medieval people by eileen power m.a., d.lit. _late reader in history in the university of london and sometime fellow and lecturer of girton college, cambridge_ 'i counsel thee, shut not thy heart nor thy library' charles lamb _first published, published in eighth printing, _ _to my colleagues and students at girton college, cambridge - _ for if heuene be on this erthe . and ese to any soule, it is in cloistere or in scole . by many skilles i fynde; for in cloistre cometh no man . to chide ne to fizte, but alle is buxomnesse there and bokes . to rede and to lerne, in scole there is scorne . but if a clerke wil lerne, and grete loue and lykynge . for eche of hem loueth other. --langland, _piers plowman_ _author's preface_ social history sometimes suffers from the reproach that it is vague and general, unable to compete with the attractions of political history either for the student or for the general reader, because of its lack of outstanding personalities. in point of fact there is often as much material for reconstructing the life of some quite ordinary person as there is for writing a history of robert of normandy or of philippa of hainault; and the lives of ordinary people so reconstructed are, if less spectacular, certainly not less interesting. i believe that social history lends itself particularly to what may be called a personal treatment, and that the past may be made to live again for the general reader more effectively by personifying it than by presenting it in the form of learned treatises on the development of the manor or on medieval trade, essential as these are to the specialist. for history, after all, is valuable only in so far as it lives, and maeterlinck's cry, 'there are no dead', should always be the historian's motto. it is the idea that history is about dead people, or, worse still, about movements and conditions which seem but vaguely related to the labours and passions of flesh and blood, which has driven history from bookshelves where the historical novel still finds a welcome place. in the following series of sketches i have tried to illustrate at the same time various aspects of social life in the middle ages and various classes of historical material. thus bodo illustrates peasant life, and an early phase of a typical medieval estate; marco polo, venetian trade with the east; madame eglentyne, monastic life; the ménagier's wife, domestic life in a middle-class home, and medieval ideas about women; thomas betson, the wool trade, and the activities of the great english trading company of merchants of the staple; and thomas paycocke, the cloth industry in east anglia. they are all quite ordinary people and unknown to fame, with the exception of marco polo. the types of historical evidence illustrated are the estate book of a manorial lord, the chronicle and traveller's tale, the bishop's register, the didactic treatise in household management, the collection of family letters, and houses, brasses, and wills. at the end of the book i have added a bibliography of the sources which form the raw material for my reconstructions, and a few additional notes and references. i hope that this modest attempt to bring to life again some of 'our fathers that begat us', may perhaps interest for an hour or two the general reader, or the teacher, who wishes to make more concrete by personification some of the general facts of medieval social and economic history. my thanks are due to my publishers, messrs. methuen and co., for allowing me to incorporate in chapter vi the greater part of a chapter in my book 'the paycockes of coggeshall', and to the cambridge university press for similarly allowing me to repeat in chapter iii a few sentences from my study of 'medieval english nunneries'. i have also to thank my friends miss m.g. jones and miss h.m.r. murray of girton college, cambridge, for various suggestions and criticisms, and my sister miss rhoda power for making the index. _may _ eileen power _london school of economics and political science university of london_ _preface to the tenth edition_ for years after the first edition of _medieval people_ had come out, eileen power collected notes and made plans for several essays to be included in an enlarged edition of the book. of these essays only one, "the precursors", had been written out in full before she died; and it has now been added to the present edition. in its published form it is not in every respect identical with the author's original text. the essay was taking shape as munich came and went and as the war itself was drawing near. no historian writing at that time about rome menaced by the barbarians--and least of all an historian as sensitive to the extra-mural world as eileen power was--could have helped noting the similarities between the roman empire in the fifth or sixth centuries and europe in the nineteen-thirties. in the end, having finished the essay, she decided to withold it from publication for the time being and to present it instead to a friendly audience as a tract for the times. this she did at a meeting of the cambridge history club in the winter of : and for that occasion she replaced the opening and concluding pages of the original essay with passages, or rather notes for passages, more suited to the purpose. i am sure that she never intended these passages to be perpetuated in her _medieval people_ and i have therefore done what i could to replace them with a reconstructed version of her first draft. the reconstruction had to be done from somewhat disjointed notes and cannot therefore be word-faithful. the readers must therefore bear in mind that the first two and the last page of the essay are mere approximations to what eileen power in fact wrote. _april_, m.m. postan _peterhouse, cambridge_. _contents_ i the precursors ii bodo, a frankish peasant in the time of charlemagne iii marco polo, a venetian traveller of the thirteenth century iv madame eglentyne, chaucer's prioress in real life v the mÉnagier's wife, a paris housewife in the fourteenth century vi thomas betson, a merchant of the staple in the fifteenth century vii thomas paycocke of coggeshall, an essex clothier in the days of henry vii notes and sources notes on illustrations index _list of illustrations_ i bodo at his work from _ms. tit. b.v., pt. i_. british museum ii embarkation of the polos at venice from _bodleian ms. _. oxford iii part of a landscape by chao mÊng-fu from the original in the british museum iv madame eglentyne at home from _ms. add. _. british museum v the mÉnagier's wife has a garden party from _harl. ms. _. british museum vi the mÉnagier's wife cooks his supper with the aid of his book from _ms. royal, d. i_. british museum vii calais about the time of thomas betson from _cott. ms. aug. i, vol. ii_. british museum viii thomas paycocke's house at coggeshall from _the paycockes of coggeshall_ by eileen power (methuen & co. ltd.) a map of the journeys of the polos - let us now praise famous men and our fathers that begat us.... there be of them that have left a name behind them, that their praises might be reported. and some there be which have no memorial; who are perished, as though they had never been; and are become as though they had never been born; and their children after them. but these were merciful men, whose righteousness hath not been forgotten. with their seed shall continually remain a good inheritance, and their children are within the covenant. their seed standeth fast, and their children for their sakes. their seed shall remain for ever, and their glory shall not be blotted out. their bodies are buried in peace; but their name liveth for evermore. ecclesiasticus xliv. chapter i _the precursors_ i. rome in decline every schoolboy knows that the middle ages arose on the ruins of the roman empire. the decline of rome preceded and in some ways prepared the rise of the kingdoms and cultures which composed the medieval system. yet in spite of the self-evident truth of this historical preposition we know little about life and thought in the watershed years when europe was ceasing to be roman but was not yet medieval. we do not know how it felt to watch the decline of rome; we do not even know whether the men who watched it knew what they saw, though we can be quite certain that none of them foretold, indeed could have foreseen, the shape which the world was to take in later centuries. yet the tragic story, its main themes and protagonists were for all to see. no observer should have failed to notice that the roman empire of the fourth and fifth centuries was no longer the roman empire of the great antonine and augustan age; that it had lost its hold over its territories and its economic cohesion and was menaced by the barbarians who were in the end to overwhelm it. the territory of the roman empire had at its height stretched from the lands bordering the north sea to the lands on the northern fringes of the sahara, and from the atlantic coast of europe to the central asiatic steppes; it comprised most of the regions of the former hellenic, iranian, and phoenician empires, and it either ruled or kept in check great clusters of peoples and principalities beyond its gallic and north african frontiers. from these farthest frontiers rome of the fourth century had retreated and was still retreating. within its frontiers great currents of inter-regional commerce had in earlier centuries flowed along the routes which bound all the provinces of the empire to rome and most of the provinces to each other. but from the third century onwards the economic unity of the empire was in dissolution, and by the fifth century most of the great currents of inter-regional trade had ceased to flow, and provinces and districts had been thrown upon themselves and their own resources. and with the wealth of the provinces reduced, their commerce restricted, the great provincial cities also declined in population, wealth, political power. yet to its very last days the empire endeavoured to defend its frontiers against the converging barbarians. not only did the barbarian conquests, like all conquests, threaten destruction and ruin, but the way of life the barbarians stood for was the very denial of what roman civilization had been, though alas, was gradually ceasing to be. however, it was not in material things, that the contemporaries found, or should have found the sharpest conflict between rome and the barbarian prospects before it. above all roman civilization was a civilization of the mind. it had behind it a long tradition of thought and of intellectual achievement, the legacy of greece, to which it had in turn made its own contribution. the roman world was a world of schools and universities, writers, and builders. the barbarian world was a world in which mind was in its infancy and its infancy was long. the battle sagas of the race, which have all but disappeared or have survived only as legends worked up in a later age; the few rude laws which were needed to regulate personal relationships, this was hardly civilization in the roman sense. king chilperic, trying to make verses in the style of sedulius, though he could not distinguish between a long foot and a short and they all hobbled; charlemagne himself, going to bed with his slate under his pillow in order to practice in the watches of the night that art of writing which he never mastered; what have they in common with julius caesar and marcus aurelius and that great julian called the apostate? they sum up in their very persons the whole wide gulf that yawned between germany and rome. rome and the barbarians were thus not only protagonists but two different attitudes to life, civilization and barbarism. we cannot here discuss in detail the question as to why, in the clash between the two, it was civilization which perished and barbarism which prevailed. but it is important to remember that while the empire tried to defend its frontiers against the barbarian hosts, it gradually opened them to barbarian settlers. this peaceful infiltration of barbarians which altered the whole character of the society which it invaded would have been impossible, of course, if that society had not been stricken by disease. the disease is plain enough to see by the third century. it shows itself in those internecine civil wars in which civilization rends itself, province against province and army against army. it shows itself in the great inflationary crisis from about and in the taxation which gradually crushed out the smaller bourgeoisie while the fortunes of the rich escaped its net. it shows itself in the gradual sinking back of an economy based upon free exchange into more and more primitive conditions when every province seeks to be self-sufficient and barter takes the place of trade. it shows itself in the decline of farming and in the workless city population kept quiet by their dole of bread and their circuses, whose life contrasted so dramatically, so terribly with that of the haughty senatorial families and the great landowners in their palatial villas and town houses. it shows itself in the rise of mystical faiths on the ruins of philosophy, and of superstition (more especially astrology) on the ruins of reason. one religion in particular grew mighty, by clasping its sacred book and addressing itself with words of hope to the victims of social injustice, but although it was able to bring comfort to individuals it could do nothing, indeed it did not try, to give new strength or inspiration to the embattled civilization. true to its own ethos it was impartial as between barbarian and roman, or between the romans who prospered and ruled and those outside the pale. the most obvious manifestation of roman society in decline was the dwindling numbers of roman citizens. the empire was being depopulated long before the end of the period of peace and prosperity which stretched from augustus to marcus aurelius. does not augustus himself summon the poor man of fiesole who has a family of eight children, thirty-six grandchildren and eighteen great grandchildren, and organize in his honour a fête in the capitol, accompanied by a great deal of publicity? does not tacitus, half-anthropologist and half-rousseau, describing the noble savage with his eye on fellow citizens, remark that among the germans it is accounted a shameful thing to limit the number of your children? the long duration of augustus's legislation to raise the birthrate is significant; successful it was not, but the fact that it was maintained on the statute book and systematically revised and developed for three centuries shows that it was at least accounted necessary. it is true of course that the mortality rate was a far more important factor in those days than it is in our own, and the mortality from pestilence and civil war from marcus aurelius onwards was exceptional. and it is plain that the proportion of celibates was high in the roman empire and that the fall in the fertility of marriages was going on. it is the childless marriage, the small family system that contemporary writers deplore. in seeley's striking phrase: 'the human harvest was bad,' it was bad in all classes, but the decline was most marked in the upper ranks, the most educated, the most civilized, the potential leaders of the race. in the terrible words of swift, facing his own madness, the roman empire might have cried: 'i shall die like a tree--from the top downwards.' why (the insistent question forces itself) did this civilization lose the power to reproduce itself? was it, as polybius said, because people preferred amusements to children or wished to bring their children up in comfort? hardly, for it is more marked among the rich than the poor and the rich can have the best of both worlds. was it because people had grown discouraged and disheartened, no longer believing in their own civilization and loath to bring children into the darkness and disaster of their war-shattered world? we do not know. but we can see the connection of the falling population with the other evils of the empire--the heavy cost of administration relatively heavier when the density of the population is low; the empty fields, the dwindling legions which did not suffice to guard the frontier. to cure this sickness of population the roman rulers knew no other way than to dose it with barbarian vigour. just a small injection to begin with and then more and more till in the end the blood that flowed in its veins was not roman but barbarian. in came the germans to settle the frontier, to till the fields, to enlist first in the auxiliaries and then in the legions, to fill the great offices of state. the army is barbarized, and a modern writer, mr moss, has quoted most effectively the complaint of the egyptian mother clamouring to get back her son who (as she says) has gone off with the barbarians--he means that he has enlisted in the roman legions. the legions are barbarized and they barbarize the emperor. for them he is no longer the majestic embodiment of law, he is their leader, their führer, and they raise him on their shields. and side by side with the barbarization of the army goes the barbarization of civil manners too. in honorius has to pass an edict forbidding the wearing of german fashions within the precincts of rome. and in the end, half barbarian themselves, they have only barbarians to defend them against barbarism. such was the general picture of the great ruin of civilization amidst which the romans of the fourth, fifth, and sixth centuries lived. what then did it feel like to live at a time when civilization was going down before the forces of barbarism? did people realize what was happening? did the gloom of the dark ages cast its shadow before? it so happens that we can answer these questions very clearly if we fix our eyes on one particular part of the empire, the famous and highly civilized province of gaul. we can catch the decline at three points because in three consecutive centuries, gallo-roman writers have left us a picture of their life and times. in the fourth century we have ausonius, in the fifth sidonius apollinarius, in the sixth gregory of tours and fortunatus, a stranger from italy, who made his home in poitiers. they show us auvergne and the bordelais in the evening light. the fourth, the fifth, and the sixth centuries--going, going, gone! . ausonius going! this is the world of ausonius, south-western france in the latter half of the fourth century, 'an indian summer between ages of storm and wreckage'. ausonius himself is a scholar and a gentleman, the friend alike of the pagan symmachus and of st paulinus of nela. he is for thirty years professor of rhetoric in the university of bordeaux, for some time tutor to a prince, praetorian prefect of gaul, consul, and in his last years just an old man contentedly living on his estates. his most famous poem is a description of the moselle, which for all its literary affectations evokes most magically the smiling countryside which was the background of his life. high above the river on either bank stand the villas and country houses, with their courts and lawns and pillared porticos, and the hot baths from which, if you will, you can plunge into the stream. the sunny hillside is covered with vines, and from slope to hill-top the husbandmen call to each other and the wayfarer on the towpath or the bargemen floating by, shout their rude jests to the loitering vinedressers. far out in midstream the fisherman trails his dripping net and on a rock by the shore the angler plies his rod. and, as twilight falls, the deepening shadow of the green hillside is reflected in the water and gazing downward the boatman can almost count the trembling vines and almost see the swelling of the grapes. equally peaceful, equally pleasant is life on ausonius' own estate in the bordelais, his little patrimony (he calls it) although he had a thousand acres of vineyard and tillage and wood. miss waddell has reminded us, on the authority of saintsbury (whom else?) that 'to this day it boasts itself as château-ausone, one of the two best of the st emilion clarets.' here he tends his roses and sends his boy round to the neighbours to bid them to luncheon, while he interviews the cook. six, including the host, is the right number--if more it is not a meal but a melée. then there are all his relatives to be commemorated in verse, his grandfather and his grandmother and his sisters and his cousins and his aunts (especially his aunts). and when the family circle palls there is the senior common room to fall back upon and the professors of bordeaux to be celebrated in their turn. professors were important people in the empire of the fourth century; symmachus says that it is the mark of a flourishing state that good salaries should be paid to professors; though what exactly we are to deduce from that in the light of history i should hesitate to say. so ausonius writes a collection of poems about the professors of bordeaux. there are thirty-two of them and all are celebrated. there is minervius the orator, who had a prodigious memory and after a game of backgammon was wont to conduct a post-mortem over every move. there is anastasius the grammarian, who was so foolish as to leave bordeaux for a provincial university and thenceforth languished in well-merited obscurity. there is attius tiro delphidius, who retired from a legal career into the professorial chair, but could never be got to take any trouble with his men, to the disappointment of their parents. there is jocundus the grammarian, who did not really deserve his title, but was such a kind man that we will commemorate him among men of worth, although he was, strictly speaking, unequal to the job. there is exuperius, who was very good-looking and whose eloquence sounded superb until you examined it and found that it meant nothing. there is dynamius, who slipped from the paths of virtue with a married lady in bordeaux and left the place rather hastily, but fortunately fell on his feet in spain. there is victorius the usher, who liked only the most abstruse historical problems, such as what the pedigree of the sacrificial priest at cureo was long before numa's day, or what castor had to say on all the shadowy kings, and who never got up as far as tully or virgil, though he might have done so if he had gone on reading long enough, but death cut him off too soon. they seem oddly familiar figures (except of course, dynamius) and their chronicler contrives to make them live. such is the world depicted for us by ausonius. but while this pleasant country house and senior common room life was going calmly on, what do we find happening in the history books? ausonius was a man of nearly fifty when the germans swarmed across the rhine in , pillaging forty-five flourishing cities, and pitching their camps on the banks of the moselle. he had seen the great julian take up arms ('o plato, plato, what a task for a philosopher') and in a series of brilliant campaigns drive them out again. ten years later when he was tutor to gratian he had himself accompanied the emperor valentinian on another campaign against the same foes. while he was preening himself on his consulship ten years later still, he must have heard of the disastrous battle of adrianople in the east, when the goths defeated a roman army and slew an emperor. he died in and within twelve years of his death the host of germans had burst across the rhine, 'all gaul was a smoking funeral pyre', and the goths were at the gates of rome. and what have ausonius and his correspondents to say about this? not a word. ausonius and symmachus and their set ignore the barbarians as completely as the novels of jane austen ignore the napoleonic wars. . sidonius apollinaris going, going.... some thirty-five years after the death of ausonius, in the midst of the disastrous sixth century, was born sidonius apollinaris, gallo-roman aristocrat, father-in-law of an emperor, sometime prefect of rome and in the end bishop of clermont. sidonius apollinaris, (or thereabouts) to or perhaps a few years later. much had happened between the death of ausonius and his birth. the lights were going out all over europe. barbarian kingdoms had been planted in gaul and spain, rome herself had been sacked by the goths; and in his lifetime the collapse went on, ever more swiftly. he was a young man of twenty when the ultimate horror broke upon the west, the inroad of attila and the huns. that passed away, but when he was twenty-four the vandals sacked rome. he saw the terrible german king-maker ricimer throne and unthrone a series of puppet emperors, he saw the last remnant of gallic independence thrown away and himself become a barbarian subject, and he saw a few years before he died the fall of the empire in the west. they cannot, sidonius and his friends, ignore as ausonius and his friends did, that something is happening to the empire. the men of the fifth century are concerned at these disasters and they console themselves, each according to his kind. there are some who think it cannot last. after all, they say, the empire has been in a tight place before and has always got out of it in the end and risen supreme over its enemies. thus sidonius himself, the very year after they sacked the city; rome has endured as much before--there was porsenna, there was brennus, there was hannibal.... only that time rome did not get over it. others tried to use the disasters to castigate the sins of society. thus salvian of marseilles who would no doubt have been called the gloomy dean if he had not been a bishop. for him all that the decadent roman civilization needs is to copy some of the virtues of these fresh young barbarian people. there is the familiar figure of orosius, defending the barbarians with the argument that when the roman empire was founded it was founded in blood and conquest and can ill afford to throw stones at the barbarians; and after all the barbarians are not so bad. 'if the unhappy people they have despoiled will content themselves with the little that is left them, their conquerors will cherish them as friends and brothers.' others, especially the more thoughtful churchmen are much concerned to explain why an empire which had flourished under paganism should be thus beset under christianity. others desert the empire altogether and (like st augustine) put their hope in a city not made with hands--though ambrose, it is true, let fall the pregnant observation that it was not the will of god that his people should be saved by logic-chopping. 'it has not pleased god to save his people by dialectic.' and how were they living? we have only to read the letters written by sidonius during the period between and , when he was living on his estate in auvergne, to realize that on the surface all is going on exactly as before. gaul is shrunk, it is true, to a mere remnant between three barbarian kingdoms, but save for that we might be back in the days of ausonius. there is the luxurious villa, with its hot baths and swimming pool, its suites of rooms, its views over the lake; and there is sidonius inviting his friends to stay with him or sending round his compositions to the professors and the bishops and the country-gentlemen. sport and games are very popular--sidonius rides and swims and hunts and plays tennis. in one letter he tells his correspondent that he has been spending some days in the country with his cousin and an old friend, whose estates adjoin each other. they had sent out scouts to catch him and bring him back for a week and took it in turns to entertain him. there are games of tennis on the lawn before breakfast or backgammon for the older men. there is an hour or two in the library before we sit down to an excellent luncheon followed by a siesta. then we go out riding and return for a hot bath and a plunge in the river. i should like to describe our luscious dinner parties, he concludes, but i have no more paper. however, come and stay with us and you shall hear all about it. clearly this is no britain, where in the sixth century half-barbarian people camped in the abandoned villas and cooked their food on the floors of the principal rooms. and yet ... it had gone a long way downhill since the days of ausonius, and sidonius could not now ignore the very existence of the barbarians. he has indeed left notable protraits of them, especially of the king of the visigoths and of the burgundians who ruled lyons, where he was born. whenever he went to stay there, he complains, they flocked about him in embarrassing friendliness, breathing leeks and onions and dressing their hair with rancid butter (they were not, it appears, constrained to choose between spears and butter). how can he compose six foot metres, he asks, with so many seven foot patrons around him, all singing and all expecting him to admire their uncouth stream of non-latin words? the shrug of the shoulder, the genial contempt of one conscious of an infinite superiority--how clear it is. one is reminded of a verse of verlaine je suis l'empire a la fin de la decadence qui regarde passer les grands barbares blancs but sidonius's good nature was to be rudely shaken. all barbarians were not friendly giants, and the visigoths next door, under their new king euric, turned covetous eyes upon auvergne. sidonius had not been two years bishop of clermont before he had to organize the defence of the city against their attack. the avernians stood out gallantly; they would fight and they would starve, but they would defend this last stronghold of rome in gaul. but they were a small people; to resist successfully they must have help from rome itself. lest anyone should suspect me of twisting the story, i give it in the words of sidonius's editor, writing twenty years ago. julius nepos was alive to the danger that euric might cross the rhône; but weak as his resources were he could only hope to secure peace by negotiation. the quaestor licinianus had been sent into gaul to investigate the condition of affairs on the spot.... he had now returned and it was soon only too clear that hopes based on his intervention were not likely to be fulfilled. we find sidonius writing for information.... he began to fear that something was going on behind his back, and that the real danger to auvergne came no longer from determined enemies but from pusillanimous friends. his suspicions were only too well founded. on receipt of the quaestor's report a council was held to determine the policy of the empire towards the visigothic king.... the empire did not feel strong enough to support auvergne and it was decided to cede the whole territory to euric, apparently without condition. the despair of sidonius knew no bounds and he writes a nobly indignant letter to a bishop who had been concerned in the negotiations: the state of our unhappy region is miserable indeed. everyone declares that things were better in wartime than they are now after peace has been concluded. our enslavement was made the price of security for a third party; the enslavement, ah--the shame of it!, of those avernians ... who in our own time stood forth alone to stay the advance of the common enemy.... these are the men whose common soldiers were as good as captains, but who never reaped the benefit of their victories: that was handed over for your consolation, while all the crushing burden of defeat they had to bear themselves.... this is to be our reward for braving destitution, fire, sword and pestilence, for fleshing our swords in the enemy's blood and going ourselves starved into battle. this is the famous peace we dreamed of, when we tore the grass from the crannies in the walls to eat.... for all these proofs of our devotion, it would seem that we are to be made a sacrifice. if it be so, may you live to blush for a peace without either honour or advantage. auvergne had been sacrificed to save rome. but rome was not to enjoy her peace with honour for long. these things took place in ; and in the last emperor was desposed by his barbarian bear-leader, and the empire in the west came to an end. as for sidonius, the goths imprisoned him for a time and before he could recover his estate he had to write a panegyric for king euric (he who had written panegyrics for three roman emperors). it is clear that the old country house life went on as before, though the men who exchanged letters and epigrams were now under barbarian rule. but in one letter shortly before his death there breaks from sidonius a single line in which he unpacks his heart. _o neccessitas abjecta nascendi, vivendi misera dura moriendi._ 'o humiliating necessity of birth, sad necessity of living, hard necessity of dying.' shortly after he died and within twenty years clovis had embarked upon his career of conquest and theodoric was ruler of italy. . fortunatus and gregory of tours going, going, gone.... there is only the time and only the heart to look for a moment at the frankish kingdom which once was gaul, and to survey the world of fortunatus and gregory of tours, born both of them just about a century later than sidonius, in the s. for a moment when you look at fortunatus you think the world of the sixth century is the same world as that in which sidonius entertained his friends with epigrams and tennis. fortunatus, that versatile, gentle, genial, boot-licking gourmet, who somehow managed to write two of the most magnificent hymns of the christian church, came from italy on a visit to gaul in and never left it again. he travelled all over the frankish lands, in what had been germania as well as in what had been gaul. from trier to toulouse he made his way with ease by river and by road, and it might be ausonius again. fortunatus too writes a poem on the moselle; and there is the same smiling countryside with terraced vineyards sloping down to the quiet stream and the smoke of villas rising from the woods. fortunatus too made the round of the country houses, especially of the sumptuous villas belonging to leontius bishop of bordeaux, a great gallo-roman aristocrat, whose grandfather had been a friend of sidonius. the hot baths, the pillared porticos, the lawns sloping to the river, are all there; the feasts are even more magnificent (they upset fortunatus's digestion badly) and the talk is still of literature. the more intelligent of the barbarian lords have imitated this refined and luxurious life as best they may. the franks as well as the gallo-romans welcome little eager fortunatus; every count wants a set of latin verses dedicated to himself. it is plain that some of the old country house life at least has survived. the apollinaris set still enjoys its hot baths and its tennis; as dill puts it, the barbarian might rule the land, but the laws of polite society would be administered as before. but when you look again you realize that it is not the same. it is not merely because we know that even these remnants of the social and material civilization of rome would soon themselves die away that the tragedy of the sixth century looms so dark. it is because when we look below the surface we see that the life has gone out of it all, the soul that inflamed it is dead, nothing is now left but the empty shell. these men welcome fortunatus just because he comes from italy, where the rot has gone less far, where there still survives some reputation for learning and for culture. they slake their nostalgia a little in the presence of that _enfant perdue_ of a lost civilization. for this is the world of gregory of tours, of which you may read in his _history of the franks_. the rule under which it lives is the rule of the horrible merovingian kings. side by side with the villas barbarism spreads and flourishes like a jungle growth. learning is dying--hardly the ghost of a university is left--and gregory himself who came of a great gallo-roman family and was a bishop bewails his ignorance of grammar. the towns are shrinking, crouched behind their defences. the synagogues are flaming, and the first step has been taken in that tragic tale of proscription and tallage, tallage and expulsion which (it seems) must never end. as to politics, the will of the leader and his retinue is the rule of the franks, and purge and bloodbath mark every stage in the rivalry of the merovingian princes. the worst of them are devils like chilperic and fredegond, the best of them are still barbarians like that king guntram, who fills so many indulgent pages in gregory of tours. he is a vaguely contemporary figure, a fat, voluble man, now purring with jovial good nature, now bursting into explosions of wrath and violence, a strange mixture of bonhomie and brutality. it is an ironic commentary on what has happened to civilization that gregory should regard him with affection, that he should be known as 'good king guntram' and that the church should actually have canonized him after his death. good king guntram; michelet has summed him up in a phrase 'ce bon roi à qui on ne reprochait que deux ou trois meurtres.' conclusion these were the men who lived through the centuries of roman fall and barbarian triumph, and who by virtue of their elevated position, their learning, and talents, should have seen, if not foretold, the course of events. and yet as one contemplates the world of ausonius and sidonius (for by the time of gregory of tours it was already dead) one is, i think, impelled to ask oneself the question why they were apparently so blind to what was happening. the big country houses go on having their luncheon and tennis parties, the little professors in the universities go on giving their lectures and writing their books; games are increasingly popular and the theatres are always full. ausonius has seen the germans overrun gaul once, but he never speaks of a danger that may recur. sidonius lives in a world already half barbarian, yet in the year before the western empire