Frostburg mining journal. [volume] (Frostburg, Md.) 1871-1913, 1874-04-18
AN ENGINEERS YARN.

am practical mechanical engineer
Not one of these youngsters who go to
scientific school for few years, who
take a G. E., M. E., or something of
the kind, and then put on airs about it.
They always affect to snub us practical
men, but we rather get into them when
it comes to real work. OF course, these
chaps are well enough in their way (and
that isn't mine) in getting up artistic
drawings and models, and all that sort
of thing. And sometimes they are of
some account. There was young Hop
pin, who helped me with that toggle-
joint. I originated the idea he put it
into shape | made enough to retire ON
it, and did the square thing by him, if
perfectly free to speak my mind about
the lot, always excepting my friend
Hoppin.
But this isn't telling my story.
There's my wife Bessie (bless her dear
little heart), always saying that l can't
come to the point without as many
twists and turns as my own old machine
ry. Perhaps she is right. But then,
this is the first time l ever tried to ex-
press myself in print, and L don't ex-
actly know how to go about it, so you
must excuse me. That's reasonable,
isn't it? And besides, am getting so
stout and logy like, and I aim as sharp
as 1 used to be. My young acquaint-
ance, who is an editor, has roped me
into this scrape, and ought to help me
out; but he doesn't. All he says is.
Fire away, old man, and make it
short and sweet" Tn afraid THIS ism t
telling my story, either. Prolxity
CHATS the world comes sort of natural
like to me now.
Let me see. 1t was sixteen years ago
this summer that l came to New York in
search of employment. l had been run
ming an engine i'll a big tannery in the
western part of the State, and doing
first rate, till the company failed, and |
was thrown out of work. SO | was
looking about town for something to do.
Money-gauge so low that | was ready
for anything after fortnight of search
ing and waiting. l happened to be
walking through downtown cross
street, when | saw placard in the win.
dow of paper-box factory" ENGIN.
EER WANTED. Coon SALARY" "That's
just me, says /, so l went into the of.
hSS t'ii't onhcd IL l. WOiltl up. l. ne man.
ager said he would try me. He did try
me, and it seems | must have satisfied
him, for he told me to stay.
Now, it is about this manager and
this paper-boX factory that my story,
such as it is, will be; and to max,
things all straight and plain Ga sort ol
oiling up at the star), let me attempt tt
describe them both.
First, then, the manager, Mr.. Samue
Hardness, also sole owner of the fac
tory. This Mr.. Samuel Harkness wa
the greatest villain | ever came across
He's dead now, poor man, and hate t.
speak of those who are gone, cause
you see, it S much the same as chinnin,
behind mans back ; but he aous vii
lain all the same. Not one of you
story-book villains, either / have rea,
lots OF novels, romances and such stui
lately, but haven't seen anything abou
their villains that applies to my villain
Theirs are invariably thin, dark men
OF 1.-THE, serpentine motion, with yelloN
faces, straight black hair, and deep-set
fugitive eyes. Something of the cvi
one cropping out at every point. Why
LORD bless you, you'd recognize thi
hnd OF villain soon as ever You clappe
eyes ON him, just as you would patcn
machine, with every bit of metal Ia
beled. My villain wasn't tall, WASH
dark at all was tolerably stout, in fact
and well-to-do looking didn't souirr
bit; and, to cut this description Short