in part with contempt, as an entirely foolish undertaking. My friends were polite, but they were shy of me. They listened with patience to my explanations, but with a decided expression of disbelief in their countenances. As I went daily to and from the place where my boat was building, I often lingered unknown near the idle groups of strangers who were collected there, and listened to their remarks respecting the new locomotive. Their language was always that of scorn and persecution. People laughed aloud, and made jokes at my expense; and reckoned up the fallacy and loss of money on ‘Mr. Fulton's Folly,’ as the undertaking was constantly called. Never did I meet with an encouraging remark, an animating hope, or a warm wish.
“At length came the day when the experiment was to be tried. To me it was a moment of the utmost importance. I had invited many of my friends to go on board and witness the first successful voyage. Many of these did me the kindness to come, but it was evident that they did so reluctantly, and in the belief that they should become the witnesses of my humiliation, and not of my triumph; and I know very well that there was sufficient reason to doubt of my success. The machinery was new, and ill made. A great portion of it was prepared by artisans unaccustomed to such work; and difficulties might easily arise, also, from other causes. The hour arrived at which the boat was to begin to move. My friends stood in groups on deck. Their looks indicated uneasiness, mingled with fear: they were silent and dejected. The signal was given, and the boat was put in motion; it advanced a short distance, then stopped, and became immovable. The former silence now gave place to murmurs and displeasure, and disquiet whisperings, and shrugging of shoulders. I heard on all sides ‘I said it would be so;’ ‘It is a foolish undertaking;’ ‘I wish we were all well out of it.’