falls he is still dreaming of the consulship for his son. why did they not realize the magnitude of the disaster that was befalling them? this is indeed a question almost as absorbing as the question why their civilization fell, for _au fond_ it is perhaps the same question. several answers may be suggested in explanation. in the first place the process of disintegration was a slow one, for the whole tempo of life was slow and what might take decades in our own time took centuries then. it is only because we can look back from the vantage point of a much later age that we can see the inexorable pattern which events are forming, so that we long to cry to these dead people down the corridor of the ages, warning them to make a stand before it is too late, hearing no answering echo, 'physician, heal thyself!' they suffered from the fatal myopia of contemporaries. it was the affairs of the moment that occupied them; for them it was the danger of the moment that must be averted and they did not recognize that each compromise and each defeat was a link in the chain dragging them over the abyss. at what point did barbarism within become a wasting disease? yet from the first skinclad german taken into a legion to the great barbarian patricians of italy, making and unmaking emperors, the chain is unbroken. at what point in the assault from without did the attack become fatal? was it the withdrawal from dacia in --allow the barbarians their sphere of influence in the east of europe, fling them the last-won recruit to romania and they will be satiated and leave the west alone? was it the settlement of the goths as _foederati_ within the empire in and the beginning of that compromise between the roman empire and the germans which, as bury says, masked the transition from the rule of one to the rule of the other, from federate states within the empire to independent states replacing it? was this policy of appeasement the fatal error? was it the removal of the legions from britain, a distant people (as a roman senator might have said) of whom we know nothing? or was it that fatal combination of spain and africa, when the vandals ensconced themselves in both provinces by and the vandal fleet (with majorca and the islands for its bases) cut off rome from her corn supplies and broke the backbone of ancient civilization, which was the mediterranean sea? not once alone in the history of europe has the triumph of a hostile rule in africa and spain spelt disaster to our civilization. but if the gradualness of this process misled the romans there were other and equally potent reasons for their blindness. most potent of all was the fact that they mistook entirely the very nature of civilization itself. all of them were making the same mistake. people who thought that rome could swallow barbarism and absorb it into her life without diluting her own civilization; the people who ran about busily saying that the barbarians were not such bad fellows after all, finding good points in their regime with which to castigate the romans and crying that except ye become as little barbarians ye shall not attain salvation; the people who did not observe in that one half of the respublica romanorum had ceased to exist and nourished themselves on the fiction that the barbarian kings were exercising a power delegated from the emperor. all these people were deluded by the same error, the belief that rome (the civilization of their age) was not a mere historical fact with a beginning and an end, but a condition of nature like the air they breathed and the earth they tread _ave roma immortalis_, most magnificent most disastrous of creeds! the fact is that the romans were blinded to what was happening to them by the very perfection of the material culture which they had created. all around them was solidity and comfort, a material existence which was the very antithesis of barbarism. how could they foresee the day when the norman chronicler would marvel over the broken hypocausts of caerleon? how could they imagine that anything so solid might conceivably disappear? their roads grew better as their statesmanship grew worse and central heating triumphed as civilization fell. but still more responsible for their unawareness was the educational system in which they were reared. ausonius and sidonius and their friends were highly educated men and gaul was famous for its schools and universities. the education which these gave consisted in the study of grammar and rhetoric, which was necessary alike for the civil service and for polite society; and it would be difficult to imagine an education more entirely out of touch with contemporary life, or less suited to inculcate the qualities which might have enabled men to deal with it. the fatal study of rhetoric, its links with reality long since severed, concentrated the whole attention of men of intellect on form rather than on matter. the things they learned in their schools had no relation to the things that were going on in the world outside and bred in them the fatal illusion that tomorrow would be as yesterday, that everything was the same, whereas everything was different. so we take our leave of them. going ... going ... gone! gone altogether? perhaps not. hundreds of years of barbarism were to elapse before a new society arose capable of matching or even excelling rome in material wealth, in arts, in sciences, and in gentler modes of existence--the _douceur de la vie_. we cannot say what date marked the moment of final recovery, or who were the men who were to represent advancing civilization as fully as ausonius or gregory of tours represented civilization in retreat: dante, shakespeare, capernicus, newton? but for many centuries, perhaps a whole millennium, before western europe scaled the heights on which these men now stood, it had been gradually raising itself from the depths of post-roman decline. the ascent was not only slow but also discontinuous, yet it was sufficient to establish within a few centuries of gregory of tours a social order different from rome and less glorious to behold across a thousand years of history, but nevertheless sufficiently exalted to draw the interest, and even to command the admiration of other still later ages. in that culture and in that social order much of what ausonius and sidonius and even fortunatus represented was brought to life again, albeit in a form they would not always have recognized as their own. to this extent, at least, they were not only the epigones of rome but the true precursors of the middle ages. chapter ii the peasant bodo life on a country estate in the time of charlemagne three slender things that best support the world: the slender stream of milk from the cow's dug into the pail; the slender blade of green corn upon the ground; the slender thread over the hand of a skilled woman. three sounds of increase: the lowing of a cow in milk; the din of a smithy; the swish of a plough. --from _the triads of ireland_ ( th century) economic history, as we know it, is the newest of all the branches of history. up to the middle of the last century the chief interest of the historian and of the public alike lay in political and constitutional history, in political events, wars, dynasties, and in political institutions and their development. substantially, therefore, history concerned itself with the ruling classes. 'let us now praise famous men,' was the historian's motto. he forgot to add 'and our fathers that begat us'. he did not care to probe the obscure lives and activities of the great mass of humanity, upon whose slow toil was built up the prosperity of the world and who were the hidden foundation of the political and constitutional edifice reared by the famous men he praised. to speak of ordinary people would have been beneath the dignity of history. carlyle struck a significant note of revolt: 'the thing i want to see,' he said, 'is not red-book lists and court calendars and parliamentary registers, but the life of man in england: what men did, thought, suffered, enjoyed.... mournful, in truth, it is to behold what the business called "history" in these so enlightened and illuminated times still continues to be. can you gather from it, read till your eyes go out, any dimmest shadow of an answer to that great question: how men lived and had their being; were it but economically, as, what wages they got and what they bought with these? unhappily you cannot.... history, as it stands all bound up in gilt volumes, is but a shade more instructive than the wooden volumes of a backgammon-board.' carlyle was a voice crying in the wilderness. today the new history, whose way he prepared, has come. the present age differs from the centuries before it in its vivid realization of that much-neglected person the man in the street; or (as it was more often in the earliest ages) the man with the hoe. today the historian is interested in the social life of the past and not only in the wars and intrigues of princes. to the modern writer, the fourteenth century, for instance, is not merely the century of the hundred years' war and of the black prince and edward iii; more significantly it is for him the era of the slow decay of villeinage in england, a fact more epoch-making, in the long run, than the struggle over our french provinces. we still praise famous men, for he would be a poor historian who could spare one of the great figures who have shed glory or romance upon the page of history; but we praise them with due recognition of the fact that not only great individuals, but people as a whole, unnamed and undistinguished masses of people, now sleeping in unknown graves, have also been concerned in the story. our fathers that begat us have come to their own at last. as acton put it, 'the great historian now takes his meals in the kitchen.' this book is chiefly concerned with the kitchens of history, and the first which we shall visit is a country estate at the beginning of the ninth century. it so happens that we know a surprising amount about such an estate, partly because charlemagne himself issued a set of orders instructing the royal stewards how to manage his own lands, telling them everything it was necessary for them to know, down to the vegetables which they were to plant in the garden. but our chief source of knowledge is a wonderful estate book which irminon, the abbot of st germain des prés near paris, drew up so that the abbey might know exactly what lands belonged to it and who lived on those lands, very much as william i drew up an estate book of his whole kingdom and called it _domesday book_. in this estate book is set down the name of every little estate (or _fisc_ as it was called) belonging to the abbey, with a description of the land which was worked under its steward to its own profit, and the land which was held by tenants, and the names of those tenants and of their wives and of their children, and the exact services and rents, down to a plank and an egg, which they had to do for their land. we know today the name of almost every man, woman, and child who was living on those little _fiscs_ in the time of charlemagne, and a great deal about their daily lives. consider for a moment how the estate upon which they lived was organized. the lands of the abbey of st germain were divided into a number of estates, called _fiscs_, each of a convenient size to be administered by a steward. on each of these _fiscs_ the land was divided into seigniorial and tributary lands; the first administered by the monks through a steward or some other officer, and the second possessed by various tenants, who received and held them from the abbey. these tributary lands were divided into numbers of little farms, called manses, each occupied by one or more families. if you had paid a visit to the chief or seigniorial manse, which the monks kept in their own hands, you would have found a little house, with three or four rooms, probably built of stone, facing an inner court, and on one side of it you would have seen a special group of houses hedged round, where the women serfs belonging to the house lived and did their work; all round you would also have seen little wooden houses, where the household serfs lived, workrooms, a kitchen, a bakehouse, barns, stables, and other farm buildings, and round the whole a hedge carefully planted with trees, so as to make a kind of enclosure or court. attached to this central manse was a considerable amount of land--ploughland, meadows, vineyards, orchards, and almost all the woods or forests on the estate. clearly a great deal of labour would be needed to cultivate all these lands. some of that labour was provided by servile workers who were attached to the chief manse and lived in the court. but these household serfs were not nearly enough to do all the work upon the monks' land, and far the greater part of it had to be done by services paid by the other landowners on the estate. [illustration: _january--ploughing_] [illustration: _march--breaking clods_] [illustration: _august--reaping_] [illustration: _december--threshing and winnowing_] . bodo at his work [illustration: ii. embarkation of the polos at venice] beside the seigniorial manse, there were a number of little dependent manses. these belonged to men and women who were in various stages of freedom, except for the fact that all had to do work on the land of the chief manse. there is no need to trouble with the different classes, for in practice there was very little difference between them, and in a couple of centuries they were all merged into one common class of medieval villeins. the most important people were those called _coloni_, who were personally free (that is to say, counted as free men by the law), but bound to the soil, so that they could never leave their farms and were sold with the estate, if it were sold. each of the dependent manses was held either by one family or by two or three families which clubbed together to do the work; it consisted of a house or houses, and farm buildings, like those of the chief manse, only poorer and made of wood, with ploughland and a meadow and perhaps a little piece of vineyard attached to it. in return for these holdings the owner or joint owners of every manse had to do work on the land of the chief manse for about three days in the week. the steward's chief business was to see that they did their work properly, and from every one he had the right to demand two kinds of labour. the first was _field work_: every year each man was bound to do a fixed amount of ploughing on the domain land (as it was called later on), and also to give what was called a _corvée_, that is to say, an unfixed amount of ploughing, which the steward could demand every week when it was needed; the distinction corresponds to the distinction between _week work_ and _boon work_ in the later middle ages. the second kind of labour which every owner of a farm had to do on the monks' land was called handwork, that is to say, he had to help repair buildings, or cut down trees, or gather fruit, or make ale, or carry loads--anything, in fact, which wanted doing and which the steward told him to do. it was by these services that the monks got their own seigniorial farm cultivated. on all the other days of the week these hard-worked tenants were free to cultivate their own little farms, and we may be sure that they put twice as much elbow grease into the business. but their obligation did not end here, for not only had they to pay services, they also had to pay certain rents to the big house. there were no state taxes in those days, but every man had to pay an army due, which charlemagne exacted from the abbey, and which the abbey exacted from its tenants; this took the form of an ox and a certain number of sheep, or the equivalent in money: 'he pays to the host two shillings of silver' comes first on every freeman's list of obligations. the farmers also had to pay in return for any special privileges granted to them by the monks; they had to carry a load of wood to the big house, in return for being allowed to gather firewood in the woods, which were jealously preserved for the use of the abbey; they had to pay some hogsheads of wine for the right to pasture their pigs in the same precious woods; every third year they had to give up one of their sheep for the right to graze upon the fields of the chief manse; they had to pay a sort of poll-tax of _d_. a head. in addition to these special rents every farmer had also to pay other rents in produce; every year he owed the big house three chickens and fifteen eggs and a large number of planks, to repair its buildings; often he had to give it a couple of pigs; sometimes corn, wine, honey, wax, soap, or oil. if the farmer were also an artisan and made things, he had to pay the produce of his craft; a smith would have to make lances for the abbey's contingent to the army, a carpenter had to make barrels and hoops and vine props, a wheelwright had to make a cart. even the wives of the farmers were kept busy, if they happened to be serfs; for the servile women were obliged to spin cloth or to make a garment for the big house every year. all these things were exacted and collected by the steward, whom they called _villicus_, or _major_ (mayor). he was a very hard-worked man, and when one reads the seventy separate and particular injunctions which charlemagne addressed to his stewards one cannot help feeling sorry for him. he had to get all the right services out of the tenants, and tell them what to do each week and see that they did it; he had to be careful that they brought the right number of eggs and pigs up to the house, and did not foist off warped or badly planed planks upon him. he had to look after the household serfs too, and set them to work. he had to see about storing, or selling, or sending off to the monastery the produce of the estate and of the tenants' rents; and every year he had to present a full and detailed account of his stewardship to the abbot. he had a manse of his own, with services and rents due from it, and charlemagne exhorted his stewards to be prompt in their payments, so as to set a good example. probably his official duties left him very little time to work on his own farm, and he would have to put in a man to work it for him, as charlemagne bade his stewards do. often, however, he had subordinate officials called _deans_ under him, and sometimes the work of receiving and looking after the stores in the big house was done by a special cellarer. that, in a few words, is the way in which the monks of st germain and the other frankish landowners of the time of charlemagne managed their estates. let us try, now, to look at those estates from a more human point of view and see what life was like to a farmer who lived upon them. the abbey possessed a little estate called villaris, near paris, in the place now occupied by the park of saint cloud. when we turn up the pages in the estate book dealing with villaris, we find that there was a man called bodo living there.[ ] he had a wife called ermentrude and three children called wido and gerbert and hildegard; and he owned a little farm of arable and meadow land, with a few vines. and we know very nearly as much about bodo's work as we know about that of a smallholder in france today. let us try and imagine a day in his life. on a fine spring morning towards the end of charlemagne's reign bodo gets up early, because it is his day to go and work on the monks' farm, and he does not dare to be late, for fear of the steward. to be sure, he has probably given the steward a present of eggs and vegetables the week before, to keep him in a good temper; but the monks will not allow their stewards to take big bribes (as is sometimes done on other estates), and bodo knows that he will not be allowed to go late to work. it is his day to plough, so he takes his big ox with him and little wido to run by its side with a goad, and he joins his friends from some of the farms near by, who are going to work at the big house too. they all assemble, some with horses and oxen, some with mattocks and hoes and spades and axes and scythes, and go off in gangs to work upon the fields and meadows and woods of the seigniorial manse, according as the steward orders them. the manse next door to bodo is held by a group of families: frambert and ermoin and ragenold, with their wives and children. bodo bids them good morning as he passes. frambert is going to make a fence round the wood, to prevent the rabbits from coming out and eating the young crops; ermoin has been told off to cart a great load of firewood up to the house; and ragenold is mending a hole in the roof of a barn. bodo goes whistling off in the cold with his oxen and his little boy; and it is no use to follow him farther, because he ploughs all day and eats his meal under a tree with the other ploughmen, and it is very monotonous. let us go back and see what bodo's wife, ermentrude, is doing. she is busy too; it is the day on which the chicken-rent is due--a fat pullet and five eggs in all. she leaves her second son, aged nine, to look after the baby hildegard and calls on one of her neighbours, who has to go up to the big house too. the neighbour is a serf and she has to take the steward a piece of woollen cloth, which will be sent away to st germain to make a habit for a monk. her husband is working all day in the lord's vineyards, for on this estate the serfs generally tend the vines, while the freemen do most of the ploughing. ermentrude and the serf's wife go together up to the house. there all is busy. in the men's workshop are several clever workmen--a shoemaker, a carpenter, a blacksmith, and two silversmiths; there are not more, because the best artisans on the estates of st germain live by the walls of the abbey, so that they can work for the monks on the spot and save the labour of carriage. but there were always some craftsmen on every estate, either attached as serfs to the big house, or living on manses of their own, and good landowners tried to have as many clever craftsmen as possible. charlemagne ordered his stewards each to have in his district 'good workmen, namely, blacksmiths, goldsmiths, silversmiths, shoemakers, turners, carpenters, swordmakers, fishermen, foilers, soapmakers, men who know how to make beer, cider, perry, and all other kinds of beverages, bakers to make pasty for our table, netmakers who know how to make nets for hunting, fishing, and fowling, and others too many to be named'.[ ] and some of these workmen are to be found working for the monks in the estate of villaris. but ermentrude does not stop at the men's workshop. she finds the steward, bobs her curtsy to him, and gives up her fowl and eggs, and then she hurries off to the women's part of the house, to gossip with the serfs there. the franks used at this time to keep the women of their household in a separate quarter, where they did the work which was considered suitable for women, very much as the greeks of antiquity used to do. if a frankish noble had lived at the big house, his wife would have looked after their work, but as no one lived in the stone house at villaris, the steward had to oversee the women. their quarter consisted of a little group of houses, with a workroom, the whole surrounded by a thick hedge with a strong bolted gate, like a harem, so that no one could come in without leave. their workrooms were comfortable places, warmed by stoves, and there ermentrude (who, being a woman, was allowed to go in) found about a dozen servile women spinning and dyeing cloth and sewing garments. every week the harassed steward brought them the raw materials for their work and took away what they made. charlemagne gives his stewards several instructions about the women attached to his manses, and we may be sure that the monks of st germain did the same on their model estates. 'for our women's work,' says charlemagne, 'they are to give at the proper time the materials, that is linen, wool, woad, vermilion, madder, wool combs, teasels, soap, grease, vessels, and other objects which are necessary. and let our women's quarters be well looked after, furnished with houses and rooms with stoves and cellars, and let them be surrounded by a good hedge, and let the doors be strong, so that the women can do our work properly.'[ ] ermentrude, however, has to hurry away after her gossip, and so must we. she goes back to her own farm and sets to work in the little vineyard; then after an hour or two goes back to get the children's meal and to spend the rest of the day in weaving warm woollen clothes for them. all her friends are either working in the fields on their husbands' farms or else looking after the poultry, or the vegetables, or sewing at home; for the women have to work just as hard as the men on a country farm. in charlemagne's time (for instance) they did nearly all the sheep shearing. then at last bodo comes back for his supper, and as soon as the sun goes down they go to bed; for their hand-made candle gives only a flicker of light, and they both have to be up early in the morning. de quincey once pointed out, in his inimitable manner, how the ancients everywhere went to bed, 'like good boys, from seven to nine o'clock'. 'man went to bed early in those ages simply because his worthy mother earth could not afford him candles. she, good old lady ... would certainly have shuddered to hear of any of her nations asking for candles. "candles indeed!" she would have said; "who ever heard of such a thing? and with so much excellent daylight running to waste, as i have provided _gratis_! what will the wretches want next?"'[ ] something of the same situation prevailed even in bodo's time. this, then, is how bodo and ermentrude usually passed their working day. but, it may be complained, this is all very well. we know about the estates on which these peasants lived and about the rents which they had to pay, and the services which they had to do. but how did they feel and think and amuse themselves when they were not working? rents and services are only outside things; an estate book only describes routine. it would be idle to try to picture the life of a university from a study of its lecture list, and it is equally idle to try and describe the life of bodo from the estate book of his masters. it is no good taking your meals in the kitchen if you never talk to the servants. this is true, and to arrive at bodo's thoughts and feelings and holiday amusements we must bid goodbye to abbot irminon's estate book, and peer into some very dark corners indeed; for though by the aid of chaucer and langland and a few court rolls it is possible to know a great deal about the feelings of a peasant six centuries later, material is scarce in the ninth century, and it is all the more necessary to remember the secret of the invisible ink. bodo certainly _had_ plenty of feelings, and very strong ones. when he got up in the frost on a cold morning to drive the plough over the abbot's acres, when his own were calling out for work, he often shivered and shook the rime from his beard, and wished that the big house and all its land were at the bottom of the sea (which, as a matter of fact, he had never seen and could not imagine). or else he wished he were the abbot's huntsman, hunting in the forest; or a monk of st germain, singing sweetly in the abbey church; or a merchant, taking bales of cloaks and girdles along the high road to paris; anything, in fact, but a poor ploughman ploughing other people's land. an anglo-saxon writer has imagined a dialogue with him: 'well, ploughman, how do you do your work?' 'oh, sir, i work very hard. i go out in the dawning, driving the oxen to the field and i yoke them to the plough. be the winter never so stark, i dare not stay at home for fear of my lord; but every day i must plough a full acre or more, after having yoked the oxen and fastened the share and coulter to the plough!' 'have you any mate?' 'i have a boy, who drives the oxen with a goad, who is now hoarse from cold and shouting,' (poor little wido!) 'well, well, it is very hard work?' 'yes, indeed it is very hard work.'[ ] nevertheless, hard as the work was, bodo sang lustily to cheer himself and wido; for is it not related that once, when a clerk was singing the 'allelulia' in the emperor's presence, charles turned to one of the bishops, saying, 'my clerk is singing very well,' whereat the rude bishop replied, 'any clown in our countryside drones as well as that to his oxen at their ploughing'?[ ] it is certain too that bodo agreed with the names which the great charles gave to the months of the year in his own frankish tongue; for he called january 'winter-month', february 'mud-month', march 'spring-month', april 'easter-month', may 'joy-month', june 'plough-month', july 'hay-month', august 'harvest-month', september 'wind-month', october 'vintage-month', november 'autumn-month', and december 'holy-month'.[ ] and bodo was a superstitious creature. the franks had been christian now for many years, but christian though they were, the peasants clung to old beliefs and superstitions. on the estates of the holy monks of st germain you would have found the country people saying charms which were hoary with age, parts of the lay sung by the frankish ploughman over his bewitched land long before he marched southwards into the roman empire, or parts of the spell which the bee-master performed when he swarmed his bees on the shores of the baltic sea. christianity has coloured these charms, but it has not effaced their heathen origin; and because the tilling of the soil is the oldest and most unchanging of human occupations, old beliefs and superstitions cling to it and the old gods stalk up and down the brown furrows, when they have long vanished from houses and roads. so on abbot irminon's estates the peasant-farmers muttered charms over their sick cattle (and over their sick children too) and said incantations over the fields to make them fertile. if you had followed behind bodo when he broke his first furrow you would have probably seen him take out of his jerkin a little cake, baked for him by ermentrude out of different kinds of meal, and you would have seen him stoop and lay it under the furrow and sing: earth, earth, earth! o earth, our mother! may the all-wielder, ever-lord grant thee acres a-waxing, upwards a-growing, pregnant with corn and plenteous in strength; hosts of grain shafts and of glittering plants! of broad barley the blossoms, and of white wheat ears waxing, of the whole land the harvest.... acre, full-fed, bring forth fodder for men! blossoming brightly, blessed become! and the god who wrought with earth grant us gift of growing that each of all the corns may come unto our need.[ ] then he would drive his plough through the acre. the church wisely did not interfere with these old rites. it taught bodo to pray to the ever-lord instead of to father heaven, and to the virgin mary instead of to mother earth, and with these changes let the old spell he had learned from his ancestors serve him still. it taught him, for instance, to call on christ and mary in his charm for bees. when ermentrude heard her bees swarming, she stood outside her cottage and said this little charm over them: christ, there is a swarm of bees outside, fly hither, my little cattle, in blest peace, in god's protection, come home safe and sound. sit down, sit down, bee, st mary commanded thee. thou shalt not have leave, thou shalt not fly to the wood. thou shalt not escape me, nor go away from me. sit very still, wait god's will![ ] and if bodo on his way home saw one of his bees caught in a brier bush, he immediately stood still and wished--as some people wish today when they go under a ladder. it was the church, too, which taught bodo to add 'so be it, lord', to the end of his charm against pain. now, his ancestors for generations behind him had believed that if you had a stitch in your side, or a bad pain anywhere, it came from a worm in the marrow of your bones, which was eating you up, and that the only way to get rid of that worm was to put a knife, or an arrow-head, or some other piece of metal to the sore place, and then wheedle the worm out on to the blade by saying a charm. and this was the charm which bodo's heathen ancestors had always said and which bodo went on saying when little wido had a pain: 'come out, worm, with nine little worms, out from the marrow into the bone, from the bone into the flesh, from the flesh into the skin, from the skin into this arrow.' and then (in obedience to the church) he added 'so be it, lord'.[ ] but sometimes it was not possible to read a christian meaning into bodo's doings. sometimes he paid visits to some man who was thought to have a wizard's powers, or superstitiously reverenced some twisted tree, about which there hung old stories never quite forgotten. then the church was stern. when he went to confession the priest would ask him: 'have you consulted magicians and enchanters, have you made vows to trees and fountains, have you drunk any magic philtre?'[ ] and he would have to confess what he did last time his cow was sick. but the church was kind as well as stern. 'when serfs come to you,' we find one bishop telling his priests, 'you must not give them as many fasts to perform as rich men. put upon them only half the penance.'[ ] the church knew well enough that bodo could not drive his plough all day upon an empty stomach. the hunting, drinking, feasting frankish nobles could afford to lose a meal. it was from this stern and yet kind church that bodo got his holidays. for the church made the pious emperor decree that on sundays and saints' days no servile or other works should be done. charlemagne's son repeated his decree in . it runs thus: we ordain according to the law of god and to the command of our father of blessed memory in his edicts, that no servile works shall be done on sundays, neither shall men perform their rustic labours, tending vines, ploughing fields, reaping corn and mowing hay, setting up hedges or fencing woods, cutting trees, or working in quarries or building houses; nor shall they work in the garden, nor come to the law courts, nor follow the chase. but three carrying-services it is lawful to do on sunday, to wit carrying for the army, carrying food, or carrying (if need be) the body of a lord to its grave. item, women shall not do their textile works, nor cut out clothes, nor stitch them together with the needle, nor card wool, nor beat hemp, nor wash clothes in public, nor shear sheep: so that there may be rest on the lord's day. but let them come together from all sides to mass in the church and praise god for all the good things he did for us on that day![ ] unfortunately, however, bodo and ermentrude and their friends were not content to go quietly to church on saints' days and quietly home again. they used to spend their holidays in dancing and singing and buffoonery, as country folk have always done until our own gloomier, more self-conscious age. they were very merry and not at all refined, and the place they always chose for their dances was the churchyard; and unluckily the songs they sang as they danced in a ring were old pagan songs of their forefathers, left over from old mayday festivities, which they could not forget, or ribald love-songs which the church disliked. over and over again we find the church councils complaining that the peasants (and sometimes the priests too) were singing 'wicked songs with a chorus of dancing women,' or holding 'ballads and dancings and evil and wanton songs and such-like lures of the devil';[ ] over and over again the bishops forbade these songs and dances; but in vain. in every country in europe, right through the middle ages to the time of the reformation, and after it, country folk continued to sing and dance in the churchyard. two hundred years after charlemagne's death there grew up the legend of the dancers of kölbigk, who danced on christmas eve in the churchyard, in spite of the warning of the priest, and all got rooted to the spot for a year, till the archbishop of cologne released them. some men say that they were not rooted standing to the spot, but that they had to go on dancing for the whole year; and that before they were released they had danced themselves waist-deep into the ground. people used to repeat the little latin verse which they were singing: equitabat bovo per silvam frondosam ducebat sibi merswindem formosam. quid stamus? cur non imus?[ ] through the leafy forest, bovo went a-riding and his pretty merswind trotted on beside him-- why are we standing still? why can't we go away? another later story still is told about a priest in worcestershire who was kept awake all night by the people dancing in his churchyard and singing a song with the refrain 'sweetheart have pity', so that he could not get it out of his head, and the next morning at mass, instead of saying 'dominus vobiscum', he said 'sweetheart have pity', and there was a dreadful scandal which got into a chronicle.