school at the neighbouring village of Walbottle, where he took
lessons in reading three evenings every week. It is a great thing
when a man is not ashamed to learn. Many men are; they consider
themselves so immensely wise that they look upon it as an
impertinence in anybody to try to tell them anything they don't
know already. Truly wise or truly great men--men with the
capability in them for doing anything worthy in their generation--
never feel this false and foolish shame. They know that most other
people know some things in some directions which they do not, and
they are glad to be instructed in them whenever opportunity offers.
This wisdom George Stephenson possessed in sufficient degree to
make him feel more ashamed of his ignorance than of the steps
necessary in order to conquer it. Being a diligent and willing
scholar, he soon learnt to read, and by the time he was nineteen he
had learnt how to write also. At arithmetic, a science closely
allied to his native mechanical bent, he was particularly apt, and
beat all the other scholars at the village night school. This
resolute effort at education was the real turning-point in George
Stephenson's remarkable career, the first step on the ladder whose
topmost rung led him so high that he himself must almost have felt
giddy at the unwonted elevation.

Shortly after, young Stephenson gained yet another promotion in
being raised to the rank of brakesman, whose duty it was to slacken
the engine when the full baskets of coal reached the top of the
shaft. This was a more serious and responsible post than any he
had yet filled, and one for which only the best and steadiest
workmen were ever selected. His wages now amounted to a pound a
week, a very large sum in those days for a skilled working-man.