ettle board." On the
full corves being replaced by empty ones, it was then the duty of the
brakesman to reverse the engine, and send the corves down the pit to be
filled again.

The monotony of George Stephenson's occupation as a brakesman was
somewhat varied by the change which he made, in his turn, from the day to
the night shift. His duty, on the latter occasions, consisted chiefly in
sending men and materials into the mine, and in drawing other men and
materials out. Most of the workmen enter the pit during the night shift,
and leave it in the latter part of the day, whilst coal-drawing is
proceeding. The requirements of the work at night are such, that the
brakesman has a good deal of spare time on his hands, which he is at
liberty to employ in his own way. From an early period, George was
accustomed to employ those vacant night hours in working the sums set for
him by Andrew Robertson upon his slate, practising writing in his
copy-book, and mending the shoes of his fellow-workmen. His wages while
working at the Dolly Pit amounted to from 1 pounds 15s. to 2 pounds in
the fortnight; but he gradually added to them as he became more expert at
shoe-mending, and afterwards at shoe-making.

Probably he was stimulated to take in hand this extra work by the
attachment he had by this time formed for a young woman named Fanny
Henderson, who officiated as servant in the small farmer's house in which
he lodged. We have been informed that the personal attractions of Fanny,
though these were considerable, were the least of her charms. Mr.
William Fairbairn, who afterwards saw her in her home at Willington Quay,
describes her as a very comely woman. But her temper was one of the
sweetest; and those who knew her were accustomed to speak of the charming
modesty of her demeanour, her kindness of disposition, and withal her
sound good sense.

Amongst his various mendings of old shoes at Callerton. George was on
one occasion favoured with the shoes of his sweetheart to sole. One can
imagine the pleasure with which he would linger over such a piece of
work, and the pride with which he would execute it. A friend of his,
still living, relates that, after he had finished the shoes, he carried
them about with him in his pocket on the Sunday afternoon, and that from
time to time he would pull them out and hold them up, exclaiming, "what a
capital job he had made of them!"

Out of his earnings by shoe-mending at Callerton, Ge