number of the neighboring planters to witness its operation.
His machine was very simple, but none the less ingenious on that
account. The cotton was placed in a trough, the bottom of which
consisted of parallel rows of wire, placed like the bars in a grating,
but so close together that the seed could not pass through them.
Underneath this trough revolved an iron roller, armed with teeth formed
of strong wires projecting from the roller, which passed between the
wire bars, and, seizing the cotton, drew it through the bars and passed
it behind the roller, where it was brushed off the wire teeth by means
of a cylindrical brush. The seed, unable to pass through the bars, were
left behind, and, completely stripped of the fiber, ran out in a stream
through a spout at one end of the trough. It was found that the cotton
thus ginned was cleaned thoroughly,[A] and far better than it could be
done by hand, and that a single man, by this process, could clean as
much as three hundred pounds in a day.

[Footnote A: The cotton for which Whitney's machine accomplished so
much, was the short staple, which is the principal product of the South.
The Sea Island cotton could not be cleaned by it, on account of the
length and delicacy of its fiber; and this species, for the want of some
cheap and expeditious method of preparing it, has seldom been grown to a
greater quantity than fifty thousand bags of three hundred pounds each.
Consequently, it has always commanded a high price.]

The spectators were delighted with Whitney's machine, and urged him to
lose no time in putting it in the market. They predicted an unlimited
success for it, and assured the inventor that it would not only make his
own fortune, but also render cotton culture the source of wealth to the
South. They did not exaggerate. As soon as it was made known to the
public, Whitney's machine came into general use. Planters had no longer
any thing to fear from the labor and expense of preparing their great
staple for market. Whitney's genius had swept away all their
difficulties, and they reaped a golden harvest from it. They were
enabled to send their cotton promptly and cheaply to market, where it
brought good prices. With the money thus obtained they paid their debts,
and increased their capacity for cultivation. Every year the area
devoted to cotton-growing became more extended, and the prosperity of
the South became greater and more durable. In 1793, the total export of
cotton from the United States was ten thousand bales; in 1860, it was
over four millions of bales. Hundreds of millions of dollars were
brought into the South by this invention--so that it is no exaggeration
to say that the remarkable prosperity enjoyed by the South at the
commencement of our late civil war was due entirely to the genius of Eli
Whitney. This opinion is fortified by the following remarks of Judge
Johnson, uttered in a charge to the jury in a suit brought by Whitney,
in Savannah, in 1807, to sustain the validity of his patent:

"With regard to the utility of this discovery ... the whole interior of
the Southern States was languishing, and its inhabitants emigrating for
want of some object to engage their attention and employ their industry,
when the invention of this machine at once opened views to them which
set the whole country in active motion. From childhood to age it has
presented to us a lucrative employment. Individuals who were depressed
with poverty, and sunk in idleness, have suddenly risen to wealth and
respectability. Our debts have been paid off, our capitals have
increased, and our lands have trebled themselves in value. We can not
express the weight of the obligation which the country owes to this
invention. The extent of it can not now be seen."

Surely, the reader will exclaim, if such was the profit of this
invention to the country at large, what a vast fortune must it have
been to its inventor! Let us see. In May, 1793, Whitney and Miller went
to Connecticut and established a factory for the construction of cotton
gins. They were in possession of a patent which was supposed to pledge
to them the protection of the United States. The demand for the machine
was increasing every day, and it seemed that they would reap a golden
harvest from it. They were disappointed. The machine was so simple that
any competent mechanic could easily manufacture one after examining the
model, and this temptation to dishonesty proved too strong for the
morality of the cotton-growing community. In a short time there were
hundreds of fraudulent machines at work in the South, made and sold in
direct and open violation of Whitney's rights. In vain the inventor
brought suit against those who infringed his patent. It was rare that a
jury in a cotton State gave a verdict in his favor. In Georgia it was
boldly asserted that Whitney was not the inventor of the cotton gin, but
that some persons in Switzerland had invented something similar to it,
and the substitution of teeth, cut in an iron plate, instead of wire,
was claimed as superseding his invention. The Legislature of South
Carolina granted him the beggarly sum of $50,000 for the use of his
invention by the planters of that State; but it was only by going to
law, and after several tedious and vexatious suits, that he was able to
secure this sum. Tennessee agreed to allow him a percentage for the use
of each saw for a certain period, but afterward repudiated her contract.
The action of North Carolina forms the only bright page in this history
of fraud and wrong. That State allowed him a percentage for the use of
each saw for the term of five years, and promptly collected the money
and paid it over to the patentee. For fourteen years Whitney continued
to manufacture his machines, reaping absolutely no profit from his
investments, and earning merely a bare support. During all this time his
rights were systematically violated, suits were wrongfully decided
against him by various Southern courts, and he was harassed and
plundered on every side. America never presented a more shameful
spectacle than was exhibited when the courts of the cotton-growing
regions united with the piratical infringers of Whitney's rights in
robbing their greatest benefactor. In 1807, Whitney's partner died, and
his factory was destroyed by fire. In the same year his patent expired,
and he sought its renewal from Congress. Here again he was met with the
ingratitude of the cotton States. The Southern members, then all
powerful in the Government, united in opposing the extension of his
patent, and his petition was rejected. At the same time a report was
industriously circulated that his machine injured the fiber of the
cotton; but it is a significant fact that, although the planters
insisted vehemently upon this assertion while Whitney was seeking an
extension of his patent, not one of them discontinued the use of his
machine, or sought to remedy the alleged defect.

