n housekeeping on his own account. Though he was only
twenty-one years old, he had contrived, by thrift, steadiness, and
industry, to save as much money as enabled him to take a cottage-dwelling
at Willington Quay, and furnish it in a humble but comfortable style for
the reception of his bride.

Willington Quay lies on the north bank of the Tyne, about six miles below
Newcastle. It consists of a line of houses straggling along the
river-side; and high behind it towers up the huge mound of ballast
emptied out of the ships which resort to the quay for their cargoes of
coal for the London market. The ballast is thrown out of the ships'
holds into waggons laid alongside, which are run up to the summit of the
Ballast Hill, and emptied out there. At the foot of the great mound of
shot rubbish was the fixed engine of which George Stephenson acted as
brakesman.

The cottage in which he took up his abode was a small two-storied
dwelling, standing a little back from the quay with a bit of garden
ground in front. {33} The Stephenson family occupied the upper room in
the west end of the cottage. Close behind rose the Ballast Hill.

When the cottage dwelling had been made snug, and was ready for
occupation, the marriage took place. It was celebrated in Newburn
Church, on the 28th of November, 1802. After the ceremony, George, with
his newly-wedded wife, proceeded to the house of his father at Jolly's
Close. The old man was now becoming infirm, and, though he still worked
as an engine-fireman, contrived with difficulty "to keep his head above
water." When the visit had been paid, the bridal party set out for their
new home at Willington Quay, whither they went in a manner quite common
before travelling by railway came into use. Two farm horses, borrowed
from a neighbouring farmer, were each provided with a saddle and pillion,
and George having mounted one, his wife seated herself behind him,
holding on by his waist. The bridesman and bridesmaid in like manner
mounted the other horse; and in this wise the wedding party rode across
the country, passing through the old streets of Newcastle, and then by
Wallsend to Willington Quay--a ride of about fifteen miles.

George Stephenson's daily life at Willington was that of a steady
workman. By the manner, however, in which he continued to improve his
spare hours in the evening, he was silently and surely paving the way for
being something more than a manual labourer. He set