[ ] sometimes our bodo did not dance himself, but listened to the songs of wandering minstrels. the priests did not at all approve of these minstrels, who (they said) would certainly go to hell for singing profane secular songs, all about the great deeds of heathen heroes of the frankish race, instead of christian hymns. but bodo loved them, and so did bodo's betters; the church councils had sometimes even to rebuke abbots and abbesses for listening to their songs. and the worst of it was that the great emperor himself, the good charlemagne, loved them too. he would always listen to a minstrel, and his biographer, einhard, tells us that 'he wrote out the barbarous and ancient songs, in which the acts of the kings and their wars were sung, and committed them to memory';[ ] and one at least of those old sagas, which he liked men to write down, has been preserved on the cover of a latin manuscript, where a monk scribbled it in his spare time. his son, louis the pious, was very different; he rejected the national poems, which he had learnt in his youth, and would not have them read or recited or taught; he would not allow minstrels to have justice in the law courts, and he forbade idle dances and songs and tales in public places on sundays; but then he also dragged down his father's kingdom into disgrace and ruin. the minstrels repaid charlemagne for his kindness to them. they gave him everlasting fame; for all through the middle ages the legend of charlemagne grew, and he shares with our king arthur the honour of being the hero of one of the greatest romance-cycles of the middle ages. every different century clad him anew in its own dress and sang new lays about him. what the monkish chroniclers in their cells could never do for charlemagne, these despised and accursed minstrels did for him: they gave him what is perhaps more desirable and more lasting than a place in history-they gave him a place in legend. it is not every emperor who rules in those realms of gold of which keats spoke, as well as in the kingdoms of the world; and in the realms of gold charlemagne reigns with king arthur, and his peers joust with the knights of the round table. bodo, at any rate, benefited by charles's love of minstrels, and it is probable that he heard in the lifetime of the emperor himself the first beginnings of those legends which afterwards clung to the name of charlemagne. one can imagine him round-eyed in the churchyard, listening to fabulous stories of charles's iron march to pavia, such as a gossiping old monk of st gall afterwards wrote down in his chronicle.[ ] it is likely enough that such legends were the nearest bodo ever came to seeing the emperor, of whom even the poor serfs who never followed him to court or camp were proud. but charles was a great traveller: like all the monarchs of the early middle ages he spent the time, when he was not warring, in trekking round his kingdom, staying at one of his estates, until he and his household had literally eaten their way through it, and then passing on to another. and sometimes he varied the procedure by paying a visit to the estates of his bishops or nobles, who entertained him royally. it may be that one day he came on a visit to bodo's masters and stopped at the big house on his way to paris, and then bodo saw him plain; for charlemagne would come riding along the road in his jerkin of otter skin, and his plain blue cloak (einhard tells us that he hated grand clothes and on ordinary days dressed like the common people);[ ] and after him would come his three sons and his bodyguard, and then his five daughters. einhard has also told us that: he had such care of the upbringing of his sons and daughters that he never dined without them when he was at home and never travelled without them. his sons rode along with him and his daughters followed in the rear. some of his guards, chosen for this very purpose, watched the end of the line of march where his daughters travelled. they were very beautiful and much beloved by their father, and, therefore, it is strange that he would give them in marriage to no one, either among his own people or of a foreign state. but up to his death he kept them all at home saying he could not forgo their society.[ ] then, with luck, bodo, quaking at the knees, might even behold a portent new to his experience, the emperor's elephant. haroun el raschid, the great sultan of the 'arabian nights' had sent it to charles, and it accompanied him on all his progresses. its name was 'abu-lubabah', which is an arabic word and means 'the father of intelligence[a]', and it died a hero's death on an expedition against the danes in .[ ] it is certain that ever afterwards ermentrude quelled little gerbert, when he was naughty, with the threat, 'abu-lubabah will come with his long nose and carry you off.' but wido, being aged eight and a bread-winner, professed to have felt no fear on being confronted with the elephant; but admitted when pressed, that he greatly preferred haroun el raschid's other present to the emperor, the friendly dog, who answered to the name of 'becerillo'. [footnote a: _abu-lubabah_.--it is remarkable that the name should have suffered no corruption in the chronicles.] it would be a busy time for bodo when all these great folk came, for everything would have to be cleaned before their arrival, the pastry cooks and sausage-makers summoned and a great feast prepared; and though the household serfs did most of the work, it is probable that he had to help. the gossipy old monk of st gall has given us some amusing pictures of the excitement when charles suddenly paid a visit to his subjects: there was a certain bishopric which lay full in charles's path when he journeyed, and which indeed he could hardly avoid: and the bishop of this place, always anxious to give satisfaction, put everything that he had at charles's disposal. but once the emperor came quite unexpectedly and the bishop in great anxiety had to fly hither and thither like a swallow, and had not only the palaces and houses but also the courts and squares swept and cleaned: and then, tired and irritated, came to meet him. the most pious charles noticed this, and after examining all the various details, he said to the bishop: 'my kind host, you always have everything splendidly cleaned for my arrival.' then the bishop, as if divinely inspired, bowed his head and grasped the king's never-conquered right hand, and hiding his irritation, kissed it and said: 'it is but right, my lord, that, wherever you come, all things should be thoroughly cleansed.' then charles, of all kings the wisest, understanding the state of affairs said to him: 'if i empty i can also fill.' and he added: 'you may have that estate which lies close to your bishopric, and all your successors may have it until the end of time.' in the same journey, too, he came to a bishop who lived in a place through which he must needs pass. now on that day, being the sixth day of the week, he was not willing to eat the flesh of beast or bird; and the bishop, being by reason of the nature of the place unable to procure fish upon the sudden, ordered some excellent cheese, rich and creamy, to be placed before him. and the most self-restrained charles, with the readiness which he showed everywhere and on all occasions, spared the blushes of the bishop and required no better fare; but taking up his knife cut off the skin, which he thought unsavoury and fell to on the white of the cheese. thereupon the bishop, who was standing near like a servant, drew closer and said: 'why do you do that, lord emperor? you are throwing away the very best part.' then charles, who deceived no one, and did not believe that anyone would deceive him, on the persuasion of the bishop put a piece of the skin in his mouth, and slowly ate it and swallowed it like butter. then approving of the advice of the bishop, he said: 'very true, my good host,' and he added: 'be sure to send me every year to aix two cartloads of just such cheeses.' and the bishop was alarmed at the impossibility of the task and, fearful of losing both his rank and his office, he rejoined: 'my lord, i can procure the cheeses, but i cannot tell which are of this quality and which of another. much i fear lest i fall under your censure.' then charles, from whose penetration and skill nothing could escape, however new or strange it might be, spoke thus to the bishop, who from childhood had known such cheeses and yet could not test them: 'cut them in two,' he said, 'then fasten together with a skewer those that you find to be of the right quality and keep them in your cellar for a time and then send them to me. the rest you may keep for yourself and your ¸clergy and your family.' this was done for two years, and the king ordered the present of cheeses to be taken in without remark: then in the third year the bishop brought in person his laboriously collected cheeses. but the most just charles pitied his labour and anxiety and added to the bishopric an excellent estate whence he and his successors might provide themselves with corn and wine.[ ] we may feel sorry for the poor flustered bishop collecting his two cartloads of cheeses; but it is possible that our real sympathy ought to go to bodo, who probably had to pay an extra rent in cheeses to satisfy the emperor's taste, and got no excellent estate to recompense him. a visit from the emperor, however, would be a rare event in his life, to be talked about for years and told to his grandchildren. but there was one other event, which happened annually, and which was certainly looked for with excitement by bodo and his friends. for once a year the king's itinerant justices, the _missi dominici_, came round to hold their court and to see if the local counts had been doing justice. two of them would come, a bishop and a count, and they would perhaps stay a night at the big house as guests of the abbot, and the next day they would go on to paris, and there they would sit and do justice in the open square before the church and from all the district round great men and small, nobles and freemen and _coloni_, would bring their grievances and demand redress. bodo would go too, if anyone had injured or robbed him, and would make his complaint to the judges. but if he were canny he would not go to them empty-handed, trusting to justice alone. charlemagne was very strict, but unless the _missi_ were exceptionally honest and pious they would not be averse to taking bribes. theodulf, bishop of orleans, who was one of the emperor's _missi_, has left us a most entertaining latin poem, in which he describes the attempts of the clergy and laymen, who flocked to his court, to buy justice.[ ] every one according to his means brought a present; the rich offered money, precious stones, fine materials, and eastern carpets, arms, horses, antique vases of gold or silver chiselled with representations of the labours of hercules. the poor brought skins of cordova leather, tanned and untanned, excellent pieces of cloth and linen (poor ermentrude must have worked hard for the month before the justices came!), boxes, and wax. 'with this battering-ram,' cries the shocked bishop theodulf, 'they hope to break down the wall of my soul. but they would not have thought that they could shake _me_, if they had not so shaken other judges before,' and indeed, if his picture be true, the royal justices must have been followed about by a regular caravan of carts and horses to carry their presents. even theodulf has to admit that, in order not to hurt people's feelings, he was obliged to accept certain unconsidered trifles in the shape of eggs and bread and wine and chickens and little birds, 'whose bodies' (he says, smacking his lips) 'are small, but very good to eat.' one seems to detect the anxious face of bodo behind those eggs and little birds. another treat bodo had which happened once a year; for regularly on the ninth of october there began the great fair of st denys, which went on for a whole month, outside the gates of paris.[ ] then for a week before the fair little booths and sheds sprang up, with open fronts in which the merchants could display their wares, and the abbey of st denys, which had the right to take a toll of all the merchants who came there to sell, saw to it that the fair was well enclosed with fences, and that all came in by the gates and paid their money, for wily merchants were sometimes known to burrow under fences or climb over them so as to avoid the toll. then the streets of paris were crowded with merchants bringing their goods, packed in carts and upon horses and oxen; and on the opening day all regular trade in paris stopped for a month, and every parisian shopkeeper was in a booth somewhere in the fair, exchanging the corn and wine and honey of the district for rarer goods from foreign parts. bodo's abbey probably had a stall in the fair and sold some of those pieces of cloth woven by the serfs in the women's quarter, or cheeses and salted meat prepared on the estates, or wine paid in rent by bodo and his fellow-farmers. bodo would certainly take a holiday and go to the fair. in fact, the steward would probably have great difficulty in keeping his men at work during the month; charlemagne had to give a special order to his stewards that they should 'be careful that our men do properly the work which it is lawful to exact from them, and that they do not waste their time in running about to markets and fairs'. bodo and ermentrude and the three children, all attired in their best, did not consider it waste of time to go to the fair even twice or three times. they pretended that they wanted to buy salt to salt down their winter meat, or some vermilion dye to colour a frock for the baby. what they really wanted was to wander along the little rows of booths and look at all the strange things assembled there; for merchants came to st denys to sell their rich goods from the distant east to bodo's betters, and wealthy frankish nobles bargained there for purple and silken robes with orange borders, stamped leather jerkins, peacock's feathers, and the scarlet plumage of flamingos (which they called 'phoenix skins'), scents and pearls and spices, almonds and raisins, and monkeys for their wives to play with.[ ] sometimes these merchants were venetians, but more often they were syrians or crafty jews, and bodo and his fellows laughed loudly over the story of how a jewish merchant had tricked a certain bishop, who craved for all the latest novelties, by stuffing a mouse with spices and offering it for sale to him, saying that 'he had brought this most precious never-before-seen animal from judea,' and refusing to take less than a whole measure of silver for it.[ ] in exchange for their luxuries these merchants took away with them frisian cloth, which was greatly esteemed, and corn and hunting dogs, and sometimes a piece of fine goldsmith's work, made in a monastic workshop. and bodo would hear a hundred dialects and tongues, for men of saxony and frisia, spain and provence, rouen and lombardy, and perhaps an englishman or two, jostled each other in the little streets; and from time to time there came also an irish scholar with a manuscript to sell, and the strange, sweet songs of ireland on his lips: a hedge of trees surrounds me, a blackbird's lay sings to me; above my lined booklet the thrilling birds chant to me. in a grey mantle from the top of bushes the cuckoo sings: verily--may the lord shield me!-- well do i write under the greenwood.[ ] then there were always jugglers and tumblers, and men with performing bears, and minstrels to wheedle bodo's few pence out of his pocket. and it would be a very tired and happy family that trundled home in the cart to bed. for it is not, after all, so dull in the kitchen, and when we have quite finished with the emperor, 'charlemagne and all his peerage', it is really worth while to spend a few moments with bodo in his little manse. history is largely made up of bodos. chapter iii _marco polo_ a venetian traveller of the thirteenth century et por ce, veul ie que un et autre sachent a tos iors mais les euvres des veneciens, et qui il furent, et dont il vindrent, et qui il sont, et comment il firent la noble cite que l'en apele venise, qui est orendroit la plus bele dou siecle.... la place de monseignor saint marc est orendroit la plus bele place qui soit en tot li monde; que de vers li soleil levant est la plus bele yglise qui soit el monde, c'est l'yglise de monseignor saint marc. et de les cele yglise est li paleis de monseignor li dus, grant e biaus a mervoilles. --martino da canale and kinsai [hangchow] is the greatest city in the whole world, so great indeed that i should scarcely venture to tell of it, but that i have met at venice people in plenty who have been there.... and if anyone should desire to tell of all the vastness and great marvels of this city, a good quire of paper would not hold the matter, i trow. for 'tis the greatest and noblest city, and the finest for merchandise, that the whole world containeth. --odoric of pordenone let us go back in mind--as would that we could go back in body--to the year . it is a year which makes no great stir in the history books, but it will serve us well. in those days, as in our own, venice lay upon her lagoons, a city (as cassiodurus long ago saw her[b]) like a sea-bird's nest afloat on the shallow waves, a city like a ship, moored to the land but only at home upon the seas, the proudest city in all the western world. for only consider her position. lying at the head of the adriatic, half-way between east and west, on the one great sea thoroughfare of medieval commerce, a mediterranean seaport, yet set so far north that she was almost in the heart of europe, venice gathered into her harbour all the trade routes overland and overseas, on which pack-horses could travel or ships sail. merchants bringing silk and spices, camphor and ivory, pearls and scents and carpets from the levant and from the hot lands beyond it, all came to port in venice. for whether they came by way of egypt sailing between the low banks of the nile and jolting on camels to alexandria, or whether they came through the rich and pleasant land of persia and the syrian desert to antioch and tyre, or whether they slowly pushed their way in a long, thin caravan across the highlands of central asia, and south of the caspian sea to trebizond, and so sailed through the black sea and the dardanelles, venice was their natural focus. only constantinople might have rivalled her, and constantinople she conquered. to venice, therefore, as if drawn by a magnet, came the spoils of the east, and from venice they went by horse across the alps by the brenner and st gothard passes to germany and france, or in galleys by way of the straits of gibraltar to england and flanders;[ ] and the galleys and pack-horses came back again to venice, laden with the metals of germany, the furs of scandinavia, the fine wools of england, the cloth of flanders, and the wine of france. [footnote b: 'hic vobis, aquatilium avium more, domus est.'] but if geography gave venice an unrivalled site, the venetians did the rest. through all the early years of their history they defied constantinople to the east of them, and pope and holy roman emperor to the west; sometimes turning to one, sometimes to the other, but stubbornly bent all the while upon independence, replying, when invited to become subjects: 'god, who is our help and protector has saved us to dwell upon these waters. this venice, which we have raised in the lagoons, is our mighty habitation, no power of emperor or of prince can touch us'; apt, if threatened, to retire to their islands and derisively to fire cannon balls of bread into the mainland force, which sought to starve them out.[ ] always they were conscious that their future lay upon the waters, and in that east, whose colour had crept into their civilization and warmed their blood. they were eastern and western both, the venetians, hot hearts for loving and conquering, icy heads for scheming and ruling. bit by bit they secured the ring of mainland behind them, all the while keeping at bay the saracen and slav sea rovers, whose ships were the terror of the mediterranean. then they descended upon the pirates of dalmatia, who thus harassed their trading vessels, and took all the dalmatian coast. the doge of venice became duke of dalmatia. 'true it is,' says their chronicles, 'that the adriatic sea is in the duchy of venice,'[ ] and they called it the 'gulf of venice'. now it was that there was first instituted the magnificent symbolical ceremony of wedding the sea, with the proud words 'desponsamus te mare in signum veri perpetuique domini'![ ] she was a maiden city, bright and free, no guile seduced, no force could violate, and when she took unto herself a mate she must espouse the everlasting sea. and truly it seemed as though the very sea had sworn to honour and obey her. then came the crusades, when europe forgot its differences and threw itself upon the paynim who held the holy places of its faith, when men from all lands marched behind the banner of the cross and the towers of jerusalem were more real than the tower of babel. now, at last, venice saw her dream within her hand. it was venice who provided galleys and venice who provided convoys and commissariat and soldiers, at a good round sum; and when time came for the division of the spoil, venice demanded in every captured town of palestine and syria a church, a counting-house and the right to trade without tolls. her great chance came in the fourth crusade, when her old blind doge enrico dandolo (whose blindness had the nelson touch) upon the pretext that the crusaders could not pay the transport fees agreed upon, turned the whole crusade to the use of venice, and conquered first zara, which had dared to revolt from her, and then her ancient--her only--rival, the immortal byzantium itself. it is true that the pope excommunicated the venetians when they first turned the armies against zara, but what matter? they looted constantinople and brought back the four great gilded horses to st mark's--st mark's, which has been compared to a robbers' cave crowded with the booty of the levant, and which held the sacred body of the saint, stolen from alexandria by the venetians, nearly four centuries before, concealed in a tub of pickled pork, in order to elude the moslems. a venetian patriarch now said mass in st sophia. venice received the proud title of 'ruler of a half and a quarter of the roman empire,' ('quartæ partis et dimidiæ totius imperii romaniæ'--the words have a ring of trumpets), and the doge, buskined in scarlet like the ancient roman emperors, now ruled supreme over four seas--the adriatic, the aegean, the sea of marmora, and the black sea. venetian factories studded all the levantine coasts, in tripoli and tyre, salonica, adrianople, and constantinople, in trebizond on the black sea, even at caffa in the far crimea, whence ran the mysterious road into russia. crete and rhodes and cyprus were hers; her galleys swept the pirates from the seas and brooked no rivals; all trade with the east must pass through venice, and venice only. the other trading cities of italy struggled against her, and genoa came near to rivalling her, but in , and again in , she utterly defeated the genoese fleet. not for the city of 'sea without fish, mountains without woods, men without faith, and women without shame' was it to bit the horses on st mark's.[ ] in venice seemed supreme. byzantium was her washpot and over the levant she had cast her shoe. truly her chronicler might write of her: dalmatia, albania, rumania, greece, trebizond, syria, armenia, egypt, cyprus, candia, apulia, sicily, and other countries, kingdoms and islands were the fruitful gardens, the proud castles of our people, where they found again pleasure, profit, and security.... the venetians went about the sea, here and there and across the sea, and in all places wheresoever water runs, and bought merchandise and brought it to venice from every side. then there came to venice germans and bavarians, french and lombards, tuscans and hungarians, and every people that lives by merchandise and they took it to their countries. small wonder that (as a later traveller observed) the venetians were proud of their great rule, and when a son was born to a venetian were wont to say among themselves, 'a signor is born into the world.' is it not true to say that venice was the proudest city on earth, _la noble cite que l'en apele venise, qui est orendroit la plus bele dou siecle_?[ ] life was a fair and splendid thing for those merchant princes, who held the gorgeous east in fee in the year of grace . in that year traders in great stone counting-houses, lapped by the waters of the canals, were checking, book in hand, their sacks of cloves, mace and nutmegs, cinnamon and ginger from the indies, ebony chessmen from indo china, ambergris from madagascar, and musk from tibet. in that year the dealers in jewels were setting prices upon diamonds from golconda, rubies and lapis lazuli from badakhshan, and pearls from the fisheries of ceylon; and the silk merchants were stacking up bales of silk and muslin and brocade from bagdad and yezd and malabar and china. in that year young gallants on the rialto (scented gallants, but each, like shakespeare's antonio, with a ship venturing into port somewhere in the levant) rubbed elbows with men of all nations, heard travellers' tales of all lands, and at dawn slipped along the canals in gondolas (not black in those days, but painted and hung with silk), saluting the morning with songs; and the red-haired ladies of venice whom centuries later titian loved to paint, went trailing up and down the marble steps of their palaces, with all the brocades of persia on their backs and all the perfumes of arabia to sweeten their little hands. it was in that year, too, that one martino da canale, a clerk in the customs house, began to busy himself (like chaucer after him) less with his accounts than with writing in the delectable french language ('por ce que lengue franceise cort parmi le monde, et est la plus delitable a lire et a oir que nule autre') a chronicle of venice. it is of the water, watery, canale's chronicle, like ariel's dirge; he has indeed, 'that intenseness of feeling which seems to resolve itself into the elements which it contemplates.' here is nothing indeed, of 'the surge and thunder of the odyssey', but the lovely words sparkle like the sun on the waters of the mediterranean, and like a refrain, singing itself in and out of the narrative, the phrase recurs, 'li tens estoit clers et biaus ... et lors quant il furent en mer, li mariniers drecerent les voiles au vent, et lesserent core a ploine voiles les mes parmi la mer a la force dou vent';[ ] for so much of the history of venice was enacted upon deck. it is a passing proud chronicle, too, for canale was, and well he knew it, a citizen of no mean city. 'now would i,' he says, 'that every one and all know for ever the works of the venetians, who they were and whence they came and what they are, and how they made the noble city which is called venice, which is this day the fairest in the world. and i would that all those who are now living and those who are to come know how the noble city is builded and how all good things abound in her, and how the sire of the venetians, the noble doge, is powerful, and what nobility is found therein and the prowess of the venetian people, and how they are all perfect in the faith of jesu christ and obedient to holy church, and how they never disobey the commandment of holy church. within this noble venice there dares to dwell neither heretic, nor usurer, murderer, thief nor robber. and i will tell you the names of all the doges that have been in venice, one after the other, and what they did to the honour of holy church and of their noble city. and i will tell you the names of the noble captains whom the noble doges sent in their time to lay low their enemies, and concerning the victories that they won i will have you know, for it is fitting.... in the year of the incarnation of our lord jesu christ mcclxvii years, in the time of milord renier zeno, the high doge of venice, i laboured and strove until i found the ancient history of the venetians, whence they came first and how they builded the noble city called venice, which is today the fairest and the pleasantest in the world, full of beauty and of all good things. merchandise flows through this noble city even as water flows from the fountains, and the salt water runs through it and round it and in all places save in the houses and the streets; and when the citizens go abroad they can return to their houses by land or by water, as they will. from all parts there come merchandise and merchants, who buy merchandise as they will and take it back to their own countries. within this town is found food in great plenty, bread and wine, land fowl and river fowl, fresh meat and salt, and sea fish and river fish.... you may find within this fair town many men of gentle birth, both old men and young _damoisaus_ in plenty, and merchants with them, who buy and sell, and money changers and citizens of all crafts, and therewith mariners of all sorts, and ships to carry them to all lands and galleys to lay low their enemies. and in this fair town is also great plenty of ladies and damsels and maidens, very richly apparelled.'[ ] it happened that there was a new doge that year, our year , lorenzo tiepolo by name, and a great procession of the gilds took place before the palace on the piazza of st mark to welcome his accession. martino da canale was watching it and wrote it all down in his chronicle. first came the navy sailing past in the harbour, fifty galleys and other ships, with their crews cheering and shouting on deck. then came the gilds on foot: first the master smiths, with garlands on their heads and banners and trumpets; then the furriers apparelled in samite and scarlet silk, with mantles of ermine and vair; then the weavers richly bedight, and the ten master tailors in white with crimson stars. then the master clothworkers passed, carrying boughs of olive and wearing crowns of olive on their heads; then the fustian makers in furred robes of their own weaving, and the quilt makers with garlands of gilt beads and white cloaks sewn with fleurs-de-lis, marching two by two, with little children singing _chansonettes_ and _cobles_ before them. then came the makers of cloth of gold, all in cloth of gold, and their servants in cloth of gold or of purple, followed by the mercers in silk and the butchers in scarlet, the fish sellers robed and furred and garlanded, and the master barbers, having with them two riders attired as knights-errant, and four captive damsels, strangely garbed. then came the glass-workers in scarlet furred with vair, and gold-fringed hoods, and rich garlands of pearls, carrying flasks and goblets of the famous venetian glass before them, and the comb and lantern makers, with a lantern full of birds to let loose in the doge's presence, and the goldsmiths wearing wreaths and necklaces of gold and silver beads and sapphires, emeralds, diamonds, topazes, jacinths, amethysts, rubies, jasper, and carbuncles. master and servants alike were sumptuously clad, and almost all wore gold fringes on their hoods, and garlands of gilded beads. each craft was accompanied by its band of divers instruments, and bore with it silver cups and flagons of wine, and all marched in fair order, singing ballads and songs of greeting, and saluted the doge and dogaressa in turn, crying 'long live our lord, the noble doge lorenzo tiepolo!' gild after gild they marched in their splendour, lovely alike to ear and eye; and a week fled before the rejoicings were ended and all had passed in procession. canale surpasses himself here, for he loved state ceremonies; he gives a paragraph to the advance of each gild, its salutation and withdrawal, and the cumulative effect of all the paragraphs is enchanting, like a prose ballade, with a repeated refrain at the end of every verse.[ ] what, they lived once thus in venice, where the merchants were the kings, where st mark's is, where the doges used to wed the sea with rings? listening to the magnificent salutation of the doge by the priests of st mark's, 'criste, vince, criste regne, criste inpere. notre signor laurens teuples, des gracie, inclit dus de venise, dalmace atque groace, et dominator de la quarte partie et demi de tot l'enmire de romanie, sauvement, honor, vie, et victoire. saint marc, tu le aie,'[ ] who, hearing, could have doubted that venice, defier of rome and conqueror of constantinople, was the finest, richest, most beautiful, and most powerful city in the world? but was she? listen and judge. thousands of miles away from venice, across the lands and seas of asia, a little south of the yangtze river and close to the sea stood the city of kinsai or hangchow, the capital of the sung emperors, who ruled southern china, not yet (in ) conquered by the tartars.[ ] like venice, kinsai stood upon lagoons of water and was intersected by innumerable canals. it was a hundred miles in circuit, not counting the suburbs which stretched round it, and there was not a span of ground which was not well peopled. it had twelve great gates, and each of the twelve quarters which lay within the gates was greater than the whole of venice. its main street was two hundred feet wide, and ran from end to end of the city, broken every four miles by a great square, lined with houses, gardens, palaces, and the shops of the artisans, who were ruled by its twelve great craft gilds. parallel with the main street was the chief canal, beside which stood the stone warehouses of the merchants who traded with india. twelve thousand stone bridges spanned its waterways, and those over the principal canals were high enough to allow ships with their tapering masts to pass below, while the carts and horses passed overhead. in its market-places men chaffered for game and peaches, sea-fish, and wine made of rice and spices; and in the lower part of the surrounding houses were shops, where spices and drugs and silk, pearls and every sort of manufactured article were sold. up and down the streets of kinsai moved lords and merchants clad in silk, and the most beautiful ladies in the world swayed languidly past in embroidered litters, with jade pins in their black hair and jewelled earrings swinging against their smooth cheeks.[ ] on one side of this city lay a beautiful lake (famous in chinese history, and still one of the fairest prospects upon earth), studded with wooded islands, on which stood pavilions with charming names: 'lake prospect', 'bamboo chambers', 'the house of the eight genii', and 'pure delight'. here, like the venetians, the men of kinsai came for pleasure parties in barges, nobly hung and furnished, the cabins painted with flowers and mountain landscapes, and looking out they saw on one side the whole expanse of the city, its palaces, temples, convents, and gardens, and on the other the stretch of clear water, crowded with coloured pleasure boats, over which came echoing the high, clear voices and the tinkling instruments of the revellers. there is no space in which to tell of the king's palace, with its gardens and orchards, its painted pavilions, and the groves where the palace ladies coursed the game with dogs, and, tired of the pastime, flung off their robes and ran to the lake, where they disported themselves like a shoal of silver fishes. but a word must be said of the junks, which came sailing into the harbour four and twenty miles away, and up the river to the city; and of the great concourse of ships which came to zaiton (perhaps the modern amoy), the port of the province. here every year came a hundred times more pepper than came to the whole of christendom through the levantine ports. here from indo china and the indies came spices and aloes and sandalwood, nutmegs, spikenard and ebony, and riches beyond mention. big junks laded these things, together with musk from tibet, and bales of silk from all the cities of mansi[c], and sailed away in and out of the east india archipelago, with its spice-laden breezes billowing their sails, to ceylon. there merchants from malabar and the great trading cities of southern india took aboard their cargoes and sold them in turn to arab merchants, who in their turn sold them to the venetians in one or other of the levantine ports. europeans who saw zaiton and the other chinese seaports in after years were wont to say that no one, not even a venetian, could picture to himself the multitude of trading vessels which sailed upon those eastern seas and crowded into those chinese harbours. they said also with one accord that kinsai was without doubt the finest and richest and noblest city in the world. to the men of kinsai, venice would have been a little suburb and the levant a backyard. the whole of the east was their trading field, and their wealth and civilization were already old when venice was a handful of mud huts peopled by fishermen. [footnote c: mansi or manji was southern china and cathay was northern china, the boundary between them lying along the river hoang-ho on the east and the southern boundary of shensi on the west.] nor was kinsai alone and unmatched in all its wonder and beauty, for a three days' journey from it stood sugui, which today we call suchow, lying also on the great canal, with its circumference of twenty miles, its prodigious multitudes swarming the streets, its physicians, philosophers, and magicians; sugui, with the ginger which was so common that forty pounds of it might be bought for the price of a venetian silver groat, the silk which was manufactured in such vast quantities that all the citizens were dressed in it and still ships laden with it sailed away; sugui under whose jurisdiction were sixteen wealthy cities, where trade and the arts flourished. if you had not seen hangchow, you would have said that there was no city in the world, not venice nor constantinople nor another worthy to be named in the same breath with sugui. the chinese indeed, seeing the riches and beauty of these two cities, doubted whether even the pleasant courts of heaven could show their equal and proudly quoted the proverb: _shang yeu t'ien t'ang, hia yeu su hang_. (there's paradise above, 'tis true, but here below we've hang and su.)