Whitney, thoroughly disheartened, now abandoned the manufacture of
cotton gins in disgust, wound up his affairs, and found himself a poor
man. In spite of the far-reaching benefits of his invention, he had not
realized one dollar above his expenses. He had given millions upon
millions of dollars to the cotton-growing States, he had opened the way
for the establishment of the vast cotton-spinning interests of his own
country and Europe, and yet, after fourteen years of hard labor, he was
a poor man, the victim of a wealthy, powerful, and, in his case, a
dishonest class, who had robbed him of his rights and of the fortune he
had so fairly earned. Truly, "wisdom is better than strength, but the
poor man's wisdom is despised."

Whitney, however, was not the man to waste his time in repining. He
abandoned his efforts to protect his cotton gin because of his
conviction that there was not honesty enough in the country to sustain
him in his rights, but he did not abandon with it the idea of winning
fortune. He promptly turned his genius in another direction, and this
time with success.

The fire-arms then in use were heavy, clumsy weapons, and effective only
at very short range. He examined the system closely, and quickly
designed several important improvements in them, especially in the
old-fashioned musket. Although his improved arms were not to be compared
with the terribly effective weapons of to-day, they were admitted to be
the best then in use. By examining the Springfield musket, which is due
almost entirely to his genius, the reader can form an accurate estimate
of the 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 different from the bright, pretty timepieces of to-day, which go
ticking away, as if running a race with time, was the clock of the olden
days, as it stood, solemn and dark, in its accustomed corner, from which
the strength of two men was necessary to move it, sending the sound of
its slow, steady strokes into all parts of the house. And in the night,
when all within was still, how its deep beats throbbed in the dark hall
louder and sterner even than in the day. There was something eminently
respectable about an old clock of this kind, and it would have been
audacity unheard of for any member of the family to doubt its
reliability. Set once a year, it was expected to retain its steady-going
habits for the rest of the twelvemonth. You dared not charge it with
being slow; and as for being too fast, why, the very idea was absurd.
There was sure to be some white-capped, silver-haired old lady, whose
long years had been counted by the venerable pendulum with unerring
precision, ready to defend the cause of the clock, to vouch for its
accuracy, and to plead its cause so well and so skillfully, that you
were ready to hide your face in shame at the thought of having even
suspected the veracity of so venerable and so honored an institution.

Truth to say, however, these old clocks, to the masses of the people of
this country, were objects of admiration, and nothing more; for their
exceeding high price placed them beyond the reach of all save the
wealthier classes. A good clock cost from seventy-five to one hundred
and fifty dollars, and the most indifferent article in the market could
not be obtained for less than twenty-five dollars. At the opening of the
present century, the demand for them was so small that but three hundred
and fifty clocks were made in the State of Connecticut, which was then,
as at present, the one most largely engaged in this branch of American
industry. To-day the annual manufacture of Connecticut is about six
hundred thousand clocks of all kinds, which command a wholesale price of
from fifty cents upward, the greater number bringing the maker less than
five dollars. Thus the reader will see that, while the business of the
clock-maker has prospered so extraordinarily, valuable timepieces have
been brought within the reach of even the poorest.

The man to whom the country is indebted for this wonderful and
beneficial increase is CHAUNCEY JEROME, who was born at Canaan,
Connecticut, in 1793. His father was a blacksmith and nail-maker, to
which trade he added the cultivation of the little farm on which he
lived; and being poor, it was necessary for him to labor hard in all his
callings in order to provide his family with a plain subsistence. Young
Chauncey had little or no time given him for acquiring an education.

