ROBERT FULTON was born in the township of Little Britain (now called Fulton), in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, in 1765. He was of Irish descent, and his father was a farmer in moderate circumstances. He was the eldest son and third child of a family of five children. The farm upon which he was born was conveyed by his father in 1766 to Joseph Swift, in whose family it still remains. It contains three hundred and sixty-four acres, and is one of the handsomest farms in Lancaster County. After disposing of his farm, Mr. Fulton, senior, removed to the town of Lancaster, where he died in 1768, and there young Robert grew up under the care of his mother. He learned to read and write quickly, but did not manifest much fondness for his books after mastering his elementary studies. He early exhibited an unusual talent for drawing, however, greatly preferring the employment of his pencil to the more serious duties of the school. His instructors and companions considered him a dull boy, though all admitted that he showed no disposition to be idle. All his leisure time was spent either in drawing, or in visiting the shops of the mechanics in the place and eagerly watching their operations. He displayed a remarkable talent for mechanism, which was greatly assisted by his skill in drawing, and his visits to the machine shops were always welcomed by both the apprentices and their employers, who recognized the unusual genius of the boy, and predicted great things for him in the future. But to his teacher, who seems to have been rather more belligerent than is usual with Quakers, Robert's neglect of his studies and visits to the machine shops were so many indications of growing worthlessness. The indignant pedagogue once took occasion to remonstrate with him upon his course, and, failing to convince him by argument, rapped him sharply over the knuckles with a ruler, telling him he would make him do something. Robert at once placed his arms akimbo, and, looking his tutor sternly in the face, replied: "Sir, I came here to have something beat into my brains, not into my knuckles." Some time after this Mrs. Fulton, in conversation with the teacher, expressed her solicitude lest her son should "turn out nothing," since he neglected his books so entirely. The teacher frankly confessed that he had done all in his power for the boy, but that he was discouraged, and added: "Only yesterday, madam, Robert pertinaciously declared to me that his head was so full of original notions that there was no vacant chamber to store away the contents of any dusty books." The lad was only ten years of age at the time, and, as may be supposed, the good Quaker who directed his education was not a little dismayed by such a remark.