[ ] kinsai seems far enough away in all conscience from venice in the year , and venice was all unwitting of its existence, far beyond the sunrise. yet there was in the city of the lagoons that year, watching the same procession of the gilds which canale watched, a boy who was destined to link them for ever in the minds of men--a lean lad of fourteen, marco polo by name, who was always kicking his heels on the quay and bothering foreign sailors for tales of distant lands. he heard all they had to tell him very willingly, storing it up in that active brain of his, for his curiosity was insatiable; but always the tales that he heard most willingly were about the tartars. at this time the tartars were at the height of their power in the west and the east. tartars ruled at peking all over northern china, corea, mongolia, manchuria, and tibet, and took tribute from indo-china and java. tartars were spread over central asia, holding sway in turkestan and afghanistan. the golden horde ruled the caucasus, a large part of russia, and a piece of siberia. tartars held sway in persia, georgia, armenia, and a part of asia minor. when the great mangu khan died in , one empire lay spread across asia and europe, from the yellow river to the danube. there had been nothing like it in the world before, and there was nothing like it again, until the russian empire of modern times. by it was beginning to split up into the four kingdoms of china, central asia, russia, and persia, but still it was one people. now, the attitude of the west to the tartars at this time was very interesting. at first it feared them as a new scourge of god, like attila and his huns; they overran poland, ravaged hungary, and seemed about to break like a great flood upon the west, and overwhelm it utterly. then the tide rolled back. gradually the west lost its first stupefaction and terror and began to look hopefully towards the tartars as a possible ally against its age-old foe, the moslem. the christians of the west knew that the tartars had laid the moslem power low through the length and breadth of asia, and they knew too, that the tartars had no very sharply defined faith and were curious of all beliefs that came their way. gradually the west became convinced that the tartars might be converted to christianity, and fight side by side beneath the cross against the hated crescent. there grew up the strange legend of prester john, a christian priest-king, ruling somewhere in the heart of asia; and indeed little groups of nestorian christians did still survive in eastern asia at this time.[ ] embassies began to pass between tartar khans and western monarchs, and there began also a great series of missions of franciscan friars to tartary, men who were ethnologists and geographers at heart as well as missionaries, and have left us priceless accounts of the lands which they visited. in the year of grace , much was known about central asia, for in the pope had sent the italian friar john of plano carpini thither, and in another friar, william of rubruck, a french fleming, had been sent by the saintly louis, king of france. both got as far as karakorum, the tartar camp on the borders of northern china, though they did not enter china itself. they had brought back innumerable stories about the nomad conquerors, who carried their tents on carts, and drank fermented mares' milk, about the greatness of the khan and his welcome to the strangers from the west, and the interest with which he listened to their preaching.[ ] these tales were common property now, and marco polo must have listened to them. marco polo was always talking of the tartars, always asking about them. indeed, he had reason to be interested in them. this (as we have said) was the year of grace , and eight years before (some, indeed, say fifteen years) his father, nicolo polo, and his uncle maffeo had vanished into tartary. they were rich merchants, trading with their own ship to constantinople, and there they had decided to go on a commercial venture into the lands of the golden horde, which lay to the north of the black sea. so they had sailed over to the crimea, where they had a counting-house at soldaia, and taking with them a store of costly jewels, for they were jewel merchants, they had set off on horseback to visit the khan of the west tartars. so much the venetians knew, for word had come back from soldaia of their venture; but they had never returned. and so marco, kicking his heels upon the quay, caught sailor-men by the sleeve and asked them about those wild horsemen with their mares' milk and their magicians and their droves of cattle; and as he asked he wondered about his father and his uncle, and whether they were dead and lost for ever in the wilds of tartary. but even while he asked and wondered and kicked his heels on the quay, while the doge tiepolo was watching the procession of the gilds and the clerk canale was adding up customs dues or writing the ancient history of the venetians, at that very moment the two polos were slowly and wearily making their way across the heights of central asia with a caravan of mules and camels, drawing near to golden samarcand with its teeming bazaars, coming nearer and nearer to the west; and in the following year, , they reached acre, and took ship there for venice, and so at last came home. they had a strange story to tell, stranger and better than anything the lean, inquisitive boy had heard upon the quays. they had soon disposed of their jewels and they had spent a year at the camp of the khan of the golden horde of kipchak on the mighty river volga. then war broke out between that ruler and the khan who ruled the persian khanate, and it cut off their way back. but marco's curiosity was inherited; and no venetian was ever averse to seeing strange lands and seeking out new opportunities for trade; so the polos decided to go on and visit the khan of central asia or chagatai, and perhaps make their way back to constantinople by some unfrequented route. they struggled over plains peopled only by tent-dwelling tartars and their herds, until at last they reached the noble city of bokhara. they must have followed the line of the oxus river, and if we reverse the marvellous description which matthew arnold wrote of that river's course in _sohrab and rustum_, we shall have a picture of the polos' journey: but the majestic river floated on, out of the mist and hum of that low land, into the frosty starlight, and there moved, rejoicing, through the hush'd chorasmian waste under the solitary moon; he flow'd right for the polar star, past orgunjè, brimming and bright and large: then sands begin to hem his watery march, and dam his streams, and split his currents; that for many a league the shorn and parcell'd oxus strains along through beds of sand and matted rushy isles-- oxus, forgetting the bright speed he had in his high mountain cradle in pamere, a foil'd circuitous wanderer:--till at last the long'd-for dash of waves is heard, and wide his luminous home of waters opens, bright and tranquil, from whose floor the new-bathed stars emerge and shine upon the aral sea. for three years the polos remained at bokhara, until one day it happened that an embassy came to the city, on its way back from the khan in persia to the great khan kublai, who ruled in far-off china, and to whom all the tartar rulers owed allegiance. the chief ambassador was struck with the talents and charm of the brothers, who had now become proficient in the tartar language, and persuaded them to accompany him on his journey to the presence of the great khan, who had never yet set eyes on a man of the west, and would, he assured them, receive them honourably. they would not have been venetians had they refused such an opportunity, and, taking their venetian servants with them, they journeyed for a year with the tartar embassy across the heart of asia, and so reached the great kublai khan. many years later marco himself described their reception, as they had told it to him: being introduced to the presence of the grand khan kublai, the travellers were received by him with the condescension and affability that belonged to his character, and as they were the first latins who had made their appearance in that country, they were entertained with feasts and honoured with other marks of distinction. entering graciously into conversations with them, he made earnest inquiries on the subject of the western parts of the world, of the emperor of the romans, and of other christian kings and princes ... and above all he questioned them particularly respecting the pope, the affairs of the church, and the religious worship and doctrine of the christians. being well instructed and discreet men, they gave appropriate answers upon all these points, and as they were perfectly acquainted with the tartar language, they expressed themselves always in becoming terms; insomuch that the grand khan, holding them in high estimation, frequently commanded their attendance.[ ] [illustration: iii. part of a landscape by chao mÊng-fu] the great khan finally decided to send these two intelligent strangers back to their own land on a mission from himself to the pope, asking for a hundred men of learning to be sent to teach and preach to his tartars, and for some holy oil from the lamp which burned over christ's sepulchre in jerusalem. he provided them with a golden tablet of honour, which acted as a passport and secured that they should be entertained and their journey facilitated from city to city in all his dominions, and so they set forth once more upon their homeward journey, but they were delayed by the dangers and difficulties of travel, 'the extreme cold, the snow, the ice, and the flooding of the rivers', and it was three years before they at last reached acre in the april of , and finding that the pope had died the year before, and that no election had yet been made, so that they could not immediately accomplish their mission, they decided to visit their home again, and so went back to venice. there nicolo found that his wife, who had been with child at his departure, was dead, leaving behind her a son marco, our young haunter of quays. [illustration: iv. madame eglentyne at home] this was the marvellous tale which the same marco drank in from the lips of his new-found father and uncle. but more marvels were to come. for two years the venetians remained at home, awaiting the election of a pope in order to deliver the great khan's letters; but no election was made, and at last, fearing that kublai might suspect them of playing him false, they decided to return to the east, and this time they took with them marco, now a well-grown lad of sixteen or seventeen years with a bright eye that looked everywhere and took in everything, observant and sober beyond his age. but when they got as far as ayas on the gulf of scanderoon, news was brought them of the election of tebaldo di piacenza as pope gregory x, and as tebaldo had already interested himself in their mission, they returned with all speed to acre, and obtained from him letters to the khan (they had already visited jerusalem and provided themselves with some of the holy oil), and two dominican friars, 'men of letters and science as well as profound theologians,' though not the hundred men of learning for whom the khan had asked; and so they set out again from acre in november . the dominicans may have been profound theologians, but they were somewhat chicken-hearted adventurers, and when rumours reached them of wars in the district of armenia, through which they had to pass, they hastily handed over their letters to the venetians, put themselves under the protection of the knights templars, and scuttled back to the coast and safety as fast as they could go, leaving the polos, 'undismayed by perils and difficulties, to which they had long been inured,' to proceed alone. assuredly, st francis crows over st dominic somewhere in the courts of heaven; his friars never feared for their skins, as they travelled blithely into the heat of india and the cold of central asia; and it is easy to imagine the comments of fat william of rubruck upon the flight of the profound theologians. the account of this second journey of the polos may be read in the wonderful book which marco afterwards wrote to describe the wonders of the world. they went from lajazzo through turcomania, past mount ararat, where marco heard tell that noah's ark rested, and where he first heard also of the oil wells of baku and the great inland sea of caspian. past mosul and bagdad they went, through persia, where brocades are woven and merchants bring caravan after caravan of treasures, to hormuz, on the persian gulf, into which port put the ships from india, laden with spices, drugs, scented woods, and jewels, gold tissues and elephants' teeth. here they meant to take ship, but they desisted, perhaps because they feared to trust themselves to the flimsy nailless vessels in which the arabs braved the dangers of the indian ocean. so they turned north again and prepared to make the journey by land. they traversed the salt desert of kerman, through balk and khorassan to badakhshan, where there are horses bred from alexander the great's steed bucephalus, and ruby mines and lapis lazuli. it is a land of beautiful mountains and wide plains, of trout streams and good hunting, and here the brothers sojourned for nearly a year, for young marco had fallen ill in the hot plains: a breath of mountain air blows through the page in which he describes how amid the clean winds his health came back to him. when he was well, they went on again, and ascended the upper oxus to the highlands of pamir, 'the roof of the world' as it has been called in our own time, a land of icy cold, where marco saw and described the great horned sheep which hunters and naturalists still call after him the _ovis poli_,[ ] a land which no traveller (save benedict goës, about ) described again, until lieutenant john wood of the indian navy went there in . thence they descended upon kashgar, yarkand, and khotan, where jade is found, regions which no one visited again until . from khotan they pushed on to the vicinity of lake lob, never to be reached again until a russian explorer got there in . they halted there to load asses and camels with provisions, and then, with sinking hearts, they began the terrible thirty days' journey across the gobi desert. marco gives a vivid description of its terrors, voices which seem to call the traveller by name, the march of phantom cavalcades, which lures them off the road at night, spirits which fill the air with sounds of music, drums and gongs and the clash of arms--all those illusions which human beings have heard and seen and feared in every desert and in every age. what might this be? a thousand fantasies begin to throng into my memory, of calling shapes, and beckoning shadows dire, and airy tongues that syllable men's names on sands and shores and desert wildernesses. at last they arrived safely at tangut in the extreme north-west of china, and, skirting the frontier across the great steppes of mongolia, they were greeted by the khan's people, who had been sent forward to meet them at the distance of forty days' journey, and so at last they reached his presence in the may of , having journeyed for three years and a half. the great khan received the polos kindly, listened attentively to the account which they gave of their mission, commended them for their zeal and fidelity, and received the holy oil and the pope's gifts with reverence. he then observed the boy marco, now a 'young gallant' and personable enough, no doubt, and inquired who he was, and nicolo made answer, 'sire, this is your servant, and my son,' to which the khan replied, 'he is welcome, and much it pleases me,' and enrolled marco among his own attendants. it was the beginning of a long and close association, for kublai khan soon found that marco polo was both discreet and intelligent, and began to employ him on various missions. moreover, marco, for his part, found that the great khan was always desirous of learning the manners and customs of the many tribes over whom he ruled. kublai had to the full that noble curiosity which is the beginning of wisdom, and it irked him exceedingly that his envoys, good conscientious men, followed their noses upon his business, looking neither to right nor to left, and as like as not never even noticed that among the aboriginal hill tribes of the interior called miaotzu there prevailed the peculiar and entertaining custom of the _couvade_, wherein chinese go to bed and lie in, in their ladies' stead.[ ] 'the prince, in consequence,' says marco, 'held them for no better than fools and dolts and would say, "i had far liever hearken about the strange things and the manners of the different countries you have seen than merely be told of the business you went upon,"' very different was the habit of the venetian, who as a lad, had lent ear so readily to swarthy sailors on the rialto. he quickly picked up several of the languages current in the great khan's empire, and here is his account of his proceedings when on a mission to foreign parts: perceiving that the great khan took a pleasure in hearing accounts of whatever was new to him respecting the customs and manners of people, and the peculiar circumstances of distant countries, he endeavoured, wherever he went, to obtain correct information on these subjects and made notes of all he saw and heard, in order to gratify the curiosity of his master. in short, during seventeen years that he continued in his service, he rendered himself so useful, that he was employed on confidential missions to every part of the empire and its dependencies; and sometimes also he travelled on his own private account, but always with the consent and sanctioned by the authority of the grand khan. in such circumstances it was that marco polo had the opportunity of acquiring a knowledge, either by his own observation or by what he collected from others, of so many things until his time unknown, respecting the eastern parts of the world, and these he diligently and regularly committed to writing.... and by this means he obtained so much honour that he provoked the jealousy of other officers of the court.[ ] it is small wonder that when first the lad came back with his reports the great khan and his courtiers marvelled and exclaimed, 'if this young man live he will assuredly be a person of great worth and ability.' it was while on these various public missions that marco polo journeyed through the provinces of shansi, shensi, and szechuen, and skirted the edge of tibet to yunnan, and entered northern burma, lands unknown again to the west until after . for three years he was himself governor of the great city of yangchow, which had twenty-four towns under its jurisdiction, and was full of traders and makers of arms and military accoutrements.[ ] he visited karakorum in mongolia, the old tartar capital, and with his uncle maffeo spent three years in tangut. on another occasion he went on a mission to cochin china, and by sea to the southern states of india, and he has left a vivid picture of the great trading cities of malabar. he might indeed have pondered with ulysses, i am become a name for always roaming with a hungry heart, much have i seen and known, cities of men, and manners, climates, countries, governments, myself not least, but honoured of them all. he describes the great capital cambaluc (peking) in the north, and the beautiful kinsai (hangchow) in the south. he describes the khan's summer palace at shandu, with its woods and gardens, its marble palace, its bamboo pavilion swung like a tent from two hundred silken cords, its stud of white mares, and its wonder-working magicians. indeed his description of the summer palace is better known to englishmen than any other part of his work, for shandu is xanadu, which coleridge saw in a dream after he had been reading marco's book and wove into wonderful verse: in xanadu did kubla khan a stately pleasure dome decree, where alph the sacred river ran, past caverns measureless to man, down to a sunless sea. and there were gardens bright with sinuous rills where blossomed many an incense bearing tree, and here were forests, ancient as the hills enfolding sunny spots of greenery. nor is it only palaces which marco polo describes, for he tells of the great canal and inland river trade of china, the exports and imports at its harbours, the paper money, the system of posts and caravanserais, which linked it together. he gives an unsurpassed picture of that huge, rich, peaceful empire, full of wealth and commerce and learned men and beautiful things, and of its ruler kublai khan, one of the noblest monarchs who ever sat upon a throne, who, since 'china is a sea that salts all the rivers that flow into it,'[ ] was far more than a barbarous mongol khan, was in very truth a chinese emperor, whose house, called by the chinese the 'yuan dynasty', takes its place among the great dynasties of china. even more than marco polo tells us he must, indeed, have seen. the impersonality of the greater part of the book is its one blemish, for we would fain know more of how he lived in china. there is some evidence that he consorted with the mongol conquerors rather than with the chinese, and that chinese was not one of the languages which he learned. he makes no mention of several characteristic chinese customs, such as the compressed feet of the women, and fishing with cormorants (both of which are described by ordoric of pordenone after him); he travelled through the tea districts of fo-kien, but he never mentions tea-drinking, and he has no word to say even of the great wall.[ ] and how typical a european he is, in some ways, for all his keen interest in new and strange things. 'they are,' he says of the peaceful merchants and scholars of suchow, 'a pusillanimous race and solely occupied with their trade and manufactures. in these indeed they display considerable ability, and if they were as enterprising, manly, and warlike as they are ingenious, so prodigious is their number that they might not only subdue the whole of the province, but carry their rule further still.'[ ] nearly five hundred years later we find the same judgement expressed in different words: 'better fifty years of europe than a cycle of cathay.' the answer is a question: would you rather be the pusillanimous chinese, who painted the landscape roll of which a portion is reproduced opposite page , or the enterprising, manly, and warlike european of the same period, whose highest achievement in pictorial art is the picture of marco polo's embarkation, reproduced opposite page ? what is civilization and what progress? yet marco polo shows himself throughout his book far from unable to appreciate other standards than those of his own land and religion, for of sakya-muni buddha he says that, 'had he been a christian he would have been a great saint of our lord jesus christ,' and he could honour kublai as that great khan deserved. nevertheless, although marco polo shows less knowledge of the chinese than one might expect from the extraordinary detail and fidelity of his observation in other directions, he must have known many of these charming and cultivated people, at kinsai or cambaluc, or at the city which he governed. among others, he must have known the great artist who painted the roll mentioned above, chao mêng-fu, whom the chinese called '_sung ksüeh tao jen_' or the 'apostle of pine trees and snow'. he was a lineal descendant of the founder of the sung dynasty and a hereditary official. when that dynasty at last fell before the tartars, he and his friend ch'ien hsüan, 'the man of the jade pool and roaring torrent', retired into private life. but in chao mêng-fu was summoned to court by kublai khan, and, to the indignation of his friend, returned and became secretary in the board of war, occupying his time in this post (what must marco polo have thought of him!) in painting his marvellous pictures. he became a great favourite of the khan and was always about the court, and marco polo must have known him well and perhaps have watched him at work painting those matchless landscapes, and those pictures of horses and men for which he was famous. marco loved horses, as, indeed, he loved all kinds of sport (of which he had plenty, for the khan was a great hunter and hawker), and he has left a word picture of the white brood mares at shansi, which may be set beside chao mêng-fu's brush picture of the 'eight horses in the park of kublai khan'.[ ] he knew, too, perhaps chao mêng-fu's wife, the lady kuan, who painted most exquisitely the graceful bamboo and the peony, so loved by chinese artists, and of whom it is related that 'she would watch the moving shadows of the sprays thrown by the moon on the paper windows, and transfer the fugitive outlines to paper with a few strokes of her supple brush, so that every smallest scrap of her work was mounted in albums as models for others to copy'.[ ] chao mêng-fu and the lady kuan had a son, chao yung, who is of special interest to us, for he painted a picture of a tangut hunter, and marco polo has also given a description of the tartar horsemen and of the province of tangut, where he saw and described the musk deer and the yak. but we must return to the history of the polos in china. from time to time in marco's book we hear also of his father and uncle, travelling about the empire, growing rich by trade, and amassing a store of those jewels, in the value of which they were so skilled, even helping the khan to reduce a rebel town, by constructing siege engines for him on the european model, handy venetians that they were, who could lay their hands to anything.[ ] without doubt they were proud of their marco, who from an inquisitive lad had grown to so wise and observant a man, and had risen to so high a position. so for seventeen years the three polos abode in the khan's service in china. the long months slipped by; and at last they began to feel upon them a longing to see venice and the lagoons again, and to hear mass once more beneath the majestic roof of st mark's before they died. moreover, kublai khan was growing old himself, and the favour which he had always shown to them had excited some jealousy among his own people, and they feared what might happen when he died. but the old khan was adamant to all their prayers; wealth and honours were theirs for the asking, but he would not let them go. they might, indeed, have died in china, and we of the west might never have heard of marco polo or of kublai khan, but for a mere accident, a stroke of fate, which gave them their chance. in arghun, the khan of persia, lost by death his favourite wife bolgana, and, according to her dying wish, he sent ambassadors to the court of peking to ask for another bride from her own mongol tribe. their overland route home again was endangered by a war, and they therefore proposed to return by sea. just at that moment, marco polo happened to return from a voyage on which he had been sent, and spoke with such assurance of the ease with which it had been accomplished, that the three ambassadors conceived a strong desire to take with them all three of these ingenious venetians, who seemed to know so much about ships. thus it was that the great khan was prevailed upon, very reluctantly, to let them go. early in they set sail from the busy port of zaiton in fourteen big chinese junks (of which marco, writing of the shipping of the indian and china seas, has left an excellent description),[ ] with the three envoys, the princess, a beautiful girl of seventeen, 'moult bèle dame at avenant,' says marco, who had an eye for pretty ladies, and a large suite of attendants. one version of marco's book says that they took with them also the daughter of the king of mansi, one of those sung princesses who in happier days had wandered beside the lake in hangchow, and who had no doubt been brought up at cambaluc by the care of kublai khan's favourite queen, the lady jamui. the voyage was a long and difficult one; they suffered lengthy delays in sumatra, ceylon, and southern india, occupied by marco in studying the sea charts of the coast of india which the arab pilots showed him, and adding to his knowledge of these parts, which he had already visited. thus it was over two years before the junks reached persia, and two of the three envoys and a large number of their suite had died by the way. when at last they landed, it was found that arghun, the prospective bridegroom, had meanwhile died too, leaving his throne in the charge of a regent for his young son. but on the regent's advice a convenient solution of the difficulty was found by handing the princess over to this prince, and marco and his uncles duly conducted her to him in the province of timochain, where marco polo noticed that the women were 'in my opinion the most beautiful in the world', where stood the famed and solitary _arbor secco_, and where men still told tales of great alexander and darius. there they took leave of their princess, who had come on the long voyage to love them like fathers, so marco says, and wept sorely when they parted. it was while they were still in persia, where they stayed for nine months after handing over the princess, that the polos received news of the death of the great khan whom they had served so faithfully for so many years. he died at the ripe age of eighty, and with his death a shadow fell over central asia, darkening the shining yellow roofs of cambaluc, the barren plains of sericana, where chineses drive with sails and wind their cany waggons light, the minarets of persia, and the tents of wild kipchak tartars, galloping over the russian steppes. so wide had been the sway of kublai khan. a shadow fell also upon the heart of marco polo. it was as though a door had clanged to behind him, never to open again. 'in the course of their journey,' he says, 'our travellers received intelligence of the great khan having departed this life, which entirely put an end to all prospects of their revisiting those regions.' so he and his elders went on by way of tabriz, trebizond, and constantinople to venice, and sailed up to the city of the lagoons at long last at the end of . a strange fairy-tale legend has come down to us about the return of the polos. 'when they got thither,' says ramusio, who edited marco's book in the fifteenth century, 'the same fate befell them as befell ulysses, who when he returned after his twenty years' wanderings to his native ithaca was recognized by nobody.' when, clad in their uncouth tartar garb, the three polos knocked at the doors of the ca' polo, no one recognized them, and they had the greatest difficulty in persuading their relatives and fellow-venetians that they were indeed those polos who had been believed dead for so many years. the story goes that they satisfactorily established their identity by inviting all their kinsmen to a great banquet, for each course of which they put on a garment more magnificent than the last, and finally, bringing in their coarse tartar coats, they ripped open the seams and the lining thereof, 'upon which there poured forth a great quantity of precious stones, rubies, sapphires, carbuncles, diamonds, and emeralds, which had been sewn into each coat with great care, so that nobody could have suspected that anything was there.... the exhibition of such an extraordinary and infinite treasure of jewels and precious stones, which covered the table, once more filled all present with such astonishment that they were dumb and almost beside themselves with surprise: and they at once recognized these honoured and venerated gentlemen in the ca' polo, whom at first they had doubted and received them with the greatest honour and reverence.[ ] human nature has changed little since the thirteenth century. the precious stones are a legend, but no doubt the polos brought many with them, for they were jewel merchants by trade; they had had ample opportunities for business in china, and the great khan had loaded them with 'rubies and other handsome jewels of great value' to boot. jewels were the most convenient form in which they could have brought home their wealth. but the inquiring marco brought other things also to tickle the curiosity of the venetians, as he lets fall from time to time in his book. he brought, for example, specimens of the silky hair of the tangut yak, which his countrymen much admired, the dried head and feet of a musk deer, and the seeds of a dye plant (probably indigo) from sumatra, which he sowed in venice, but which never came up, because the climate was not sufficiently warm.[ ] he brought presents also for the doge; for an inventory made in of things found in the palace of marino faliero includes among others a ring given by kublai khan, a tartar collar, a three-bladed sword, an indian brocade, and a book 'written by the hand of the aforesaid marco,' called _de locis mirabilibus tartarorum_.[ ] the rest of marco polo's life is quickly told. the legend goes that all the youth of venice used to resort to the ca' polo in order to hear his stories, for not even among the foreign sailors on the quays, where once the boy marco had wandered and asked about the tartars, were stories the like of his to be heard. and because he was always talking of the greatness of kublai khan's dominions, the millions of revenue, the millions of junks, the millions of riders, the millions of towns and cities, they gave him a nickname and jestingly called him marco _milione_, or _il milione_, which is, being interpreted, 'million marco'; and the name even crept into the public documents of the republic, while the courtyard of his house became known as the _corte milione_. to return from legend to history, the ancient rivalry between venice and genoa had been growing during marco polo's absence, nor had venice always prevailed. often as her galleys sailed, dipping deep for famagusta and the hidden sun that rings black cyprus with a lake of fire, ... questing brown slaves or syrian oranges, the pirate genoese hell raked them till they rolled blood, water, fruit, and corpses up the hold. at last in , three years after marco's return, a genoese fleet under lamba doria sailed for the adriatic, to bate the pride of venice in her own sea. the venetians fitted out a great fleet to meet it, and marco polo, the handy man who knew so much about navigation, albeit more skilled with chinese junks than with western ships, went with it as gentleman commander of a galley. the result of the encounter was a shattering victory for the genoese off curzola. sixty-eight venetian galleys were burnt, and seven thousand prisoners were haled off to genoa, among them marco polo, who had now a taste of the results of that enterprise, manliness, and warfare, whose absence he so deprecated in the men of suchow. but soon there began to run through the streets and courtyards of genoa a rumour that in prison there lay a certain venetian captain, with tales so wonderful to beguile the passing hours that none could tire of hearing them; and anon the gallants and sages and the bold ladies of genoa were flocking, just as the men of the rialto had flocked before, to hear his stories of kublai khan. lord of the fruits of tartary her rivers silver-pale, lord of the hills of tartary, glen, thicket, wood, and dale, her flashing stars, her scented breeze, her trembling lakes, like foamless seas, her bird-delighting citron-trees in every purple vale. 'messer marco,' so runs ramusio's account of the tradition which lingered in venice in his day, 'finding himself in this position, and witnessing the general eagerness to hear all about cathay and the great khan, which indeed compelled him daily to repeat his story till he was weary, was advised to put the matter in writing, so he found means to get a letter written to his father in venice, in which he desired the latter to send those notes and memoranda which he had brought home with him.' it happened that in prison with marco polo there lay a certain pisan writer of romances, rusticiano by name,[ ] who had probably been taken prisoner before at the battle of melaria ( ), when so many pisan captives had been carried to genoa, that the saying arose 'he who would see pisa let him go to genoa.' rusticiano was skilled in the writing of french, the language _par excellence_ of romances, in which he had written versions of the round table tales, and in him marco polo found a ready scribe, who took down the stories as he told them, in the midst of the crowd of venetian prisoners and genoese gentlemen, raptly drinking in all the wonders of kublai khan. it was by a just instinct that, when all was written, rusticiano prefixed to the tale that same address to the lords and gentlemen of the world, bidding them to take heed and listen, which he had been wont to set at the beginning of his tales of tristan and lancelot and king arthur: 'ye lords, emperors and kings, dukes and marquises, counts, knights and burgesses and all ye men who desire to know the divers races of men and the diversities of the different regions of the world, take ye this book and cause it to be read, and here shall ye find the greatest marvels.' but he adds, 'marco polo, a wise and learned citizen of venice, states distinctly what things he saw and what things he heard from others, for this book will be a truthful one.' marco polo's truthful marvels were more wonderful even than the exploits of arthur's knights, and were possibly better suited to the respectable rusticiano's pen, for his only other claim to distinction in the eyes of posterity seems to be that in his abridgment of the romance of lancelot he entirely omits the episode (if episode it can be called) of the loves of lancelot and guinevere. 