He learned to read and write, but went no further; for, when he was but
a little more than seven years old, and barely able to do the lightest
kind of labor, he was put to work on the farm to help his father, who
kept him at this until he was nine, when he took him into his shop. All
the nails then in use were made by hand, for there were no huge iron
works in the country to send them out by the ton; and such articles were
scarce and high. The boy was set to work to make nails, and for two
years pursued his vocation steadily. He was a manly little fellow, and
worked at his hammer and anvil with a will, resolved that he would
become thorough master of his trade; but when he had reached the age of
eleven, the sudden death of his father made an entire change in his
career, and threw him upon the world a helpless and penniless orphan.

In order to earn his bread, he hired himself to a farmer, receiving for
his labor nothing but his "victuals and clothes," the latter being of
the plainest and scantiest kind. He worked very hard; but his employer
was cold and indifferent to him at all times, and occasionally used him
very badly. The boy was naturally of a cheerful disposition, and it did
him good service now in helping to sustain him in his hard lot. Four
years were passed in this way, and when he was fifteen years old his
guardian informed him that he had now reached an age when he must begin
his apprenticeship to some regular trade.

The boy was very anxious to learn clock-making, and begged his guardian
to apprentice him to that trade; but the wise individual who controlled
his affairs replied, sagely, that clock-making was a business in which
he would starve, as it was already overdone in Connecticut. There was
one man, he said, engaged in that trade who had been silly enough to
make two hundred clocks in one year, and he added that it would take the
foolish man a life-time to sell them, or if they went off quickly, the
market would be so glutted that no dealer would have need to increase
his stock for years to come. Clock-making, he informed the boy, had
already reached the limit of its expansion in Connecticut, and offered
no opportunities at all. The carpenter's trade, on the other hand, was
never crowded with good workmen, and always offered the prospect of
success to any enterprising and competent man. It was the custom then to
regard boys as little animals, possessed of a capacity for hard work,
but without any reasoning powers of their own. To the adage that
"children should be seen and not heard," the good people of that day
added another clause, in effect, "and should never pretend to think for
themselves." It was this profound conviction that induced parents and
guardians, in so many instances, to disregard the wishes of the children
committed to their care, and to condemn so many to lives for which they
were utterly unfitted. So it was with the guardian of Chauncey Jerome.
He listened to the boy's expression of a preference, it is true, but
paid no attention to it, and ended by apprenticing his ward to a
carpenter.

The life of an apprentice is always hard, and in those days it was
especially so. No negro slave ever worked harder, and but few fared
worse, so far as their bodily comfort was concerned, than the New
England apprentices of the olden time. Masters seemed almost to regard
the lads indentured to them as their property, and in return for the
support they gave them exacted from them the maximum amount of work they
were capable of performing. They granted them no privileges, allowed
them no holidays, except those required by the law, and never permitted
the slightest approach to laziness. Chauncey Jerome's master proved no
exception to the rule, and when the boy exhibited an unusual proficiency
and quickness in his trade, the only notice his employer took of it was
to require more work of him. When only a little over sixteen years old,
this boy was able to do the work of a full-grown man, and a man's work
was rigorously exacted of him. When sent to work at a distance from his
employer's home, he invariably had to make the entire journey on foot,
with his tools on his back, sometimes being required to go as far as
thirty miles in one day in this way. His mother was living at some
distance from the place where his master resided, and whenever he
visited her, he had to walk all night in order to avoid using his
master's time, not one hour of which was allowed him.

In 1811, he informed his master that he was willing to undertake to
clothe himself if he could have the five months of the cold season to
himself. As this part of the year was always a dull period, and
apprentices were little more than an expense to their masters, young
Jerome's employer promptly consented to the proposed arrangement.
Jerome, now eighteen years old, had never relinquished his old desire to
become a clock-maker. He had watched the market closely, and questioned
the persons engaged in the business, and he found that, so far from the
market being over-stocked, there was a ready sale for every clock made.
Greatly encouraged by this, he resolved to devote the five months of his
freedom to learning the business, and to apply himself entirely to it at
the expiration of his apprenticeship. As soon as he had concluded his
bargain with his master, he set out for Waterbury on foot, and upon
arriving there, sought and obtained work from a man who made clock-dials
for the manufacturers of clocks.

