THE INDUSTRIAL READERS

_Book III_

MAKERS OF MANY THINGS

BY

EVA MARCH TAPPAN, PH. D. 

_Author of "England's Story, " "American Hero Stories, ""Old World Hero Stories, " "Story of the Greek People, ""Story of the Roman People, " etc. Editor of"The Children's Hour. "_

[Illustration]

HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY

BOSTON NEW YORK CHICAGO

COPYRIGHT, 1916, BY EVA MARCH TAPPAN

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Riverside Press

CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS

U . S . A

PREFACE

The four books of this series have been written not merely to provideagreeable reading matter for children, but to give them information. When a child can look at a steel pen not simply as an articlefurnished by the city for his use, but rather as the result of manyinteresting processes, he has made a distinct growth in intelligence. When he has begun to apprehend the fruitfulness of the earth, bothabove ground and below, and the best way in which its products may beutilized and carried to the places where they are needed, he has notonly acquired a knowledge of many kinds of industrial life which mayhelp him to choose his life-work wisely from among them, but he haslearned the dependence of one person upon other persons, of onepart of the world upon other parts, and the necessity of peacefulintercourse. Best of all, he has learned to see. Wordsworth's familiarlines say of a man whose eyes had not been opened, --

 "A primrose by a river's brim A yellow primrose was to him, And it was nothing more. "

These books are planned to show the children that there is "somethingmore"; to broaden their horizon; to reveal to them what invention hasaccomplished and what wide room for invention still remains; to teachthem that reward comes to the man who improves his output beyond thetask of the moment; and that success is waiting, not for him who worksbecause he must, but for him who works because he may. 

Acknowledgment is due to the Diamond Match Company, Hood RubberCompany, S. D. Warren Paper Company, The Riverside Press, E. Faber, C. Howard Hunt Pen Company, Waltham Watch Company, Mark Cross Company, I. Prouty & Company, Cheney Brothers, and others, whose advice andcriticism have been of most valuable aid in the preparation of thisvolume. 

EVA MARCH TAPPAN. 

CONTENTS

 I. THE LITTLE FRICTION MATCH 1

 II. ABOUT INDIA RUBBER 6

 III. "KID" GLOVES 16

 IV. HOW RAGS AND TREES BECOME PAPER 25

 V. HOW BOOKS ARE MADE 36

 VI. FROM GOOSE QUILLS TO FOUNTAIN PENS AND LEAD PENCILS 46

 VII. THE DISHES ON OUR TABLES 56

 VIII. HOW THE WHEELS OF A WATCH GO AROUND 64

 IX. THE MAKING OF SHOES 73

 X. IN THE COTTON MILL 82

 XI. SILKWORMS AND THEIR WORK 92

THE INDUSTRIAL READERS

BOOK III

MAKERS OF MANY THINGS

I

THE LITTLE FRICTION MATCH

I remember being once upon a time ten miles from a store and one milefrom a neighbor; the fire had gone out in the night, and the lastmatch failed to blaze. We had no flint and steel. We were neitherIndians nor Boy Scouts, and we did not know how to make a fire bytwirling a stick. There was nothing to do but to trudge off throughthe snow to the neighbor a mile away and beg some matches. Then wasthe time when we appreciated the little match and thought withprofound respect of the men who invented and perfected it. 

It is a long way from the safe and reliable match of to-day back tothe splinters that were soaked in chemicals and sold together withlittle bottles of sulphuric acid. The splinter was expected to blazewhen dipped into the acid. Sometimes it did blaze, and sometimes itdid not; but it was reasonably certain how the acid would behave, forit would always sputter and do its best to spoil some one's clothes. Nevertheless, even such matches as these were regarded as a wonderfulconvenience, and were sold at five dollars a hundred. With the nextkind of match that appeared, a piece of folded sandpaper was sold, andthe buyer was told to pinch it hard and draw the match through thefold. These matches were amazingly cheap--eighty-four of them for onlytwenty-five cents! There have been all sorts of odd matches. One kindactually had a tiny glass ball at the end full of sulphuric acid. Tolight this, you had to pinch the ball and the acid that was thus letout acted upon the other chemicals on the match and kindled it--or wasexpected to kindle it, which was not always the same thing. 

Making matches is a big business, even if one hundred of them aresold for a cent. It is estimated that on an average each person usesseven matches every day. To provide so many would require some sevenhundred million matches a day in this country alone. It seems likea very simple matter to cut a splinter of wood, dip it into somechemicals, and pack it into a box for sale; and it would be simpleif it were all done by hand, but the matches would also be irregularand extremely expensive. The way to make anything cheap and uniformis to manufacture it by machinery. 

[Illustration: THE ENDLESS MATCH MACHINE

The match splints are set in tiny holes like pins in a pincushion, andthe belt revolves, passing their heads through various chemicals. ]

The first step in making matches is to select some white-pine plank ofgood quality and cut it into blocks of the proper size. These are fedinto a machine which sends sharp dies through them and thus cuts thematch splints. Over the splint cutter a carrier chain is continuouslymoving, and into holes in this chain the ends of the match splintsare forced at the rate of ten or twelve thousand a minute. 

The splints remain in the chain for about an hour, and during thishour all sorts of things happen to them. First, they are dipped intohot paraffin wax, because this will light even more easily than wood. As soon as the wax is dry, the industrious chain carries them over adipping-roll covered with a layer consisting partly of glue and rosin. Currents of air now play upon the splint, and in about ten minutes theglue and rosin on one end of it have hardened into a hard bulb. It isnot a match yet by any means, for scratching it would not make itlight. The phosphorus which is to make it into a match is on anotherdipping-roll. This is sesqui-sulphide of phosphorus. The common yellowphosphorus is poisonous, and workmen in match factories where it wasused were in danger of suffering from a terrible disease of the jawbone. At length it was discovered that sesqui-sulphide of phosphoruswould make just as good matches and was harmless. Our largest matchcompany held the patent giving them the exclusive right to certainprocesses by which the sesqui-sulphide was made; and this patent theygenerously gave up to the people of the United States. 

After the splints have been dipped into the preparation of phosphorus, they are carried about on the chain vertically, horizontally, on theoutside of some wheels and the inside of others, and through currentsof air. Then they are turned over to a chain divided into sectionswhich carries them to a packing-machine. This machine packs them intoboxes, a certain number in each box, and they are slid down to girlswho make the boxes into packages. These are put into wooden containersand are ready for sale. 

As in most manufactures, these processes must be carried on withgreat care and exactness. The wood must be carefully selected and ofstraight grain, the dipping-rolls must be kept covered with a freshsupply of composition, and its depth must be always uniform. Even thecurrents of air in which the splints are dried must be just warmenough to dry them and just moist enough not to dry them too rapidly. 

The old sulphur matches made in "card and block" can no longer bebought in this country; the safety match has taken their place. Onekind of safety match has the phosphorus on the box and the otherigniting substances on the match, so that the match will not lightunless it is scratched on the box; but this kind has never been afavorite in the United States. The second kind, the one generallyused, may be struck anywhere, but these matches are safe becauseeven stepping upon one will not light it; it must be scratched. 

A match is a little thing, but nothing else can do its work. 

II

ABOUT INDIA RUBBER

When you pick a dandelion or a milkweed, a white sticky "milk" oozesout; and this looks just like the juice of the various sorts of trees, shrubs, and vines from which India rubber is made. The "rubber plant"which has been such a favorite in houses is one of these; in India itbecomes a large tree which has the peculiar habit of dropping downfrom its branches "bush-ropes, " as they are called. These take rootand become stout trunks. There is literally a "rubber belt" around theworld, for nearly all rubber comes from the countries lying betweenthe Tropic of Cancer and the Tropic of Capricorn. More than half ofall that is brought to market is produced in the valley of the AmazonRiver; and some of this "Para rubber, " as it is called, from theseaport whence it is shipped, is the best in the world. 

[Illustration: _Courtesy General Rubber Co. _

TAPPING RUBBER TREES IN SUMATRA

The plantation on which this photograph was taken has 45, 000 acres ofplanted rubber trees, and employs 14, 000 coolies. ]

The juice or latex flows best about sunrise, and so the natives whocollect it have to be early risers. They make little cuts in the barkof the tree, stick on with a bit of clay a tiny cup underneath eachcut, and move on through the forest to the next tree. Sometimes theymake narrow V-shaped cuts in the bark, one above another, but allcoming into a perpendicular channel leading to the foot of the tree. Later in the day the collectors empty the cups into great jugs andcarry them to the camp. 

When the rubber juice reaches the camp, it is poured into a greatbowl. The men build a fire of sticks, and always add a great many palmnuts, which are oily and make a good deal of smoke. Over the fire theyplace an earthen jar shaped like a cone, but without top or bottom. Now work begins. It is fortunate that it can be done in the open air, and that the man can sit on the windward side, for the smoke risesthrough the smaller hole thick and black and suffocating. The mantakes a stick shaped like a paddle, dips it into the bowl, and holdsit in the smoke and heat, turning it rapidly over and over till thewater is nearly dried out of the rubber and it is no longer milky, butdark-colored. Then he dips this paddle in again and again. It growsheavier at each dipping, but he keeps on till he has five or sixpounds of rubber. With a wet knife he cuts this off, making what arecalled "biscuits. " After many years of this sort of work, some onefound that by resting one end of a pole in a crotched stick andholding the other in his hand, a man could make a much larger biscuit. 

For a long time people thought that rubber trees could not becultivated. One difficulty in taking them away from their originalhome to plant is that the seeds are so rich in oil as to become rancidunusually soon. At length, however, a consignment of them was packedin openwork baskets between layers of dried wild banana leaves andslung up on deck in openwork crates so as to have plenty of air. Bythis means seven thousand healthy little plants were soon growing inEngland, and from there were carried to Ceylon and the East. 

On the rubber plantations collecting juice from trees standing neartogether and in open ground is an altogether different matter fromcutting a narrow path and forcing one's way through a South Americanor African jungle. The bark of the trees is cut in herringbonefashion. The collector simply slices a thin piece off the bark and atonce milk begins to ooze out. 

On the great plantations of the East the rubber is collected chieflyby Chinese and Indians. They are carefully taught just how to tap thetrees. They begin four or five feet from the ground, and work down, cutting the thinnest possible slice at each visit. When they havealmost reached the ground, they begin on the opposite side of thetrunk; and by the time they have reached the ground on that side thebark on the first side has renewed itself. The latex is strained andmixed with some acid, usually acetic, in order to coagulate or thickenit. It is then run between rollers, hung in a drying house, andgenerally in a smokehouse. 

The rubber arrives at the factory in bales or cases. First of allit must be thoroughly washed in order to get rid of sand or bits ofleaves and wood. A machine called a "washer" does this work. It forcesthe rubber between grooved rolls which break it up; and as this isdone under a spray of water, the rubber is much cleaner when it comesout. Another machine makes it still cleaner and forms it into longsheets about two feet wide. 

Having thoroughly wet the rubber, the next step is to dry itthoroughly. The old way was to hang it up for several weeks. The newway is to cut it into strips, lay it upon steel trays, and place itin a vacuum dryer. This is kept hot, and whatever moisture is in therubber is either evaporated or sucked out by a vacuum pump. It nowpasses through another machine much like the washer, and is formedinto sheets. The square threads from which elastic webbing is made maybe cut from these sheets, though sometimes the sheet is wound on aniron drum, vulcanized by being put into hot water, lightly varnishedwith shellac to stiffen it, then wound on a wooden cylinder, and cutinto square threads. Boiling these in caustic soda removes theshellac. To make round threads, softened rubber is forced through adie. Rubber bands are made by cementing a sheet of rubber into a tubeand then cutting them off at whatever width may be desired. Toyballoons are made of such rubber. Two pieces are stamped out andjoined by a particularly noisy machine, and then the balloon is blownout by compressed air. 

Early in the nineteenth century it was known that rubber would keepout water, but it was sticky and unmanageable. After a while a Scotchchemist named McIntosh succeeded in dissolving rubber in naphtha andspreading it between two thicknesses of cloth. That is why his nameis given to raincoats made in this way. Overshoes, too, were made ofpure rubber poured over clay lasts which were broken after the rubberhad dried. These overshoes were waterproof, --there was no denyingthat; but they were heavy and clumsy and shapeless. When they weretaken off, they did not stand up, but promptly fell over. In hotweather they became so sticky that they had to be kept in the cellar;and in winter they became stiff and inelastic, but they never woreout. How to get rid of the undesirable qualities and not lose thedesirable ones was the question. It was found out that if sulphur wasmixed with rubber, the disagreeable stickiness would vanish; but therubbers continued to melt and to freeze by turns until an Americannamed Charles Goodyear discovered that if rubber mixed with sulphurwas exposed to about 300° F. Of heat for a number of hours, the rubberwould remain elastic, but would not be sticky and would no longer beaffected by heat or cold. This is why you often see the name Goodyearon the bottom of rubbers. 