'alas,' remarks his french editor, 'that the copy of lancelot which fell into the hands of poor francesca of rimini was not one of those expurgated by rusticiano!' [ ] marco polo was released from prison (there must have been mourning in the palaces of genoa) and returned to venice at the end of a year. sometimes hereafter his name occurs in the records of venice, as he moves about on his lawful occasions.[ ] in we find 'nobilis marchus polo milioni' standing surety for a wine smuggler; in he is suing a dishonest agent who owes him money on the sale of musk (he, marco, had seen the musk deer in its lair); and in he is concerned in a dispute about a party wall. we know too, from his will, that he had a wife named donata, and three daughters, fantina, bellela, and moreta. had he loved before, under the alien skies where his youth was spent, some languid, exquisite lady of china, or hardy tartar maid? had he profited himself from the strange marriage customs of tibet, of which he remarks (with one of his very rare gleams of humour), 'en cele contree aurent bien aler les jeume de seize anz en vingt quatre'? had fantina, bellela, and moreta half-brothers, flying their gerfalcons at the quails by the shores of the 'white lake' where the khan hunted, and telling tales of the half legendary father, who sailed away for ever when they were boys in the days of kublai khan? these things we cannot know, nor can we ever guess whether he regretted that only daughters sprang from his loins in the city of the lagoons, and no venetian son to go venturing again to the far-distant country where assuredly he had left a good half of his heart. perhaps he talked of it sometimes to peter, his tartar servant, whom he freed at his death 'from all bondage as completely as i pray god to release mine own soul from all sin and guilt'. some have thought that he brought peter the tartar with him from the east, and the thought is a pleasant one; but it is more likely that he bought him in italy, for the venetians were inveterate slave-owners, and captive tartars were held of all the slaves the strongest and best. so his life passed; and in marco polo died, honoured much by his fellow-citizens, after making a will which is still preserved in the library of st mark's. a characteristic story of his death-bed is related by a dominican friar, one jacopo of acqui, who wrote some time later. 'what he told in the book,' says jacopo, 'was not as much as he had really seen, because of the tongues of detractors, who being ready to impose their own lies on others, are over hasty to set down as lies what they in their perversity disbelieve or do not understand. and because there are many great and strange things in that book, which are reckoned past all credence, he was asked by his friends on his death-bed to correct the book, by removing everything that went beyond the facts. to which his reply was that he had not told _one half_ of what he had really seen.'[ ] how well one can see that last indignant flash of the dying observer, who in the long years of his youth had taken notes of strange tribes and customs for the wise and gracious kublai khan, and whom little men now dared to doubt. indeed, modern discovery has entirely confirmed the exactitude of marco polo's observation. it is true that he sometimes repeated some very tall stories which had been told to him, of dog-faced men in the andaman islands and of the 'male and female islands' so beloved of medieval geographers. these were sailors' yarns, and where marco polo reports what he has seen with his own eyes, he reports with complete accuracy, nor does he ever pretend to have seen a place which he had not visited. the explorers of our own day, aurel stein, ellsworth huntington, and sven hedin, travelling in central asia, have triumphantly vindicated him. 'it is,' says an eminent french historian, 'as though the originals of very old photographs had been suddenly rediscovered: the old descriptions of things which were unchanged could be perfectly superimposed upon present reality,'[ ] and huntington and aurel stein took with them to the inaccessible districts of central asia as guide-books the book of the chinese pilgrim hiwen thsang (seventh century) and the book of marco polo, and over and over again found how accurate were their descriptions. it is indeed almost impossible to exaggerate the extent of marco polo's accomplishment. it is best estimated in the often-quoted words of sir henry yule, whose edition of his book is one of the great works of english scholarship: he was the first traveller to trace a route across the whole longitude of asia, naming and describing kingdom after kingdom, which he had seen with his own eyes, the desert of persia, the flowering plateaux and wild gorges of badakhshan, the jade-bearing rivers of khotan, the mongol steppes, cradle of the power that had so lately threatened to swallow up christendom, the new and brilliant court that had been established at cambaluc: the first travellers to reveal china in all its wealth and vastness, its mighty rivers, its huge cities, its rich manufactures, its swarming population, the inconceivably vast fleets that quickened its seas and inland waters; to tell us of the nations on its borders with all their eccentricities of manners and worship; of tibet with its sordid devotees; of burma with its golden pagodas and their tinkling crowns; of laos, of siam, of cochin china, of japan, the eastern thule, with its rosy pearls and golden-roofed palaces; the first to speak of that museum of beauty and wonder, still so imperfectly ransacked, the indian archipelago, source of those aromatics then so highly prized and whose origin was so dark; of java the pearl of islands; of sumatra with its many kings, its strange costly products, and its cannibal races; of the naked savages of nicobar and andaman; of ceylon, the isle of gems, with its sacred mountain and its tomb of adam; of india the great, not as a dreamland of alexandrian fables, but as a country seen and partially explored, with its virtuous brahmans, its obscene ascetics, its diamonds and the strange tales of their acquisition, its sea-beds of pearl and its powerful sun; the first in modern times to give any distinct account of the secluded christian empire of abyssinia, to speak, though indeed dimly, of zanzibar with its negroes and its ivory and of the vast and distant madagascar, bordering on the dark ocean of the south, with its ruc and other monstrosities; and in a remotely opposite region, of siberia and the arctic ocean, of dog-sledges, white bears and reindeer-riding tunguses.[ ] the knowledge which marco polo had thus brought to europe, the intercourse between east and west which his experience had shown to be so desirable, continued to grow after him. merchants and missionaries alike travelled by land or sea eastward to cathay.[ ] another of those indomitable franciscan friars, john of monte corvino, went out at the age of fifty and became archbishop of peking. churches and houses of friars were founded in some of the chinese cities. odoric of pordenone, another friar, and a very good observer too, set forth in and sailed round india and through the spice islands by the same sea route by which the polos had brought their tartar princess back to persia, and so reached canton, 'a city as big as three venices ... and all italy hath not the amount of craft that this one city hath.' he left a wonderful account of his travels in china, including descriptions of peking and hangchow, and ends his stories with the words, 'as for me, from day to day i prepare myself to return to those countries, in which i am content to die, if it pleaseth him from whom all good things do come'--no doubt where he had left his heart, but he died at udine in italy. later there went out another friar, john marignolli, who was papal legate to peking from to . nor was it only missionaries who went to cathay. odoric, speaking of the wonders of hangchow, refers for confirmation to venetian traders who have visited it: ''tis the greatest city in the whole world, so great indeed that i should scarcely venture to tell of it, but that i have met at venice people in plenty who have been there'; john of monte corvino was accompanied by master peter of lucolongo, 'a great merchant,' and john marignolli mentions a _fondaco_ for the use of christian merchants, which was attached to one of the franciscan convents at zaiton. above all, there is francis balducci pegolotti, that intrepid factor who served the great commercial house of the bardi of florence, and who wrote a priceless handbook for the use of merchants about . in this he gives detailed instructions for the guidance of a merchant, who wishes to proceed from tana on the black sea by the overland route across asia to cathay and back again with £ , worth of silk in his caravan, and remarks casually, in passing, 'the road you travel from tana to cathay is perfectly safe, whether by day or night, according to what merchants say who have used it'--'il chanmino dandare dana tana al ghattajo _è sichurissimo_![ ] think only of what it all means. marco polo travelling where no man set foot again till the twentieth century. the bells of the christian church ringing sweetly in the ears of the great khan in peking. the long road across central asia perfectly safe for merchants. the 'many persons at venice' who have walked in the streets of hangchow. this is in the late thirteenth and early fourteenth centuries, in the despised and hidebound middle ages. _È sichurissimo_! it takes some of the gilt off columbus and vasco da gama and the age (forsooth) of 'discovery'. but a change came over everything in the middle of the fourteenth century. darkness fell again and swallowed up peking and hangchow, the great ports, the crowding junks, the noble civilization. no longer was the great trade route _sichurissimo_, and no longer did christian friars chant their masses in zaiton. the tartar dynasty fell and the new rulers of china reverted to the old anti-foreign policy; moreover, islam spread its conquests all over central asia and lay like a rampart between the far east and west, a great wall of intolerance and hatred stronger by far than the great wall of stone which the chinese had once built to keep out the tartars. all marco polo's marvels became no more than a legend, a traveller's tale. but that great adventurer was not done for yet. nearly a century and a half after marco's death a genoese sea captain sat poring over one of the new printed books, which men were beginning to buy and to hand about among themselves. the book which he was reading was the latin version of marco polo's travels. he was reading it with intentness and indeed with passion. as he read he made notes in the margin; on over seventy pages he made his notes.[ ] from time to time he frowned and turned back and read again the tale of those great ports of cathay and the gold-roofed palaces of cipangu; and always he wondered how those lands might be reached, now that the wall of darkness covered central asia, and anarchy blocked the road to the persian gulf. one day (may we not see him?) he lifted his head and smote his hand upon the table. 'i will sail west', he said. 'maybe i shall find the lost island of antilha in the western ocean, but maybe on its far rim i shall indeed come to cipangu, for the world is round, and somewhere in those great seas beyond the coast of europe must lie marco polo's rich cathay. i will beseech the kings of england and of spain for a ship and a ship's company, and the silk and the spices and the wealth shall be theirs. i will sail west,' said the genoese sea captain, and he smote his thigh. 'i will sail west, west, west!' and this was the last of messer marco's marvels; he discovered china in the thirteenth century, when he was alive, and in the fifteenth, when he was dead, he discovered america! chapter iv _madame eglentyne_ chaucer's prioress in real life ther was also a nonne, a prioresse, that of her smyling was ful simple and coy; hir grettest ooth was ne but by sëynt loy; and she was cleped madame eglentyne. ful wel she song the service divyne, entuned in hir nose ful semely; and frensh she spak ful faire and fetisly, after the scole of stratford atte bowe, for frensh of paris was to hir unknowe. at mete wel y-taught was she with-alle; she leet no morsel from hir lippes falle, ne wette hir fingres in hir sauce depe. wel coude she carie a morsel and wel kepe, that no drope ne fille up-on hir brest. in curteisye was set ful muche hir lest. hir over lippe wyped she so clene, that in hir coppe was no ferthing sene of grece, whan she dronken haddie hir draughte ful semely after hir mete she raughte, and sikerly she was of greet disport, and ful plesaunt and amiable of port, and peyned hir to countrefete chere of court, and been estatlich of manere, and to be holden digne of reverence. but, for to speken of hir conscience, she was so charitable and so pitous, she wolde wepe, if that she sawe a mous caught in a trap, if it were deed or bledde. of smale houndes had she, that she fedde with rosted flesh, or milk and wastel-breed. but sore weep she if oon of hem were deed, or if men smoot it with a yerde smerte: and al was conscience and tendre herte ful semely hir wimpel pinched was: hir nose tretys; her eyen greye as glas; hir mouth ful smal, and ther-to softe and reed; but sikerly she hadde a fair foreheed; it was almost a spanne brood, i trowe; for, hardily, she was nat undergrowe. ful fetis was hir cloke, as i was war. of smal coral aboute hir arm she bar a peire of bedes, gauded al with grene; and ther-on heng a broche of gold ful shene, on which ther was first write a crowned a, and after, _amor vincit omnia!_ --geoffrey chaucer _prologue_ to the _canterbury tales_ every one knows chaucer's description of the prioress, madame eglentyne, who rode with that very motley and talkative company on the way to canterbury. there is no portrait in his gallery which has given rise to more diverse comment among critics. one interprets it as a cutting attack on the worldliness of the church; another thinks that chaucer meant to draw a charming and sympathetic picture of womanly gentleness; one says that it is a caricature, another an ideal; and an american professor even finds in it a psychological study of thwarted maternal instinct, apparently because madame eglentyne was fond of little dogs and told a story about a schoolboy. the mere historian may be excused from following these vagaries. to him chaucer's prioress, like chaucer's monk and chaucer's friar, will simply be one more instance of the almost photographic accuracy of the poet's observation. the rippling undercurrent of satire is always there; but it is chaucer's own peculiar satire--mellow, amused, uncondemning, the most subtle kind of satire, which does not depend upon exaggeration. the literary critic has only chaucer's words and his own heart, or sometimes (low be it spoken) his own desire to be original, by which to guide his judgement. but the historian knows; he has all sorts of historical sources in which to study nunneries, and there he meets chaucer's prioress at every turn. above all, he has the bishop's registers. for a long time historians foolishly imagined that kings and wars and parliaments and the jury system alone were history; they liked chronicles and acts of parliament, and it did not strike them to go and look in dusty episcopal archives for the big books in which medieval bishops entered up the letters which they wrote and all the complicated business of running their dioceses. but when historians did think of looking there, they found a mine of priceless information about almost every side of social and ecclesiastical life. they had to dig for it of course, for almost all that is worth knowing has to be mined like precious metals out of a rock; and for one nugget the miner often has to grub for days underground in a mass of dullness; and when he has got it he has to grub in his own heart, or else he will not understand it. the historians found fine gold in the bishops' registers, when once they persuaded themselves that it was not beneath their dignity to grub there. they found descriptions of vicarages, with all their furniture and gardens; they found marriage disputes; they found wills full of entertaining legacies to people dead hundreds of years ago; they found excommunications; they found indulgences to men for relieving the poor, repairing roads, and building bridges, long before there was any poor law, or any county council; they found trials for heresy and witchcraft; they found accounts of miracles worked at the tombs of saints and even of some quite unsaintly people, such as thomas of lancaster, and edward ii, and simon de montfort; they found lists of travelling expenses when the bishops rode round their dioceses; in one they even found a minute account of the personal appearance of queen philippa, then a little girl at her father's court at hainault, whom the bishop of exeter had been sent to inspect, in order to see if she were pretty and good enough to marry edward iii: she was nine years old, and the bishop said that her second teeth were whiter than her first teeth and that her nose was broad but not snub, which was reassuring for edward.[ ] last, but not least, the historians found a multitude of documents about monasteries, and among these documents they found visitation records, and among visitation records they found chaucer's prioress, smiling full simple and coy, fair forehead, well-pinched wimple, necklace, little dogs, and all, as though she had stepped into a stuffy register by mistake for the _canterbury tales_ and was longing to get out again. this was the reason that madame eglentyne got into the register. in the middle ages all the nunneries of england, and a great many of the monasteries, used to be visited at intervals by the bishop of their diocese--or by somebody sent by him--in order to see whether they were behaving properly. it was rather like the periodical visitation of a school by one of her majesty's inspectors, only what happened was very different. when her majesty's inspector comes he does not sit in state in the hall, and call all the inmates in front of him one after another, from the head mistress to the smallest child in the first form, and invite them to say in what way they think the school is not being properly run, and what complaints they have to make against their mistresses and which girl habitually breaks the rules--all breathed softly and privately into his ear, with no one to overhear them. but when the bishop came to visit a nunnery, that is precisely what happened. first of all, he sent a letter to say he was coming, and to bid the nuns prepare for him. then he came, with his clerks and a learned official or two, and was met solemnly by the prioress and all the nuns, and preached a sermon in their church, and was entertained, perhaps, to dinner. and then he prepared to examine them, and one by one they came before him, in order of rank, beginning with the prioress, and what they had to do was to tell tales about each other. he wanted to find out if the prioress were ruling well, and if the services were properly performed, and if the finances were in good order, and if discipline were maintained; and if any nun had a complaint, then was the time to make it. and the nuns were full of complaints. a modern schoolgirl would go pale with horror over their capacity for tale-bearing. if one nun had boxed her sister's ears, if another had cut church, if another were too much given to entertaining friends, if another went out without a licence, if another had run away with a wandering fluteplayer, the bishop was sure to hear about it; that is, unless the whole convent were in a disorderly state, and the nuns had made a compact to wink at each other's peccadilloes; and not to betray them to the bishop, which occasionally happened. and if the prioress were at all unpopular he was quite certain to hear all about her. 'she fares splendidly in her own room and never invites us,' says one nun; 'she has favourites,' says another, 'and when she makes corrections she passes lightly over those whom she likes, and speedily punishes those whom she dislikes'; 'she is a fearful scold,' says a third; 'she dresses more like a secular person than a nun, and wears rings and necklaces,' says a fourth; 'she goes out riding to see her friends far too often,' says a fifth; 'she-is-a-very-bad-business-woman-and-she-has-let-the-house-get-into- debt-and-the-church-is-falling about-our-ears-and-we-don't-get-enough- food-and-she-hasn't-given-us-any-clothes-for-two-years-and-she-has-sold- woods-and farms-without-your-licence-and-she-has-pawned-our-best-set-of spoons; and no wonder, when she never consults us in any business as she ought to do.' they go on like that for pages, and the bishop must often have wanted to put his fingers in his ears and shout to them to stop; especially as the prioress had probably spent half an hour, for her part, in telling him how disobedient and ill-tempered, and thoroughly badly behaved the nuns were. all these tales the bishop's clerk solemnly wrote down in a big book, and when the examination was over the bishop summoned all the nuns together again. and if they had answered 'all is well', as they sometimes did, or only mentioned trivial faults, he commended them and went his way; and if they had shown that things really were in a bad way, he investigated particular charges and scolded the culprits and ordered them to amend, and when he got back to his palace, or the manor where he was staying, he wrote out a set of injunctions, based on the complaints, and saying exactly how things were to be improved; and of these injunctions one copy was entered in his register and another was sent by hand to the nuns, who were supposed to read it aloud at intervals and to obey everything in it. we have in many bishops' registers these lists of injunctions, copied into them by the bishops' clerks, and in some, notably in a splendid fifteenth-century lincoln register, belonging to the good bishop alnwick, we have also the evidence of the nuns, just as it was taken down from their chattering mouths, and these are the most human and amusing of all medieval records. it is easy to see what important historical documents visitation reports are, especially in a diocese like lincoln, which possesses an almost unbroken series of registers, ranging over the three centuries before the dissolution, so that one can trace the whole history of some of the nunneries by the successive visitations. let us see what light the registers will throw upon madame eglentyne, before chaucer observed her mounting her horse outside the tabard inn. doubtless she first came to the nunnery when she was quite a little girl, because girls counted as grown up when they were fifteen in the middle ages; they could be married out of hand at twelve, and they could become nuns for ever at fourteen. probably eglentyne's father had three other daughters to marry, each with a dowry, and a gay young spark of a son, who spent a lot of money on fashionable suits. embroidered ... as it were a mede all ful of fresshe flowers white and rede. so he thought he had better settle the youngest at once; and he got together a dowry (it was rarely possible to get into a nunnery without one, though church law really forbade anything except voluntary offerings), and, taking eglentyne by the hand one summer day, he popped her into a nunnery a few miles off, which had been founded by his ancestors. we may even know what it cost him; it was rather a select, aristocratic house, and he had to pay an entrance fee of £ in modern money; and then he had to give eglentyne her new habit and a bed, and some other furniture; and he had to make a feast on the day she became a nun, and invite all the nuns and all his own friends; and he had to tip the friar, who preached the sermon; and, altogether, it was a great affair.[ ] but the feast would not come at once, because eglentyne would have to remain a novice for some years, until she was old enough to take the vows. so she would stay in the convent and be taught how to sing and to read, and to talk french of the school of stratford-atte-bowe with the other novices. perhaps she was the youngest, for girls often did not enter the convent until they were old enough to decide for themselves whether they wanted to be nuns; but there were certainly some other quite tiny novices learning their lessons; and occasionally there would be a little girl like the one whose sad fate is recorded in a dull law-book, shut up in a nunnery by a wicked stepfather who wanted her inheritance (a nun could not inherit land, because she was supposed to be dead to the world), and told by the nuns that the devil would fly away with her if she tried to set foot outside the door.[ ] however, eglentyne had a sunny disposition and liked life in the nunnery, and had a natural aptitude for the pretty table manners which she learnt there, as well as for talking french, and though she was not at all prim and liked the gay clothes and pet dogs which she used to see at home in her mother's bower, still she had no hesitation at all about taking the veil when she was fifteen, and indeed she rather liked the fuss that was made of her, and being called _madame_ or _dame_, which was the courtesy title always given to a nun. the years passed and eglentyne's life jogged along peacefully enough behind the convent walls. the great purpose for which the nunneries existed, and which most of them fulfilled not unworthily, was the praise of god. eglentyne spent a great deal of her time singing and praying in the convent church, and, as we know, ful wel she song the service divyne, entuned in hir nose ful semely. the nuns had seven monastic offices to say every day. about a.m. the night office was said; they all got out of bed when the bell rang, and went down in the cold and the dark to the church choir and said matins, followed immediately by lauds. then they went back to bed, just as the dawn was breaking in the sky, and slept again for three hours, and then got up for good at six o'clock and said prime. after that there followed tierce, sext, none, vespers, and compline, spread at intervals through the day. the last service, compline, was said at p.m. in winter, and at p.m. in summer, after which the nuns were supposed to go straight to bed in the dorter, in which connexion one nun's rule ordains that 'none shall push up against another wilfully, nor spit upon the stairs going up and down, but if they tread it out forthwith'![ ] they had in all about eight hours' sleep, broken in the middle by the night service. they had three meals, a light repast of bread and beer after prime in the morning, a solid dinner to the accompaniment of reading aloud in the middle of the day, and a short supper immediately after vespers at or p.m. from to p.m. in winter and from to p.m. in summer eglentyne and her sisters were supposed to devote themselves to manual or brain work, interspersed with a certain amount of sober and godly recreation. she would spin, or embroider vestments with the crowned monogram m of the blessed virgin in blue and gold thread, or make little silken purses for her friends and finely sewn bands for them to bind round their arms after a bleeding. she would read too, in her psalter or in such saints' lives as the convent possessed, written in french or english; for her latin was weak, though she could construe _amor vincit omnia_. perhaps her convent took in a few little schoolgirls to learn their letters and good manners with the nuns, and when she grew older she helped to teach them to read and sing; for though they were happy, they did not receive a very extensive education from the good sisters. in the summer eglentyne was sometimes allowed to work in the convent garden, or even to go out haymaking with the other nuns; and came back round-eyed to confide in her confessor that she had seen the cellaress returning therefrom seated behind the chaplain on his nag,[ ] and had thought what fun it must be to jog behind stout dan john. except for certain periods of relaxation strict silence was supposed to be observed in the convent for a large part of the day, and if eglentyne desired to communicate with her sisters, she was urged to do so by means of signs. the persons who drew up the lists of signs which were in use in medieval monastic houses, however, combined a preternatural ingenuity with an extremely exiguous sense of humour, and the sort of dumb pandemonium which went on at eglentyne's dinner table must often have been more mirth-provoking than speech. the sister who desired fish would 'wag her hands displayed sidelings in manner of a fish tail'; she who wanted milk would 'draw her left little finger in manner of milking'; for mustard one would 'hold her nose in the upper part of her right fist and rub it'; another for salt would 'fillip with her right thumb and forefinger over the left thumb'; another desirous of wine would 'move her forefinger up and down the end of her thumb afore her eye'; and the guilty sacristan, struck by the thought that she had not provided incense for the mass, would 'put her two fingers into her nostrils'. in one such table drawn up for nuns there are no less than signs, and on the whole it is not surprising that the rule of the same nuns enjoins that 'it is never lawful to use them without some reason and profitable need, for oft-times more hurt hath an evil word, and more offence it may be to god'.[ ] the nuns, of course, would not have been human if they had not sometimes grown a little weary of all these services and this silence; for the religious life was not, nor was it intended to be, an easy one. it was not a mere means of escape from work and responsibility. in the early golden age of monasticism only men and women with a vocation, that is to say a real genius for monastic life, entered convents. moreover, when there they worked very hard with hand and brain, as well as with soul, and so they got variety of occupation, which is as good as a holiday. the basis of wise st benedict's rule was a nicely adjusted combination of variety with regularity; for he knew human nature. thus monks and nuns did not find the services monotonous, and indeed regarded them as by far the best part of the day. but in the later middle ages, when chaucer lived, young people had begun to enter monastic houses rather as a profession than as a vocation. many truly spiritual men and women still took the vows, but with them came others who were little suited to monastic life, and who lowered its standard, because it was hard and uncongenial to them. eglentyne became a nun because her father did not want the trouble and expense of finding her a husband, and because being a nun was about the only career for a well-born lady who did not marry. moreover, by this time, monks and nuns had grown more lazy, and did little work with their hands and still less with their heads, particularly in nunneries, where the early tradition of learning had died out and where many nuns could hardly understand the latin in which their services were written. the result was that monastic life began to lose that essential variety which st benedict had designed for it, and as a result the regularity sometimes became irksome, and the series of services degenerated into a mere routine of peculiar monotony, which many of the singers could no longer keep alive with spiritual fervour. thus sometimes (it must not be imagined that this happened in all or even in the majority of houses) the services became empty forms, to be hurried through with scant devotion and occasionally with scandalous irreverence. it was the almost inevitable reaction from too much routine. carelessness in the performance of the monastic hours was an exceedingly common fault during the later middle ages, though the monks were always worse about it than the nuns. sometimes they 'cut' the services. sometimes they behaved with the utmost levity, as at exeter in , where the canons giggled and joked and quarrelled during the services and dropped hot candle wax from the upper stalls on to the shaven heads of the singers in the stalls below![ ] sometimes they came late to matins, in the small hours after midnight. this fault was common in nunneries, for the nuns always would insist on having private drinkings and gossipings in the evening after compline, instead of going straight to bed, as the rule demanded--a habit which did not conduce to wakefulness at a.m. consequently they were somewhat sleepy at matins and found an almost johnsonian difficulty in getting up early. wise st benedict foresaw the difficulty, when he wrote in his rule: 'when they rise for the divine office, let them gently encourage one another, because of the excuses made by those that are drowsy.'[ ] at the nunnery of stainfield in the bishop discovered that half an hour sometimes elapsed between the last stroke of the bell and the beginning of the service, and that some of the nuns did not sing, but dozed, partly because they had not enough candles, but chiefly because they went late to bed;[ ] and whoever is without sin among us, let him cast the first stone! there was a tendency also among both monks and nuns to slip out before the end of the service on any good or bad excuse: they had to see after the dinner or the guest-house, their gardens needed weeding, or they did not feel well. but the most common fault of all was to gabble through the services as quickly as they could in order to get them over. they left out the syllables at the beginning and end of words, they omitted the dipsalma or pause between two verses, so that one side of the choir was beginning the second half before the other side had finished the first; they skipped sentences, they mumbled and slurred what should have been 'entuned in their nose ful semely', and altogether they made a terrible mess of the stately plainsong. so prevalent was the fault of gabbling that the father of evil was obliged to charter a special devil called tittivillus, whose sole business it was to collect all these dropped syllables and carry them back to his master in a big bag. in one way or another, we have a good deal of information about him, for he was always letting himself be seen by holy men, who generally had a sharp eye for devils. one latin rhyme distinguishes carefully between the contents of his sack: 'these are they who wickedly corrupt the holy psalms: the dangler, the gasper, the leaper, the galloper, the dragger, the mumbler, the fore-skipper, the fore-runner and the over-leaper: tittivillus collecteth the fragments of these men's words.'[ ] indeed, a holy cistercian abbot once interviewed the poor little devil himself and heard about his alarming industry; this is the story as it is told in _the myroure of oure ladye_, written for the delectation of the nuns of syon in the fifteenth century: 'we read of a holy abbot of the order of citeaux that while he stood in the choir at matins he saw a fiend that had a long and great poke hanging about his neck and went about the choir from one to another and waited busily after all letters and syllables and words and failings that any made; and them he gathered diligently and put them in his poke. and when he came before the abbot, waiting if aught had escaped him that he might have gotten and put in his bag, the abbot was astonied and afeard of the foulness and misshape of him and said unto him: what art thou? and he answered and said, i am a poor devil and my name is tittivillus and i do mine office that is committed unto me. and what is thine office? said the abbot. he answered: i must each day, he said, bring my master a thousand pokes full of failings and of negligences and syllables and words, that are done in your order in reading and singing and else i must be sore beaten.'[ ] but there is no reason to suppose that he often got his beating, though one may be sure that madame eglentyne, busily chanting through her nose, never gave him the slightest help. in his spare moments, when he was not engaged in picking up those unconsidered trifles which the monks let fall from the psalms, tittivillus used to fill up odd corners of his sack with the idle talk of people who gossiped in church; and he also sat up aloft and collected all the high notes of vain tenors, who sang to their own glory, instead of to the glory of god, and pitched the chants three notes higher than the cracked voices of their elders could rise. but the monotony of convent life sometimes did more than make the nuns unconscious contributors to tittivillus's sack. it sometimes played havoc with their tempers. the nuns were not chosen for convent life because they were saints. they were no more immune from tantrums than was the wife of bath, who was out of all charity when other village wives went into church before her; and sometimes they got terribly on each others' nerves. readers of _piers plowman_ will remember that when the seven deadly sins come in, wrath tells how he was cook to the prioress of a convent and, says he, of wycked wordes i, wrath ... here wordes imade, til 'thow lixte' and 'thow lixte' ... lopen oute at ones, and eyther hitte other ... vnder the cheke; hadde thei had knyves, by cryst ... her eyther had killed other. to be sure, it is not often that we hear of anything so bad as that fifteenth-century prioress, who used to drag her nuns round the choir by their veils in the middle of the service, screaming 'liar!' and 'harlot!' at them;[ ] or that other sixteenth-century lady who used to kick them and hit them on the head with her fists and put them in the stocks.