“Oh, yes,” said Vane, annoyed, but at the same time pleased, for he felt that the visitor’s remarks were just.
“Humph! You have rather an inventive turn then, eh?”
“Oh, no,” cried Vane, disclaiming so grand a term, “I only try to make a few things here sometimes on wet days.”
“Pretty often, seemingly,” said the visitor, peering here and there. “Silk-winding, collecting. What’s this? Trying to make a steam engine?”
“No, not exactly an engine; but I thought that perhaps I might make a little machine that would turn a wheel.”
“And supply you with motive-power. Well, I will tell you at once that it would not.”
“Why not?” said Vane, with a little more confidence, as he grew used to his companion’s abrupt ways.
“Because you have gone the wrong way to work, groping along in the dark. I’ll be bound to say,” he continued, as he stood turning over the rough, clumsy contrivance upon which he had seized—a bit of mechanism which had cost the boy a good many of his shillings, and the blacksmith much time in filing and fitting in an extremely rough way—“that Newcomen and Watt and the other worthies of the steam engine’s early days hit upon exactly the same ideas. It is curious how men in different places, when trying to contrive some special thing, all start working in the same groove.”
“Then you think that is all stupid and waste of time, sir?”
“I did not say so. By no means. The bit of mechanism is of no use—never can be, but it shows me that you have the kind of brain that ought to fit you for an engineer, and the time you have spent over this has all been education. It will teach you one big lesson, my lad. When you try to invent anything again, no matter how simple, don’t begin at the very beginning, but seek out what has already been done, and begin where others have left off—making use of what is good in their work as a foundation for yours.”