Rubber overshoes were improved at once. As they now are made, therubber is mixed with sulphur, whiting, litharge, and several othersubstances. An honest firm will add only those materials that will beof service in making the rubber more easy to mould or will improve itin some way. Unfortunately, substances are often added, not for thispurpose, but to increase the weight and apparent value of thearticles. That is why some rubber overshoes, for instance, wear outso much faster than others. 

To make an overshoe, the rubber is run through rollers and formed intothick sheets for soles and thinner sheets for uppers. Another machinecoats with gum the cloth used for lining and stays. Rubber andrubber-lined cloth go to the cutting-room, where all the differentparts of the shoes are cut out. They are then put together andvarnished. While still on the last, they are dipped into a tank ofvarnish and vulcanized--a very simple matter now that Goodyear hasshown us how, for they are merely left in large, thoroughly heatedovens for eight or ten hours. The rubber shoe or boot is now elastic, strong, waterproof, ready for any temperature, and so firmly cementedtogether with rubber cement that it is practically all in one piece. 

During the last few years there have been frequent calls from variouscharities for old rubber overshoes, pieces of rubber hose, etc. Theseare of considerable value in rubber manufacturing. They are runthrough a machine which tears them to shreds, then through a sort offanning-mill which blows away the bits of lining. Tiny pieces of ironmay be present from nails or rivets; but these are easily removed bymagnets. This "reclaimed" rubber is powdered and mixed with the new, and for some purposes the mixture answers very well. Imitation rubberhas been made by heating oil of linseed, hemp, maize, etc. , withsulphur; but no substitute for rubber is a success for all uses. 

[Illustration: _Courtesy U. S. Tire Co. _

HOW RUBBER GOES THROUGH THE FACTORY

Splitting Para biscuits, mixing the rubber, rolling the rubber fabricon cylinders, and building tires on the tire machines. ]

There are many little conveniences made of rubber which we shouldgreatly miss, such as the little tips put into pencil ends for erasingpencil marks. These are made by filling a mould with rubber. Rubbercorks are made in much the same manner. Tips for the legs of chairsare made in a two-piece mould larger at the bottom than at the top, and with a plunger that nearly fits the small end. Often on chair tipsand in the cup-shaped eraser that goes over the ends of some pencilsyou can see the "fin, " as the glassworkers call it, where the twopieces of the mould did not exactly fit. Rubber cannot be melted andcast in moulds like iron, but it can be gently heated and softened, and then pressed into a mould. Rubber stamps are made in this way. Themaking of rubber heels and soles is now a large industry; hose forwatering and for vacuum and Westinghouse brakes is made in increasingquantities. The making of rubber tires for automobiles and carriagesis an important industry. The enormous and increasing use ofelectricity requires much use of rubber as an insulator. Rubber gloveswill protect an electrical workman from shock and a surgeon frominfection. Rubber beds and cushions filled with air are a greatcomfort in illness. Rubber has great and important uses; but we shouldperhaps miss quite as much the little comforts and conveniences whichit has made possible. 

Rubber and gutta-percha are not the same substance by any means. Both of them are made of the milky juice of trees, but of entirelydifferent trees. The gutta-percha milk is collected in an absurdlywasteful manner, namely, by cutting down the trees and scraping upthe juice. When this juice reaches the market, it is in large reddishlumps which look like cork and smell like cheese. It has to becleaned, passed through a machine that tears it into bits, thenbetween rollers before it is ready to be manufactured. It is notelastic like rubber; it may be stretched; but it will not snap backagain as rubber does. It is a remarkably good nonconductor ofelectricity, and therefore it has been generally used to protect oceancables, though recently rubber has been taking its place. It makesparticularly excellent casts, for when it is warm it is not sticky, but softens so perfectly that it will show the tiniest indentation ofa mould. It is the best kind of splint for a broken bone. If a boybreaks his arm, a surgeon can put a piece of gutta-percha into hotwater, set the bone, bind on the softened gutta-percha for a splint, and in a few minutes it will be moulded to the exact shape of the arm, but so stiff as to keep the bone in place. Another good service whichgutta-percha renders to the physician results from its willingnessto dissolve in chloroform. If the skin is torn off, leaving a rawsurface, this dissolved gutta-percha can be poured over it, and soonit is protected by an artificial skin which keeps the air from the rawflesh and gives the real skin an opportunity to grow again. 

III

"KID" GLOVES

There is an old proverb which says, "For a good glove, Spain mustdress the leather, France must cut it, and England must sew it. " Manypairs of most excellent gloves have never seen any one of thesecountries, but the moral of the proverb remains, namely, that it takesconsiderable work and care to make a really good glove. 

The first gloves made in the United States were of thick buckskin, forthere was much heavy work to be done in the forest and on the land. The skin was tanned in Indian fashion, by rubbing into the flesh sidethe brains of the deer--though how the Indians ever thought of usingthem is a mystery. Later, the white folk tried to tan with pigs'brains; but however valuable the brains of a pig may be to himself, they do not contain the properties of soda ash which made those ofthe deer useful for this purpose. 

[Illustration: CUTTING HIDES INTO GLOVES

The hides are kept in racks, and before cutting are stretched by hand. Then the steel die cuts out the shape of the glove. Notice thecuriously shaped cut for the thumb. ]

Years ago, when a man set out to manufacture gloves, usually only afew dozen pairs, he cut out a pattern from a shingle or a piece ofpasteboard, laid it upon a skin, marked around it, and cut it out withshears. Pencils were not common, but the glovemaker was fully equalto making his own. He melted some lead, ran it into a crack in thekitchen floor--and cracks were plentiful--and then used this"plummet, " as it was called, for a marker. After cutting the largepiece for the front and back of the glove, he cut out from the scrapsremaining the "fourchettes, " or _forks_; that is, the narrow stripsthat make the sides of the fingers. Smaller scraps were put in to weltthe seams; and all this went off in great bundles to farmhouses tobe sewed by the farmers' wives and daughters for the earning ofpin-money. If the gloves were to be the most genteel members of thebuckskin race, there was added to the bundle a skein of silk, withwhich a slender vine was to be worked on the back of the hand. Thesewing was done with a needle three-sided at the point, and a stoutwaxed thread was used. A needle of this sort went in more easily thana round one, but even then it was rather wearisome to push it throughthree thicknesses of stout buckskin. Moreover, if the sewer happenedto take hold of the needle too near the point, the sharp edges werelikely to make little cuts in her fingers. 

After a while sewing machines were invented, and factories were built, and now in a single county of the State of New York many thousandpeople are at work making various kinds of leather coverings for theirown hands and those of other folk. Better methods of tanning have beendiscovered, and many sorts of leather are now used, especially forthe heavier gloves. Deer are not so common as they used to be, and a"buckskin" glove is quite likely to have been made of the hide ofa cow or a horse. "Kid" generally comes from the body of a sheepinstead of that of a young goat. Our best real kidskin comes from acertain part of France, where the climate seems to be just suited tothe young kids, there is plenty of the food that they like, and, whatis fully as important, they receive the best of care. It is said thatto produce the very finest kidskin, the kids are fed on nothing butmilk, are treated with the utmost gentleness, and are kept in coops orpens carefully made so that there shall be nothing to scratch theirtender skins. 

Glovemakers are always on the lookout for new kinds of material, andwhen, not many years ago, there came from Arabia with a shipment ofMocha coffee two bales of an unknown sort of skin, they were eager totry it. It tanned well and made a glove that has been a favorite fromthe first. The skin was found to come from a sheep living in Arabia, Abyssinia, and near the headwaters of the river Nile. It was namedMocha from the coffee with which it came, and Mocha it has been eversince. The Suède glove has a surface much like that of the Mocha. Itsname came from "Swede, " because the Swedes were the first to use theskin with the outside in. 

Most of our thinner "kid" gloves are made of lambskin; but dressingthe skins is now done so skillfully in this country that "homemade"gloves are in many respects fully as good as the imported; indeed, some judges declare that in shape and stitching certain grades arebetter. When sheepskins and lambskins come to market from a distance, they are salted. They have to be soaked in water, all bits of fleshscraped off, and the hair removed, generally by the use of lime. Afteranother washing, they are put into alum and salt for a few minutes;and after washing this off, they are dried, stretched, and then areready for the softening. Nothing has been found that will soften theskins so perfectly as a mixture of flour, salt, and the yolk ofeggs--"custard, " as the workmen call it. The custard and the skinsare tumbled together into a great iron drum which revolves till thecustard has been absorbed and the skins are soft and yielding. Nowthey are stretched one way and another, and wet so thoroughly thatthey lose all the alum and salt that may be left and also much ofthe custard. 

Now comes dyeing. The skin is laid upon a table, smooth side up, andbrushed over several times with the coloring matter; very lightly, however, for if the coloring goes through the leather, the hands ofthe customers may be stained and they will buy no more gloves of thatmake. The skins are now moistened and rolled and left for severalweeks to season. When they are unrolled, the whole skin is soft andpliable. It is thick, however, and no one who is not an expert canthin it properly. The process is called "mooning" because the knifeused is shaped like a crescent moon. It is flat, its center is cutout, and the outer edge is sharpened. Over the inner curve is ahandle. The skin is hung on a pole, and the expert workman drawsthe mooning knife down it until any bit of dried flesh remaining hasbeen removed, and the skin is of the same thickness, or, rather, thinness throughout. 

All this slow, careful work is needed to prepare the skin for cuttingout the glove; and now it goes to the cutter. There is no longer anycutting out of gloves with shears and pasteboard patterns, but thereis a quick way and a slow way nevertheless. The man who cuts in thequick way, the "block-cutter, " as he is called, spreads out the skinon a big block made by bolting together planks of wood with the grainrunning up and down. He places a die in the shape of the glove uponthe leather, gives one blow with a heavy maul, and the glove is cutout. This answers very well for the cheaper and coarser gloves, but tocut fine gloves is quite a different matter. This needs skill, and itis said that no man can do good "table-cutting" who has not had atleast three years' experience; and even then he may not be able to doreally first-class work. He dampens the skin, stretches it first oneway and then the other, and examines it closely for flaws or scratchesor weak places. He must put on his die in such a way as to get twopairs of ordinary gloves or one pair of "elbow gloves" out of the skinif possible, and yet he must avoid the poor places if there are any. No glove manufacturer can afford to employ an unskilled or carelesscutter, for he will waste much more than his wages amount to. Thereused to be one die for the right hand and another for the left, andit was some time before it occurred to any one that the same die wouldcut both gloves if only the skin was turned over. 

[Illustration: CLOSING THE GLOVE

When sewing time comes, the glove goes from hand to hand down theworkroom, each stitcher doing a certain seam or seams. ]

[Illustration: WHERE THE GLOVE GETS ITS SHAPE

After inspection the glove goes to a row of men who fit it on asteam-heated brass hand, giving it its final shape and finish. ]

Now comes the sewing. Count the pieces in a glove, and this will givesome idea of the work needed to sew them together. Notice that thefourchettes are sewed together on the wrong side, the other seams onthe right side, and that the tiny bits of facing and lining are hemmeddown by hand. Notice that two of the fingers have only one fourchette, while the others have two fourchettes each. Notice how neatly the endsof the fingers are finished, with never an end of thread left on theright side. The embroidery must be in exactly the right place, and itmust be fastened firmly at both ends. This embroidery is not ameaningless fashion, for the lines make the hand look much moreslender and of a better shape. Sewing in the thumbs needs special careand skill. There must be no puckering, and the seam must not be sotightly drawn as to leave a red line on the hand when the glove istaken off. No one person does all the sewing on a glove; it must passthrough a number of hands, each doing a little. Even after all thecare that is given it, a glove is a shapeless thing when it comes fromthe sewing machines. It is now carried to a room where stands a longtable with a rather startling row of brass hands of different sizesstretching up from it. These are heated, the gloves are drawn uponthem, and in a moment they have shape and finish, and are ready to beinspected and sold. 

The glove is so closely associated with the hand and with the personto whom the hand belongs that in olden times it was looked upon asrepresenting him. When, for instance, a fair could not be openedwithout the presence of some noble, it was enough if he sent hisglove to represent him. To throw down one's glove before a man was tochallenge him to a combat. At the coronation of Queen Elizabeth, as ofmany other sovereigns of England, the "Queen's champion, " a knight infull armor, rode into the great hall and threw down his glove, crying, "If there be any manner of man that will say and maintain that oursovereign Lady, Queen Elizabeth, is not the rightful and undoubtedinheritrix to the imperial crown of this realm of England, I say helieth like a false traitor, and therefore I cast him my gage. "

IV

HOW RAGS AND TREES BECOME PAPER

It was a great day for the children on the farm when the tin peddlercame around. He had a high red wagon, fairly bristling with brooms, mop-handles, washtubs, water-pails, and brushes. When he opened hismysterious drawers and caverns, the sunshine flashed upon tin pans, dippers, dustpans, and basins. Put away rather more choicely werewooden-handled knives, two-tined forks, and dishes of glass and china;and sometimes little tin cups painted red or blue and charminglygilded, or cooky-cutters in the shape of dogs and horses. All theserare and delightful articles he was willing to exchange for rags. Isit any wonder that the thrifty housewife saved her rags with theutmost care, keeping one bag for white clippings and one for colored?

