On leaving Fairbairn's he was engaged for a time on a survey for the
proposed Lukmanier Railway, in Switzerland, and in 1856 he entered the
engineering works of Mr. Penn, at Greenwich, as a draughtsman, and was
occupied on the plans of a vessel designed for the Crimean war. He did
not care for his berth, and complained of its late hours, his rough
comrades, with whom he had to be 'as little like himself as possible,'
and his humble lodgings, 'across a dirty green and through some half-
built streets of two-storied houses.... Luckily,' he adds, 'I am fond of
my profession, or I could not stand this life.' There was probably no
real hardship in his present situation, and thousands of young engineers
go through the like experience at the outset of their career without a
murmur,' and even with enjoyment; but Jenkin had been his mother's pet
until then, with a girl's delicate training, and probably felt the
change from home more keenly on that account. At night he read
engineering and mathematics, or Carlyle and the poets, and cheered his
drooping spirits with frequent trips to London to see his mother.
Another social pleasure was his visits to the house of Mr. Alfred
Austin, a barrister, who became permanent secretary to Her Majesty's
Office of Works and Public Buildings, and retired in 1868 with the title
of C.B. His wife, Eliza Barron, was the youngest daughter of Mr. E.
Barron, a gentleman of Norwich, the son of a rich saddler, or leather-
seller, in the Borough, who, when a child, had been patted on the head,
in his father's shop, by Dr. Johnson, while canvassing for Mr. Thrale.
Jenkin had been introduced to the Austins by a letter from Mrs. Gaskell,
and was charmed with the atmosphere of their choice home, where
intellectual conversation was happily united with kind and courteous
manners, without any pretence or affectation. 'Each of the Austins,'
says Mr. Stevenson, in his memoir of Jenkin, to which we are much
indebted, 'was full of high spirits; each practised something of the
same repression; no sharp word was uttered in the house. The same point
of honour ruled them: a guest was sacred, and stood within the pale
from criticism.' In short, the Austins were truly hospitable and
cultured, not merely so in form and appearance. It was a rare privilege
and preservative for a solitary young man in Jenkin's position to have
the entry into such elevating society, and he appreciated his good
fortune.
Annie Austin, their only child, had been highly educated, and knew Greek
among other things. Though Jenkin loved and admired her parents, he did
not at first care for Annie, who, on her part, thought him vain, and by
no means good-looking. Mr. Stevenson hints that she vanquished his
stubborn heart by correcting a 'false quantity' of his one day, for he
was the man to reflect over a correction, and 'admire the castigator.'
Be this as it may, Jenkin by degrees fell deeply in love with her.
He was poor and nameless, and this made him diffident; but the liking of
her parents for him gave him hope. Moreover, he had entered the service
of Messrs. Liddell and Gordon, who were engaged in the new work of
submarine telegraphy, which satisfied his aspirations, and promised him
a successful career. With this new-born confidence in his future, he
solicited the Austins for leave to court their daughter, and it was not
withheld. Mrs. Austin consented freely, and Mr. Austin only reserved
the right to inquire into his character. Neither of them mentioned his
income or prospects, and Jenkin, overcome by their disinterestedness,
exclaimed in one of his letters, 'Are these people the same as other
people?' Thus permitted, he addressed himself to Annie, and was nearly