The Turning of the Tide; Or, Radcliffe Rich and His Patients

by Elijah Kellogg

The sledding was now good, and Richardson, engaged in hauling logs to the river, had no leisure to meddle with iron; he, however, at odd moments, when the cattle were eating, and on stormy days, made preparation in anticipation of the future.

Near to his house stood the stump of a pine tree that had been cut when the snow was deep, and was higher than usual. Around this he built a log camp, in such a manner as to bring the stump on one side of the camp. The water was low in the river, and where it fell over the rocks, and by shovelling away the snow, he found a stone of sufficient size, hardness, and the right shape, for an anvil. Levelling the top of the stump, he made a cavity in it to receive the stone, and secured it firmly in its bed. This was much superior to a stone on the kitchen hearth, and would bear any blows that could be given with a hand-hammer. There was not a board or plank within eleven miles by land, and thirteen by the river. He flattened some pine saplings, and built up a pen, nearly square, for his forge, found a place in the swamp where the soil was not frozen, and obtained earth to fill it. By cutting through the frozen ground at the bank of the river, he obtained clay for mortar, and with stones built up a little abutment at one end of the forge, to lay his coal and build the fire against. There was no chimney, a hole being left in the roof for the escape of the gas and smoke. He then put a trough at the end of the forge, in which to cool his iron. The floor cost no labor, as it was supplied by mother earth. There was no window, but light came in at the smoke-hole in the roof between the logs and through the chinks of the door, made of joist hewed from small trees, treenailed together and hung on wooden hinges. All this was done little by little, as opportunity offered, and his wife and the children made charcoal by charring wood in the oven, as he could not obtain turf to burn a kiln out of doors in the winter. In mending his chain and staple, Richardson had felt very much the need of something to turn his iron around. One end of a smith's anvil terminates in a point, called the horn, and around which, whenever he wishes to make a hoop, ring, or link of a chain, he can bend it. Richardson had brought into the forest with him a large crowbar. At the expense of much labor with his nail-hammer, he rounded the extremity of the largest end, leaving the rest square; then boring a hole in the stump on the right side, he drove the bar into it. This served as a very good substitute for a horn to his stone anvil, as he could turn a chain link on the round part, and bend iron at right angles on the square edge; and he was not a little proud of it when done.

Richardson's ability to work in wood was well known to his neighbors, but he had carefully concealed his attempts in the blacksmith line, as he did not wish to attract attention till he could obtain tools, and had made some progress. But a matter of such general interest could not long be hid. The children told about their father's mending the chain and the staple, and it was soon known, to the great satisfaction of the neighbors.

This little community, secluded from society and embosomed in the forest, most of them having emigrated from the same neighborhood, and enduring like hardships, were extremely social in their habits, much attached to one another, and ready to make sacrifices for the common good. David Montague was especially beloved by his neighbors, being a man of good abilities, and most open and affectionate disposition. In better circumstances than the rest, he was able to hire help to clear his land, and also kept a horse and a large stock of cattle.

A few days after Richardson had made his preparations, he came in of an evening with his wife, and bringing a chain in his hand, that he flung down at the door. After greetings were exchanged, and they had drawn together around the fire, Montague observed,—

"Neighbor, I hear that you have turned blacksmith, and do your own iron work."

"I'm sure," said Mrs. Montague, "it is going to be a great thing for the place if we have got a smith among us."

"They say," replied Richardson, "that stories never lose anything by going, and I think this is a pretty good proof of it, for it all grew out of this: I went to the village, you know, a while since, to mill, for all hands, and to get some iron work done. While I stood watching Jack Drew, and blowing the bellows for him, I said to myself, 'I could do that work, or I could learn to do it, if I only had his tools and fire, just as well as I can make a pair of wheels, or an axletree, or frame a building, or make a cider-press.' I used to do that kind of work sometimes before I came here. I thought it over going home, and the next time I broke a chain, I set to work with a flat stone before the fire, and mended it, and then I mended a staple; that's the way it came about. I made up my mind then I'd mend my own things, if I could, and save the expense and the long tramp. As we've got only these two rooms, and there isn't much room round the fire, I built a hovel to work in."

"I can tell you, Mr. Montague, he made out firstrate. Husband, show Mr. Montague the chain you mended."

Richardson went to the barn and brought in the chain and the staple.