These peddlers were the great dependence of the paper mills, for thefinest paper is made from linen and cotton rags. When the rags reachthe factory, they are carefully sorted. All day long the sorters sitbefore tables whose tops are covered with coarse wire screens, andfrom masses of rags they pick out buttons, hooks and eyes, pins, bitsof rubber, and anything else that cannot possibly be made into paper. At the same time they sort the rags carefully into different grades, and with a knife shaped like a small sickle fastened upright to thetable they cut them into small pieces. Some of the dust falls throughthe screen; but to remove the rest of it, the cut-up rags are tossedabout in a wire drum. Sometimes they are so dusty that when they comeout of the drum they weigh only nine tenths as much as when they goin. The dust is out of them, but not the dirt. To remove that, theyare now put into great boilers full of steam; and here they cook andturn over, and turn over and cook for hours. Lime and sometimes sodaare put with them to cleanse them and remove the coloring material;but when they are poured out, they look anything but clean, for theyare of a particularly dirty brown; and the water that is drained awayfrom them looks even more uninteresting. Of course the next step is towash this dirty brown mass; and for at least four hours it is scrubbedin a machine which beats it and rolls it and chops it and tumbles itabout until the wonder is that anything is left of it. All this while, the water has been flowing through it, coming in clean and going outdirty; and at length the mass becomes so light a gray that makingwhite paper of it does not seem quite hopeless. It is now bleachedwith chloride of lime, and washed till it is of a creamy white colorand free from the lime, and then beaten again. If you fold a piece ofcheap paper and tear it at the fold, it will tear easily; but if youdo the same thing with paper made of linen and cotton, you will findit decidedly tough. Moreover, if you look closely at the torn edge ofthe latter, you will see the fibers clearly. It is because of thebeating that the fibers are so matted together and thus make the papertough. While the pulp is in the beater, the manufacturer puts in thecoloring matter, if he wishes it to be tinted blue or rose or lavenderor any other color. No one would guess that this white or creamy orazure liquid had ever been the dirty rags that came into the mill andwere sorted on the wire tables. Besides the coloring, a "filler" isusually added at this time, such as kaolin, the fine clay of whichchina is made. This fills the pores and gives a smoother surface tothe finished paper--a good thing if too much is not put in. A littlesizing is also added, made of rosin. Save for this sizing, ink wouldsink into even the finished paper as it does into blotting paper. After this, more water is added to the pulp and it is run into tanks. 

Now the preparation is completed, and the pulp is pumped to large andcomplicated machines which undertake to make it into paper. It firstflows through screens which are shaken all the while as if they weretrembling. This shaking lets the liquid and the finer fibers through, but holds back the little lumps, if any remain after all the beatingand straining and cutting that it has had. The pulp flows upon anendless wire screen. Rubber straps at the sides keep it in, but theextra water drops through the meshes. The pulp is flowing onward, andso the tiny fibers would naturally straighten out and flow with it, like sticks in a river; but the wire screen is kept shaking sideways, and this helps the fibers to interlace, and the paper becomes nearlyas strong one way as the other. 

If you hold a sheet of paper up to the light, it will show plainlywhat is next done to it. Sometimes you can see that it is marked bylight parallel lines running across it close together, and crossed byother and stouter lines an inch or two apart. Sometimes the name ofthe paper or that of the manufacturer is marked in the same way byletters lighter than the rest of the sheet. Sometimes the paper isplain with no markings whatever. This difference is made by what iscalled the "dandy, " a cylinder covered with wire. For the first, or"laid" paper, the small wires run the length of the cylinder and thestouter ones around it. Wherever the wires are, the paper is a littlethinner. In some papers this thinness can be seen and felt. For thesecond kind of paper the design, or "watermark, " is formed by wires alittle thicker than the rest of the covering. For the third, or "wove"paper, the dandy is covered with plain woven wire like that of thewire cloth; so there are no markings at all. This work can be easilydone because at this point the paper is so moist. 

The paper is now not in sheets, but in a long web like a web of cloth. It passes between felt-covered rollers to press out all the waterpossible, then over steam-heated cylinders to be dried, finally goingbetween cold iron rollers to be made smooth, and is wound on a reel, trimmed and cut into sheets of whatever size is desired. The finestnote papers are not finished in this way, but are partly dried, passed through a vat of thin glue, any excess being squeezed off byrollers, then cut into sheets, and hung up to dry thoroughly at theirleisure. 

Paper made of properly prepared linen and cotton is by far the best, but there are so many new uses for paper that there are not ragsenough in the world to make nearly what is needed. There are scores ofnewspapers and magazines where there used to be one; and as for paperbags and cartons and boxes, there is no limit to their number andvariety. A single manufacturer of pens and pencils calls for fourthousand different sorts and sizes of boxes. School-children's use ofpaper instead of slates, the fashion of wrapping Christmas gifts inwhite tissue, and the invention of the low-priced cameras haveincreased enormously the amount of paper called for. In the attempt tosupply the demand all sorts of materials have been used, such as hemp, old rope, peat, the stems of flax, straw, the Spanish and Africanesparto grass, and especially wood; but much more paper is made ofwood than of all the rest together. Poplar, gum, and chestnut trees, and especially those trees which bear cones, such as the spruce, fir, balsam, and pine are used. There are two methods of manufacturing woodpulp; the mechanical, by grinding up the wood, and the chemical, bytreating it chemically. By the mechanical method the wood is pressedagainst a large grindstone which revolves at a high speed. As fast asthe wood is ground off, it is washed away by a current of water, andstrained through a shaking sieve and a revolving screen which drivesout part of the water by centrifugal force. In a great vat of pulp adrum covered with wire cloth revolves, and on it a thin sheet of pulpsettles. Felting, pressed against this sheet, carries it onwardthrough rolls. The sheets are pressed between coarse sacking. Suchpaper is very poor stuff. In its manufacture the fiber of the wood isso ground up that it has little strength. It is used for cardboard, cartons, and packing-papers. Unfortunately, it is also used fornewspapers; and while it is a good thing for some of them to drop topieces, it is a great loss not to have the others permanent. When wewish to know what people thought about any event fifty years ago, wecan look back to the papers of that time; but when people fifty yearsfrom now wish to learn what we thought, many of the newspapers willhave fallen to pieces long before that time. 

[Illustration: _Courtesy S. D. Warren Co. _

WHERE RAGS BECOME PAPER

The vat where the rags cook and turn over, and the big room where theweb of finished paper is passed through rollers and cut into a neatpile of trimmed sheets. ]

There is, however, a method called the "sulphite process, " usedprincipally in treating the coniferous woods, by which a much betterpaper can be made. In all plants there is a substance called"cellulose. " This is what gives strength to their stems. The wood ischipped and put into digesters large enough to hold twenty tons, andis steam-cooked together with bisulphite of magnesium or calcium forseven or eight hours. Another method used for cooking such woods aspoplar and gum, is to boil the wood in caustic soda, which destroyseverything except the cellulose. Wood paper of one kind or another isused for all daily papers and for most books. Whether the best woodpaper will last as long as the best rag paper, time only can tell. 

The Government of the United States tests paper in several waysbefore buying it. First, a single sheet is weighed; then a ream isput on the scales to see if it weighs four hundred and eighty timesas much. This shows whether the paper runs evenly in weight. Manysheets are folded together and measured to see if the thickness isregular. To test its strength, a sheet is clamped over a hole onesquare inch in area, and liquid is pressed against it from below tosee how much it will stand before bursting. Strips of the paper arepulled in a machine to test its breaking strength. A sheet is foldedover and over again to see whether holes will appear at the cornersof the folds. It is examined under the microscope to see of whatkind of fibers it is made and how much loading has been used in itsmanufacture. To test blotting paper, strips are also put into waterto see how high the water will rise on them. 

Besides writing and wrapping papers and the various kinds of board, there are many sorts which are used for special purposes. India paper, for instance, is light, smooth, and strong, so opaque that printingwill not show through it, and so lasting that if it is crumpled, itcan be ironed out and be as good as new. This is used for books thatare expected to have hard wear but must be of light weight. There aretissue papers, crêpe papers for napkins, and tarred paper to makeroofs and even boats water-tight. If tar is brushed on, it may makebubbles which will break afterwards and let water in; but if tar ismade a part of the paper itself, it lasts. Paper can easily be waxedor paraffined, and will then keep out air and moisture for some time. Better still, it can be treated with oil and will then make a raincoatthat will stand a year's wear, or even, if put on a bamboo frame, makea very good house, as the Japanese found out long ago. Paper coatedwith powdered gum and tin is used for packing tea and coffee. Transferor carbon papers so much used in making several copies of an articleon the typewriter are made by coating paper with starch, flour, gum, and coloring matter. Paper can be used for shoes and hats, ties, collars, and even for "rubbers. " It has been successfully used forsails for light vessels, and is excellent made into light garmentsfor hospital use because it is so cheap that it can be burned afterwearing. Wood pulp can be run through fine tubes into water and madeso pliable that it can be twisted into cord or spun and woven into"silk. " Not only water but also fire can be kept out by paper if it istreated with the proper substances. An object can be covered with apaste of wood pulp, silica, and hemp; and when this is dry, a coat ofwater-glass will afford considerable protection. There has been somedegree of success in making transparent paper films for movingpictures; and if these are coated with water-glass, they will notburn. Paper can be so treated that it will either conduct electricityor become a nonconductor, as may be desired. In Germany, a "sandwichpaper" has been made by pressing together four layers--felt, pulp, cotton, pulp--which is cheap and strong and useful for many purposes. 

When we come to papier maché, there is no end to the kinds of articlesthat are made of it. The papier maché, or _paper pulped_, is made bykneading old newspapers or wrapping papers with warm water into apulp. Clay and coloring are added and something of the nature of glue;and it is then put into a mould. Sometimes to make it stronger forlarge mouldings, bits of canvas or even wire are also used. The bestpapier maché is made of pure wood cellulose. The beautiful boxes andtrays covered with lacquer which the Japanese and Chinese make areformed of this; but it has many much humbler uses than these. Paperscrews are employed in ornamental wood work, and if a hole is begunfor such a screw, it will twist its way into soft wood as well assteel would do. Barrels of paper reinforced with wire are common. Gearwheels and belt pulleys are made of papier maché, and even the wheelsof railroad coaches; at least the body of the wheels is made of it, although the tire, hub, and axle are of cast-steel. Circular saws ofpulp are in use which cut thin slices of veneer so smoothly that theycan be used without planing. Papier maché is used for water pipes, the bodies of carriages, hencoops, and garages. Indeed, it is quitepossible to build a house, shingle it, decorate it with elaboratemouldings and cornices, finish it with panels, wainscoting, imitationtiling, and furnish it with light, comfortable furniture covered withimitation leather, silk, or cloth, and spread on its floors soft, thick carpets or rugs woven in beautiful designs--and all made of woodpulp. Even the window panes could be made of pulp; and if they werenot perfectly transparent, they would at least let in a soft, agreeable light, and they would not break. Pails, washtubs, bathtubs, and even dishes of paper can be easily found. There are not only thepaper cups provided on railroad trains and the cheap picnic platesand saucers, but some that are really pretty. Ice cream is sometimesserved in paper dishes and eaten with paper spoons. Milk bottles aresuccessfully made of paper, with a long strip of some transparentmaterial running up and down the side to show how much--or howlittle--cream is within. Napkins and tablecloths made of paper threadwoven into "cloth" are cheaper than linen and can be washed as easily. Paper towels and dishcloths are already common; but when paper shallfully come to its own, it is quite possible that there will be littlewashing of dishes. They can be as pretty as any one could wish, but socheap that after each meal they can be dropped into the fire. Indeed, there are few things in a house, except a stove, that cannot be madeof some form of paper, --and perhaps that too will be some day. 

V

HOW BOOKS ARE MADE

The first step in making ready to print a manuscript is to find outhow many words there are in it, what kind of type to use, how much"leading" or space between the lines there shall be, and what shallbe the size of the page. In deciding these questions, considerablethinking has to be done. If the manuscript is a short story by apopular author, it may be printed with wide margins and wide leadingin order to make a book of fair size. If it is a lengthy manuscriptwhich will be likely to sell at a moderate but not a high price, itis best to use only as much leading as is necessary to make the linestand out clearly, and to print with a margin not so wide as toincrease the expense of the book. The printer prints a sample of thepage decided upon, any desired changes are made, and then the makingof the book begins. 