He worked with his new employer awhile, and then formed an arrangement
with two journeymen clock-makers. Having perfected their plans, the
three set out for New Jersey in a lumber wagon, carrying their
provisions with them. The two clock-makers were to make and set up the
works, and Jerome was to make the cases whenever they should succeed in
selling a clock on their journey. Clock-making was then considered
almost perfect. It had been reduced to a regular system, and the cost of
construction had been very greatly lessened. A good clock, with a case
seven feet high, could now be made for forty dollars, at which price it
yielded a fair profit to the maker. The three young men were tolerably
successful in their venture. Jerome worked fifteen hours a day at
case-making, and by living economically, managed to carry some money
with him when he went back to his master's shop in the spring. For the
remaining three years of his apprenticeship he employed his winters in
learning the various branches of clock-making, and not only earned
enough money to clothe himself, but laid by a modest sum besides.

In 1814, being twenty-one years of age and his own master, he set up a
carpenter shop of his own, being not yet sufficiently master of
clock-making to undertake that on his own account. In 1815, he married.
Times were hard. The war with England had just ended, and labor was
poorly compensated. He is said at this time to have "finished the whole
interior of a three-story house, including twenty-seven doors and an oak
floor, nothing being found for him but the timber," for the beggarly sum
of eighty-seven dollars--a task which no builder would undertake to-day
for less than a thousand dollars. Still, he declared that, in spite of
this poor rate of compensation, he was enabled to save enough to make a
partial payment on a small dwelling for himself. It required a constant
struggle, however, to live at this rate, and in the winter of 1816,
being out of work, and having a payment on his house to meet in the
spring, he determined to go to Baltimore to seek work during the winter.
He was on the eve of starting, when he learned that Mr. Eli Terry, the
inventor of the wooden clocks which were so popular fifty years ago, was
about to open a large factory for them in an adjoining town. He walked
to the town, and made his application to Mr. Terry, who at once engaged
him at liberal wages. Mr. Terry's factory was then the largest in the
country, and, as he used wooden instead of metal works, he was able to
manufacture his best clocks at fifteen dollars, and other grades in
proportion. This reduction in price largely increased the sale of his
clocks, and in a comparatively short time after opening his factory, Mr.
Terry made and sold about six thousand clocks a year.

Jerome was determined that he would spare no pains to make himself
master of every detail of clock-making, and applied himself to the
business with so much intelligence and energy, that by the spring of
1817 he felt himself competent to undertake their manufacture on his own
account. He began his operations very cautiously, at first buying the
works already made, putting them together, and making the cases himself.
When he had finished two or three, he would carry them about for sale,
and as his work was well done, he rarely had any difficulty in disposing
of them. Gradually he increased his business, and in a year or two was
able to sell every clock he could make, which kept him constantly busy.
A Southern dealer having seen one of his clocks, was so well pleased
with it that he gave the maker an order for twelve exactly like it,
which the latter agreed to furnish at twelve dollars each. It was an
enormous order to Jerome, and seemed to him almost too good to be real.
He completed the clocks at the stipulated time, and conveyed them in a
farmer's wagon to the place where the purchaser had agreed to receive
them. The money was paid to him in silver, and as the broad pieces were
counted into his hand, he was almost ready to weep for joy. One hundred
and forty-four dollars was the largest sum he had ever possessed at one
time, and it seemed almost a fortune to him. His clocks were taken to
Charleston, South Carolina, and sold. They gave entire satisfaction; and
when, some years later, he commenced to ship regular consignments to the
Southern cities, he found no difficulty in disposing of his wares.

Mr. Jerome's success was now more decided. He was enabled to pay for his
house in a short time, and having, soon afterward, an opportunity to
dispose of it at a fair profit, he did so, and took clock-works in
payment. He bought land and timber, and paid for them in clocks, and his
affairs prospered so well that, before long, he began to employ workmen
to assist him, and to dispose of his clocks to peddlers and merchants,
instead of carrying them around for sale himself. As his business
increased, he invented and patented labor-saving machinery for the
manufacture of the various parts of the clock, and thus greatly
decreased the cost of construction. He designed new and ornamental
cases, and exerted himself to render the exterior of his clocks as
tasteful and attractive as possible. His business now increased rapidly,
and he was soon compelled to take in a partner. He began to ship his
clocks to the Southern States, sending them by sea. They met with a
ready sale, but all his ventures of this kind were subject to serious
risks. The works, being of wood, would frequently become damp and
swollen on the voyage, thus rendering them unfit for use. Mr. Jerome
endeavored in various ways to remedy this defect, but was finally
compelled to admit that, until he could change the nature of the wood,
he could not prevent it from being influenced by moisture.

