[Top]CHAPTERXXIX.AN AFTERNOON IN THE MACHINE-SHOP.The first class of the Beech-Hill Industrial School were most of them older than the members of the second class. All of them had attended high-schools or academies, and made more or less progress in the studies to be pursued. But they had no better knowledge of practical mechanics and the use of tools.Mr. Jepson, the instructor in the metal department, had served his time for seven years as a machinist in England, and had worked at his trade a great many years in America. He was competent to build a steam-engine or to run one, and had learned his trade with more thoroughness than most American mechanics.One of his specialties was drawing; and he was to teach this branch, which is the foundation and corner-stone of all practical mechanics. In his opening speech to the class, he said that the first thing in doing a job of any kind was to makea plan or picture of whatever was to be constructed.Unlike the carpenter, he did not begin by giving the names and uses of the various tools on his bench, and on the walls near it. He told the boys what could be done in brass, iron, and steel. He pointed out in what manner chemistry and geometry, as well as natural philosophy, if not absolutely essential, were exceedingly valuable, to the machinist.“I don’t believe half the machinists know any thing about these branches,” said Bob Swanton.“I don’t believe a quarter part of them learned any thing about these sciences, or even drawing, in school; but they have had to learn them in working at their trade,” replied Mr. Jepson. “In forging iron, in casting any metal, in brazing, soldering, and many other operations, one must learn the effect of heat upon metals, and the effect of various substances upon them.“Do you think an old-fashioned blacksmith don’t know some of the uses of borax? Why does the tinman use resin, or some chemical preparation, in preparing and soldering his wares? Why does the blacksmith cool one piece of ironby putting it in water, and let another piece cool off on the floor, if he don’t know any thing about the science of chemistry?”“I meant book science,” added Bob Swanton.“All science is the same, whether it be in a book or in a man’s head,” added the instructor. “You must get it into the head to have it of any use to you, and it matters not where it come from. All I mean to say is, that a theoretical knowledge of science, such as you get in school, will be of very great advantage to you in the mechanic arts.”“We are willing to admit that,” said Lew Shoreham rather impatiently; for he was in a hurry to get hold of the tools, as the second class were.“Here is a bar of brass, half an inch square,” said the machinist, taking the piece of metal from his bench. “We can do almost any thing with it that we can with wood.”“You can’t saw it, and plane it as you can a piece of wood,” said Will Orwell, who had probably never been in a machine-shop in his life.“Certainly we can: why not?” demanded the teacher.“Saw brass!” exclaimed Will. “I never saw any such thing done.”“Did you ever see a watch made?”“I never did;but”—“Then, you ought to believe that a watch can’t be made,” interposed the machinist.“It looks absurd to me to talk of sawing brass, and I don’t believe it can be done,” persisted Will.“Possibly I may be able to convince you that it can be done: in fact, I know I can, if you are not very unreasonable,” added Mr. Jepson, as he put the bar of brass into one of his iron vises, and screwed it up tight. “Now, stand by me, and see that I don’t deceive you.”The machinist took a hack-saw from a hook in front of him.“There is the brass in the vise, and here is the saw,” continued the instructor. “I shall saw the brass bar into two pieces, and I shall do it about as quick as an amateur would saw a piece of hard wood of the same size.”“That thing don’t look like a saw,” Will objected.The instructor took from a drawer a package of hack-saws, on which there was a label.“What does that say, my lad?” asked Mr. Jepson, handing the package to the sceptical student.“One dozen hack-saws,” Will read on the label.“Here is one from the package, and you will see that it is just like the one in the frame. It is a saw without a particle of doubt.”“It looks more like a file.”“It is not at all like a file.”“Dry up, Will! Admit that it is a saw, and don’t argue the question all day,” interposed Lew.“I will give it up: it is a saw,” added Will.The machinist applied the saw to the brass bar, started it carefully so that it need not jump about, and then worked quite lively for a few moments. The end of the bar soon dropped on the floor, and Will picked it up.“I grant that you have sawed brass, but I don’t see how you can plane it,” said Will.“In order to plane it, I should have to put it into a planer; but I can take off shavings as long as the bar itself. I must convince you, Will, or you will never believe it.”All the boys were curious to see this operation. The bar was put into the machine, and the interestedobservers picked up the long and tightly curled shavings of brass. Of course, Will was convinced. Mr. Jepson then took a rod of brass an inch in diameter, and held it up before the class.