[Illustration: _Courtesy The Riverside Press. _

WHERE THIS BOOK WAS SET UP

The monotype girl wrote these words on her keyboard, where they madetiny holes in a roll of paper. The roll went to the casting-room whereit guided a machine to make the type much as a perforated music-rollguides a piano to play a tune. ]

The type is kept in a case at which the compositor stands. This caseis divided into shallow compartments, each compartment containing agreat many e's or m's as the case may be. The "upper case" containscapitals; the "lower case, " small letters. Those letters which areused most often are put where the compositor can reach them mostreadily. He stands before his case with a "composing stick" in hishand. This "stick" is a little iron frame with a slide at the side, so that the line can be made of any length desired. The workman soonlearns where each letter is, and even an apprentice can set the typein his stick reasonably rapidly. On one side of every piece of typethere is a groove, so that he can tell by touch whether it is rightside up or not. He must look out especially to make his right-handmargins regular. You will notice in books that the lines are all ofthe same length, although they do not contain the same number ofletters. The compositor brings this about by arranging his words andspaces skillfully. The spaces must be as nearly as possible of thesame length, and yet the line must be properly filled. If a line istoo full, he can sometimes place the last syllable on the followingline; if it is not full enough, he can borrow a syllable, and he canat least divide his space so evenly that the line will not look as ifit were broken in two. 

Not many years ago all type was set in this manner; but severalmachines have now been invented which will do this work. In one of thebest of them the operator sits before a keyboard much like that of atypewriter. When he presses key _a_, for instance, a mould or matrixof the letter _a_ is set free from a tube of _a_'s, and slides down toits place in the stick. At the end of the line, the matrices formingit are carried in front of a slot where melted type metal from areservoir meets them. Thus a cast is made of the matrices, and fromthis cast the printing is done. This machine is called a linotypebecause it casts a whole line of type at a time. 

Most book work is done on the monotype machine. When a manuscriptgoes to the press to be set up in this way, the copy is given to thekeyboard operator who sets it up on a machine which looks much likea typewriter. Instead of writing letters, however, the machine punchestiny holes in a strip of paper which is wound on a roll. When theroll is full it goes to the casting room where it is put on anothermachine containing hot type metal and bronze matrices from which theletters of the words are to be cast. The holes in the paper guide themachine to make the type much as a perforated music roll guides apiano to play a tune. The reason why the machine is called a monotypeis that the letters are made one at a time, and _monos_ is the Greekword for _one_. 

By the linotype and monotype machines type can be set in a "galley, "a narrow tray about two feet long, with ledges on three sides. When aconvenient number of these galleys have been filled, long slips areprinted from them called "galley proofs. " These have wide margins, butthe print is of the width that the page of the book will be. They areread by the proof-readers, and all such mistakes as the slipping inof a wrong letter, or a broken type, the repetition of a word, or theomission of space between words are corrected. Then the proof goes tothe author, who makes any changes in his part of the work which seemto him desirable; and it is also read by some member of the editorialdepartment. If there are many changes to be made, another proof isusually taken and sent to the author. 

The reason for this extreme carefulness is that it costs much less tomake changes in the galley proof than in the "page proof. " This latteris made by dividing the galley into pages, leaving space for thebeginnings of chapters and for pictures, if any are to appear on theprinted pages, and setting up the numbers of the pages and theirrunning titles. Page proof also goes to proof-readers and to theauthor. Corrections on page proof are more expensive than on galleyproof because adding or striking out even a few words may make itnecessary to change the arrangement on every page to the end of thechapter. 

Years ago all books were printed directly from the type; and some arestill printed so. After printing, the letters were returned to theircompartments. If a second edition was called for, the type had to beset again. Now, however, books are generally printed not from type, but from a copper model of the type. To make this, an impression ofthe page of type is made in wax and covered with graphite, which willconduct electricity. These moulds are hung in a bath of coppersulphate, where there are also large plates of copper. A current ofelectricity is passed through it, and wherever the graphite is, ashell of copper is deposited, which is exactly like the face of thetype. This shell is very thin, but it is made strong by adding a heavyback of melted metal. From these plates the books are printed. Acorrection made in the plate is more expensive than it would have beenif made in the galley or in the page, because sawing out a word or aline is slow, delicate work; and even if one of the same length issubstituted, the types spelling it have to be set up, a small newplate cast, and soldered in. 

[Illustration: _Courtesy The Riverside Press. _

WHERE THIS BOOK WAS PRINTED

The girls are feeding big sheets of paper into the presses, thirty-twopages being printed at one time. The paper is fed into many modernpresses by means of a machine attached to the press. The pressmen seethat the printing is done properly. ]

Printing one page at a time would be altogether too slow; thereforethe plates are arranged in such a way that sixteen, thirty-two, orsometimes sixty-four pages can be printed on one side of the paper, and the same number on the other side. Every page must come in itsproper place when the sheet is folded for binding. Try to arrange asheet of even sixteen pages, eight on each side, so that when it isfolded every page will be in the right place with its printing rightside up, and you will find that it is not very easy until you have hadconsiderable experience. If the sheet is folded into four leaves, thebook is called a "quarto, " or "4to"; if into eight, it is an "octavo, "or "8vo"; if into twelve, a "duodecimo, " or "12mo. " Books aresometimes advertised in these terms; but they are not definite, because the sheets of the different varieties of paper vary in size. Of late years, publishers have often given the length and width oftheir books in inches. 

After the sheets come from the press, they are folded to page size. Sometimes this is done by hand, but more often by a folding machinethrough which the sheet of paper travels, meeting blunt knives whichcrease it and fold it. If you look at the top of a book you will seethat the leaves are put together in groups or "signatures. " Thesesignatures usually contain eight, sixteen, or thirty-two pages. Ifthe paper is very thick, not more than eight leaves will be in asignature; if of ordinary thickness, sixteen are generally used. Thesignatures are piled up in order, and a "gatherer" collects one fromeach pile for every book. 

The book is now gathered and "smashed, " or pressed enough to make itsolid and firm for binding. Next the signatures are sewed and the bookis trimmed so the edges will be even. If the edges are to be gilded, the book is put in a gilding press and a skillful workman covers theedges with a sizing made of the white of eggs. Gold leaf is then laidupon them and they are burnished with tools headed with agate andbloodstone or instruments of various sorts until they are bright. Sometimes the edges are "marbled, " and this is an interesting processto watch. On the surface of a vat of thin sizing the marbler drops alittle of many colors of paint. Then he draws a comb lightly acrossthe surface, making all sorts of odd figures, no two alike. The bookis held tight and the edges are allowed to touch the sizing. All theseodd figures are now transferred to the edges of the leaves and willstand a vast amount of hard use before they will wear off. 

Thus far the book is flat at the edges of the leaves and at the back. Books are sometimes bound in this way, but the backs are usuallyrounded into an outward curve, and the fronts into an inward curve. This is done by a machine. At each end of the outward curve a deepgroove is pressed to receive the cover. To make the covers of acloth-bound book, two pieces of pasteboard of the right size are cutand laid upon a piece of cloth coated with glue. The edges of thecloth are turned over and pressed down, as you can often see if thepaper lining of the cover is not too heavy. The cover needs now onlyits decorations to be complete. A die is made for these, and thelettering and ornamentation are stamped on in colors. If more than onecolor is used, a separate die has to be made for each. If this workis to be done in gold, the design is stamped on lightly and sizingmade of white of eggs is brushed on wherever the gold is to come. Goldleaf is laid upon this sizing, and the cover is stamped again. Thesame die is used, but this time it is hot enough to make the gold andegg stick firmly to the cover. To put the cover on, a piece of muslincalled a "super" is glued to the back of the book with its endsprojecting over the sides, and a strip of cartridge paper is gluedover the super. Then the book is pasted into the cover. It is now keptunder heavy pressure for a number of hours until it is thoroughly dryand ready to be sent away for sale. 

So it is that a well-made cloth-bound book is manufactured. Leather-bound books are more expensive, not only because theirmaterials cost more, but also because the greater part of the work ofbinding and decorating has to be done by hand. If a book is to beillustrated, this must also be attended to, the number and style ofthe pictures decided upon, and the artist engaged before the book isput in press, in order that there may be no delay in completing it. 

Many publishers do not print at all, but have their work done at someprinting establishment. Where all the making of a book, however, frommanuscript to cover, is in the hands of one firm, there is a certainfellow-feeling among the different departments, and a wholesome pridein making each one of "our books" as excellent as possible in everydetail. As one of the women workers in such an establishment said tome, "I often think that we become almost as interested in a book asthe author is. "

VI

FROM GOOSE QUILLS TO FOUNTAIN PENS AND LEAD PENCILS

Whenever there was a convenient goosepond on the way to school, thechildren of less than one hundred years ago used to stop there to huntfor goose quills. They carried these to the teacher, and with hispenknife--which took its name from the work it did--he cut them intothe shape of pens. The points soon wore out, and "Teacher, will youplease mend my pen?" was a frequent request. 

When people began to make pens of steel, they made them as nearly likequill pens as possible, with pen and holder all in one. These werecalled "barrel pens. " They were stiff, hard, and expensive, especiallyas the whole thing was useless as soon as the pen was worn out, butthey were highly esteemed because they lasted longer than quills anddid not have to be mended. After a while separate pens weremanufactured that could be slipped into a holder; and one improvementafter another followed until little by little the cheap, convenientwriting tool that we have to-day was produced. 

A pen is a small thing, but each one is worked upon by twenty totwenty-four persons before it is allowed to be sold. The material isthe best steel. It comes in sheets five feet long and nineteen incheswide, and about one fortieth of an inch thick, that is, three timesas thick as the finished pen. The first machine cuts the sheetcrosswise into strips from two to three inches wide, varying accordingto the size of the pen to be made. These strips are put into ironboxes and kept at a red heat for a number of hours to anneal or softenthem. Then they pass between heavy rollers, a process which not onlyhelps to toughen them, but also stretches the steel so that it is nowfifty inches long instead of nineteen. 

At least six or seven people have handled the material already, andeven now there is nothing that looks like pens; but the next machinecuts them out, by dies, of course. The points interlap; and thecutting leaves odd-shaped openwork strips of steel for the scrap-heap. This part of the work is very quick, for the machine will cutthousands of pens in an hour. Now is when the little hole above theslit is punched and the side slits cut. To make the steel soft andpliable, it must be annealed again, kept red hot for several hours, and then cooled. Thus far it has looked like a tiny fence paling, butat length it begins to resemble a pen, for it is now stamped withwhatever letters or designs may be desired, usually the name of themaker and the name and number of the variety of pen, and it is pressedbetween a pair of dies to form it into a curve. The last annealingleft the metal soft so that all this could be done, but too soft towork well as a pen; and it has to be heated red hot again, and thendropped into cold oil to harden it. Centrifugal force, which helps inso many manufactures, drives the oil away, and the pens are dried insawdust. They are now sufficiently hard, but too brittle. They must betempered. To do this, they are placed in an iron cylinder over a fire, and the cylinder revolved till the pen is as elastic as a spring. 

The pen is of the correct shape, is tough and elastic; and now it isput into "tumbling barrels" which revolve till it is bright and readyfor the finishing touches. If you look closely at the outside of asteel pen just above the nib, you will see that across it run tinylines. They have a use, for they hold the ink back so that it willnot roll down in drops, and they help to make the point more springyand easier to write with. 

The pen must be slit up from the point. This is done by a machine, anda most accurate one, for the cut must go exactly through the center ofthe point and not reach beyond the little hole that was punched. Onlyone thing is lacking now to make the pen a useful member of society, ready to do its work in the world; and that is to grind off the pointsand round them in order to keep them from sticking into the paper. 

After so much careful work, it does seem as if not one pen out of athousand could be faulty; but every one has to be carefully examinedto make sure that the cutting, piercing, marking, forming, tempering, grinding, and slitting, are just what they should be. These pens carrythe maker's name, and a few poor ones getting into the market mightspoil the sale of thousands of boxes; therefore the examiner sitsbefore a desk covered with black glass and looks at every pen. Thefaulty ones are heated so that they cannot be used, and they go tothe scrap-heap. 

Now the pens are ready so far as usefulness goes, but people havepreferences in color. Some prefer bronze, some gray, and some black;so off the pens go to the tempering-room, their last trip, and thereare heated in a revolving cylinder till the right color appears; thenthey are chilled and lacquered, put into boxes, labeled, packed, andsold for such low prices that the good folk of a century ago, whopaid from twenty-five to fifty cents for a pen, would have openedtheir eyes in amazement. When the typewriter was invented, somepeople said, "That will be the death of the steel pen"; but as amatter of fact, it has greatly increased its sale. The typewritermakes writing so easy and so quick that many more letters are writtenthan formerly. All these letters have to be answered, and few peoplecompared with the whole number own typewriters, and therefore the penstill holds its place. 

The lacquer on a steel pen protects it until it has been used for awhile. After that, it will rust, if it is not wiped, and it will wearout whether it is wiped or not. All that the gold pen asks is notto be bent or broken, and it will last almost forever. It has theflexibility of the quill, but does not have to be "mended. " Gold pensare made in much the same way as are steel pens; but just at the pointa tiny shelf is squeezed. Upon this shelf a bit of the alloy of twoexceedingly hard metals, iridium and osmium, is secured by meltingthe gold around it; and it is this bit which stands all the wear ofrubbing on the paper. When gold pens were first made, tiny bits ofdiamonds or rubies were soldered on for points; but they wereexpensive, and they had a disagreeable fashion of falling off. 