He passed many sleepless nights while engaged in seeking this remedy,
for he plainly foresaw that unless the defect could be removed, the days
of the wooden clock business were numbered.

In the midst of his depression, the idea occurred to him, one night
while lying awake, that the works of a clock could be manufactured as
cheaply of brass as of wood. The thought came to him with the force of a
revelation. He sprang out of bed, lit his candle, and passed the rest of
the night in making calculations which proved to him that he could not
only make brass works as cheaply as wooden ones, but, by the employment
of certain labor-saving machinery, at a cost decidedly less. There was
one important obstacle in his way, however. The machinery requisite for
cutting brass works cheaply was not in existence. Before making known
his plans, Mr. Jerome set to work to invent the clock-making machinery
which has made him famous among American inventors. When he had
completed it, he commenced to make brass clocks, which he sold at such a
low price that wooden clocks were speedily driven out of the market.
Little by little, he brought his machinery to perfection, applying it to
the manufacture of all parts of the clock; and to-day, thanks to his
patience and genius, clock-making in the United States has become a very
simple affair. By the aid of Jerome's machinery, one man and one boy can
saw veneers enough for three hundred clock cases in a single day. By the
aid of this same machinery, six men can manufacture the works of one
thousand clocks in a day; and a factory employing twenty-five workmen
can turn out two thousand clocks per week. By the aid of this same
machinery, the total cost of producing a good clock of small size has
been brought down to forty cents.

As the reader will suppose, Jerome made a large fortune--a princely
fortune--for himself, and entirely revolutionized the clock-making trade
of the Union. Thanks to him, scores of fortunes have been made by other
manufacturers also, and American clocks have become famous all over the
world for their excellence and cheapness. "Go where you will, in
Europe, Asia, Africa, or America, you will be sure to come upon Yankee
clocks. To England they go by the shipload. Germany, France, Russia,
Spain, Italy, all take large quantities. Many have been sent to China
and to the East Indies. At Jerusalem, Connecticut clocks tick on many a
shelf, and travelers have found them far up the Nile, in Guinea, at the
Cape of Good Hope, and in all the accessible places of South America."

After conducting his business for some years, Mr. Jerome organized the
Jerome Clock-Making Company, of New Haven. It began its operations with
a large capital, and conducted them upon an extensive scale. In a few
years Mr. Jerome retired from the active management of its affairs, but
continued nominally at its head as its president. He built for himself
an elegant mansion in New Haven, where he gathered about him his family
and the friends which his sterling qualities and upright character had
drawn to him, and here he hoped to pass the remainder of his days.

He was doomed to a bitter disappointment. Although nominally at the head
of the Clock Company, he left its control entirely to his partners, who,
by injudicious management, brought it at length to the verge of
bankruptcy. They made energetic efforts to ward off the final
catastrophe, but without success, and in 1860, almost before Mr. Jerome
was aware of the full extent of the trouble, the Company was ruined. Its
liabilities were heavy, and every dollar's worth of Jerome's property
was taken to meet them. Honest to the core, he gave up every thing. His
elegant mansion was sold, and he was forced to remove to an humble
cottage, a poorer man than when he had first set up for himself as a
carpenter.

He was not the man to repine, however, and he at once began to look
about him for employment. He was sixty-seven years old, and it was hard
to go out into the world to earn his bread again, but he bore his
misfortunes bravely, and soon succeeded in obtaining the employment he
desired. The great Clock Company of Chicago engaged him at a liberal
salary to superintend their manufactory in that city, which position he
still holds. The Company manufacture his own clocks, and are fortunate
in having the benefit of his genius and experience. Were he a younger
man, there can be no doubt that he would win a second fortune equal to
that which was swept from him so cruelly, through no fault of his own.
As it is, we can only venture to hope that his sturdy independence and
indomitable energy will provide him with the means of passing the
closing years of his life in comfort. Few men have done the world better
service, or been more worthy of its rewards.

[Illustration: ELIAS HOWE, JR.]




CHAPTER XVII.

ELIAS HOWE, JR.


One of the busiest parts of the busy thoroughfare of Broadway, in the
city of New York, is the point of its intersection with Fourth Street.
Thousands and tens of thousands of people pass and repass there daily,
but few ever pause to look at the curious machine which stands in the
window of the shop at the north-west corner of these two streets. This
machine, clumsy and odd-looking as it is, nevertheless has a history
which makes it one of the most interesting of all the sights of the
great city. It is the first sewing-machine that was ever made.