[ ] all prioresses were not 'ful plesaunt and amiable of port', or stately in their manner. the records of monastic visitations show that bad temper and petty bickering sometimes broke the peace of convent life. but we must be back at eglentyne. she went on living for ten or twelve years as a simple nun, and she sang the services very nicely and had a sweet temper and pretty manners and was very popular. moreover, she was of good birth; chaucer tells us a great deal about her beautiful behaviour at table and her courtesy, which shows that she was a lady born and bred; indeed, his description of this might have been taken straight out of one of the feudal books of deportment for girls; even her personal beauty--straight nose, grey eyes, and little red mouth--conforms to the courtly standard. the convents were apt to be rather snobbish; ladies and rich burgesses' daughters got into them, but poor and low-born girls never. so the nuns probably said to each other that what with her pretty ways and her good temper and her aristocratic connexions, wouldn't it be a good thing to choose her for prioress when the old prioress died? and so they did, and she had been a prioress for some years when chaucer met her. at first it was very exciting, and eglentyne liked being called 'mother' by nuns who were older than herself, and having a private room to sit in and all the visitors to entertain. but she soon found that it was not by any means all a bed of roses; for there was a great deal of business to be done by the head of a house--not only looking after the internal discipline of the convent, but also superintending money matters and giving orders to the bailiffs on her estates, and seeing that the farms were paying well, and the tithes coming in to the churches which belonged to the nunnery, and that the italian merchants who came to buy the wool off her sheeps' backs gave a good price for it. in all this business she was supposed to take the advice of the nuns, meeting in the chapter-house, where all business was transacted. i am afraid that sometimes eglentyne used to think that it was much better to do things by herself, and so she would seal documents with the convent seal without telling them. one should always distrust the head of an office or school or society who says, with a self-satisfied air, that it is much more satisfactory to do the thing herself than to depute it to the proper subordinates; it either means that she is an autocrat, or else that she cannot organize. madame eglentyne was rather an autocrat, in a good-natured sort of way, and besides she hated bother. so she did not always consult the nuns; and i fear too (after many researches into that past of hers which chaucer forgot to mention) that she often tried to evade rendering an account of income and expenditure to them every year, as she was supposed to do. the nuns, of course, objected to this; and the first time the bishop came on his rounds they complained about it to him. they said, too, that she was a bad business woman and got into debt; and that when she was short of money she used to sell woods belonging to the convent, and promise annual pensions to various people in return for lump sums down, and lease out farms for a long time at low rates, and do various other things by which the convent would lose in the long run. and besides, she had let the roof of the church get into such ill repair that rain came through the holes on to their heads when they were singing; and would my lord bishop please to look at the holes in their clothes and tell her to provide them with new ones? other wicked prioresses used sometimes even to pawn the plate and jewels of the convent, to get money for their own private purposes. but eglentyne was not at all wicked or dishonest, though she was a bad manager; the fact was that she had no head for figures. i am _sure_ that she had no head for figures; you have only got to read chaucer's description of her to know that she was not a mathematician. besides the nuns were exaggerating: their clothes were not in holes, only just a little threadbare. madame eglentyne was far too fastidious to allow ragged clothes about her; and as to the roof of the church, she had meant to save enough money to have some tiles put on to it, but it really _was_ very hard to make two ends meet in a medieval nunnery, especially if (as i repeat) you had no head for figures. probably the bishop saw how the land lay, so he ordered her never to do anything without consulting the convent, and he shut up the common seal in a box with three different sorts of locks, to which madame eglentyne and two of the senior nuns had the keys, so that she could not open it alone and so could not seal any business agreement without their consent. and he ordered her to keep accounts and present them every year (there are bundles of her accounts still preserved in the record office). finally he deputed a neighbouring rector to act as custodian of the business affairs of the house so that she should always have his help. things went better after that. eglentyne, it seems, was never really interested in business, and was quite pleased to have her time taken up with looking after internal affairs and entertaining visitors, with an occasional jaunt outside to see how the estates were getting on. and she began to find that she could lead a much freer and gayer life now that she was a prioress; for the prioress of a convent had rooms of her own, instead of sharing the common dormitory and refectory; sometimes she even had a sort of little house with a private kitchen. the abbess of one great nunnery at winchester in the sixteenth century had her own staff to look after her, a cook, and an under cook, and a housemaid and a gentlewoman to wait upon her, like any great lady in the world, and never dined with the nuns except on state occasions. but a superior generally had with her one nun to act as her companion and assist her in the choir and be a witness to her good behaviour; this nun was called her chaplain, and was supposed to be changed every year, to prevent favouritism. it will be remembered that when madame eglentyne went on her pilgrimage she took her nun chaplain with her, as well as three priests; that was because no nun was ever allowed to go out alone. one of madame eglentyne's duties as prioress was to entertain visitors with her celebrated cheer of court, and we may be sure that she had a great many. her sisters, who were now grand ladies with husbands and manors of their own, and her old father, and all the great people of the county came to congratulate her; and after that they used often to drop in for a dinner of chickens and wine and wastel bread if they passed the house on a journey, and sometimes they spent the night there. one or two ladies, whose husbands were away at the wars or on a pilgrimage to rome, even came as paying guests to the convent and lived there for a whole year, for nothing pleased the country gentlemen or wealthy burgesses better than to use nunneries as boarding-houses for their women-kind. all this was very disturbing to the peace and quiet of the nuns, and especially disturbing were the boarders, for they wore gay clothes, and had pet dogs and callers, and set a very frivolous example to the nuns. at one nunnery we find a bishop ordering: 'let felmersham's wife, with her whole household and other women, be utterly removed from your monastery within one year, seeing that they are a cause of disturbance to the nuns and an occasion to bad example, by reason of their attire and of those who come to visit them.'[ ] it can be easily imagined _why_ the bishops objected so much to the reception of these worldly married women as boarders. just substitute for 'felmersham's wife' 'the wife of bath' and all is explained. that lady was not a person whom a prioress would lightly refuse; the list of her pilgrimages alone would give her the _entrée_ into any nunnery. smiling her gap-toothed smile and riding easily upon her ambler, she would enter the gates, and what a month of excitement would pass before she rode away again. i am sure that it was she who taught madame eglentyne the most fashionable way to pinch a wimple; and she certainly introduced hats 'as broad as is a buckler or a targe' and scarlet stockings into some nunneries. the bishops disliked it all very much, but they never succeeded in turning the boarders out for all their efforts, because the nuns always needed the money which they paid for their board and lodging. it is easy to understand that this constant intercourse with worldly visitors would give rise to the spread of worldly habits in madame eglentyne's nunnery. nuns, after all, were but women, and they had the amiable vanities of their sex. but authority (with a large a) did not consider their vanities amiable at all. it was the view of authority that the devil had dispatched three lesser d's to be the damnation of nuns, and those three d's were dances, dresses, and dogs. medieval england was famous for dancing and mumming and minstrelsy; it was merry england because, however plague and pestilence and famine and the cruelties of man to man might darken life, still it loved these things. but there were no two views possible about what the church thought of dancing; it was accurately summed up by one moralist in the aphorism, 'the devil is the inventor and governor and disposer of dances and dancing.' yet when we look into those accounts which madame eglentyne rendered (or did not render) to her nuns at the end of every year, we shall find payments for wassail at new year and twelfth night, for may games, for bread and ale on bonfire nights, for harpers and players at christmas, for a present to the boy bishop on his rounds, and perhaps for an extra pittance when the youngest schoolgirl was allowed to dress up and act as abbess of the convent for the whole of innocents' day. and when we look in the bishops' registers we shall find madame eglentyne forbidden 'all manner of minstrelsy, interludes, dancing or revelling within your holy place'; and she would be fortunate indeed if her bishop would make exception for christmas, 'and other honest times of recreation among yourselves used in absence of seculars in all wise'. somehow one feels an insistent conviction that her cheer of court included dancing.[ ] then, again, there were the fashionable dresses which the visitors introduced into nunneries. it is quite certain that madame eglentyne was not unmoved by them; and it is a sad fact that she began to think the monastic habit very black and ugly, and the monastic life very strict; and to decide that if some little amenities were imported into it no one would be a penny the worse, and perhaps the bishop would not notice. that is why, when chaucer met her, ful fetis was hir cloke, as i was war, of smal coral aboute hir arm she bar a peire of bedes, gauded al with grene, and ther-on heng a broche of gold ful shene. unfortunately, however, the bishop did notice; the registers are indeed full of those clothes of madame eglentyne's, and of the even more frivolous ones which she wore in the privacy of the house. for more than six weary centuries the bishops waged a holy war against fashion in the cloister, and waged it in vain; for as long as nuns mingled freely with secular women, it was impossible to prevent them from adopting secular modes. occasionally a wretched bishop would find himself floundering unhandily, in masculine bewilderment, through something like a complete catalogue of contemporary fashions, in order to specify what the nuns were _not_ to wear. synods sat solemnly, bishops and archbishops shook their grey heads, over golden hairpins and silver belts, jewelled rings, laced shoes, slashed tunics, low necks and long trains, gay colours, costly cloth, and valuable furs. the nuns were supposed to wear their veils pinned tightly down to their eyebrows, so that their foreheads were completely hidden; but high foreheads happened to be fashionable among worldly ladies, who even shaved theirs to make them higher, and the result was that the nuns could not resist lifting up and spreading out their veils, for how otherwise did chaucer _know_ that madame eglentyne had such a fair forehead ('almost a spanne broad, i trowe')? if she had been wearing her veil properly, it would have been invisible, and the father of english poetry may be observed discreetly but plainly winking the other eye when he puts in that little touch; his contemporaries would see the point very quickly. and that brooch and that fetis cloak of hers.... here is what some tale-bearing nuns told the bishop of lincoln about their prioress, fifty years after chaucer wrote the _canterbury tales_. 'the prioress,' they said with their most sanctimonious air, wears golden rings exceeding costly, with divers precious stones and also girdles silvered and gilded over and silken veils and she carries her veil too high above her forehead, so that her forehead, being entirely uncovered, can be seen of all, and she wears furs of vair. also she wears shifts of cloth of rennes, which costs sixteen pence the ell. also she wears kirtles laced with silk and tiring pins of silver and silver gilt and has made all the nuns wear the like. also she wears above her veil a cap of estate, furred with budge. item, she has on her neck a long silken band, in english a lace, which hangs down below her breast and there on a golden ring with one diamond.[ ] is it not madame eglentyne to the life? nothing escaped our good dan chaucer's eye, for all that he rode always looking on the ground. moreover, it was not only in her dress that the prioress and her sister nuns aped the fashions of the world. great ladies of the day loved to amuse themselves with pet animals; and nuns were quick to follow their example. so, of smale houndes had she, that she fedde with rosted flesh, or milk and wastel-breed. but sore weep she if oon of hem were deed, or if men smoot it with a yerde smerte. the visitation reports are full of those little dogs and other animals; and how many readers of the prologue know that the smale houndes, like the fair forehead and the brooch of gold full sheen, were strictly against the rules? for the bishops regarded pets as bad for discipline, and century after century they tried to turn the animals out of the convents, without the slightest success. the nuns just waited till the bishop had gone and then whistled their dogs back again. dogs were easily the favourite pets, though monkeys, squirrels, rabbits, birds and (very rarely) cats were also kept. one archbishop had to forbid an abbess whom he visited to keep _monkeys and a number of dogs_ in her own chamber and charged her at the same time with stinting her nuns in food; one can guess what became of the roasted flesh or milk and wastel-breed! it was a common medieval practice to bring animals into church, where ladies often attended service with dog in lap and men with hawk on wrist; just as the highland farmer brings his collie with him today. this happened in the nunneries too. sometimes it was the lay-boarders in the convents who brought their pets with them; there is a pathetic complaint by the nuns of one house 'that lady audley, who boards there, has a great abundance of dogs, insomuch that whenever she comes to church there follow her twelve dogs, who make a great uproar in church, hindering the nuns in their psalmody and the nuns thereby are terrified!'[ ] but often enough the nuns themselves transgressed. injunctions against bringing pet dogs into choir occur in several visitation reports, the most amusing instance being contained in those sent to romsey abbey by william of wykeham in , just about the same year that chaucer was writing the _canterbury tales_: 'item,' runs the injunction, 'whereas we have convinced ourselves by clear proofs that some of the nuns of your house bring with them to church birds, rabbits, hounds and such like frivolous things, whereunto they give more heed than to the offices of the church, with frequent hindrance to their own psalmody and to that of their fellow nuns and to the grievous peril of their souls--therefore we strictly forbid you all and several, in virtue of the obedience due to us that ye presume henceforward to bring to church no birds, hounds, rabbits or other frivolous things that promote indiscipline.... item, whereas through hunting dogs and other hounds abiding within your monastic precincts, the alms that should be given to the poor are devoured and the church and cloister ... are foully defiled ... and whereas, through their inordinate noise divine service is frequently troubled--therefore we strictly command and enjoin you, lady abbess, that you remove the dogs altogether and that you suffer them never henceforth, nor any other such hounds, to abide within the precincts of your nunnery.'[ ] but it was useless for any bishop to order madame eglentyne to give up her dogs, she could not even be parted from them on a pilgrimage, though they must have been a great nuisance in the inns, especially as she was so fussy about their food. for chaucer's prioress, we must admit, was rather a worldly lady, though her pretty clothes and little dogs were harmless enough on modern standards and one's sympathies are all against the bishops. she probably became more worldly as time went on, because she had so many opportunities for social intercourse. not only had she to entertain visitors in the convent, but often the business of the house took her away upon journeys and these offered many opportunities for hobnobbing with her neighbours. sometimes she had to go to london to see after a law-suit and that was a great excursion with another nun, or perhaps two, and a priest and several yeomen to look after her. sometimes she had to go and see the bishop, to get permission to take in some little schoolgirls. sometimes she went to the funeral of a great man, whom her father knew and who left her twenty shillings and a silver cup in his will. sometimes she went to the wedding of one of her sisters, or to be godmother to their babies; though the bishops did not like these worldly ties, or the dances and merry-makings which accompanied weddings and christenings. indeed her nuns occasionally complained about her journeys and said that though she pretended it was all on the business of the house, they had their doubts; and would the bishop please just look into it. at one nunnery we find the nuns complaining that their house is £ in debt 'and this principally owing to the costly expenses of the prioress, because she frequently rides abroad and pretends that she does so on the common business of the house although it is not so, with a train of attendants much too large and tarries too long abroad and she feasts sumptuously, both when abroad and at home and she is very choice in her dress, so that the fur trimmings of her mantle are worth s'![ ] as a matter of fact there was nothing of which the church disapproved more than this habit, shared by monks and nuns, of wandering about outside their cloisters; moralists considered that intercourse with the world was at the root of all the evil which crept into the monastic system. the orthodox saying was that a monk out of his cloister was like a fish out of water; and it will be remembered that chaucer's monk thought the text not worth an oyster. indeed most of the monks managed to swim very well in the air, and the nuns too persisted in taking every sort of excuse for wandering in the world. right through the middle ages council after council, bishop after bishop, reformer after reformer, tried in vain to keep them shut up. the greatest attempt of all began in , when the pope published a bull ordering that nuns should never, save in very exceptional circumstances, leave their convents and that no secular person should be allowed to go in and visit them, without a special licence and a good reason. this will make the modern reader pity the poor nuns, but there is no need, for nobody ever succeeded in putting it into force for more than five minutes, though the bishops spent over two centuries in trying to do so and were still trying in vain when king henry viii dissolved the nunneries and turned all the nuns out into the world for ever, whether they liked it or not. at one nunnery in the lincoln diocese, when the bishop came and deposited a copy of the bull in the house and ordered the nuns to obey it, they ran after him to the gate when he was riding away and threw the bull at his head, screaming that they would never observe it.[ ] the more practical bishops indeed, soon stopped trying to enforce the bull as it stood and contented themselves with ordering that nuns were not to go out or pay visits too often, or without a companion, or without licence, or without a good reason. but even in this they were not very successful, because the nuns were most prolific in excellent reasons why they should go out. sometimes they said that their parents were ill; and then they would go away to smooth the pillow of the sick. sometimes they said that they had to go to market to buy herrings. sometimes they said that they had to go to confession at a monastery. sometimes it is really difficult to imagine _what_ they said. what are we to think, for instance, of that giddy nun 'who on monday night did pass the night with the austin friars at northampton and did dance and play the lute with them in the same place until midnight, and on the night following she passed the night with the friars' preachers at northampton, luting and dancing in like manner'?[ ] chaucer told us how the friar loved harping and how his eyes twinkled like stars in his head when he sang, but failed perhaps to observe that he had lured madame eglentyne into a dance. it is indeed difficult to see what 'legitimate' excuses the nuns can have made for all their wandering about in the streets and the fields and in and out of people's houses, and it is sorely to be feared that either they were too much of a handful for madame eglentyne, or else she winked at their doings. for somehow or other one suspects that she had no great opinion of bishops. after all chaucer would never have met her, if she had not managed to circumvent her own, since if there was one excuse for wandering of which the bishops thoroughly disapproved, it was precisely the excuse of pilgrimages. madame eglentyne was not quite as simple and coy as she looked. how many of the literary critics, who chuckle over her, know that she never ought to have got into the prologue at all? the church was quite clear in its mind that pilgrimages for nuns were to be discouraged. as early as a council had forbidden the practice and in another at york decreed, 'in order that the opportunity of wandering may be taken from nuns we forbid them to take the path of pilgrimage.' in an archbishop of york strictly forbade the nuns of one convent to leave their house 'by reason of any vow of pilgrimage which they might have taken. if any had taken such vows she was to say as many psalters as it would have taken days to perform the pilgrimage so rashly vowed.'[ ] one has a melancholy vision of poor madame eglentyne saying psalters interminably through her tretys nose, instead of jogging along so gaily with her motley companions and telling so prettily her tale of little st hugh. such prohibitions might be multiplied from medieval records; and indeed it is unnecessary to go further than chaucer to understand why it was that bishops offered such strenuous opposition to pilgrimages for nuns; one has only to remember some of the folk, in whose company the prioress travelled and some of the tales they told. if one could only be certain, for instance, that she rode all the time with her nun and her priests, or at least between the knight and the poor parson of a town! but there were also the miller and the summoner and (worst of all) that cheerful and engaging sinner, the wife of bath. it is really quite disturbing to think what additional details the wife of bath may have given the prioress about her five husbands. this then was chaucer's prioress in real life, for the poet who drew her was one of the most wonderful observers in the whole of english literature. we may wade through hundreds of visitation reports and injunctions and everywhere the grey eyes of his prioress will twinkle at us out of their pages, and in the end we must always go to chaucer for her picture, to sum up everything that historical records have taught us. as the bishop found her, so he saw her, aristocratic, tender-hearted, worldly, taking pains to 'countrefete there of court'; liking pretty clothes and little dogs; a lady of importance, attended by a nun and three priests; spoken to with respect by the none too mealy-mouthed host--no 'by corpus dominus' or 'cokkes bones' or 'tel on a devel wey' for her, but 'cometh neer, my lady prioress,' and my lady prioresse, by your leve if that i wiste i sholde yow nat greve, i wolde demen that ye tellen sholde a tale next, if so were that ye wolde. now wol ye vouche-sauf, my lady dere? he talks to no one else like that, save perhaps to the knight. was she religious? perhaps; but save for her singing the divine service and for her lovely address to the virgin, at the beginning of her tale, chaucer can find but little to say on the point; but for speken of hir conscience (he says) she was so charitable and so pitous, and then, as we are waiting to hear of her almsgiving to the poor--that she would weep over a mouse in a trap, or a beaten puppy, says chaucer. a good ruler of her house? again, doubtless. but when chaucer met her the house was ruling itself somewhere at the 'shire's ende'. the world was full of fish out of water in the fourteenth century, and, by sëynt loy, said madame eglentyne, swearing her greatest oath, like chaucer's monk, she held that famous text not worth an oyster. so we take our leave of her, characteristically on the road to canterbury. chapter v _the ménagier's wife_ a paris housewife in the fourteenth century the sphere of woman is the home. --_homo sapiens_ the men of the middle, as indeed of all ages, including our own, were very fond of writing books of deportment telling women how they ought to behave in all the circumstances of their existence, but more particularly in their relations with their husbands. many of these books have survived, and among them one which is of particular interest, because of the robust good sense of its writer and the intimate and lively picture which it gives of a bourgeois home. most books of deportment were written, so to speak, in the air, for women in general, but this was written by a particular husband for a particular wife, and thus is drawn from life and full of detail, showing throughout an individuality which its compeers too often lack. if a parallel be sought to it, it is perhaps to be found not in any other medieval treatise but in those passages of xenophon's _economist_, in which isomachus describes to socrates the training of a perfect greek wife. the ménagier de paris (the householder or goodman of paris, as we might say) wrote this book for the instruction of his young wife between and . he was a wealthy man, not without learning and of great experience in affairs, obviously a member of that solid and enlightened _haute bourgeoisie_, upon which the french monarchy was coming to lean with ever-increasing confidence. when he wrote he must have been approaching old age, and he was certainly over sixty, but he had recently married a young wife of higher birth than himself, an orphan from a different province. he speaks several times of her 'very great youth', and kept a sort of duenna-housekeeper with her to help and direct her in the management of his house; and indeed, like the wife of isomachus, she was only fifteen years old when he married her. modern opinion is shocked by a discrepancy in age between husband and wife, with which the middle ages, a time of _ménages de convenance_, was more familiar. 'seldom,' the ménagier says, 'will you see ever so old a man who will not marry a young woman.' yet his attitude towards his young wife shows us that there may have been compensations, even in a marriage between may and january. time after time in his book there sounds the note of a tenderness which is paternal rather than marital, a sympathetic understanding of the feelings of a wedded child, which a younger man might not have compassed. over all the matter-of-fact counsels there seems to hang something of the mellow sadness of an autumn evening, when beauty and death go ever hand in hand. it was his wife's function to make comfortable his declining years; but it was his to make the task easy for her. he constantly repeats the assurance that he does not ask of her an overweening respect, or a service too humble or too hard, for such is not due to him; he desires only such care as his neighbours and kinswomen take of their husbands, 'for to me belongeth none save the common service, or less'. in his prologue, addressed to her, he gives a charming picture of the scene which led him to write his book: 'you, being of the age of fifteen years and in the week that you and i were wed, did pray me that i would please to be indulgent to your youth and to your small and ignorant service mewards, until that you should have seen and learned more, to the hastening whereof you did promise me to set all care and diligence, ... praying me humbly, in our bed as i remember, that for the love of god i would not correct you harshly before strangers nor before our own folk, 'but that i would correct you each night or from day to day in our chamber and show you the unseemly or foolish things done in the day or days past, and chastise you, if it pleased me, and then you would not fail to amend yourself according to my teaching and correction, and would do all in your power according to my will, as you said. and i thought well of, and praise and thank you for, what you said to me and i have often remembered it since. and know, dear sister[d], that all that i know you have done since we were wed up to this day, and all that you shall do hereafter with good intent has been and is good and well hath pleased, pleases and shall please me. for your youth excuses you from being very wise, and will still excuse you in everything that you do with good intent to please me. and know that it doth not displease, but rather pleases me that you should have roses to grow and violets to care for and that you should make chaplets and dance and sing, and i would well that you should so continue among our friends and those of our estate, and it is but right and seemly thus to pass the time of your feminine youth, provided that you desire and offer not to go to the feasts and dances of too great lords, for that is not seemly for you, nor suitable to your estate nor mine[ ].' [footnote d: he addresses her throughout as 'sister', a term of affectionate respect.] meanwhile he has not forgotten her request that he would teach and correct her in private, and so he writes a little book (but it was a big book before he had finished) to show her how to comport herself; for he is sorry for this child, who has for long had neither father nor mother, and who is far from kinswomen who might counsel her, having 'me only' he says, 'for whom you have been taken from your kinsfolk and from the land of your birth.' he has often deliberated the matter and now here is 'an easy general introduction' to the whole art of being a wife, a housewife, and a perfect lady. one characteristic reason, apart from his desire to help her and to be comfortable himself (for he was set in his ways), he gives for his trouble and recurs to from time to time, surely the strangest ever given by a husband for instructing his wife. he is old, he says, and must die before her, and it is positively essential that she should do him credit with her second husband. what a reflection upon him if she accompanied his successor to mass with the collar of her _cotte_ crumpled, or if she knew not how to keep fleas from the blankets, or how to order a supper for twelve in lent! it is characteristic of the ménagier's reasonableness and solid sense that he regards his young wife's second marriage with equanimity. one of his sections is headed, 'that you should be loving to your husband (whether myself or another), by the example of sarah, rebecca, rachel.' how different from those husbands (dog-in-the-manger, or anxious for the future of their children under a possibly harsh stepfather) whose wills so often reveal them trying to bind their wives to perpetual celibacy after their deaths, such husbands as william, earl of pembroke, who died in , admonishing his lady: 'and wyfe, ye remember your promise to me to take the ordere of wydowhood, as ye may be the better mastre of your owne to performe my wylle.' the plan of the book 'in three sections, containing nineteen principal articles', is most exhaustive. the first section deals with religious and moral duties. in the words of the ménagier, 'the first section is necessary to gain for you the love of god and the salvation of your soul, and also to win for you the love of your husband and to give you in this world that peace which ought to be had in marriage. and because these two things, to wit the salvation of your soul and the comfort of your husband, are the two things most chiefly necessary, therefore are they here placed first.' then follows a series of articles telling the lady how to say her morning prayer when she rises, how to bear herself at mass, and in what form to make her confession to the priest, together with a long and somewhat alarming discursus upon the seven deadly sins, which it assuredly never entered into her sleek little head to commit, and another, on the corresponding virtues.[ ] but the greater part of the section deals with the all-important subject of the wife's duty to her husband. she is to be loving, humble, obedient, careful and thoughtful for his person, silent regarding his secrets, and patient if he be foolish and allow his heart to stray towards other women. the whole section is illustrated by a series of stories (known as _exempla_ in the middle ages), culled from the bible, from the common stock of anecdotes possessed by jongleur and preacher alike, and (most interesting of all) from the ménagier's own experience. among the ménagier's longer illustrations is the favourite but intolerably dull moral tale of melibeu and prudence, by albertano of brescia, translated into french by renault de louens, whose version the ménagier copied, and adapted by jean de meung in the _roman de la rose_, from which in turn chaucer took it to tell to the canterbury pilgrims. here also are to be found petrarch's famous tale of patient griselda, which chaucer also took and gave a wider fame, and a long poem written in by jean bruyant, a notary of the châtelet at paris, and called 'the way of poverty and wealth', inculcating diligence and prudence.[ ] the second section of the book deals with household management and is far the most interesting. the range of the ménagier's knowledge leaves the reader gasping. the man is a perfect mrs beeton! the section comprises a detailed treatise on gardening and another on the principles which should govern the engagement of servants and the method by which they should be managed when hired; the modern problem of servants who leave does not seem to have presented itself to him. there are instructions how to mend, air, and clean dresses and furs, get out grease spots, catch fleas and keep flies out of the bedroom, look after wine, and superintend the management of a farm. at one point he breaks off, addressing his wife thus: 'here will i leave you to rest or to play and will speak no more to you; and while you disport yourself elsewhere i will speak to master john, the steward, who looks after our possessions, so that if there is anything wrong with any of our horses, whether for the plough or for riding, or if it is necessary to buy or exchange a horse, he may know a little of that it behoves him to know in this matter.' there follow several pages of wise advice as to the good points of horses, how to examine them and to find their ages and defects under the eye of the horse dealer, the practical 'tips' of a man who evidently knew and loved his horses, together with advice upon the treatment of their various diseases. among the various recipes which the ménagier gives to this intent are two charms; for instance, 'when a horse has glanders, you must say to him these three words, with three paternosters: _abgla_, _abgly_, _alphard_, _asy_, _pater noster_, etc.'[ ] last, but not least, there is a magnificent cookery book, arranged in the form sacred to cookery books from that day to this, beginning with a list of specimen menus for dinners and suppers, hot or cold, fast or feast, summer or winter, giving hints on the choice of meat, poultry, and spices, and ending with a long series of recipes for all manner of soups, stews, sauces, and other viands, with an excursus on invalid's cookery! the third section of the book was intended by the ménagier to contain three parts: first of all, a number of parlour games for indoor amusement; secondly, a treatise on hawking, the favourite outdoor amusement of ladies; and thirdly, a list of amusing riddles and games of an arithmetical kind ('concerning counting and numbering, subtle to find out or guess'), presumably of the nature of our old friend, 'if a herring and a half cost three ha'pence.' unfortunately, the ménagier seems never to have finished the book, and of this section only the treatise on hawking has survived. it is a great pity, for we have several such treatises, and how interesting an account of indoor games and riddles might have been we may guess from a passage in the ménagier's version of the story of lucrece, when he describes the roman ladies 'some gossiping, others playing at _bric_, others at _qui féry_, others at _pince merille_, others at cards or other games of pleasure with their neighbours; others, who had supped together, were singing songs and telling fables and stories and wagers; others were in the street with their neighbours, playing at blind man's buff or at _bric_ and at several other games of the kind.'