A century ago, writers would have thought it the height of luxury tohave a gold pen; but now they are not satisfied unless they can besaved the trouble of dipping it into an inkstand, and they look uponthe fountain pen as their special friend. The fountain pen carries itssupplies with it. The pen itself is like any other gold pen, but thebarrel is full of ink. A little tube carries the ink to the point, andthe slight bending back of the pen as one writes lets it run out uponthe paper. At the end of the slit, at the back of the pen, is a holeto let air into the barrel as the ink runs out. A perfect fountain penought to be prepared to write--without shaking--whenever the cap istaken off, and not to refuse to work so long as a drop of ink remainsin the barrel. It should never drop ink at the point and, whether thepoint is up or down, it should never leak there or anywhere else. 

The stylographic pen is quite a different article. There is no pen toit; the writing is done with the end of a needle which projectsthrough a hole at the point. The barrel and point are full of ink; buteven if the pen is held point down, it will not leak because theneedle fills up the hole. When you press the point on paper to write, the needle falls back just enough to let out what ink is needed. Theflow stops the instant the pen ceases to touch the paper. The specialadvantage of the stylographic is that the mere weight of the pen issufficient pressure, and therefore many hours of writing do not tirethe muscles of the hand. The advantage of the fountain pen is that ithas the familiar action of the gold pen, and that it will adapt itselfto any style of handwriting. 

A pen of almost any kind is a valuable article, but forrough-and-ready use we should find it hard to get on without itshumble friend, the lead pencil. A lead pencil, by the way, has not aparticle of lead in it. The "lead" is all graphite, or plumbago. Yearsago sticks of lead were used for marking, and made a pale-gray line. When graphite was introduced, its mark was so black that people calledit black lead, and the name has stuck. No one who has ever tried touse a pencil of real lead could fail to appreciate graphite, and whena graphite mine was discovered in England, it was guarded by armed menas watchfully as if it had been a mine of diamonds. That mine wasexhausted long ago, but many others have been found. The best graphitein the world comes from Ceylon and Mexico. 

When graphite was first used for pencils, it was cut into slabs andthese slabs into small strips. The broken and powdered graphite wasnot used until it was discovered that it could be mixed with clay andso made into sticks. In a lead pencil there are only three substances, graphite, clay, and wood, but a really good one must be manufacturedwith as much care as if it were made up of twenty. First of all, thegraphite is ground and ground and ground, until, if you take a pinchof it between your thumb and finger, you can hardly feel that anythingis there. It is now sifted through fine silk and mixed with water andfinely powdered clay, and becomes a wet, inky mass. This clay comesfrom Austria and Bohemia and is particularly smooth and fine. Theamount put in is carefully weighed. If you have a hard pencil, it wasmade by using considerable clay; if your pencil is soft, by using verylittle; and if it is very soft and black, it is possible that a littlelampblack was added. 

This inky mass is ground together between millstones for severalweeks. Then it goes between rollers, and at length is squeezedthrough a die and comes out in soft, doughy black strings. These arethe "leads" of the pencils. They have been thoroughly wet, and nowthey must be made thoroughly dry. They are laid on boards, then takenoff, cut into pieces the length of a pencil, and put into ovens andbaked for hours in a heat twenty times as great as that of a hotsummer day. They certainly ought to be well dried and ready for thewood. The red cedar of Florida, Tennessee, Georgia, and Alabama isthe best wood for pencils because it is soft and has a fine, straightgrain. It is cut into slabs about as long as one pencil, as wide assix, and a little thicker than half a pencil. Every piece must beexamined to make sure that it is perfect, and it must be thoroughlyseasoned and kiln-dried to free it from oil. Then it goes through agrooving-machine which cuts out a groove half as deep as the lead. The lead is laid into one piece, another is glued on top of it; andthere is a pencil ready for work. 

[Illustration: _Courtesy Joseph Dixon Crucible Co. _

HOW THE LEAD GETS INTO A PENCIL

(1) The cedar slab. (2) Planed and grooved. (3) The leads in place. (4) Covered with the other half of the slab. (5) The round pencils cutout. (6) The pencil separated and smoothed. (7) The pencil varnishedand stamped. ]

Such a pencil would be useful, but to sell well it must also bepretty; and therefore it goes through machinery which makes it roundor oval or six-sided, as the case may be, rubs it smooth, andvarnishes it, and then, with gold leaf or silver leaf or aluminum orink, stamps upon it the name of the maker, and also a number or letterto show how hard the lead is. 

The pencil is now ready for sale, but many people like to have aneraser in the end, and this requires still more work. These erasersare round or flat or six-sided or wedge-shaped. They are let into thepencil itself, or into a nickel tip, or drawn over the end like a cap, so that any one's special whim may be gratified. Indeed, however hardto please any one may be, he ought to be able to find a pencil to suithis taste, for a single factory in the United States makes more thansix hundred kinds of pencils, and makes so many of them that if theywere laid end to end they would reach three times across the continent. 

There are many exceedingly cheap pencils, but they are expensive inthe end, because they are poorly made. The wood will often split insharpening, and the lead is of poor materials so badly mixed that itmay write blacker in one place than another, and is almost sure tobreak. Good pencils bearing the name of a reliable firm are cheapest. 

VII

THE DISHES ON OUR TABLES

If any one should give you a lump of clay and ask you to make a bowl, how should you set about it? The first thing would be, of course, toput it on a table so you could work on it with both hands. You wouldmake a depression at the top and push out the sides and smooth them asbest you could. It would result in a rough, uneven sort of bowl, andbefore it was done, you would have made one discovery, namely, that ifthe table only turned around in front of you, you could see all sidesof the bowl from the same position, and it would be easier to make itregular. This is just what the potter's wheel does. It is really twohorizontal wheels. The upper one is a disk a foot or two in diameter. This is connected by a shaft with the lower one, which is much larger. When the potter was at work at a wheel of this sort, he stood on onefoot and turned the lower wheel with the other, thus setting the upperwheel in motion. This was called a "kick-wheel. " As wheels are madenow, the potter sits at his work and turns the wheel by means of atreadle. 

Almost any kind of clay will make a dish, but no one kind will makeit so well that the addition of some other kind would not improve it. Whatever clays are chosen, they must be prepared with great care tomake sure that not one grain in them is coarser than any other. Sometimes one will slip through, and you can see on the finished dishwhat a bad-looking place it makes. Even for the coarsest earthenware, such as flower-pots, the moist clay is forced down a cylinder andthrough a wire sieve; and for stoneware and porcelain it has to gothrough several processes. When flint and feldspar are used, they areground fine at the quarry. On reaching the factory, they are mixedwith the proper quantities of other clays--but in just what proportionsis one of the secrets of the trade. Then they go into "plungers" or"blungers, " great round tanks with arms extending from a shaft in thecenter. The shaft revolves and the arms beat the clay till all the sandand pebbles have settled on the bottom, and the fine clay grains arefloating in the water above them. These pass into canvas bags. Thewater is forced out through the canvas, and on every bag there is lefta thin sheet of moist clay. If this is to be used for the finest work, it is ground and pounded and washed still more, until it is a wonderthat any of it survives; then it is sifted through a screen so finethat its meshes are only one one hundred and fiftieth of an inchacross. Now it becomes "slip, " and after a little more beating andtumbling about, it is ready to go to the man at the wheel. 

This man is called the "thrower, " because he lifts the lump of clayabove his head and throws it down heavily upon the center of thewheel. The things that happen to that lump of clay when he touches itand the wheel revolves seem like the work of magic. He presses histhumbs into it from above and draws the walls up between his thumbsand fingers. He clasps his hands around it, and it grows tall andslender. He lays his finger on the top of the little column of clay, and it flattens in a moment. He points his finger at it, barelytouching it, and a little groove appears, running around the wholemass. He seems to be wasting considerable time in playing with it, butall the while he is making sure that the clay is perfectly uniform andthat there are no bubbles of air in it. He holds a piece of leatheragainst the outside surface and a wet sponge against the inside, tomake them perfectly smooth; and in a moment he has made a bowl. Heholds his bent finger against the top of the bowl, and it becomes avase. With another touch of his magical finger the top of the vaserolls over into a lip. If he makes a cup or a mug, he models a handlein clay and fastens it in place with slip. When it is done, he draws awire deftly between the article and the table, and puts it on a boardto dry. 

When you watch a potter at work, it all looks so simple and easy thatyou feel sure you could do it; but see how skillfully he uses hishands, how strong they are, and yet how lithe and delicate in theirmovements. See into what odd positions he sometimes stretches them;and yet these are plainly the only positions in which they could dotheir work. See how every finger does just what he wishes it to do. Notice all these things, and you will not be so certain that makingpottery is the easiest thing in the world. 

No two pieces of hand work are exactly the same; and skillful as thepotter is, his pieces are not precisely alike. Many of them thereforeare passed over to the turner for finishing. He uses an ordinarylathe, and with this he thins any place that may be a little toothick, rounds the edge, and smooths it. The article is partly driedwhen he takes it, and so its walls can be cut thinner. When it leaveshis lathe, all signs of hand work have vanished, but the dish isexactly like the others of the set, and this is what the greaternumber of people want. In some potteries there is hardly a throwingwheel in use, and articles are formed in plaster of Paris moulds. There are two ways of using these moulds. By one method, the mould isput upon a "jigger, " a power machine which keeps it revolving, andclay is pressed against its walls from within. Above the mould is apiece of iron cut in the shape of the inside curve of the bowl orwhatever is being made. This skims off all the extra clay from theinside of the walls. Plates and saucers are made on a jigger. Themould used for this work is a model of the top of the plate. Theworkman makes a sort of pancake of clay and throws it upon the mould. A second mould, shaped like half of the bottom of the plate, isbrought down close and revolves, cutting off all the extra clay andshaping the bottom of the plate. 

When the very finest ware is to be made, the mould is used in quiteanother fashion. If a pitcher, for instance, is to be cast, the mouldis made in two sections and tied tightly together. Then the slip ispoured into it and left for a while. The plaster of Paris absorbs thewater and a layer of clay is formed all about the walls. When thisis thick enough, the liquid is poured out, and after the pitcher hasdried awhile, the mould is carefully opened and the pitcher is verygently taken out. The handle is made in a little mould of its own andfastened on with slip. "Eggshell" porcelain is made in this way. Theclay shell becomes smaller as it dries, so there is no trouble aboutremoving it from the mould--if one knows how. If a large article is tobe cast, the mould is made in sections. Of course this fine ware mustall be made by hand, especially as machines do not work well with thefinest clays; but cheap dishes are all made by machinery. 

After any clay article is thrown, or moulded, or cast, it is passedthrough a little doorway and set upon a shelf in a great revolvingcage. The air in this cage is kept at about 85° F. ; but this heat isnothing to what is to follow; and after the articles are thoroughlydry, they are placed in boxes of coarse fire-clay, which are called"saggers, " piled up in a kiln, the doors are closed, and the fires arelighted. For a day and night, sometimes for two days and two nights, the fires burn. The heat goes up to 2000° or 2500° F. Every few hourstest pieces, which were put in for this purpose, are taken out. Whenthey are found to be sufficiently baked, the fire-holes are bricked upand the furnace is left for two days longer to cool. The ware is thencalled "biscuit. "

Biscuit is dull and porous. It is soon to be glazed, but first whateverunderglaze decorating is desired may be done. Sometimes the decorationsare painted by hand, and sometimes they are printed on thin paper, laidupon the ware, and rubbed softly till they stick fast. After a whilethe paper is pulled off, but the colors remain. Gold must be appliedover the glaze, and the article fired a second time. 

After this decorating, the ware is generally passed to a man whostands before a tub of glaze, and dips in each article, thoughsometimes he stands before the pieces of ware and sprays them with anair brush. Many different kinds of glaze are used, made of groundflint, feldspar, white clay, and other substances. Common sea saltworks exceedingly well, not in liquid form, but thrown directly intothe fire. The chief thing to look out for in making a glaze is to seethat the materials in it are so nearly like those in the ware thatthey will not contract unevenly and make little cracks. This glaze isdried in a hot room, then looked over by "trimmers, " who scrape it offfrom such parts as the feet of cups and plates, so that they will notstick to the saggers in firing. Besides this, little props of burnedclay are used to hold the dishes up and keep them from touching oneanother. These props have fanciful names, such as "spurs, " "stilts, ""cockspurs, " etc. Often you can see on the bottom of a plate the marksmade by these supports. 

[Illustration: IN THE POTTERY

Pieces of coarse pottery being delivered to the kiln for firing. ]

The articles now are sent to a kiln to be fired. When they come outthere is another chance for decorating, for colors may be put on, andanother firing will make them look like underglaze painting If thedecorator wishes the ware to have the appearance of being ornamentedwith masses of gold, he can trace his design in yellow paste, fire it, cover it with gold, and fire it again. To make the "gilt-band china"so beloved by the good housewives of the last century, the decoratorputs the plate upon a horizontal wheel, holds his brush full of goldagainst it, and turns the wheel slowly. Sometimes the outlines of adesign are printed and the coloring put in by hand. When broad bandsof color are desired to be put around a plate or other article, thedecorator sometimes brushes on an adhesive oil where the color is togo, and paints the rest of the plate with some water-color and sugar;then when the oil is partly dry, he dusts on the color in the form ofpowder. A plunge into water will wash away the water-color and leavethe oil with the powder sticking to it. Shaded groundwork is made withan atomizer. Indeed, there are almost as many methods of decoratingwares of clay as there are persons who work at it. The results arewhat might be expected from the prices; some articles are so cheap andgaudy that any one will soon tire of them. Others are really artisticand will be a "joy forever"--until they break. 