ELIAS HOWE, its maker, was born in the town of Spencer, Massachusetts,
in 1819. He was one of eight children, and it was no small undertaking
on the part of his father to provide a maintenance for such a household.
Mr. Howe, Sen., was a farmer and miller, and, as was the custom at that
time in the country towns of New England, carried on in his family some
of those minor branches of industry suited to the capacity of children,
with which New England abounds. When Elias was six years old, he was
set, with his brothers and sisters, to sticking wire teeth through the
leather straps used for making cotton cards. When he became old enough
he assisted his father in his saw-mill and grist-mill, and during the
winter months picked up a meager education at the district school. He
has said that it was the rude and imperfect mills of his father that
first turned his attention to machinery. He was not fitted for hard
work, however, as he was frail in constitution and incapable of bearing
much fatigue. Moreover, he inherited a species of lameness which proved
a great obstacle to any undertaking on his part, and gave him no little
trouble all through life. At the age of eleven he went to live out on
the farm of a neighbor, but the labor proving too severe for him, he
returned home and resumed his place in his father's mills, where he
remained until he was sixteen years old.

When at this age, he conceived an ardent desire to go to Lowell to seek
his fortune. One of his friends had just returned from that place, and
had given him such a wonderful description of the city and its huge
mills, that he was eager to go there and see the marvel for himself.
Obtaining his father's consent, he went to Lowell, and found employment
as a learner in one of the large cotton-mills of the city. He remained
there two years, when the great financial disaster of 1837 threw him out
of employment and compelled him to look for work elsewhere. He obtained
a place at Cambridge, in a machine-shop, and was put to work upon the
new hemp-carding machinery of Professor Treadwell. His cousin, Nathaniel
P. Banks, afterward governor of Massachusetts, member of Congress, and
major-general, worked in the same shop with him, and boarded at the same
house. Howe remained in Cambridge only a few months, however, and was
then given a place in the machine-shop of Ari Davis, of Boston.

At the age of twenty-one he married. This was a rash step for him, as
his health was very delicate, and his earnings were but nine dollars per
week. Three children were born to him in quick succession, and he found
it no easy task to provide food, shelter, and clothing for his little
family. The light-heartedness for which he had formerly been noted
entirely deserted him, and he became sad and melancholy. His health did
not improve, and it was with difficulty that he could perform his daily
task. His strength was so slight that he would frequently return home
from his day's work too much exhausted to eat. He could only go to bed,
and in his agony he wished "to lie in bed forever and ever." Still he
worked faithfully and conscientiously, for his wife and children were
very dear to him; but he did so with a hopelessness which only those who
have tasted the depths of poverty can understand.

[Illustration: HOWE'S FIRST IDEA OF THE SEWING-MACHINE.]

About this time he heard it said that the great necessity of the age was
a machine for doing sewing. The immense amount of fatigue incurred and
the delay in hand-sewing were obvious, and it was conceded by all who
thought of the matter at all that the man who could invent a machine
which would remove these difficulties would make a fortune. Howe's
poverty inclined him to listen to these remarks with great interest. No
man needed money more than he, and he was confident that his mechanical
skill was of an order which made him as competent as any one else to
achieve the task proposed. He set to work to accomplish it, and, as he
knew well the dangers which surround an inventor, kept his own counsel.
At his daily labor, in all his waking hours, and even in his dreams, he
brooded over this invention. He spent many a wakeful night in these
meditations, and his health was far from being benefited by this severe
mental application. Success is not easily won in any great undertaking,
and Elias Howe found that he had entered upon a task which required the
greatest patience, perseverance, energy, and hopefulness. He watched his
wife as she sewed, and his first effort was to devise a machine which
should do what she was doing. He made a needle pointed at both ends,
with the eye in the middle, that should work up and down through the
cloth, and carry the thread through at each thrust; but his elaboration
of this conception would not work satisfactorily. It was not until 1844,
fully a year after he began the attempt to invent the machine, that he
came to the conclusion that the movement of a machine need not of
necessity be an imitation of the performance of the hand. It was plain
to him that there must be another stitch, and that if he could discover
it his difficulties would all be ended. A little later he conceived the
idea of using two threads, and forming a stitch by the aid of a shuttle
and a curved needle with the eye near the point. This was the triumph of
his skill. He had now invented a perfect sewing-machine, and had
discovered the essential principles of every subsequent modification of
his conception. Satisfied that he had at length solved the problem, he
constructed a rough model of his machine of wood and wire, in October,
1844, and operated it to his perfect satisfaction. His invention is
thus described:

