It _was_ a great stake which the world had in the gloomy midnight reflections of two desperately poor men, seated upon that pile of boards, thirty years ago! Rarely has so much hung upon the thoughts of two humble men. That midnight scene settled the question whether woman should have a tireless helper in her weary task of stitching—whether or not the world should thenceforward have a machine for sewing. Out of that lumber-pile conference came the Sewing Machine and all the mighty interests involved in its manufacture, sale, and use. It was the answer to the “Song of the Shirt;” its dolorous tone had reached—not the rich—but a poor, struggling mechanic; and his invention has done for woman and for the home-circle what no other invention ever has done. We look back upon James Watt, sitting before the open fireplace, watching the pot lid rise and fall with the then undiscovered power of steam, as the scene whence issued all the blessings which followed the Steam-engine. We think of Franklin flying his storm-riding kite and drawing down the lightning, as thereby bringing to us all the civilizing influences of the Telegraph. But neither of these men, if they could have looked down the dim vista of the coming centuries, and foreseen what their inventions should do for humanity, could have contemplated results more surprising than those which Isaac Merritt Singer lived to see crowning the invention which hung trembling upon the results of that talk upon that pile of boards! The Telegraph and Steam-engine live daily in the broad blaze of public view; the Sewing Machine modestly hides itself away beneath three million of the nine million roofs of America. They are public blessings; the Sewing Machine is a purely domestic one. It earns a woman’s dime; they earn a railroad king’s millions. They deal with the great arteries of trade and commerce; it deals with the fireside circle. The Telegraph and Steam-engine proudly boast their alliance and familiarity with Capital; the Sewing Machine contentedly takes up its humble quarters mainly with people who never drew a dividend in all their lives. Capital and wealth must run the former; slender and humble feet most often run the latter. The Locomotive puffs defiantly in nearly every legislative hall; the Sewing Machine sings its tireless tune to ears that would not know what “_lobby_” meant. The former haughtily issues its dictum to primaries and conventions; the latter could not control a solitary vote. Steam and the Telegraph deal mainly with creation’s lord; the Sewing Machine with his lowlier sister.