VIII

HOW THE WHEELS OF A WATCH GO AROUND

If an electric automobile could be charged in fifteen seconds and thenwould run for forty hours without recharging, it would be looked uponas a great wonder; but to wind a watch in fifteen seconds and have itrun for forty hours is so common that we forget what a wonder it is. When you wind your watch, you put some of the strength of your ownright hand into it, and that is what makes it go. Every turn of thekey or the stem winds up tighter and tighter a spring from one to twofeet long, but so slender that it would take thousands to weigh apound. This is the main spring. It is coiled up in a cup-shaped pieceof metal called a "barrel"; and so your own energy is literallybarreled up in your watch. The outer end of this spring is held fastby a hook on the inside of the barrel; the inner end is hooked to thehub of a wheel which is called the "main wheel, " and around this hubthe spring is coiled. 

This spring has three things to do. It must send the "short hand, "or hour hand, around the dial or face of the watch, once in twelvehours; it must send the "long hand, " or minute hand, around once anhour; and it must also send the little "second hand" around its owntiny circle once a minute. To do this work requires four wheels. Thefirst or main wheel is connected with the winding arrangements, andsets in motion the second, or center wheel, so called because it isusually in the center of the watch. This center wheel revolves oncean hour and turns the minute hand. By a skillful arrangement of cogsit also moves the hour hand around the dial once in twelve hours. Thecenter wheel moves the third wheel. The chief business of the thirdwheel is to make the fourth turn in the same direction as the centerwheel. The fourth wheel revolves once a minute, and with it turnsthe tiny second hand. 

Suppose that a watch has been made with only the main spring, the fourwheels, and the three hands, what would happen when it was wound? Youcan tell very easily by winding up a mechanical mouse or a train ofcars or any other toy that goes by a spring. It will go fast at first, then more and more slowly, then it will stop. This sort of motionmight do for a mouse, but it would not answer for a watch. A watchmust move with steadiness and regularity. To bring this about, thereis a fifth wheel. Its fifteen teeth are shaped like hooks, and it hasseven accompaniments, the balance wheel, the hair spring, and fiveothers. This wheel, together with its accompaniments, is able to stopthe motion of the watch five times a second and start it again soquickly that we do not realize its having been stopped at all. A tinyarm holds the wheel firmly, and then lets it escape. Therefore, thefifth wheel and its accompaniments are called the "escapement. " Thiscatching and letting go is what makes the ticking. 

A watch made in this way would run very well until a hot day or a coldday came; then there would be trouble. Heat makes metals expand andmakes springs less elastic. Therefore in a hot day the watch would gomore slowly and so lose time; while in a cold day it would go too fastand would gain time. This fault is corrected by the balance, a wheelwhose rim is not one circle, but two half-circles, and so cunninglymade that the hotter this rim grows, the smaller its diameter becomes. In the rim of the wheel are tiny holes into which screws may bescrewed. By adding screws or taking some away, or changing theposition of some of them, the movement of the watch can be made togo faster or slower. 

All this would be difficult enough to manage if a watch was as largeas a cart wheel, with wheels a foot in diameter; but it does seem amarvel how so many kinds of wheels and screws and springs, one hundredand fifty in all, can be put into a case sometimes not more than aninch in diameter, and can find room to work; and it is quite as muchof a marvel how they can be manufactured and handled. 

Remembering how accurate every piece must be, it is no wonder that inSwitzerland, where all this work used to be done by hand, a boy had togo to a "watch school" for fourteen years before he was consideredable to make a really fine watch. He began at the beginning and wastaught to make, first, wooden handles for his tools, then the toolsthemselves, such as files, screw drivers, etc. His next work was tomake wooden watchcases as large as dinner-plates. After this, he wasgiven the frame to which the various wheels of a watch are fastenedand was taught how and where to drill the holes for wheels and screws. After lessons in making the finer tools to be used, he was allowed tomake a watch frame. All this took several years, for he had to do thesame work over and over until his teachers were satisfied with it. Then he was promoted to the second room. Here he learned to adjust thestem-winding parts, to do fine cutting and filing, and to make watchesthat would strike the hour and even the minute. Room three was calledthe "train room, " because the wheels of a watch are spoken of as "thetrain. " The model watch in this room was as large as a saucer. Theyoung man had to study every detail of this, and also to learn the useof a delicate little machine doing such fine work that it could cuttwenty-four hundred tiny cogs on one of the little wheels of a watch. In the fourth room he learned to make the escapement wheel and someother parts; and he had to make them, not merely passably, butexcellently. In the fifth and last room, he must do the careful, patient work that makes a watch go perfectly. There are special littlecurves that must be given to the hair spring; and the screws on thebalance wheel must be carefully adjusted. If the watch ran faster whenit was lying down than when it was hanging up, he learned that certainones of the bearings were too coarse and must be made finer. Inshort, he must be able to make a watch that, whether hanging up orlying down, and whether the weather was hot or cold, would not varyfrom correct time more than two and a half seconds a day at the most. Then, and not till then, was the student regarded as a first-classwatchmaker. 

The graduate of such a school knew how to make a whole watch, but heusually limited his work to some one part. Every part of a watch wasmade expressly for that watch, but sometimes a hundred differentpersons worked on it. The very best of the Swiss watches wereexceedingly good; the poorest were very bad, and much worse to ownthan a poor American watch because it costs more to repair a Swisswatch than an American watch. 

[Illustration: _Courtesy Waltham Watch Co. _

WHERE WATCHES ARE MADE

Once a single man made a whole watch by hand. Now one watch may bethe product of a hundred hands, each man doing his particular part. ]

Even though in America the parts of watches are made by machinery, an apprentice has to undergo just as careful and just as extendedtraining here as in Switzerland. A poor watch is worse than none atall, and careless work would not be tolerated in any watch factory. Of late even Switzerland has been importing American machinery in orderto compete with the United States. These machines do such careful, minute, intricate work that, as you stand and watch them, you feelas if they must know what they are about. One of them takes theframe, --that is, the plates to which the wheels are fastened, --makesit of the proper thinness, cuts the necessary holes in it, and passesit over to the next machine, which is reaching out for it. The feedergives the first machine another plate; and so the work goes on downa whole line of machines. At length the plate is taken in hand by amachine, or rather a group of machines, which can do almost anything. Before they let it go, they actually perform one hundred and forty-twodifferent operations, each bringing it nearer completion. Thesemachines are automatic, but nevertheless they must be constantlywatched by expert machinists to keep them in order and make sure oftheir turning out perfect work. 

While one line of machines has been perfecting the plate, others havebeen at work on screws and wheels and springs. As many of these as areneeded for one watch are put into a little division of a tray andcarried to another room for its jewels and the rest of its outfit. The jewels, which are pieces of rubies, sapphires, garnets, or evendiamonds, are very valuable to a watch. When you know that the littlewheels are in constant motion, and that the balance wheel, forinstance, vibrates eighteen thousand times an hour, it is plain thata vast amount of wear comes upon the spot where the pivots of thesewheels rest. No metal can be made smooth enough to prevent friction, and there is no metal hard enough to prevent wear. The "jewels" aresmoother and harder. They are sawed into slabs so thin that fifty ofthem piled up would measure only an inch. These are stuck to blocksto be polished, cut into disks flat on one side but with a littledepression on the other to receive oil, bored through the center, and placed wherever the wear is greatest--provided the purchaser iswilling to pay for them. A "full-jeweled" watch contains twenty-threejewels; that is, in twenty-three of the places where the most severewear comes, or where friction might prevent the watch from going withperfect smoothness, there will be practically no wear and no friction. A low-priced watch contains only seven jewels, but if you want a watchto last, it pays to buy one that is full-jeweled. 

And now these plates and wheels and screws are to be put together, or"assembled, " as this work is called. This is a simple matter just assoon as one has learned where the different parts belong, for they aremade by machinery and are sure to fit. After the assembling comes theadjusting of the balance wheel and the hair spring. There is nothingsimple about this work, for the tiny screws with the large heads mustbe put into the rim of the balance wheel with the utmost care, orelse all the other work will be useless, and the watch will not bea perfect time keeper; that is, one that neither loses nor gains morethan thirty seconds a month. 

It is said that the earliest watches made in Europe cost fifteenhundred dollars and took a year to make. There has always been ademand for a cheap pocket timepiece, and of late this demand has beensatisfied by the manufacture of the "dollar watch. " Properly speaking, this is not a watch at all, but a small spring clock. It has nojewels, and its parts are stamped out of sheets of brass or steel bymachinery. The hair springs are made in coils of eight and thenbroken apart; and the main springs are made by the mile. Twenty holesare drilled at a time, and the factory in which "dollar watches" werefirst manufactured is now able to turn out fifteen thousand a day. 

IX

THE MAKING OF SHOES

Did you ever stop to think how many different qualities you expectin a shoe? You want the sole to be hard and firm so as to protectyour feet in rough walking; and also soft and yielding so as tofeel springy and not board-like. You want the upper leather tokeep the cold air from coming in; and also porous enough to let theperspiration out. Your feet are not exactly like those of any oneelse; and yet you expect to find at any shoe store a comfortable shoeready-made. You expect that shoe to come close to your foot, and yetallow you to move it with perfect freedom. You expect all these goodqualities, and what is more remarkable, it does not seem difficult formost people to get them. There is an old saying, "To him who wearsshoes, the whole earth is covered with leather"; and although manydifferent materials have been tried in shoemaking, leather is the onlyone that has proved satisfactory, for the sole of the shoe at least. Of late, however, rubber and rubber combinations and felts and feltcombinations have been used. 

Most hides of which soles are made come from the large beefpacking-houses or from South America. Goatskins come from Africa andIndia. The greater part of a hide is made up of a sort of gelatine. This easily spoils, and therefore it has to be "tanned"; that is, soaked in tannin and water. When a man set out to build a tannery, heused to go into the woods where he could be sure of enough oak treesto supply him for many years with the bark from which tannin is made;but it has been found that the bark of several other kinds of trees, such as larch, chestnut, spruce, pine, and hemlock, will tan as wellas that of oak. Tannin is now prepared in the forest and brought tothe tanners, who put their tanneries where they please, usually nearsome large city. The hides are first soaked in water, and everyparticle of flesh is scraped away. They are laid in heaps for a while, then hung in a warm room till the hair loosens and can be easilyremoved, then soaked in tannic extract and water. The tannin uniteswith the gelatine; and thus the hide becomes leather. This processrequires several months. Hides are also tanned by the use ofchemicals, in what is called "chrome" tanning. This process requiresonly a few hours, but it is expensive. 

In earlier times the shoemaker used to go from house to house with hislapstone, waxed end, awl, and other tools. The farmer provided theleather, which he had tanned from the hides of his own cattle. Now, however, manufacturers can buy the soles of one merchant, the heels ofanother, the box toe and stiffenings of another, and so on. In theUnited States there are many factories which do nothing but cut soles, or rather stamp them out with dies, a hundred or more in a minute. These soles and also the less heavy inner soles go through machinesthat make all parts of them of a uniform thickness. The travelingshoemaker always hammered his sole leather to make it wear better; butnow a moment between very heavy rollers answers the same purpose. Another machine splits the inner sole for perhaps a quarter of an inchall the way around, and thus makes a little lip to which to sew thewelt. A number of layers or "lifts" of leather are cemented togetherfor the heel, and are put under heavy pressure. 

The upper parts of a shoe, the "uppers, " as they are called, are thevamp or front of the shoe, the top, the tip, and (in a laced shoe)the tongue. Nearly all the upper leather that shows when a shoe ison is made from the hides of cattle, calves, goats, and sheep; butbesides the parts that show there are stiffeners for the box toeand the counters to support the quarters over the heel; there arelinings, and many other necessary "findings, " forty-four parts in allin an ordinary shoe. Much experimenting and more thinking have goneinto every one of these forty-four parts; and much remembering thatshoes have harder wear than anything else in one's wardrobe. Thecotton linings, for instance, must be woven in a special way in orderto make them last and not "rub up" when they are wet with water orperspiration. They are bleached with the utmost care not to weakenthem, and they are singed between red-hot copper plates to removeall the nap. 

Then, too, a good deal of metal is used in making a shoe, not only theornamental buckles on dress shoes and the heavy, useful buckles onstorm boots, but various pieces that help to make the shoe strong andenduring. There are nails, shanks to strengthen the arch of the shoe, metal shanks to the buttons, and eyelets. Not many years ago, eyeletssoon wore brassy, and then the shoe looked old and cheap. They are nowenameled, or the top of them is made of celluloid in a color to matchthe shoe. The tags on lacings and the hooks for holding lacings arealso enameled. A "box-toe gum" is used to support the box-toestiffening. Cement covers the stitches; and many sorts of blackingare used in finishing the work. It is by no means a simple operationto make a pair of shoes. 

