One day, one of Mrs. Greene's friends was regretting, in conversation with her, that there could be no profit in the cultivation of cotton. Mrs. Greene had great faith in the inventive powers of young Whitney, and she suggested that he be asked to make a machine which would separate the seed skillfully and rapidly, "for," said she, "Eli Whitney can make anything."
When the workmen in the deep mines of England needed a safety lamp to shield them from the explosions of the damp, they applied to the great chemist, Sir Humphrey Davy, and he invented one. So, these cotton raisers appealed to Mr. Whitney to invent for them a cotton engine or "gin." He knew nothing about either raw cotton or cotton seed. Could he be expected to invent a machine that would separate the cotton seed which he had never seen from the raw cotton which also he had never seen? But Whitney was an inventor. Trifles must not stand in his way. He secured samples of the cotton and the seed; even this was not an easy thing to do, for it was not the right season of the year.
He began to work out his idea of the cotton gin, but met with many obstacles. There were no wire manufactories in the South and he could not obtain wire even in Savannah. Therefore he had to make his wire himself. Still further, he was obliged to manufacture his own iron tools. Step by step he overcame all obstacles, until he had a machine that he thought would answer the purpose.
A COTTON BALL.
Accordingly, one day, he entered the room where Mrs. Greene was conversing with friends and exclaimed, "The victory is mine!" All the guests, as well as the hostess, went with the inventor to examine the machine. He set the model in motion. It consisted of a cylinder four feet in length and five inches in diameter. Upon this was a series of circular saws half an inch apart and projecting two inches above the surface of the revolving cylinder. The saws passed through narrow slits between bars; these bars might be called the ribs of the hopper.
At once the saw teeth caught the cotton which had been placed in the hopper and carried it over between the bars. The seed was left behind, as it was too large to pass through. The saws revolved smoothly and the cotton was thoroughly separated from the seed. But after a few minutes the saws became clogged with the cotton and the wheels stopped. Poor Whitney was in despair. Victory was not yet his.