[ ] in those days, before the invention of printing had made books plentiful, medieval ladies were largely dependent for amusement upon telling and listening to stories, asking riddles, and playing games, which we have long ago banished to the nursery; and a plentiful repertoire of such amusements was very desirable in a hostess. the ménagier was clearly anxious that his wife should shine in the amenities as well as in the duties of social life. such was the monumental work which the ménagier de paris was able to present to his awed but admiring wife; and though it has been sadly neglected by historians it deserves to be well known, for it gives us a picture of a medieval housewife which it would be hard indeed to surpass. there is hardly a side of her daily life upon which it does not touch, and we may now with advantage look more closely upon her, and see in turn the perfect lady, whose deportment and manners do credit to her breeding; the perfect wife, whose submission to her husband is only equalled by her skill in ministering to his ease; the perfect mistress, whose servants love her and run her house like clockwork; and the perfect housewife, the mrs beeton of the fifteenth century. the ménagier's views on deportment are incongruously sandwiched into his section on spiritual duties, under the general headings of getting up in the morning and going to church. his ideas on the subject of clothes are very clearly defined: a sweet disorder in the dress was in no way to his taste: know, dear sister, that if you wish to follow my advice you will have great care and regard for what you and i can afford to do, according to our estate. have a care that you be honestly clad, without new devices and without too much or too little frippery. and before you leave your chamber and house, take care first that the collar of your shift, and of your _blanchet, cotte_ and _surcotte_, do not hang out one over the other, as happens with certain drunken, foolish or witless women, who have no care for their honour, nor for the honesty of their estate or of their husbands, and who walk with roving eyes and head horribly reared up like a lion (_la teste espoventablement levée comme un lyon!_), their hair straggling out of their wimples, and the collars of their shifts and _cottes_ crumpled the one upon the other, and who walk mannishly and bear themselves uncouthly before folk without shame. and if one speaks to them about it, they excuse themselves on the ground of their industry and humility, saying that they are so diligent, hardworking, and humble that they care not for themselves. but they lie; they care so much for themselves that if they were in an honourable company, never would they be willing that men should wait less upon them than upon the wiser ladies of like lineage with themselves, nor that they should have fewer salutations, bows, reverences and speech than the rest, but rather they desire more. and they are unworthy of it, for they know not how to maintain their own honourable fame, nay, nor the fame of their husbands and of their lineage, which they bring to shame. therefore, fair sister, have a care that your hair, wimple, kerchief and hood and all the rest of your attire be well arranged and decently ordered, that none who see you can laugh or mock at you, but that all the others may find in you an example of fair and simple and decent array.... when you go to town or to church go suitably accompanied by honourable women according to your estate, and flee suspicious company, never allowing any ill famed woman to be seen in your presence. and as you go bear your head upright and your eyelids low and without fluttering, and look straight in front of you about four rods ahead, without looking round at any man or woman to the right or to the left, nor looking up, nor glancing from place to place, nor stopping to speak to anyone on the road.[ ] such was the model of female deportment in the middle ages. let us pass from the lady to the wife. on the attitude of wife to husband the ménagier's ideas are much the same as those of the rest of his age. they may be summed up as submission, obedience, and constant attention. she must be buxom at bed and at board, even in circumstances when buxomness hides a heavy heart. the good sense of the burgess does not prevent him from likening the wife's love for her husband to the fidelity of domestic animals towards their masters: 'of the domestic animals you see how a greyhound, or a mastiff, or a little dog, whether on the road, or at table, or in bed, always keeps near to the person from whom he takes his food, and leaves and is shy and fierce with all others; and if the dog is afar off, he always has his heart and his eye upon his master; even if his master whip him and throw stones at him, the dog follows, wagging his tail and lying down before his master, seeks to mollify him, and through rivers, through woods, through thieves and through battles follows him.... wherefore for a better and stronger reason women, to whom god has given natural sense and who are reasonable, ought to have a perfect and solemn love for their husbands; and so i pray you to be very loving and privy with your husband who shall be.'[ ] patience is an essential quality in wives, and, however sorely tried they must never complain. the ménagier tells three stories to illustrate how a wife should bear herself in order to win back the love of an unfaithful husband. one of these is the famous tale of griselda, but the two others are drawn (so he says) from his own experience. in the first of these he tells of the wife of a famous _avocat_ in the _parlement_ of paris, who saw to the nurture and marriage of her husband's illegitimate daughter; 'nor did he ever perceive it by one reproach, or one angry or ugly word.' the second is the charmingly told story of how john quentin's wife won back her husband's heart from the poor spinner of wool to whom it had strayed.[ ] all seem to show that the ménagier's simile of the little dog was selected with care, for the medieval wife, like the dog, was expected to lick the hand that smote her. nevertheless, while subscribing to all the usual standards of his age, the ménagier's robust sense, his hold upon the realities of life, kept him from pushing them too far. the comment of another realist, chaucer, on the tale of patient griselda will be remembered. grisilde is deed and eek hire pacience, and bothe at ones buryed in ytaille; for which i crie in open audience, no wedded man so hardy be t'assaille his wyves pacience in hope to fynde grisildes, for in certein he shal faille! o noble wyves, ful of heigh prudence, lat noon humylitee youre tonge naill, ne lat no clerk have cause or diligence to write of yow a stone of swich mervaille as of grisildis pacient and kynde, lest chichivache[e] yow swelwe in hire entraille!... [footnote e: chichevache, the lean cow who fed on patient wives, while her mate bicorne grew fat on humble husbands (a.w. pollard).] his creation of the wife of bath was an even more pointed commentary. here is what the ménagier has to say to his young wife on the same subject: and i, who have put [the tale of griselda] here only to teach you, have not put it here to apply it to you, for i am not worthy thereof, and i am not a marquis and i have not taken you as a beggar, nor am i so foolish, so conceited or so lacking in sense that i know not that 'tis not for me to assault nor to assay you thus, nor in like manner. god keep me from trying you thus under colour of false simulations.... and forgive me that the story speaks (in my opinion) of too great cruelty and beyond reason. and know that it never befel so, but thus the tale runs and i may nor correct nor alter it, for a wiser than i hath made it. and it is my desire that since others have read it you also may know and be able to talk about everything even as other folk do.[ ] moreover, in spite of the ideal of submission which he sets before his wife, the ménagier has some charming words to say about love--with a sigh, perhaps, for his own advanced though not crabbed age, and a glance at that younger husband of the future who shall one day enjoy his little bride. in god's name (he says) i believe that when two good and honourable people are wed, all other loves are put far off, destroyed and forgotten, save only the love of each for the other. and meseems that when they are in each other's presence, they look upon each other more than upon the others, they clasp and hold each other and they do not willingly speak or make sign save to each other. and when they are separated, they think of each other and say in their hearts, 'when i see him i shall do thus and thus to him, or say this to him, i shall beseech him concerning this or that.' and all their special pleasure, their chief desire and their perfect joy is to do pleasure and obedience one to the other, if they love one another.[ ] the greater part of the ménagier's book is concerned, however, not with the theoretical niceties of wifely submission, but with his creature comforts. his instructions as to how to make a husband comfortable positively palpitate with life; and at the same time there is something indescribably homely and touching about them; they tell more about the real life of a burgess's wife than a hundred tales of patient griselda or of jehanne la quentine. consider this picture (how typical a product of the masculine imagination!) of the stout bread-winner, buffeted about in all weathers and amid all discomforts, nobly pursuing the task of earning his living, and fortified by the recollection of a domesticated little wife, darning his stockings at home by the fire, and prepared to lavish her attentions on the weary hero in the evening. the passage is an excellent example of the ménagier's vivid and simple style, and of the use of incidents drawn from everyday life to illustrate his thesis, which is one of the chief charms of the book. fair sister, if you have another husband after me, know that you should think much of his comfort, for after a woman has lost her first husband she commonly finds it difficult to find another according to her estate, and she remains lonely and disconsolate for a long time[f]; and more so still, if she lose the second. wherefore cherish the person of your husband carefully, and, i pray you, keep him in clean linen, for 'tis your business. and because the care of outside affairs lieth with men, so must a husband take heed, and go and come and journey hither and thither, in rain and wind, in snow and hail, now drenched, now dry, now sweating, now shivering, ill-fed, ill-lodged, ill-warmed and ill-bedded; and nothing harms him, because he is upheld by the hope that he has of his wife's care of him on his return, and of the ease, the joys and the pleasures which she will do to him, or cause to be done to him in her presence; to have his shoes removed before a good fire, his feet washed and to have fresh shoes and stockings, to be given good food and drink, to be well served and well looked after, well bedded in white sheets and night-caps, well covered with good furs, and assuaged with other joys and amusements, privities, loves, and secrets, concerning which i am silent; and on the next day fresh shirts and garments. certes, fair sister, such service maketh a man love and desire to return to his home and to see his goodwife and to be distant with other women. [footnote f: this seems to be contrary to experience.] and therefore i counsel you to make such cheer to your husband at all his comings and goings and to persevere therein; and also to be peaceable with him and remember the rustic proverb, which saith that there be three things which drive the goodman from home, to wit, a dripping roof, a smoking chimney and a scolding woman.[ ] wherefore, fair sister, i pray you that in order to keep yourself in love and good favour with your husband you be unto him gentle, amiable and debonair. do unto him what the good simple women of our country say has been done unto their sons, when the lads have set their love elsewhere and their mothers cannot wean them from it. it is certain that when fathers and mothers be dead, and stepfathers and stepmothers argue with their stepsons, and scold them and repulse them, and take not thought for their sleeping, nor for their food and drink, their hose and their shirts and all their other needs and affairs, and the same children find elsewhere a good home and good counsel from some other woman, who receives them and takes thought to warm them with some poor gruel with her and to give them a bed and keep them tidy, mending their hosen, breeches, shirts, and other garments, then those lads cleave to her and desire to be with her, and to sleep warm between her breasts, and are altogether estranged from their mothers and fathers, who before took no heed of them, and now want to get them back and have them again. but it may not be, for these children hold more dear the company of strangers, who think and care for them, than that of their kinsfolk, who have no care of them. then the parents lament and weep and say that these same women have bewitched their children and that they are spellbound and cannot leave, but are never easy save when they are with their enchantresses. but whatever may be said of it, it is no witchcraft, but it by reason of the love, the care, the intimacies, joys and pleasures, which these women do in all ways unto the lads, and on my soul there is no other enchantment.... wherefore, dear sister, i pray you thus to bewitch and bewitch again your husband, and beware of dripping roof and smoking fire, and scold him not, but be unto him gentle and amiable and peaceable. be careful that in winter he has good fire without smoke, and let him rest well and be well covered between your breasts and thus bewitch him.... and thus you shall preserve and guard him from all discomforts and give him all the ease that you can, and serve him and cause him to be well served in your house; and you shall look to him for outside things, for if he be a good man he will take even more care and trouble over them than you wish, and by doing as i have said, you will make him always miss you and have his heart with you and with your loving service, and he will shun all other houses, all other women, all other services and households; all will be naught to him save you alone, if you think of him as aforesaid.... and so on the road, husbands will think of their wives, and no trouble will be a burden to them for the hope and love they will have of their wives, whom they will long to see, even as poor hermits, penitents and fasting monks long to see the face of christ jesus; and husbands served thus will never desire to abide elsewhere or in other company but will withhold, withdraw and abstain themselves there-from; all the rest will seem to them but a bed of stones compared with their home.[ ] enough has perhaps been quoted to show the ménagier's idea of a perfect wife; his idea of the perfect housewife is contained in a mass of instructions which make excellently entertaining reading. so modern in tone is his section on the management of servants, both in his account of their ways and in his advice upon dealing with them, that one often rubs one's eyes to be sure that what one is reading is really a book written over five centuries ago by an old burgess of paris. the ménagier evidently had a fairly large household, and he probably owned a country as well as a town house, for he speaks several times of overseeing the farm-hands 'when you are in the village'. to assist his wife in superintending this large staff he has a _maître d'hôtel_, called master john the steward (_le despensier_) and a duenna, half housekeeper and half chaperon, for her young mistress, called dame agnes _la béguine_[g] and a bailiff or foreman to look after the farm. the ménagier divides his servants and workmen into three classes--first, those engaged by the day or by the season for special work, such as porters and carriers, reapers, winnowers, coopers, and so on; secondly, those engaged on piecework, such as tailors, furriers, bakers, and shoemakers, hired by medieval households of some wealth to make what was needed from raw material purchased at fairs or in the shops of the city; and thirdly, the ordinary domestic servants, who were hired by the year and lived in their master's house; 'and of all these,' he says, 'there is none who does not gladly seek work and a master'. [footnote g: the béguines were a sort of religious order, or, more correctly, a lay sisterhood, standing half-way between the lay and the monastic life, and somewhat analogous to the franciscan tertiaries, or third order.] he gives an amusing account, evidently based upon bitter experience, of the wiles of the hired workman. he says that they are commonly lazy, rough, quick at 'answering back', arrogant (except on payday) and ready to break into insults if unsatisfied with their pay. he warns his wife to bid master john always to take the peaceable ones and always to bargain with them beforehand as to the pay for which they will do the work. for know that most often they do not want to bargain, but they want to get to work without any bargain having been made and they say gently, 'milord, it is nothing--there is no need--you will pay me well and i shall be content with what you think fit.' and if master john take them thus, when the work is finished they will say, 'sir, there was more to do than i thought, there was this and that to do, and here and there,' and they will not take what is given them and will break out into shouting and angry words ... and will spread abroad evil report concerning you, which is worst of all.[ ] we know from the various ordinances fixing wages from the time of the black death onwards, that labour troubles were acute in france as well as in england at the end of the fourteenth century; and the ménagier's advice throws an interesting sidelight on the situation. it is, however, in his observations upon the engagement and management of maidservants that the wisdom of the serpent is most apparent. incidentally he gives an account of how servants were hired in fourteenth-century paris, which shows that the registry office and the character are by no means modern phenomena. there were _recommanderesses_--women holding what we should call registry offices--in paris at this time, and an ordinance of (fixing wages after the black death) allows them to take _ s. d_. for placing a chambermaid and _ s_. for a nurse. a servant maid's wage at this time was s. a year and her shoes. the ménagier counsels his wife thus on the delicate subject of interviewing and engaging her domestic chambermaids and serving men: know, dear sister (he says), that in order that they may obey you better and fear the more to anger you, i leave you the rule and authority to have them chosen by dame agnes the béguine, or by whichever other of your women you please, to receive them into our service, to hire them at your pleasure, to pay and keep them in our service as you please, and to dismiss them when you will. nathless you should privily speak to me about it and act according to my advice, because you are too young and might be deceived by your own people. and know that of those chambermaids who are out of a place, many there be who offer themselves and clamour and seek urgently for masters and mistresses; and of these take none until you first know where their last place was, and send some of your people to get their character, to wit whether they talked or drank too much, how long they were in the place, what work they have been accustomed to doing and can do, whether they have homes or friends in the town, from what sort of people and what part of the country they come, how long they were there and why they left; and by their work in the past you shall find out what hope or expectation you may have of their work in the future. and know that oft-times such women from distant parts of the country have been blamed for some fault in their own part of the world and that is what brings them into service at a distance.... and if you find from the report of her master and mistress, neighbours and others that a girl is what you need, find out from her, and cause master john to register in his account book, the day on which you engage her, her name and those of her father, mother and any of her kinsfolk, the place where they live and her birthplace and her references. for servants will be more afraid to do wrong if they know that you are recording all these things and that if they leave you without permission, or are guilty of any offence, you will write and complain to the justice of their country or to their friends. and not withstanding bear in mind the saying of the philosopher called bertrand the old, who says that if you engage a maid or man of high and proud answers, you shall know that when she leaves she will miscall you if she can; and if, on the contrary, she be flattering and ¸full of blandishments, trust her not, for she is in league with someone else to trick you; but if she blushes and is silent and shamefast when you correct her, love her as your daughter.[ ] the ménagier's instructions as to how to look after servants when they have been engaged are equally practical. good order is to be maintained, quarrels and bad language[ ] prevented, and morals guarded. each is to have his or her work assigned and to do it promptly. 'if you order them to do something now and these your servants answer "there is plenty of time, it shall be done," or "it shall be done tomorrow," hold it as forgotten, it must all be begun again, it is as nought. and also when you give a general order to every one, each will wait for the other to do it, and it is the same.' not only is the work of the servants to be carefully superintended by the mistress and by dame agnes, 'who is with you', the ménagier tells his wife, 'in order to teach you wise and ripe behaviour and to serve and instruct you and to whom in particular i give the charge of this matter', but she is to show herself careful and benevolent in looking after their health and happiness. at the proper hour she is to cause them to sit down before a hearty meal of one sort of meat, avoiding rich viands, and one kind of drink, which must be nourishing but not intoxicating--'the cup that cheers but not inebriates'; probably in this case the light ale which was the habitual drink of the middle ages. she is to admonish them to eat and drink their fill, but as soon as they begin to tell stories, or to argue, or to lean on their elbows, order the béguine to make them rise and take away their table, for the common folk have a saying 'when a varlet holds forth at table and a horse grazes in the ditch, it is time to take them away, for they have had their fill.' in the evening, after their afternoon's work, they are to have another hearty meal, and then in winter time they may warm themselves at the fire and take their ease. then she is to lock up the house and pack them all off to bed. and arrange first that each have beside his bed a candlestick in which to put his candle, and have them wisely taught to extinguish it with the mouth or hand before getting into bed and by no means with their shirts. and also have them admonished and taught each and all, that they must begin again the next day and that they must rise in the morning and each set to upon his own work. the ménagier further advises his wife that chambermaids of fifteen to twenty years of age are foolish girls who do not know the world, and that she should always cause them to sleep near her in an antechamber, or a room without a skylight or a low window looking on to the street, and should make them get up and go to bed at the same time as herself. 'and you yourself,' he adds, 'who, if god please, will be wise by this time, must keep them near to you.' moreover, if any of her servants fall ill, 'do you yourself, laying aside all other cares, very lovingly and charitably care for him or her, and visit him and study diligently how to bring about his cure'.[ ] but it is perhaps in his capacity as mrs beeton that the ménagier is most amusing. his infinite variety of household knowledge is shown in the incidental recipes which he gives when he is describing the measures which a wife must take for her lord's comfort, and the work of the servants. there are elaborate instructions concerning the costly medieval garments, worn year after year for a lifetime and often bequeathed in their owner's will, instructions for cleaning dresses and furs and for preserving them from moths, and instructions for removing stains and grease spots. the ménagier gives seven recipes for taking out grease spots, but he is rather sceptical about one or two of them, which he has evidently copied from a book without trying them for himself. 'to get rid of stains on a dress of silk, satin, camlet, damask cloth or another,' runs one of these, 'dip and wash the stain in verjuice and the stain will go; even if the dress be faded, it will regain its colour. _this i do not believe'_. the chief impression left, however, is that the medieval housewife was engaged in a constant warfare against fleas. one of the ménagier's infallible rules for keeping a husband happy at home is to give him a good fire in the winter and keep his bed free from fleas in the summer. he gives six recipes for getting rid of such small livestock, which must indeed have been a very common trial to our forefathers: in summer take heed that there be no fleas in your chamber nor in your bed, which you may do in six ways, as i have heard tell. for i have heard from several persons that if the room be scattered with alder leaves the fleas will get caught therein. item, i have heard tell that if you have at night one or two trenchers of bread covered with birdlime or turpentine and put about the room with a lighted candle set in the midst of each trencher, they will come and get stuck thereto. another way which i have found and which is true: take a rough cloth and spread it about your room and over your bed and all the fleas who may hop on to it will be caught, so that you can carry them out with the cloth wheresoever you will. item, sheepskins. item, i have seen blankets placed on the straw and on the bed and when the black fleas jumped upon them they were the sooner found and killed upon the white. but the best way is to guard oneself against those which are within the coverlets and furs and the stuff of the dresses wherewith one is covered. for know that i have tried this, and when the coverlets, furs or dresses in which there be fleas are folded and shut tightly up, in a chest straitly bound with straps or in a bag well tied up and pressed, or otherwise compressed so that the said fleas are without light and air and kept imprisoned, then they will perish and die at once.[ ] a similar war had also to be waged against flies and mosquitoes, which rendered summer miserable. "i have sometimes," says the ménagier, "seen in several chambers that when one has gone to bed in them, they were full of mosquitoes, which at the smoke of the breath came to sit on the faces of those who slept and sting them so that they were fain to get up and light a fire of hay to smoke them off." against such pests he has also six infallible recipes--to wit, a mosquito net over the bed; sprigs of fern hung up for the flies to settle on; a bowl filled with a mixture of milk and hare's gall, or with the juice of raw onions, which will kill them; a bottle containing a rag dipped in honey, or else a string dipped in honey to hang up; fly whisks to drive them away; and closing up windows with oiled cloth or parchment.[ ] the section on cookery, which contains the ménagier's injunctions for "feeding the brute", is the longest in the book, and gives an extraordinarily interesting picture of the domestic economy of our ancestors.[ ] the ménagier must have been brother to chaucer's franklin, 'epicurus owene sone': an housholdere, and that a greet, was he: seint julian he was in his contree; his breed, his ale, was alwey after oon; a bettre envyned man was nowher noon. withoute bake mete was never his hous, of fissh and flessh, and that so plenteuous it snewed in his hous of mete and drynke. of alle deyntees that men koude thynke. after the sondry sesons of the yeer, so chaunged he his mete and his soper. ful many a fat partrich had he in muwe and many a breem and many a luce in stuwe. wo was his cook but if his sauce were poynaunt and sharpe and redy al his geere. his table dormant in his hal alway stood redy covered al the longe day. in this, as in all other medieval cookery books, what strikes the modern reader is the length and elaboration of the huge feasts, with their many courses and dishes, and the richness of the highly spiced viands. there are black puddings and sausages, venison and beef, eels and herrings, fresh water fish, round sea fish and flat sea fish, common pottages unspiced, spiced pottages, meat pottages and meatless pottages, roasts and pastries and entremets, divers sauces boiled and unboiled, pottages and 'slops' for invalids. some of them sound delicious, others would be ruin to our degenerate digestions today. pungent sauces of vinegar, verjuice, and wine were very much favoured, and cloves, cinnamon, galingale, pepper, and ginger appear unexpectedly in meat dishes. almonds were a favourite ingredient in all sorts of dishes, as they still are in china and other parts of the east, and they might well be used more lavishly than they are in modern european cookery. true to his race, the ménagier includes recipes for cooking frogs and snails.[ ] to the modern cook some of his directions may appear somewhat vague, as when he bids his cook to boil something for as long as it takes to say a paternoster or a _miserere_; yet for clockless kitchens in a pious age what clearer indication could a man give? and, after all, it is no worse than 'cook in a hot oven', which still finds a place in many modern cookery books which should know better. other instructions are detailed enough. in one valuable passage he gives a list of all the meat markets of paris, together with the number of butchers to be found in each and the number of sheep, oxen, pigs, and calves sold there every week, adding also for interest the amount of meat and poultry consumed weekly in the households of the king, the queen and the royal children, the dukes of orleans, berry, burgundy, and bourbon. elsewhere also he speaks of other markets--the pierre-au-lait, or milk market; the place de grève, where they sell coal and firewood; and the porte-de-paris which is not only a meat market, but the best place in which to buy fish and salt and green herbs and branches to adorn your rooms. for his wife's further guidance the ménagier sets out a careful specification of the catering arrangements for several great feasts--to wit, a dinner given by the abbot of lagny to the bishop of paris and the members of the king's council, the feast, comprising dinner and supper, which one master elias (evidently a grave and reverend _maître d'hôtel,_ like master john _le despensier_ himself) made for the wedding of jean du chesne, upon a tuesday in may, and the arrangements for another wedding, "les nopces hautecourt", in the month of september, as to which the ménagier observes "that because they were widower and widow they were wed very early, in their black robes and then put on others"; he was anxious that his widow should do the correct thing at that second wedding of hers. the description of the wedding feast arranged by master elias is particularly detailed and valuable.[ ] the careful ménagier, perhaps because he foresaw some big entertainment which he must give to the burgesses and gentlemen of paris, perhaps because of his delightful interest in all the details of material life, has set down at length not only the menu of the dinner and supper, but a long account of the ingredients needed, their quantities and prices, and the shops or markets where they must be bought, so that the reader can see with his eyes the _maître d'hôtel_ and the cooks going round from stall to stall, visiting butcher and baker, poulterer, saucemaker, vintner, wafer maker, who sold the wafers and pastries dear to medieval ladies, and spicer whose shop was heavy with the scents of the east. the ménagier sets down also all the esquires and varlets and waiters who will be needed to serve such a feast as this. there was the master cook, comfortably stout and walking 'high and disposedly', as queen elizabeth danced, brain pan stuffed full of delectable recipes, hand of ravishing lightness with pastries, eye and nose skilled to say when a capon was done to a turn, warranted without a rival to boille the chiknes with the marybones, and poudre-marchant tart and galyngale ... he koude rooste and seethe and boille and frye, maken martreux and wel bake a pye ... for blankmanger, that made he with the beste. he brought his varlets with him, and in paris he took two francs for his hire 'and perquisites' (a pregnant addition). then there were ushers, 'stout and strong', to keep the doors, and a clerk to add up the account; bread-cutters and water-carriers, two squires to serve at the dresser in the kitchen where the plates and dishes were handed out, two others at the hall dresser to give out spoons and drinking cups and pour wine for the guests, and two others in the pantry to give out the wine which their varlet kept drawing for them. there were the two _maîtres d'hôtel_ to set out the silver salt-cellars for the high table, the four great gilded goblets, the four dozen hanaps, the four dozen silver spoons, the ewers and alms mugs and sweetmeat dishes, and to usher the guests to their places; a head waiter and two servitors for each table, a flower girl to make chaplets of flowers for the guests, women to see to the linen and deck the bridal bed,[ ] and a washerwoman. the floors were strewn with violets and green herbs and the rooms decked with branches of may (all bought in the market in early morning), and there was a good stock of torches and candles, small candles to stand on the supper tables, and great torches to be set in sconces on the walls, or to be carried in procession by the guests, for the supper ended with 'dancing, singing, wine and spices and lighted torches'. on this occasion eight francs were given to the minstrels, over and above the spoons and other presents made to them during the meal, and there were also acrobats and mimes to amuse the guests. if they had to prepare a great feast master john and his little mistress could not go far wrong after this, or fail to please the genial epicure who set it down for them. the ménagier copied many of his recipes from other cookery books, but he must have got the details of this entertainment from master elias himself, and one can see their grey heads wagging with enjoyment, as one talked and the other wrote. the cookery book ends with a section containing recipes for making what the ménagier calls 'small things which are not necessities'. there are various sorts of jams, mostly made with honey; in the middle ages vegetables were evidently much prepared in this way, for the ménagier speaks of turnip, carrot, and pumpkin jam. there is a delicious syrup of mixed spices (at least the palate of faith must believe it to have been delicious) and a powder of ginger, cinnamon, cloves, cardamom, and sugar, to be sifted over food, as sugar is sifted today; there is a recipe for hippocras, and for 'gauffres' or wafers, and for candied oranges. there are various sage pieces of advice as to the seasons for certain foods and the best ways of cooking and serving them. most amusing of all these are a number of recipes not of a culinary nature--to wit, for making glue and marking ink, for bringing up small birds in aviaries and cages, preparing sand for hour-glasses, making rose-water, drying roses to lay among dresses (as we lay lavender today), for curing tooth-ache, and for curing the bite of a mad dog. the latter is a charm, of the same type as the ménagier's horse charms: 'take a crust of bread and write what follows: _bestera bestie nay brigonay dictera sagragan es domina siat siat siat_.' let us remember, however, that the nation which produced it, some four centuries later, produced pasteur. [illustration: v. the mÉnagier's wife has a garden party] enough has been said about this entrancing book to show how vividly it brings not only the ménagier, but the ménagier's young wife before our eyes after these many years. in the morning she rises, much earlier than ladies rise nowadays, though not so early as nuns, who must say matins, for that, her husband tells her, is not a fitting hour for married women to leave their beds. then she washes, much less than ladies nowadays, hands and face only perchance, and says her orisons, and dresses very neatly, for she knows whose eye is upon her, and so goes with dame agnes the béguine to mass, with eyes on the ground and hands folded over her painted primer. after mass, and perhaps confession, back again to see if the servants are doing their work, and have swept and dusted the hall and the rooms, beaten the cushions and coverlets on the forms and tidied everything, and afterwards to interview master john the steward and order dinner and supper. then she sends dame agnes to see to the pet dogs and birds, "for they cannot speak and so you must speak and think for them if you have any". then, if she be in her country house, she must take thought for the farm animals and dame agnes must superintend those who have charge of them, robin the shepherd, josson the oxherd, arnoul the cowherd, jehanneton the milkmaid, and eudeline the farmer's wife who looks after the poultry yard. if she be in her town house she and her maids take out her dresses and furs from their great chests and spread them in the sun in the garden or courtyard to air, beating them with little rods, shaking them in the breeze, taking out spots and stains with one or other of the master's tried recipes, pouncing with lynx eyes upon the moth or sprightly flea. [illustration: vi. the mÉnagier's wife cooks his supper, with the aid of his book] after this comes dinner, the serious meal of the day, eaten by our ancestors about a.m. what the ménagier's wife gives to her lord and master will depend upon the time of year and upon whether it be a meat or a fast day; but we know that she has no lack of menus from which to choose. after dinner she sees that the servants are set to dine, and then the busy housewife may become the lady of leisure and amuse herself. if in the country she may ride out hawking with a gay party of neighbours; if in town, on a winter's day, she may romp and play with other married ladies of her tender years, exchange riddles or tell stories round the fire. but what she most loves is to wander in her garden, weaving herself garlands of flowers, violets, gilly flowers, roses, thyme, or rosemary, gathering fruit in season (she likes raspberries and cherries), and passing on to the gardeners weighty advice about the planting of pumpkins ("in april water them courteously and transplant them"), to which the gardeners give as much attention as gardeners always have given, give still, and ever shall give, world without end, to the wishes of their employers. when she tires of this, the busy one gathers together dame agnes and her maids, and they sit under the carved beams of the hall mending his mastership's doublet, embroidering a vestment for the priest at his family chantry, or a tapestry hanging for the bedchamber. or perhaps they simply spin (since, in the words of the wife of bath, god has given women three talents--deceit, weeping, and spinning!); and all the while she awes them with that tale of griselda, her voice rising and falling to the steady hum of the wheels. at last it is evening, and back comes the lord and master. what a bustle and a pother this home-coming meant we know well, since we know what he expected. such a running and fetching of bowls of warm water to wash his feet, and comfortable shoes to ease him; such a hanging on his words and admiring of his labours. then comes supper, with a bevy of guests, or themselves all alone in the westering sunlight, while he smacks connoisseur's lips over the roast crane and the blankmanger, and she nibbles her sweet wafers. afterwards an hour of twilight, when she tells him how she has passed the day, and asks him what she shall do with the silly young housemaid, whom she caught talking to the tailor's 'prentice through that low window which looks upon the road. there is warm affection in the look she turns up to him, her round little face puckered with anxiety over the housemaid, dimpling into a smile when he commends her; and there is warm affection and pride too in the look the old man turns down upon her. so the night falls, and they go round the house together, locking all the doors and seeing that the servants are safe abed, for our ancestors were more sparing of candlelight than we. and so to bed. we may take our leave of the couple here. the ménagier's wife evidently had a full life. some respit to husbands the weather may send, but huswiues affaires haue neuer an end. there was no room in it for the idleness of those lovely ladies, with their long fingers, whom langland admonished to sew for the poor. moreover, exaggerated as some of her husband's ideas upon wifely submission appear today, the book leaves a strong impression of good sense and of respect as well as love for her. the ménagier does not want his wife to be on a pedestal, like the troubadour's lady, nor licking his shoes like griselda; he wants a helpmeet, for, as chaucer said, 'if that wommen were nat goode and hir conseils goode and profitable, oure lord god of hevene wolde never han wroght hem, ne called hem "help" of man, but rather confusioun of man.'