At a busy shoe factory it is always "tag day, " for when an order isreceived, the first step in filling it is to make out a tag or formstating how the shoe is to be made up and when it is to be finished. These records are preserved, and if a customer writes, "Send me 100pairs of shoes like those ordered October 10, 1910, " the manufacturerhas only to read the record in order to know exactly what is wanted. 

[Illustration: _Courtesy United Shoe Mchy. Co. _

THE GOODYEAR PULLING-OVER MACHINE

This machine cost $1, 500, 000 and five years of experiment to perfect. It shapes the forepart of the upper of a shoe over a wooden last. ]

Next, the leather is selected, first grade or second grade, accordingto the price to be paid. The patterns for the uppers are now broughtinto play--and, by the way, it is no small matter to prepare thehundreds of patterns needed for a new line of shoes in all thedifferent widths and sizes. In some factories the cutting is done bymachinery; in others the "upper cutter" lays the leather on a blockand cuts around the pattern with a small but very sharp knife. Itneeds skill and judgment to be a cutter; for a careless workman caneasily waste the skins badly by not laying the patterns on to the bestadvantage. While this work is going on, the linings, trimmings, soles, and other parts are also being prepared, and all these many pieces nowmeet in the "stitching-room. " At the first glance, it does not seem asif the right ones could ever come together, even though they aremarked, and sometimes it does happen that a 4a vamp, for instance, isput with 5a quarters, and nobody knows the difference until theexperienced eye of the foreman notices that something is wrong withthe shoe. The uppers of the shoe are now stitched up, and after acareful inspection, they are sent on to the "lasting-room. " The "last"of the earlier times was roughly whittled out, and it was the same forboth feet; but the last of to-day is almost a work of art, socarefully is it made and polished. The shoe manufacturers jokinglydeclare that lasts must be changed three times a day in order to keepup with the fashions. Feet do not change in form, save when they havebeen distorted by badly shaped shoes; but in spite of this, peopleinsist upon having their shoes long and narrow, or short and wide, with high heels or with low heels, with broad toes or with pointedtoes, as the whim of the moment may be. It really is a big problemfor the shoe manufacturers to suit people's fancies and yet give themsome degree of comfort. 

While the uppers are being stitched, the soles and inner soles andcounters have been made ready and brought to the lasting-room. The toestiffeners and also the counters are now cemented into their places. The inner sole is tacked to the last, and the uppers are put in placeand held there by a tack at the heel. This is done by machines; buttheir working is simple compared with that of the machine which nowtakes charge of the half-made shoe. This machine puts out sturdylittle pincers which seize the edge of the uppers, pull it smoothlyand evenly into place, and drive a tack far enough in to keep it fromslipping. Now comes the welting. A welt is a narrow strip of leatherwhich is sewed to the lower edge of the upper all the way around theshoe except at the heel. This brings the upper, the lip of the innersole, and the welt together. The inside of the shoe is now smooth andeven, but around the outside of the sole is the ridge made by the weltand the sewing, and within the ridge a depression that must be filledup. Tarred paper or cork in a sort of cement are used for this. Theshank is fastened into its place and the welt made smooth and even. The outer sole is coated with rubber cement, put into position underheavy pressure to shape it exactly like the sole of the last, and thensewed to the welt. If it was not for the welt, the outer sole wouldhave to be sewed directly to the inner sole. The nailing and peggingof the old-fashioned shoemaker are also reproduced by the modernmachine. 

The shoe is still open at the heel; but now the heel parts of bothsole and uppers are fastened together; the edges have been nicelytrimmed, and next the heels are nailed to the shoe by another machinewhich does the work at a blow, leaving the nails standing out a littlebelow the lowest lift. Another lift is forced upon these; and thatis why the heel of a new shoe shows no signs of nails. The heel istrimmed, and then come the final sandpapering and blackening. Thebottom of a new shoe has a peculiar soft, velvety appearance andfeeling; and this is produced by rubbing it with fine emery paperfastened upon a little rubber pad. A stamping-machine marks the solewith the name of the manufacturer. Last of all, the shoe is put upona treeing machine, where an iron foot stretches it into preciselythe shape of the wooden last on which it was made. 

This is the method by which large numbers of shoes are made, butthere are many details which differ. Laced shoes must have tonguesas well as eyelets, while buttoned shoes must have buttons andbuttonholes. "Turned" shoes have no inner sole, but uppers andouter sole are sewed together wrong side out and then turned. Inshoemaking, as in all other business, if a manufacturer is tosucceed, he must see that there is no waste. He has of course nouse for a careless cutter, who would perhaps waste large pieces ofleather; but even the tiniest scraps are of value for some purpose. They can be treated with chemicals, softened by boiling, and pressedinto boards or other articles or made into floor coverings. At anyrate, they must be used for something. No business is small enoughor large enough to endure waste. 

X

IN THE COTTON MILL

If you ravel a bit of cotton cloth, you will find that it is made upof tiny threads, some going up and down, and others going from rightto left. These threads are remarkably strong for their size. Look atone under a magnifying glass, in a brilliant light, and you will seethat the little fibers of which it is made shine almost like glass. Examine it more closely, and you will see that it is twisted. Breakit, and you will find that it does not break off sharp, but ratherpulls apart, leaving many fibers standing out from both ends. 

Cotton comes to the factory tightly pressed in bales, and the work ofthe manufacturer is to make it into these little threads. The balesare big, weighing four or five hundred pounds apiece. They aregenerally somewhat ragged, for they are done up in coarse, heavy jute. The first glance at an opened cotton bale is a little discouraging, for it is not perfectly clean by any means. Bits of leaves and stemsare mixed in with the cotton, and even some of the smaller seeds whichhave slipped through the gin. There is dust, and plenty of it, thatthe coarse burlap has not kept out. The first thing to do is to loosenthe cotton and make it clean. Great armfuls are thrown into a machinecalled a "bale-breaker. " Rollers with spikes, blunt so as not toinjure the fiber, catch it up and tear the lumps to pieces, and"beaters" toss it into a light, foamy mass. Something else happens tothe cotton while it is in the machine, for a current of air is passingthrough it all the while, and this blows out the dust and bits ofrubbish. This current is controlled like the draft of a stove, and itis allowed to be just strong enough to draw the cotton away from thebeater when it has become light and open, leaving the harder massesfor more beating. When it comes out of the opener, it is in sheets or"laps" three or four feet wide and only half an inch thick. They arewhite and fleecy and almost cloudlike; and so thin that any sand orbroken leaves still remaining will drop out of their own weight. 

In this work the manufacturer has been aiming, not only at cleaningthe cotton and making it fluffy, but also at mixing it. There are manysorts of cotton, some of longer or finer or more curly or strongerfiber than others, some white and some tinged with color; but thecloth woven of cotton must be uniform; therefore all these kinds mustbe thoroughly mixed. Even the tossing and turning and beating thatit has already received is not enough, and it has to go into a"scutcher, " three or four laps at a time, one on top of another, tohave still more beating and dusting. When it comes out, it is in along roll or sheet, so even that any yard of it will weigh very nearlythe same as any other yard. The fibers, however, are lying "everywhich way, " and before they can be drawn out into thread, they must bemade to lie parallel. This is brought about in part by carding. Whenpeople used to spin and weave in their own houses, they used "handcards. " These were somewhat like brushes for the hair, but instead ofbristles they had wires shaped much as if wire hairpins had been benttwice and put through leather in such a way as to form hooks on oneside of it. This leather was then nailed to a wooden back and a handleadded. The carder took one card in each hand, and with the hookspointing opposite ways brushed the cotton between them, thus makingthe fibers lie parallel. This is just what is done in a mill, only bymachinery, of course. Instead of the little hand cards, there aregreat cylinders covered with what is called "card clothing"; that is, canvas bristling with the bent wires, six or seven hundred to thesquare inch. This takes the place of one card. The place of the otheris filled by what are called "flats, " or narrow bars of iron coveredwith card clothing. The cylinders move rapidly, the flats slowly, andthe cotton passes between them. It comes out in a dainty white filmnot so very much heavier than a spider's web, and so beautifully whiteand shining that it does not seem as if the big, oily, noisy machinescould ever have produced it. In a moment, however, it is gonesomewhere into the depths of the machine. We have seen the last of thefleecy sheet, for the machinery narrows it and rounds it, and when itcomes into sight again, it looks like a soft round cord about an inchthick, and is coiled up in cans nearly a yard high. This cord iscalled "sliver. "

[Illustration: IN A COTTON MILL

The "sliver" coming through the machine, and the "roving" beingtwisted and wound on bobbins. ]

The sliver is not uniform; even now its fibers are not entirelyparallel, and it is as weak as wet tissue paper. It now pays a visitto the "drawing-frame. " Four or six slivers are put together and runthrough this frame. They go between four pairs of rollers, the firstpair moving slowly, the others more rapidly. The slow pair hold theslivers back, while the fast one pull them on. The result is thatwhen the sliver comes out from the rollers, its fibers are muchstraighter. This process is repeated several times; and at last whenthe final sliver comes out, although it looks almost the same as whenit came from the carding-machine, its fibers are parallel. It is muchmore uniform, but it is very fragile, and still has to be handledwith great care. It is not nearly strong enough to be twisted intothread; and before this can be done, it must pass through three othermachines. The first, or "slubber, " gives it a very slight twist, justenough to suggest what is coming later, and of course in doing thismakes it smaller. The cotton changes its name at every operation, andnow it is called "roving. " It has taken one long step forward, fornow it is not coiled up in cans, but is wound on "bobbins, " or greatspools. The second machine, the "intermediate speeder, " twists it avery little more and winds it on fresh bobbins. It also puts tworovings together, so that if one happens to be thin in one place, there is a chance for it to be strengthened by a thicker place inthe other. The third machine, the "fine speeder, " simply makes afiner roving. 

All this work must be done merely to prepare the raw cotton to betwisted into the tiny threads that you see by raveling a piece ofcotton cloth. Now comes the actual twisting. If you fasten one endof a very soft string and twist the other and wind it on a spool, youwill get a spool of finer, stronger, and harder-twisted string thanyou had at first. This is exactly what the "ring-spinner" does. Imagine a bobbin full of roving standing on a frame. Down below it aresome rolls between which the thread from the bobbin passes to a secondbobbin which is fast on a spindle. Around this spindle is the"spinning-ring, " a ring which is made to whirl around by an endlessbelt. This whirling twists the thread, and another part of the machinewinds it upon the second bobbin. Hundreds of these ring-spinners andbobbins are on a single "spinning-frame" and accomplish a great dealin a very short time. The threads that are to be used for the "weft"or "filling" go directly into the shuttles of the weavers after beingspun; but those which are to be used for "warp" are wound first onspools, then on beams to go into the loom. 

Little children weave together strips of paper, straws, andsplints, --"over one, under one, "--and the weaving of plain cottoncloth is in principle nothing more than this. The first thing to doin weaving is to stretch out the warp evenly. This warp is simplymany hundreds of tiny threads as long as the cloth is to be, sometimes forty or fifty yards. They must be stretched out side byside and close together. To make them regular, they are passedbetween the teeth of a sort of upright comb; then they are wound uponthe loom beam, a horizontal beam at the back of the loom. Here theyare as close together as they will be in the cloth. With a magnifyingglass it is easy to count the threads of the warp in an inch ofcloth. Some kinds of cloth have a hundred or even more to the inch. In order to make cloth, the weaver must manage in some way to lowerevery other one of these little threads and run his shuttle overthem, as the children do the strips of paper in their paper weaving. Then he must lower the other set and run the shuttle over _them_. "Drawing in" makes this possible. After the threads leave the beam, they are drawn through the "harnesses. " These are hanging frames, onein front of the other, filled with stiff, perpendicular threads orwires drawn tight, and with an eye in each thread. Through these eyesthe threads of the warp are drawn, the odd ones through one, and theeven through the other. Then, keeping the threads in the same order, they pass through the teeth of a "reed, "--that is, a hanging frameshaped like a great comb as long as the loom is wide; and last, theyare fastened to the "front beam, " which runs in front of the weaver'sseat and on which the cloth is to be rolled when it has been woven. Each harness is connected with a treadle. The weaver puts his foot onthe treadle of the odd threads and presses them down. Then he sendshis shuttle, containing a bobbin full of thread, sliding across overthe odd threads and under the even. He puts his foot on the treadleof the even threads and sends the shuttle back over the even andunder the odd. At each trip of the shuttle, the heavy reed is drawnback toward the weaver to push the last thread of the woof or fillingfirmly into place. 