“This rod is also of brass: it is not made of cheese, though you will think it can be cut about as easily as though it were cheese,” continued he, as he fixed the rod in a turning-lathe. Running on the belt with the lever in front of him, the rod began to turn with tremendous rapidity.The boys gathered around the lathe, and the machinist took up a tool made of an old file. He applied it to the brass, and the metal shavings began to drop rapidly upon the frame of the lathe. In a few moments the end of the rod became a shining ball. The metal could hardly have given less apparent resistance if it had been cheese.With various tools the machinist soon had a cup next to the ball. Then he made an ogee form, and a dozen other shapes, until the boys were utterly astonished at the results. It seemed incredible to them that brass could be cut as easily as soft pine.“I suppose that can only be done with brass,” said Oscar Chester.“It can be done with iron just as well, though the operation will be slower; or with steel, and then it is still slower,” replied the machinist, as he adjusted a rod of iron in the lathe.With no more difficulty than before, though not so rapidly, he cut the same form as in brass. With another lathe, he cut a screw on an iron rod. Taking a blank nut, he put it into the vise, and applied the proper tap to it, cut the female screw, and then put it on the rod. Then he cut a screw with a stock and die on a piece of brass wire, and tapped a nut to fit it.He went to the forge, and welded a couple of pieces of iron together, and had something to say about tempering metals. Taking an old brass candlestick, he sawed the pedestal into two pieces, which he held up before the boys, and then allowed them to examine the parts. He then brazed them together so nicely that the boys could hardly see the place where it had been sawed.“Are we to learn to do all these things, Mr. Jepson?” asked Pemberton Millweed.“That is what you are here for,” replied the instructor. “But you will not begin with thelathe and the plane; and there is a great deal of hard work to be done at this trade.”“What is the first thing we are to learn?” inquired Bob Swanton.“Filing.”“Filing! We can do that now!” exclaimed Lew Shoreham.“Not one of you can do it properly. Any one thinks he can do it, but a nice piece of filing is one of the most artistic things in the trade. It cultivates the eye and the hands, and you could spend months at it without exhausting the subject. But I dare say we are not to go into the extreme niceties of the art. I can tell you this, my lads: if you should work at the trade of a machinist for fifty years, there would still be something to be learned, and greater skill to be obtained.”“Then, we are not likely to become full-fledged machinists in six months,” added Pemberton Millweed.“Certainly not, but you can learn a great deal in that time; and, if you follow the trade for a living, you will have to keep learning all the time you work at it. In America, apprentices, if thereare any now, only work six months or a year, and really learn the trade, if they learn it at all, after they go to work as journeymen. Labor is too valuable in this country for a man to spend seven years in learning a trade: besides, one who has worked six months at a trade becomes valuable to his employer.”“But we are to learn a lot of trades in six months or a year,” suggested Harry Franklin.“Not at all: the only trades you are to learn are those of machinist and carpenter. Incidentally you are to learn a score of other things. When we find out what the boys are best for, we shall put them mainly to that. It is a good thing for a machinist to know something about carpentering, and for a carpenter to be able to handle a piece of iron as well as a piece of wood.“Almost every trade now is subdivided into several. Formerly a carpenter did every thing about a house. Now the doors are made by one concern, the blinds by another, the stairs by a third, the floors are laid by a fourth, the lathing by a fifth: all the mouldings are done by machinery, and so on. So it is with many trades: they are cut up into specialties. Now, if you please, we will go to work.”On this side of the shop there were a dozen short benches, each supplied with tools, which were fewer and simpler than on the carpenters’ side; for much of the work was to be done by machinery. Out in the floor were several lathes for heavy work, a planer, a boring-machine, a circular-saw for metals, a grindstone, several emery-wheels and polishers,—in fact, every thing that could be required for work in metals.Mr. Jepson gave out several blocks of iron, and required the boys to put them in the vises. Then he explained the large number of files belonging to each bench, gave each student a drawing of the form into which he was to file his metal, and set them at work.Passing from one pupil to another, he instructed him in the work before him. The boys soon found that they had not taken an easy job, but they did not complain. Some of them soon learned to handle the file with some degree of skill, and the instructor began to have some idea who would make machinists among them.When the school was dismissed for the day, the pupils were directed to go on board of the Sylph.
