tself. In the year 1810,
a new pit was sunk by the "Grand Allies" (the lessees of the mines) at
the village of Killingworth, now known as the Killingworth High Pit. An
atmospheric or Newcomen engine, made by Smeaton, was fixed there for the
purpose of pumping out the water from the shaft; but somehow it failed to
clear the pit. As one of the workmen has since described the
circumstance--"She couldn't keep her jack-head in water: all the
enginemen in the neighbourhood were tried, as well as Crowther of the
Ouseburn, but they were clean bet." The engine had been fruitlessly
pumping for nearly twelve months, and began to be spoken of as a total
failure. Stephenson had gone to look at it when in course of erection,
and then observed to the over-man that he thought it was defective; he
also gave it as his opinion that, if there were much water in the mine,
the engine would never keep it under. Of course, as he was only a
brakesman, his opinion was considered to be worth very little on such a
point. He continued, however, to make frequent visits to the engine, to
see "how she was getting on." From the bank-head where he worked his
brake he could see the chimney smoking at the High Pit; and as the men
were passing to and from their work, he would call out and inquire "if
they had gotten to the bottom yet?" And the reply was always to the same
effect--the pumping made no progress, and the workmen were still "drowned
out."

One Saturday afternoon he went over to the High Pit to examine the engine
more carefully than he had yet done. He had been turning the subject
over thoughtfully in his mind; and seemed to have satisfied himself as to
the cause of the failure. Kit Heppel, one of the sinkers, asked him,
"Weel, George, what do you mak' o' her? Do you think you could do
anything to improve her?" Said George, "I could alter her, man, and make
her draw: in a week's time I could send you to the bottom."

Forthwith Heppel reported this conversation to Ralph Dodds, the head
viewer, who, being now quite in despair, and hopeless of succeeding with
the engine, determined to give George's skill a trial. At the worst he
could only fail, as the rest had done. In the evening, Dodds went in
search of Stephenson, and met him on the road, dressed in his Sunday's
suit, on the way to "the preaching" in the Methodist Chapel, which he
attended. "Well, George," said Dodds, "they tell me that you think you
can put the engine at the H