughest iron. But he was particularly troubled with