The home journal. (Winchester, Tenn.) 1858-188?, 1875-12-16
"LITTLE INVENTORS"
The Bell of st. Johns,
BY RUFUS SARGENT.

In huge and smoky foundry close by
the wharves in the town of b gang
of workmcn were getting ready to cast
the largest bell of the ST. Johns cathc-
dral chime. Only an hour more, and
they would let the glaring, bubbling
metal flow from the huge furnace into
the mold which was buried deep in the
black earth close by.
1t was Just at evening, and in the gath
ering twilight the lurid blue flames that
burst'from the top of the tall chimney
flashed unearthly CLEANS upon the neigh
boring windows and house tops.
The scene within the foundry was
weird and almost awful. The swarthy
forms of the workmen, party lighted by
the yellow glare, moved about like Tar
tartan shades, and the sOoty beams and
ponderous chains crossing half black,
half golden, under the golden roof, re-
called the engines of CyclOps under Mt.
Etna.
The town clock struck six. II was
time for supper. All the men threw
down their tools, and ran and put on
lIltlT OuttI tlDlHIlln.
'EBe back in half an hour, sharp"
cried the forge-mastcr. "We shall make
the cast at a quarter of seven"
"All right, sir" cried the men on re-
sponSe.
II hear some Of the town folks are
coming down to see the work" said one.
"Yes," said another, "and it'll be
something to open their eyes. There
was never such a bell cast in the whole
state rs this one will be-"
In q moment more only one workman
and the master were left in the foundry.
The former was to stay and watch the
"blast." He had brought a double allow
ance of dinner, and he would make a
supper Of what remained.
"Pcrhaps we can get the inventor to
stay with you, George" said the master,
laughing, as he prepared to 20.
eyes, where is he ?" returned the man
in the same jesting tone.
"Hc's been around the works long
enough to know when anything goes
wrong. Hollo! hollo, say! Where's
the INVENTOR Come here. All, there
he is" An in silent answer to the sum
mons a shOck-haircd fellow, with large
grey eyes, and pale, vacant face, ap-
pearcd from behind pile of castings.
He had on his back gray shirt, much
soiled with dust, and he wore n pair of
huge pantaloons, held up by a single sus-
pender.
"Well, Mopus," "quoth the man George
slapping him rather roughly on the
shoulder; Suppose you've got wit
enough to help yell if anything's the
matterW
The young fellow looked stupidity
around and nodded his head.
"Then sit here and look at that fur
mace, and don't take your eyes of"
The poor lad smiled and mcckly did
as he was ordered, just as an obcdicnt
dog would have laid down to watch his
owners coat.
A queer fellow was this "Mopus; y
stupid enough in ordinary things to need
world of watching, but withal wonder.
fully fit to watch furnace. He knew
all the working of the foundry by what
seemed sort of brute instinct, though
really his strange sagacity in this was 9
remnant of once bright mind.
If anything happened or went in an
usual way he would always notice it
and say what ought to be done, though
he could not tell, perhaps, why it ought
to de done.
Two years before he had been an intel
ligent, promising lad. He was the sol
of designer connected with the foundr,
company, and had always been allowed
free access to the shops, and to mingl,
with the men and watch their work. Blu
one day great lifting chain broke, witt
| its load, and an iron fragment strucl
him on the head, inhicting a serious in
Jury. From this he partially recovered
and only partially, for his reason was i'm
paired. But his natural love for machi
merry and mechanical experiments re
mained, and as he regained his bodil,
strength he spent most of his time max
ing small wheels and shafts, and puttin
together odd contriyances, which h
would exhibit with immense pride an
satisfaction.
Such was the person left tohelpwatc
the great blast for the castingof the kin
bell of the chime of st. Johns. Faitl