"He used a needle and a shuttle of novel construction, and combined them
with holding surfaces, feed mechanism and other devices, as they had
never before been brought together, in one machine One of the principal
features of Mr. Howe's invention is the combination of a grooved needle,
having an eye near its point, and vibrating in the direction of its
length, with a side-pointed shuttle for effecting a locked stitch, and
forming, with the threads, one on each side of the cloth, a firm and
lasting seam not easily ripped. The main action of the machine consists
in the interlocking of the loop, made by the thread carried in the point
of the needle through the cloth, with another thread passed through this
loop by means of a shuttle entering and leaving it at every stitch. The
thread attached to this shuttle remains in the loop and secures the
stitch as the needle is withdrawn to be ready to make the next one. At
the same time the cloth, held by little projecting pins to the baster
plate, is carried along with this by what is called the 'feed motion'
just the length of a stitch, the distance being readily adjusted for
finer or coarser work. .... The cloth is held in a vertical position in
the machine, and the part to be sewed is pressed against the side of the
shuttle-race by a presser plate hinged on its upper edge, and capable of
exerting any required pressure on the cloth, according as the adjusting
screw that regulates it is turned. A slot, or perforation through the
plate, also extended through the side of the shuttle-race near the
bottom, admits the passage of the needle; and when this is pushed in the
shuttle can still pass freely over it. The shuttle is pushed one way and
then the other through its race or trough by picker staves. The thread
for the needle is supplied by a bobbin, the movement of which is
checked by a friction band, this securing the proper tension, and the
slack of the thread is duly taken up by a suitable contrivance for the
purpose. Thus, all the essential features of the most approved
sewing-machine were first found in that of Mr. Howe; and the machines of
later date are, in fact, but modifications of it."

At this time, he had abandoned his work as a journeyman mechanic, and
had removed to his father's house. Mr. Howe, Sen., had established in
Cambridge a machine-shop for the cutting of strips of palm-leaf used in
the manufacture of hats. Elias and his family lived under his father's
roof, and in the garret of the house the half-sick inventor put up a
lathe, where he did a little work on his own account, and labored on his
sewing-machine. He was miserably poor, and could scarcely earn enough to
provide food for his family; and, to make matters worse, his father, who
was disposed to help him, lost his shop and its contents by fire. Poor
Elias was in a most deplorable condition. He had his model in his head,
and was fully satisfied of its excellence, but he had not the money to
buy the materials needed in making a perfect machine, which would have
to be constructed of steel and iron, and without which he could not hope
to convince others of its value. His great invention was useless to him
without the five hundred dollars which he needed in the construction of
a working model.

In this dilemma, he applied to a friend, Mr. George Fisher, a coal and
wood merchant of Cambridge, who was a man of some means. He explained
his invention to him, and succeeded in forming a partnership with him.
Fisher agreed to take Howe and his family to board with him while the
latter was making the machine, to allow his garret to be used as a
workshop, and to advance the five hundred dollars necessary for the
purchase of tools and the construction of a model. In return for this he
was to receive one-half of the patent, if Howe succeeded in patenting
his machine. About the first of December, 1844, Howe and his family
accordingly moved into Fisher's house, and the little workshop was set
up in the garret. All that winter he worked on his model. There was
little to delay him in its construction, as the conception was perfectly
clear in his mind. He worked all day, and sometimes nearly all night,
and in April, 1845, had his machine so far advanced that he sewed a seam
with it. By the middle of May the machine was completed, and in July he
sewed with it the seams of two woolen suits, one for himself and the
other for Mr. Fisher. The sewing was so well done that it outlasted the
cloth.

It has been stated by Professor Renwick and other scientific men that
Elias Howe "carried the invention of the sewing-machine further on
toward its complete and final utility than any other inventor has ever
brought a first-rate invention at the first trial." Those who doubt this
assertion should examine the curious machine at the corner of Broadway
and Fourth Street, and their doubts will be dispelled; for they will
find in it all the essentials of the best sewing-machine of to-day.