This is the way cloth is woven in the hand looms which used to be inevery household. The power loom used in factories is, even in itssimplest form, a complicated machine; but its principle is exactly thesame. If colors are to be used, great care is needed in arranging warpand woof. If you ravel a piece of checked gingham, you will see thathalf the warp is white and half colored; and that in putting in thewoof or filling, a certain number of the threads are white and anequal number are colored. If you look closely at the weaving of atablecloth, you will see that the satin-like figures are woven bybringing the filling thread not "over one and under one, " but oftenover two or three and under one. In drilling or any other twilledgoods, several harnesses have to be used because the warp thread isnot lowered directly in line with the one preceding, but diagonally. Such work as this used to require a vast amount of skill and patience;but the famous Jacquard machine will do it with ease, and will do morecomplicated weaving than any one ever dreamed of before its invention, for it will weave not only regular figures extending across the cloth, but can be made to introduce clusters of flowers, a figure, or a facewherever it is desired. By the aid of this, every little warp threador cluster of threads can be lifted by its own hooked wire withoutinterfering with any other thread. Cards of paper or thin metal aremade for each pattern, leaving a hole wherever the hook is to slipthrough and lift up a thread. After the cards are once made, the workis as easy as plain weaving; but there must be a separate card forevery thread of filling in the pattern, and sometimes a single designhas required as many as thirty thousand pattern cards. 

The machines in a cotton mill are the result of experimenting, lastingthrough many years. They do not seem quite so "human" as those whichhelp to carry on some parts of other manufactures; but they arewonderfully ingenious. For instance, the sliver is so light that itseems to have hardly any weight, but it balances a tiny support. Ifthe sliver breaks, the support falls, and this stops the machine. Again, if one of the threads of the warp breaks when it is being woundon the beam, a slender bent wire that has been hung on it falls. Itdrops between two rollers and stops them. Then the workman knows thatsomething is wrong, and a glance will show where attention is needed. Success in a cotton mill demands constant attention to details. A millmanager who has been very successful has given to those of lessexperience some wise directions about running a mill. For one thing, he reminds them that building is expensive and that floor spacecounts. If by rearranging looms space can be made for more spindles, it is well worth while to rearrange. He tells them to study theirmachines and see whether they are working so slowly that they cannotdo as much as possible, or so fast as to strain the work. He bids themto keep their gearings clean, to be clear and definite in theirorders, and to read the trade papers; but above everything else tolook out for the little things, a little leak in the mill dam, alittle too much tightness in a belt, or the idleness of just onespindle. Herein lies, he says, one of the great differences betweena successful and an unsuccessful superintendent. 

Weaving as practiced in factories is a complicated business; butwhether it is done with a simple hand loom in a cottage or with a bigpower loom in a great factory, there are always three movements. Oneseparates the warp threads; one drives the shuttle between them; andone swings the reed against the filling thread just put in. 

XI

SILKWORMS AND THEIR WORK

About silk there is something particularly agreeable. There are fewpeople who do not like the sheen of a soft silk, the sparkle of lighton a "taffeta, " and the richness of the silk that "can stand alone. "Its delicate rustle is charming, and the "feel" of it is a delight. It has not the chill of linen, the deadness of cotton, or the"scratchiness" of woolen. It pleases the eye, the ear, and the touch. 

The caterpillars of a few butterflies and of many moths are spinnersof fibers similar to silk. Among these last is the beautifulpale-green lunar moth. Spiders spin a lustrous fiber, and it is saidthat a lover of spiders succeeded, by a good deal of petting andattention, in getting considerable material from a company of them. Silkworms, however, are the only providers of real silk for the world. Once in a while glowing accounts are published of the ease with whichthey can be raised and the amount of money which can be made from themwith very small capital. This business, however, like all other kindsof business, requires close attention and skill if it is to be asuccess. An expert has said that it needs more time to build a spoolof silk than a locomotive. 

The way to begin to raise silkworms is first of all to providesomething for them to eat. They are very particular about their billof fare. The leaf of the osage orange will answer, but they like muchbetter the leaf of the white mulberry. Then send to a reliable dealerfor a quarter of an ounce of silkworm eggs. That sounds like a smallorder, but it will bring you nine or ten thousand eggs, ready tobecome sturdy little silkworms if all goes well with them. Put them ona table with a top of wire netting covered with brown paper, and keepthem comfortably warm. In a week or two, there will appear some littleworms about an eighth of an inch long and covered with black hairs. These tiny worms have to become three inches or more in length, andthey are expected to accomplish the feat in about a month. If a boyfour feet tall should grow at the silkworm's rate for one month, hewould become forty-eight feet tall. It is no wonder that the wormshave to make a business of eating, or that the keeper has to make abusiness of providing them with food. They eat most of the time, andthey make a queer little crackling sound while they are about it. Theyhave from four to eight meals a day of mulberry leaves. The worms froma quarter of an ounce of eggs begin with one pound a day, and work upto between forty and fifty. Silkworms like plenty of fresh air, and ifthey are to thrive, their table must be kept clean. A good way tomanage this is to put over them paper full of holes large enough forthem to climb through. Lay the leaves upon the paper; the worms willcome up through the holes to eat, and the litter on their table canbe cleared away. As the worms grow larger, the holes must be madelarger. It is no wonder that their skins soon become too tight forthem. They actually lose their appetite for a day or two, and theyslip away to some quiet corner under the leaves, and plainly wishthere were no other worms to bother them. Soon the skin comes off, and they make up for lost time so energetically that they have to droptheir tight skins three times more before they are fully grown. Wetmulberry leaves must not be given them, or they will become sick anddie, and there will be an end of the silkworm business from thatquarter-ounce of eggs. They must have plenty of room on their table aswell as in their skins. At first a tray or table two feet long and alittle more than one foot wide will be large enough; but when they arefull-grown, they will need about eighty square feet of table orshelves. At spinning time, even this will not be enough. 

After the worms have shed their skins four times and then eaten asmuch as they possibly can for eight or ten days, they begin to feelas if they had had enough. They now eat very little and really becomesmaller. They are restless and wander about. Now and then they throwout threads of silk as fine as a spider's web. They know exactly whatthey want; each little worm wants to make a cocoon, and all they askof you is to give them the right sort of place to make it in. Whenthey live out of doors in freedom, they fasten their cocoons to twigs;and if you wish to give them what they like best, get plenty of drytwigs and weave them together in arches standing over the shelves. Pretty soon you will see one worm after another climb up the twigs andselect a place for its cocoon. Before long it throws out threads fromits spinneret, a tiny opening near the mouth, and makes a kind of netto support the cocoon which it is about to weave. 

The silkworm may have seemed greedy, but he did not eat one leaf toomuch for the task that lies before him. There is nothing lazy abouthim; and now he works with all his might, making his cocoon. He beginsat the outside and shapes it like a particularly plump peanut of aclear, pale yellow. The silk is stiffened with a sort of gum as itcomes out of the spinneret. The busy little worm works away, layingits threads in place in the form of a figure eight. For some time thecocoon is so thin that one can watch him. It is calculated that histiny head makes sixty-nine movements every minute. 

The covering grows thicker and the room for the silkworm growssmaller. After about seventy-two hours, put your ear to the cocoon, and if all is quiet within, it is completed and the worm is shut upwithin it. Strange things happen to him while he sleeps in the quietof his silken bed, for he becomes a dry brown chrysalis without heador feet. Then other things even more marvelous come to pass, for inabout three weeks the little creature pushes the threads apart at oneend of the cocoon and comes out, not a silkworm at all, but a mothwith head and wings and legs and eyes. This moth lays hundreds ofeggs, and in less than three weeks it dies. 

This is what the silkworm will do if it is left alone; but it is thebusiness of the silk-raiser to see that it is not left alone. Abouteight days after the cocoon is begun, it is steamed or baked to killthe chrysalis so that it cannot make its way out and so spoil thesilk. The quarter of an ounce of eggs will make about thirty poundsof cocoons. Now is the time to be specially watchful, for there isnothing in which rats and mice so delight as a plump, sweet chrysalis;and they care nothing whatever for the three or four thousand yards ofsilk that is wound about each one. 

To take this silk off is a delicate piece of work. A single fiber isnot much larger than the thread of a cobweb, and before the silk canbe used, several threads must be united in one. First, the cocoon issoaked in warm water to loosen the gum that the worm used to stick itsthreads together. Ends of silk from half a dozen or more cocoons arebrought together, run through a little hole in a guide, and wound on areel as one thread. This needs skill and practice, for the reeled silkmust be kept of the same size. The cocoon thread is so slender that, of course, it breaks very easily; and when this happens, anotherthread must be pieced on. Then, too, the inner silk of the cocoon isfiner than the outer; so unless care is taken to add threads, thereeled silk will be irregular. The water must also be kept just warmenough to soften the gum, but not too hot. 

The silk is taken off the reel, and the skeins are packed up in balesas if it were of no more value than cotton. Indeed, it does not looknearly so pretty and attractive as a lap of pure white cotton, for itis stiff and gummy and has hardly any luster. Now it is sent to themanufacturer. It is soaked in hot soapy water for several hours, andit is drawn between plates so close together that, while they allowthe silk to go through, they will not permit the least bit ofroughness or dirt to pass. If the thread breaks, a tiny "faller, " suchas are used in cotton mills, falls down and stops the machine. Thesilk must now be twisted, subjected to two or three processes toincrease its luster, and dyed, --and if you would like to feel as ifyou were paying a visit to a rainbow, go into a mill and watch thelooms with their smooth, brilliant silks of all the colors that canbe imagined. After the silk is woven, it is polished on lusteringmachines, singed to destroy all bits of free fibers or lint, freed ofall threads that may project, and scoured if it is of a light color;then sold. 

[Illustration: _Courtesy Cheney Bros. _

HOW SPUN SILK IS MADE

Every manufacturer saves everything he can, and even the waste silkwhich cannot be wound on reels is turned into a salable product]

The moth whose cocoon provides most of our silk is called the "bombyxmori. " There are others, however, and from some of these tussah silk, Yamamai, and Shantung pongee are woven. These wild moths produce astronger thread, but it is much less smooth than that of the bombyx. 

There is also a great amount of "wood silk, " or artificial silk, onthe market. To make this, wood pulp is dissolved in ether and squirtedthrough fine jets into water. It is soon hard enough to be twistedinto threads and woven. It makes an imitation of silk, bright andlustrous, but not wearing so well as the silk of the silkworm. Nevertheless, for many purposes it is used as a substitute for silk, and many braids and passementeries are made of it. Then, too, thereare the "mercerized" goods, which often closely resemble real silk, although there is not a thread of silk in them. It was discovered manyyears ago that if a piece of cotton cloth was boiled in caustic soda, it would become soft and thick and better able to receive delicatedyes. Unfortunately, it also shrank badly. At length it occurred tosome one that the cloth might be kept from shrinking by beingstretched out during the boiling in soda. He was delighted to findthat this process made it more brilliant than many silks. 

The threads that fasten the cocoon to the bush and those in the heartof the cocoon are often used, together with the fiber from any cocoonsthrough which the worms have made their way out. This is real silk, ofcourse, but it is made of short fibers which cannot be wound. It iscarded and spun and made into fabric called "spun silk, " which is usedextensively for the heavier classes of goods. Then, too, silks areoften "weighted"; that is, just before they are dyed, salts of iron ortin are added. One pound of silk will absorb two or three pounds ofthese chemicals, and will apparently be a heavy silk, while it isreally thin and poor. Moreover, this metallic weighting rubs againstthe silk fiber and mysterious holes soon begin to appear. A wise "drycleaner" will have nothing to do with such silks, lest he should beheld responsible for these holes. It is this weighting which producesthe peculiar rustle of taffeta; and if women would be satisfied witha taffeta that was soft and thin, the manufacturers would gladly leaveout the salts of iron, and the silks would wear much better. Cottonis seldom mixed with the silk warp thread; but it is used as "filling"in a large class of goods with silk warp. The custom has arisen ofadvertising such goods as "silk, " which of course is not a fairdescription of them. Advertisements sometimes give notice of amazingsales of "Shantung pongee, " which has been made in American looms andis a very different article from the imported "wild silk" pongee. 

With so many shams in the market, how is a woman to know what she isbuying and whether it will wear? There are a few simple tests that arehelpful. Ravel a piece of silk and examine the warp and woof. If theyare of nearly the same size, the silk is not so likely to split. Seehow strong the thread is. Burn a thread. If it burns with a littleflame, it is cotton. If it curls up and smells like burning wool, itis probably silk. Another test by fire is to burn a piece of thegoods. If it is silk, it will curl up; if it is heavily weighted, itwill keep its shape. If you boil a sample in caustic potash, all thesilk in it will dissolve, but the cotton will remain. If the wholesample disappears, you may be sure that it was all silk. Soft, finelywoven silks are safest because they will not hold so much weighting. Crêpe de chine is made of a hard twisted thread and therefore wearswell. Taffeta can carry a large amount of weighting, and is alwaysdoubtful; it may wear well, and it may not. There is always a reasonfor a bargain sale of silks. The store may wish to clear out acollection of remnants or to get rid of a line of goods which are nolonger to be carried; but aside from this, there is usually somedefect in the goods themselves or else they have failed to please thefashionable whim of the moment. Silk is always silk, and if you wantit, you must pay for it. 

Transcriber's Note

Some illustrations have been moved from their original locationsto paragraph breaks, so as to be nearer to their corresponding text, or for ease of document navigation.