“Iron,” said Fred, wondering what that had to do with a boy seeking his fortune.
“And that hammer?”
“Iron.”
“And that anvil?”
“Iron.”
“Well, don’t you see,” said the smith, resting his hammer on the anvil, and leaning over it toward Fred,—“don’t you see that everything depends on iron? A farmer can’t cultivate the ground until he has a plow; and that plow is made of iron. A butcher can’t cut up a critter until he has a knife; and that knife is made of iron. A tailor can’t make a garment without a needle; and that needle is made of iron. You can’t build a ship without iron, nor start a mill, nor arm a regiment. The stone age, and the brass age, and the golden age are all gone by. This is the iron age; and iron is the basis of all wealth. The richest man is the man that has the most iron. Railroads are made of iron, and the richest men are those that own railroads.”
“How can one man own a railroad?” said Fred, amazed at the vastness of such wealth.
“Well, he can’t exactly, unless he steals it,” said the smith.
“I should like to own a railroad,” said Fred; and he thought what fun he might have, as well as profit, being conductor on his own train; “but I didn’t come to steal; I want to find a fortune honestly.”
“Then look for it in iron,” said the smith. “Iron in some form always paves the road to prosperity.”