Having patented his machine, Howe endeavored to bring it into use. He
was full of hope, and had no doubt that it would be adopted at once by
those who were so much interested in the saving of labor. He first
offered it to the tailors of Boston; but they, while admitting its
usefulness, told him it would never be adopted by their trade, as it
would ruin them. Considering the number of machines now used by the
tailoring interest throughout the world, this assertion seems
ridiculous. Other efforts were equally unsuccessful. Every one admitted
and praised the ingenuity of the machine but no one would invest a
dollar in it. Fisher became disgusted, and withdrew from his
partnership, and Howe and his family moved back to his father's house.
Thoroughly disheartened, he abandoned his machine. He then obtained a
place as engineer on a railroad, and drove a locomotive until his health
entirely broke down.

With the loss of his health his hopes revived, and he determined to seek
in England the victory which he had failed to win here. Unable to go
himself, he sent his machine by his brother Amasa, in October, 1846.
Upon reaching London, Amasa sought out Mr. William Thomas, of Cheapside,
and explained to him his brother's invention. He found Mr. Thomas
willing to use the machine in his business, but upon terms more
favorable to himself than to the inventor. He offered the sum of twelve
hundred and fifty dollars for the machine which Amasa Howe had brought
with him, and agreed to pay Elias fifteen dollars per week if he would
enter his service, and adapt the machine to his business of umbrella and
corset making. As this was his only hope of earning a livelihood, Elias
accepted the offer, and, upon his brother's return to the United States,
sailed for England. He remained in Mr. Thomas's employ for about eight
months, and at the end of that time left him, having found him hard,
exacting, and unreasonable.

Meanwhile his sick wife and three children had joined him in London, and
he had found it hard to provide for them on the wages given him by Mr.
Thomas; but after being thrown out of employment his condition was
desperate indeed. He was in a strange country, without friends or money,
and often he and his little family went whole days without food. Their
sufferings were very great, but at length Howe was able (probably by
assistance from home) to send his family back to his father's house. He
himself remained in London, still hoping to bring his machine into use.
It was in vain, however, and so, collecting what few household goods he
had acquired in England, he shipped them to America, and followed them
thither himself in another vessel, pawning his model and patent papers
to pay his passage. When he landed in New York he had half a crown in
his pocket, and there came to him on the same day a letter telling him
that his wife was dying with consumption in Cambridge. He could not go
to her at once, as he had no money, and was too feeble to undertake the
distance on foot. He was compelled to wait several days until he could
obtain the money for his fare to Cambridge, but at length succeeded in
reaching that place just in time to see his wife die. In the midst of
his grief he received the announcement that the vessel containing the
few household goods which he had shipped from England had been lost at
sea. It seemed to him that Fate was bent upon destroying him, so rapid
and stunning were the blows she dealt him.

But a great success was now in store for him, and he was to rise out of
his troubles to the realization of his brightest hopes. Soon after his
return home he obtained profitable employment, and, better still,
discovered that his machine had become famous during his absence.
Facsimiles of it had been constructed by unscrupulous mechanics, who
paid no attention to the patents of the^inventor, and these copies had
been exhibited in many places as "wonders," and had even been adopted in
many important branches of manufacture. Howe at once set to work to
defend his rights. He found friends to aid him, and in August, 1850,
began those famous suits which continued for four years, and were at
length decided in his favor. His adversaries made a bold resistance, but
the decision of Judge Sprague, in 1854, settled the matter, and
triumphantly established the rights of the inventor.

In 1850, Howe removed to New York, and began in a small way to
manufacture machines to order. He was in partnership with a Mr. Bliss,
but for several years the business was so unimportant that upon the
death of his partner, in 1855, he was enabled to buy out that
gentleman's interest, and thus become the sole proprietor of his patent.
Soon after this his business began to increase, and continued until his
own proper profits and the royalty which the courts compelled other
manufacturers to pay him for the use of his invention grew from $300 to
$200,000 per annum. In 1867, when the extension of his patent expired,
it is stated that he had earned a total of two millions of dollars by
it. It cost him large sums to defend his rights, however, and he was
very far from being as wealthy as was commonly supposed, although a very
rich man.

In the Paris Exposition of 1867, he exhibited his machines, and received
the gold medal of the Exposition, and the Cross of the Legion of Honor,
in addition, as a compliment to him as a manufacturer and inventor.

He contributed money liberally to the aid of the Union in the late war,
and enlisted as a private soldier in the Seventeenth Regiment of
Connecticut Volunteers, with which command he went to the field,
performing all the duties of his position until failing health compelled
him to leave the service. Upon one occasion the Government was so much