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The first class of the Beech-Hill Industrial School were most of them older than the members of the second class. All of them had attended high-schools or academies, and made more or less progress in the studies to be pursued. But they had no better knowledge of practical mechanics and the use of tools.
Mr. Jepson, the instructor in the metal department, had served his time for seven years as a machinist in England, and had worked at his trade a great many years in America. He was competent to build a steam-engine or to run one, and had learned his trade with more thoroughness than most American mechanics.
One of his specialties was drawing; and he was to teach this branch, which is the foundation and corner-stone of all practical mechanics. In his opening speech to the class, he said that the first thing in doing a job of any kind was to makea plan or picture of whatever was to be constructed.
Unlike the carpenter, he did not begin by giving the names and uses of the various tools on his bench, and on the walls near it. He told the boys what could be done in brass, iron, and steel. He pointed out in what manner chemistry and geometry, as well as natural philosophy, if not absolutely essential, were exceedingly valuable, to the machinist.
“I don’t believe half the machinists know any thing about these branches,” said Bob Swanton.
“I don’t believe a quarter part of them learned any thing about these sciences, or even drawing, in school; but they have had to learn them in working at their trade,” replied Mr. Jepson. “In forging iron, in casting any metal, in brazing, soldering, and many other operations, one must learn the effect of heat upon metals, and the effect of various substances upon them.
“Do you think an old-fashioned blacksmith don’t know some of the uses of borax? Why does the tinman use resin, or some chemical preparation, in preparing and soldering his wares? Why does the blacksmith cool one piece of ironby putting it in water, and let another piece cool off on the floor, if he don’t know any thing about the science of chemistry?”
“I meant book science,” added Bob Swanton.
“All science is the same, whether it be in a book or in a man’s head,” added the instructor. “You must get it into the head to have it of any use to you, and it matters not where it come from. All I mean to say is, that a theoretical knowledge of science, such as you get in school, will be of very great advantage to you in the mechanic arts.”
“We are willing to admit that,” said Lew Shoreham rather impatiently; for he was in a hurry to get hold of the tools, as the second class were.
“Here is a bar of brass, half an inch square,” said the machinist, taking the piece of metal from his bench. “We can do almost any thing with it that we can with wood.”
“You can’t saw it, and plane it as you can a piece of wood,” said Will Orwell, who had probably never been in a machine-shop in his life.
“Certainly we can: why not?” demanded the teacher.
“Saw brass!” exclaimed Will. “I never saw any such thing done.”
“Did you ever see a watch made?”
“I never did;but”—
“Then, you ought to believe that a watch can’t be made,” interposed the machinist.
“It looks absurd to me to talk of sawing brass, and I don’t believe it can be done,” persisted Will.
“Possibly I may be able to convince you that it can be done: in fact, I know I can, if you are not very unreasonable,” added Mr. Jepson, as he put the bar of brass into one of his iron vises, and screwed it up tight. “Now, stand by me, and see that I don’t deceive you.”
The machinist took a hack-saw from a hook in front of him.
“There is the brass in the vise, and here is the saw,” continued the instructor. “I shall saw the brass bar into two pieces, and I shall do it about as quick as an amateur would saw a piece of hard wood of the same size.”
“That thing don’t look like a saw,” Will objected.
The instructor took from a drawer a package of hack-saws, on which there was a label.
“What does that say, my lad?” asked Mr. Jepson, handing the package to the sceptical student.
“One dozen hack-saws,” Will read on the label.
“Here is one from the package, and you will see that it is just like the one in the frame. It is a saw without a particle of doubt.”
“It looks more like a file.”
“It is not at all like a file.”
“Dry up, Will! Admit that it is a saw, and don’t argue the question all day,” interposed Lew.
“I will give it up: it is a saw,” added Will.
The machinist applied the saw to the brass bar, started it carefully so that it need not jump about, and then worked quite lively for a few moments. The end of the bar soon dropped on the floor, and Will picked it up.
“I grant that you have sawed brass, but I don’t see how you can plane it,” said Will.
“In order to plane it, I should have to put it into a planer; but I can take off shavings as long as the bar itself. I must convince you, Will, or you will never believe it.”
All the boys were curious to see this operation. The bar was put into the machine, and the interestedobservers picked up the long and tightly curled shavings of brass. Of course, Will was convinced. Mr. Jepson then took a rod of brass an inch in diameter, and held it up before the class.
“This rod is also of brass: it is not made of cheese, though you will think it can be cut about as easily as though it were cheese,” continued he, as he fixed the rod in a turning-lathe. Running on the belt with the lever in front of him, the rod began to turn with tremendous rapidity.
The boys gathered around the lathe, and the machinist took up a tool made of an old file. He applied it to the brass, and the metal shavings began to drop rapidly upon the frame of the lathe. In a few moments the end of the rod became a shining ball. The metal could hardly have given less apparent resistance if it had been cheese.
With various tools the machinist soon had a cup next to the ball. Then he made an ogee form, and a dozen other shapes, until the boys were utterly astonished at the results. It seemed incredible to them that brass could be cut as easily as soft pine.
“I suppose that can only be done with brass,” said Oscar Chester.
“It can be done with iron just as well, though the operation will be slower; or with steel, and then it is still slower,” replied the machinist, as he adjusted a rod of iron in the lathe.
With no more difficulty than before, though not so rapidly, he cut the same form as in brass. With another lathe, he cut a screw on an iron rod. Taking a blank nut, he put it into the vise, and applied the proper tap to it, cut the female screw, and then put it on the rod. Then he cut a screw with a stock and die on a piece of brass wire, and tapped a nut to fit it.
He went to the forge, and welded a couple of pieces of iron together, and had something to say about tempering metals. Taking an old brass candlestick, he sawed the pedestal into two pieces, which he held up before the boys, and then allowed them to examine the parts. He then brazed them together so nicely that the boys could hardly see the place where it had been sawed.
“Are we to learn to do all these things, Mr. Jepson?” asked Pemberton Millweed.
“That is what you are here for,” replied the instructor. “But you will not begin with thelathe and the plane; and there is a great deal of hard work to be done at this trade.”
“What is the first thing we are to learn?” inquired Bob Swanton.
“Filing.”
“Filing! We can do that now!” exclaimed Lew Shoreham.
“Not one of you can do it properly. Any one thinks he can do it, but a nice piece of filing is one of the most artistic things in the trade. It cultivates the eye and the hands, and you could spend months at it without exhausting the subject. But I dare say we are not to go into the extreme niceties of the art. I can tell you this, my lads: if you should work at the trade of a machinist for fifty years, there would still be something to be learned, and greater skill to be obtained.”
“Then, we are not likely to become full-fledged machinists in six months,” added Pemberton Millweed.
“Certainly not, but you can learn a great deal in that time; and, if you follow the trade for a living, you will have to keep learning all the time you work at it. In America, apprentices, if thereare any now, only work six months or a year, and really learn the trade, if they learn it at all, after they go to work as journeymen. Labor is too valuable in this country for a man to spend seven years in learning a trade: besides, one who has worked six months at a trade becomes valuable to his employer.”
“But we are to learn a lot of trades in six months or a year,” suggested Harry Franklin.
“Not at all: the only trades you are to learn are those of machinist and carpenter. Incidentally you are to learn a score of other things. When we find out what the boys are best for, we shall put them mainly to that. It is a good thing for a machinist to know something about carpentering, and for a carpenter to be able to handle a piece of iron as well as a piece of wood.
“Almost every trade now is subdivided into several. Formerly a carpenter did every thing about a house. Now the doors are made by one concern, the blinds by another, the stairs by a third, the floors are laid by a fourth, the lathing by a fifth: all the mouldings are done by machinery, and so on. So it is with many trades: they are cut up into specialties. Now, if you please, we will go to work.”
On this side of the shop there were a dozen short benches, each supplied with tools, which were fewer and simpler than on the carpenters’ side; for much of the work was to be done by machinery. Out in the floor were several lathes for heavy work, a planer, a boring-machine, a circular-saw for metals, a grindstone, several emery-wheels and polishers,—in fact, every thing that could be required for work in metals.
Mr. Jepson gave out several blocks of iron, and required the boys to put them in the vises. Then he explained the large number of files belonging to each bench, gave each student a drawing of the form into which he was to file his metal, and set them at work.
Passing from one pupil to another, he instructed him in the work before him. The boys soon found that they had not taken an easy job, but they did not complain. Some of them soon learned to handle the file with some degree of skill, and the instructor began to have some idea who would make machinists among them.
When the school was dismissed for the day, the pupils were directed to go on board of the Sylph.