[ ] ecclesiastical jeremiahs were often wont to use the characteristically medieval argument that if god had meant woman for a position of superiority he would have taken her from adam's head rather than his side; but the ménagier would have agreed with the more logical peter lombard, who observed that she was not taken from adam's head, because she was not intended to be his ruler, nor from his feet either, because she was not intended to be his slave, but from his side, precisely, because she was intended to be his companion. there is something of this spirit in the ménagier's attitude towards his little wife, and it is this which makes his book so charming and causes it to stand head and shoulders above most other medieval books of behaviour for women. but, above all, its social and historical value lies in the fact that it gives us, in hues undimmed by time, a full length portrait of a medieval housewife, who has her place (and it is a large one) in history, but concerning whom historians have almost invariably been silent. chapter vi _thomas betson_ a merchant of the staple in the fifteenth century some men of noble stock were made, some glory in the murder blade: some praise a science or an art, but i like honourable trade! --james elroy flecker _the golden journey to samarcand_ the visitor to the house of lords, looking respectfully upon that august assembly, cannot fail to be struck by a stout and ungainly object facing the throne--an ungainly object upon which in full session of parliament, he will observe seated the lord chancellor of england. the object is a woolsack, and it is stuffed as full of pure history as the office of lord chancellor itself. for it reminds a cotton-spinning, iron-working generation that the greatness of england was built up, not upon the flimsy plant which comes to her to be manufactured from the far east and west of the world, nor upon the harsh metal delved from her bowels, but upon the wool which generation after generation has grown on the backs of her black-faced sheep. first in the form of a raw material sought after eagerly by all the cloth-makers of europe, then in the form of a manufacture carried on in her own towns and villages, and sent out far and wide in ships, wool was the foundation of england's greatness right up to the time of the industrial revolution, when cotton and iron took its place. so if you look at old pictures of the house of lords, in henry viii's reign, or in elizabeth's, you will see the woolsack before the throne,[ ] as you will see it if you visit the house today. the lord chancellor of england is seated upon a woolsack because it was upon a woolsack that this fair land rose to prosperity. the most remarkable body of traders in england during the middle ages were the merchants of the staple, who traded in wool. the wool trade had for long been the largest and most lucrative body of trade in the country, and it was one in which the kings of england were particularly interested, for their customs revenue was drawn largely from wool and wool fells; and, moreover, when they desired to borrow money in anticipation of revenue it was to the wool merchants that they turned, because the wool merchants were the wealthiest traders in the country. for these and other reasons the government adopted the custom of fixing staple towns, which acted as centres of distribution through which the export trade was forced to go. the location of the staple was altered from time to time; sometimes it was at bruges, sometimes at antwerp, sometimes in england; but usually it was at calais, where it was first fixed in and finally established in . through the staple all wool and wool fells, hides, leather, and tin had to pass, and the organization of the system was complete when the body of wool merchants, in whose hands lay the bulk of the staple trade, were finally incorporated in , under the governance of a mayor. the system was a convenient one for crown and merchants alike. the crown could concentrate its customs officers in one place and collect its customs the more easily, particularly as a method was gradually developed by which the custom and subsidy on wool was paid to the royal officials by the fellowship of the staple, who then collected it from the individual members. the merchants, on the other hand, benefited by the concentration in trade: they were able to travel in groups and to organize convoys to protect the wool fleets from pirates who swarmed in the narrow seas between england and france; as members of a powerful corporation they could secure both privileges and protection in flanders. moreover, the wool buyers also benefited by the arrangement, which rendered possible a careful surveillance by the crown and the company of the staple of the quality of the wool offered for sale, and a series of regulations against fraud. it must be remembered that in days when trade stood in need of a protection which the government was not yet able to give it, there was nothing unpopular in the idea of giving the monopoly of the staple trade to the members of a single company. 'trade in companies is natural to englishmen,' wrote bacon; and for four centuries it was the great trading companies which nurtured english trade and made this country the commercial leader of the world. the wool trade throve in england until the close of the middle ages, but throughout the fifteenth century the staplers were beginning to feel the competition of another company--that of the famous merchant adventurers, who, taking advantage of the growth in the native cloth manufacture during the previous century, had begun to do a great trade in the export of cloth. this was obnoxious to the staplers, who desired the continuance of the old system, by which they exported english wool to the continent, where at ypres and ghent, bruges and mechlin, and the other famous cloth-working cities of the netherlands, it was woven into fine cloth. this cloth manufacture gave to the netherlands a sort of industrial pre-eminence in europe throughout the middle ages, and it was dependent entirely upon a good supply of english wool, for the next best wool in europe--that of spain--was not satisfactory unless mixed with wool of english growth. hence the close political tie between england and flanders, the one needing a customer, the other an essential raw material; for, as a fifteenth century poet said, the lytelle londe of flaundres is but a staple to other londes, iwys, and alle that groweth in flaundres, greyn and sede, may not a moneth fynde hem mete and brede. what hath thenne flaundres, be flemmyngis leffe or lothe but a lytelle madere and flemmyshe cloothe? by drapynge of our wolle in substaunce lyvene here comons, this is here governaunce; wythought whyche they may not leve at ease, thus moste hem sterve, or wyth us most have peasse.[ ] in those days the coat on the englishman's back was made out of english wool, indeed, but it had been manufactured in flanders, and the staplers saw no reason why it should ever be otherwise. as to the flemings, the political alliances which commercial necessities constantly entailed between the two countries gave rise among them to a proverb that they bought the fox-skin from the english for a groat and sold them back the tail for a guelder;[ ] but it was the sheepskin which they bought, and they were not destined to go on buying it for ever. the great cloth-making cities of the netherlands were finally ruined by the growth of the english cloth manufacture, which absorbed the english wool. however, in spite of the growing prosperity of this trade, which had by the beginning of the sixteenth century ousted that of wool as the chief english export trade, the company of the merchants of the staple was still great and famous throughout the fifteenth century. many were the wealthy and respected staplers who were in those days to be found directing the destinies of english towns, mayors of london and provincial ports, contractors and moneylenders to an impecunious king, so rich and so powerful that they became a constitutional menace, almost, it has been said, a fourth estate of the realm, with which his majesty was wont to treat for grants apart from parliament. many are the staplers' wills preserved in registries up and down england and bearing witness to their prosperity and public spirit. many are the magnificent brasses which preserve their memory in the parish churches of the cotswolds and other wool-growing districts of england. at chipping campden lies william grevel with his wife, 'late citizen of london and flower of the wool merchants of all england', who died in , and his beautiful house still stands in the village street. at northleach lies john fortey, who rebuilt the nave before he died in ; his brass shows him with one foot on a sheep and the other on a woolpack, and the brasses of thomas fortey, 'woolman', and of another unknown merchant, with a woolpack, lie near by. at linwood, at cirencester, at chipping norton, at lechlade, and at all hallows, barking, you may see others of the great fraternity.[ ] they rest in peace now, but when they lived they were the shrewdest traders of their day. of wool, cries the poet gower, o leine, dame de noblesce tu est des marchantz la duesse, pour toy servir tout sont enclin-- 'o wool, noble dame, thou art the goddess of merchants, to serve thee they are all ready; by thy good fortune and thy wealth thou makest some mount high, and others thou bringest to ruin. the staple where thou dwellest is never free of fraud and trickery, wherewith man wounds his conscience. o wool, christians no less than pagans and saracens seek to have thee and confess thee. o wool, we should not be silent about thy doings in strange lands; for the merchants of all countries, in time of peace, in time of war, come to seek thee by reason of their great love, for whoever else hath enemies thou art never without good friends, who have given themselves to thy profitable service. thou art cherished throughout the world, and the land where thou art born may do great things by reason of thee. thou art carried throughout the world by land and sea, but thou goest to the wealthiest men; in england art thou born, but it is said that thou art but ill governed, for trick, who hath much money, is made regent of thy staple; at his will he taketh it to foreign lands, where he purchaseth his own gain to our harm. o fair, o white, o delightful one, the love of thee stings and binds, so that the hearts of those who make merchandise of thee cannot escape. so they compass much trickery and many schemes how they may gather thee, and then they make thee pass the sea, queen and lady of their navy, and in order to have thee envy and covetousness hie them to bargain for thee.'[ ] the daily life of a merchant of the staple is not a difficult one to reconstruct, partly because the golden fleece has left so many marks upon our national life, partly because the statute book is full of regulations concerning the wool trade, but chiefly because there have come down to us many private letters from persons engaged in shipping wool from england to calais. of all the different sorts of raw material out of which the history of ordinary people in the middle ages has to be made, their letters are perhaps the most enthralling, because in their letters people live and explain themselves in all their individuality. in the fifteenth century most men and women of the upper and middle classes could read and write, although their spelling was sometimes marvellous to behold, and st olave's church is apt to become 'sent tolowys scryssche' beneath their painfully labouring goose quills, and punctuation is almost entirely to seek. but what matter? their meaning is clear enough. good fortune has preserved in various english archives several great collections of family letters written in the fifteenth century. finest of all are the famous paston letters, written by and to a family of norfolk gentlefolk, and crammed with information about high politics and daily life.[ ] less interesting, but valuable all the same, are the letters of the plumptons, who were lords in yorkshire.[ ] but for our purposes the most interesting are two other collections, to wit, the correspondence of the stonors, whose estates lay chiefly in oxfordshire and the neighbouring counties; and the cely papers, kept by a family of merchants of the staple. these two collections give us a vivid picture of wool staplers in their public and private lives. the cely papers cover the years to , and it so happens that during that period william stonor (he became sir william in ) also became interested in the wool trade, for in he married elizabeth riche, the daughter and widow of wealthy city merchants. the stonors had great sheep runs on their estates in the chilterns and cotswolds, and william readily perceived the advantage of his alliance with elizabeth's family, who were interested in the wool trade. consequently he entered into a partnership with a friend of his wife's, a merchant of the staple in calais, named thomas betson, who is the subject of this study, and until elizabeth's death in , he took an active part in the export trade. thomas betson died in , and was thus an exact contemporary of those other merchants of the staple, george and richard cely, whom he must have known; indeed, william cely, their cousin and agent, writes from london to george in calais in , advising him that he has dispatched fells to him in the _thomas_ of newhithe, 'and the sayd felles lyeth nexte be afte the maste lowest under the felles of thomas bettson'.[ ] by the aid of the 'stonor letters and papers', which contain many letters from and concerning him during the years of his partnership with sir william, and of the 'cely papers', which are full of information about the life of a merchant of the staple at calais, thomas betson may be summoned before us by a kindly magic until he almost lives again. so he deserves to do, for he is one of the most delightful people revealed to us in any of the fifteenth-century letters; for honest charm he has no rival save the attractive margery brews, who married john paston the younger, and shows up so pleasantly beside the hard paston women. perhaps the reason why our hearts warm immediately towards thomas betson is that our first meeting with him plunges us immediately into a love affair. his first letter to william stonor is dated april , , and informs william that their wool has come in to calais. 'right worshipfful syr,' it begins, 'i recomaund me unto your good maystershipe, and to my right worshipffulle maystresse your wiffe, and yf it plese your maystershipe, to my maystresse kateryn.'[ ] ten days later he writes again from london, on the eve of sailing for calais, thanking stonor for his 'gentle cheer and faithful love, the which alway ye bear and owe unto me, and of my behalf nothing deserved[h],' announcing that he has sent a present of powdered[i] lampreys from himself and a pipe of red wine from his brother, and adding this postscript: 'sir, i beseech your mastership that this poor writing may have me lowly recommended to my right worshipful mistress, your wife, and in like wise to my gentle cousin and kind mistress katherine riche, to whom i beseech your mastership ever to be favourable and loving.'[ ] who was this katherine riche to whom he so carefully commends himself? katherine riche was william stonor's stepdaughter, one of his wife's children by her first husband; she was thomas betson's affianced bride, and at this time she was about thirteen years old. [footnote h: henceforth i shall modernize spelling, for the reader's convenience.] [footnote i: i.e. pickled.] modern opinion, which is happily in favour of falling in love, and of adult marriages, is often shocked by the air of business which pervades matchmaking in the days of chivalry, and by the many cases of grown men married to little girls not yet out of their teens. in those days it was held that a boy came of age at fourteen and a girl at twelve (a discrepancy which the great canon lawyer, lyndwood, the son of a stapler,[ ] attributed to the fact that ill weeds grow apace!). for reasons of property, or to settle family feuds, or simply to assure their own future, babies in cradles were sometimes betrothed and even married; all that the church required was that children should be free when they came of age (at the ages of fourteen and twelve!) to repudiate the contract if they so desired. nothing seems to separate modern england from the good old days so plainly as the case of little grace de saleby, aged four, who for the sake of her broad acres was married to a great noble, and on his death two years later to another, and yet again, when she was eleven, to a third, who paid three hundred marks down for her.[ ] there is an odd mixture of humour and pathos in the story of some of these marriages. john rigmarden, aged three, was carried to church in the arms of a priest, who coaxed him to repeat the words of matrimony, but half-way through the service the child declared that he would learn no more that day, and the priest answered, 'you must speak a little more, and then go play you.' james ballard, aged ten, was married to jane his wife 'at x of the clocke in the night without the consent of any of his frendes, bie one sir roger blakey, then curate of colne, and the morowe after, the same james declarid vnto his vnckle that the said jane [beyinge a bigge damsell and mariageable at the same tyme] had intised him with two apples, to go with her to colne and to marry her.' elizabeth bridge _née_ ramsbotham, says that after her marriage to john bridge, when he was eleven and she thirteen, he never used her 'lovinglie, insomoche that the first night they were maried, the said john wold eate no meate at supper, and whan hit was bed tyme, the said john did wepe to go home with his father, he beynge at that tyme at her brother's house.'[ ] sometimes, however, medieval records throw a pleasanter light on these child marriages. such was the light thrown by the ménagier de paris's book for his young wife, so kindly, so affectionate, so full of indulgence for her youth; and such also is the light thrown by the charming letter which thomas betson wrote to little katherine riche on the first day of june in . it is a veritable gem, and it is strange that it has not attracted more notice, for certainly no anthology of english letters should be without it. i set it down here at length, for it brings to warm life again both thomas betson and katherine riche: mine own heartily beloved cousin katherine, i recommend me unto you with all the inwardness of my heart. and now lately ye shall understand that i received a token from you, the which was and is to me right heartily welcome, and with glad will i received it; and over that i had a letter from holake, your gentle squire, by the which i understand right well that ye be in good health of body, and merry at heart. and i pray god heartily in his pleasure to continue the same: for it is to me very great comfort that he so be, so help me jesu. and if ye would be a good eater of your meat alway, that ye might wax and grow fast to be a woman ye should make me the gladdest man of the world, by my troth; for when i remember your favour and your sad loving dealing to me wards, for sooth ye make me even very glad and joyous in my heart; and on the tother side again, when i remember your young youth, and see well that ye be none eater of your meat, the which should help you greatly in waxing, for sooth then ye make me very heavy again. and therefore i pray you, mine own sweet cousin, even as you love me, to be merry and eat your meat like a woman. and if ye will so do for my love, look what ye will desire of me, whatsoever it be, and by my troth, i promise you by the help of our lord to perform it to my power. i can no more say now, but on my coming home i will tell you much more between you and me and god before. and whereas ye, full womanly and like a lover, remember me with manifold recommendation in divers manners, remitting the same to my discretion to depart them there as i love best, for sooth, mine own sweet cousin, ye shall understand that with good heart and good will i receive and take to myself the one half of them and them will i keep by me; and the tother half with hearty love and favour i send them to you, mine own sweet cousin, again, for to keep by you; and over that i send you the blessing that our lady gave her dear son, and ever well to fare. i pray you greet well my horse and pray him to give you four of his years to help you withal; and i will at my coming home give him four of my years and four horse loaves till amends. tell him that i prayed him so. and cousin katherine, i thank you for him, and my wife shall thank you for him hereafter; for ye do great cost upon him, as is told me. mine own sweet cousin, it was told me but late that ye were at calais[j] to seek me, but could not see me nor find me; forsooth ye might have comen to my counter, and there ye should both find me and see me, and not have faulted of me; but ye sought me in a wrong calais, and that ye should well know if ye were here and saw this calais, as would god ye were and some of them with you that were with you at your gentle calais. i pray you, gentle cousin, commend me to the clock, and pray him to amend his unthrifty manners; for he strikes ever in undue time, and he will be ever afore, and that is a shrewd condition. tell him without he amend his condition that he will cause strangers to avoid and come no more there. i trust to you that he shall amend against mine coming, the which shall be shortly, with all hands and all feet, with god's grace. my very faithful cousin, i trust to you that though all i have not remembered my right worshipful mistress your mother afore in this letter, that ye will of your gentleness recommend me to her mistresship as many times as it shall please you: and ye may say, if it please you, that in whitsun week next i intend to the mart ward. and i trust you will pray for me; for i shall pray for you and, so it may be, none so well. and almighty jesu make you a good woman and send you many good years and long to live in health and virtue to his pleasure. at great calais, on this side on the sea, the first day of june, when every man was gone to his dinner, and the clock smote nine, and all your household cried after me and bade me 'come down, come down to dinner at once!'--and what answer i gave them, ye know it of old. [footnote j: possibly an inn with that name (?).] by your faithful cousin and lover thomas betson. i send you this ring for a token. so ending, thomas betson smiled, dropped a kiss on the seal and inscribed his letter, 'to my faithful and heartily beloved cousin katherine riche at stonor, this letter be delivered in haste.'[ ] henceforth there begins a charming triangular correspondence between betson and stonor and dame elizabeth stonor, in which family news and business negotiations are pleasantly mingled. dame elizabeth and betson were on the best of terms, for they had been old friends before her second marriage. a special chamber was kept for him at stonor, and by an affectionate anticipation she often refers to him as 'my son stonor'. almost all her letters to her husband contain news of him--how he took his barge at a.m. in the morning and god speed him, how no writing has come from him these eight days, how he has now written about the price to be paid for forty sacks of cotswold wool, how he recommends him to sir william and came home last monday. sometimes he is entrusted with the delicate business of interviewing dame elizabeth's mother, a difficult old lady with a tongue; 'god send her,' says thomas, mopping his brow, after one of these interviews, 'once a merry countenance or shortly to the minories[k]!' after another he writes to dame elizabeth: 'sith i came home to london i met with my lady your mother and god wot she made me right sullen cheer with her countenance whiles i was with her; methought it long till i was departed. she break out to me of her old "ffernyeres" and specially she brake to me of the tale i told her between the vicar that was and her; she said the vicar never fared well sith, he took it so much to heart. i told her a light answer again and so i departed from her. i had no joy to tarry with her. she is a fine merry woman, but ye shall not know it nor yet find it, nor none of yours by that i see in her[ ].' it was the faithful betson, too, who was chosen to look after his katherine's little sister anne when she was ill in london, and he writes home asking for her clothes--'she hath need unto them and that knoweth our lord'--and complaining of the old grandmother's behaviour: 'if my lady your mother meet my cousin anne she will say no more but "god's blessing have ye and mine', and so go her way forth, as though she had no joy of her[ ]." it was betson, too, who escorted dame elizabeth, when need was, from windsor to london and wrote to her husband: 'by the way we were right merry, thanked be god, and so with his mercy we mean here to be merry for the season that my lady is here, and when your mastership is ready to come hitherwards, we here shall so welcome you that the season of your abiding shall not be noisome, with god's grace[ ].' whereupon sir william sends a present of capons by the carrier to assist the merriment, and betson reports, 'sir, i took two capons, but they were not the best, as ye counselled me by your letter to take, and indeed to say the truth i could not be suffered. my lady your wife is reasonably strong waxed, the lord be thanked, and she took her will in that matter like as she doth in all other.'[ ] [footnote k: the convent of minoresses, or franciscan nuns, outside aldgate.] there are, indeed, a hundred evidences of the warmth of betson's affection for the stonors and of the simple piety of his character. sometimes he ventures to give them good advice. dame elizabeth was somewhat uplifted by her elevation from the ranks of the mercantile bourgeoisie to a place among the country gentry, and was apt to be extravagant, nor was her husband entirely guiltless of running up bills. we hear of the ale brewer and the bread baker calling daily upon his agent for money, and on one occasion the stonors owed over £ to betson's own brother, a vintner, for various pipes of red and white wine and a butt of rumney[l][ ]. so thomas writes to dame elizabeth, on his way to the mart: 'our blessed lord jesus christ preserve you both in honour and worship virtuously to continue in god's pleasure and also to send you good and profitable counsel and grace to do hereafter. this is and shall be my prayer forsooth every day; your honour and worship of countenance hereafter sticketh as nigh mine heart as doth any friend, man or other about you, by my troth, our blessed lord so help me. i will avise you, madame, to remember large expenses and beware of them, and in likewise my master your husband; it is well done ye remember him of them, for divers considerations, as ye know both right well. and our blessed lord be your comforter and help in all your good work. amen.'[ ] a month later he hears that william stonor has been ill and writes to sympathize with dame elizabeth: 'and if i could do anything here that might be to his pleasure and yours, i would i knew it and it should be done withouten fail. truly your discomfort is not my comfort, god knoweth it. nevertheless your ladyship must cause him to be merry and of glad cheer, and to put away all fantasies and unthrifty thoughts, that comes no good of, but only hurtful. a man may hurt himself by riotous means; it is good to beware.'[ ] [footnote l: greek wine.] meanwhile what of little katherine riche? she recurs over and over in thomas betson's letters. occasionally she is in disgrace, for she was not handy with her pen. 'i am wroth with katherine,' writes he to her mother, 'because she sendeth me no writing. i have to her divers times and for lack of answer i wax weary; she might get a secretary if she would and if she will not, it shall put me to less labour to answer her letters again.'[ ] but the important thing is that she grows steadily older, though not quickly enough to please our lover. on trinity sunday in he writes to dame elizabeth: 'i remember her full oft, god know[eth] it. i dreamed once she was thirty winters of age and when i woke i wished she had been but twenty and so by likelihood i am sooner like to have my wish than my dream, the which i beseech almighty jesu heartily when it shall please him'[ ]; and to the lady's stepfather he writes a month later: 'i beseech you to remember my cousin katherine. i would she did well, god knoweth it, and ye deme, as i trow, if i had found her at home here my comfort should have been the more; but i thank god of all. my pain is the more; i must needs suffer as i have done in times past, and so will i do for god's sake and hers.'[ ] however, katherine was now fifteen years of age and was sufficiently grown up to wed, and the next letter, written a week later to dame elizabeth, shows us thomas betson beginning to set his house in order and getting exceedingly bothered about laying in her trousseau, a business with which dame elizabeth had, it seems, entrusted the future bridegroom. madam, and it like you, i understand by your writing that it will be the latter end of august or your ladyship can come here to london; and if it should be so i would be sorry, for i have much to do and i can little skill to do anything that longeth to the matter ye wot of [evidently the preparations for katherine] ... i must beseech your ladyship to send me [your advice] how i shall be demeaned in such things as shall belong unto my cousin katherine, and how i shall provide for them. she must have girdles, three at the least, and how they shall be made i know not, and many other things she must have, ye know well what they be, in faith i know not; by my troth, i would it were done, liever than more than it shall cost.... and as for the sending hither of my cousin katherine, your ladyship may do therein as it shall please you. i would she knew as much as you know, forsooth, and then she should do some good and help me in many things when she come.... also, madam, as ye write me the courteous dealing of my master with my cousin katherine, etc., truly i am very glad thereof and i pray god heartily thank him therefore, for he hath ever been lovingly disposed [unto] her, and so i beseech god ever continue him and also my cousin katherine to deserve it unto him by her goodly demeanour and womanly disposition, as she can do right well if her list, and so saith every body that praiseth her.[ ] the note of pride in the last words is as engaging as the impatience of the harassed male faced with the choosing of girdles. even more charming is the letter which he wrote the same day to sir william stonor. he is a little incoherent with joy and gratitude, full of regrets that business keeps him from stonor and good wishes for the health of the family. 'i fare like a sorry piper,' he says. 'when i begin i cannot leave, but yet once again our blessed lord be your speed and your help,' of katherine he writes thus: i understand by the worshipful report of your mastership the [be]haviours of my cousin katherine unto you, to my lady your wife and to all other, etc.; and truly it is to me right joyful and comfortable gladness to hear of her and i beseech our blessed lord ever to preserve her in all virtue and good living to his pleasure, and to reward your mastership with heaven at your ending, for your good disposition to herwards in good exhortations giving. and that i wot well of old, or else truly she could not be of that disposition, virtuous and goodly, her youth remembered and excused.... sir, remember your mastership well what ye have written of my cousin katherine; truly i shall when i speak with her, tell her every word, and if i find the contrary. our vicar here, so god help me, shall cry out upon her[m] within this ten weeks and less, and by that time i shall be ready in every point, by god's grace, and so i would she were, forsooth ye may believe me of it.[ ] [footnote m: i.e. call the banns.] this letter was written on june , , and thomas probably married his little katherine in august or september, for when dame elizabeth writes to her husband on october , she says, 'my son betson and his wife recommend them to you'[ ] the poor child was to learn soon enough some of the sorrows of a wife, for a year later thomas betson fell dangerously ill, and she was nursing him and looking after his business for all the world as though she were a grave matron and not a bride of sixteen. moreover, she must already have been expecting the birth of her eldest son. william stonor's attitude towards his partner's illness is not without humour. he was torn between anxiety for the life of a friend and an even greater anxiety that betson should not die without setting straight the business obligations between them. we hear of the illness and of katherine's labours in a letter from one of stonor's agents to his master: sir, according to the commandment of your mastership, we were at stepney by nine of the clock; at such time as we came thither we saw the gentleman forthwith, and in good faith he made us good cheer as a sick man might by countenance notwithstanding, for in good faith we saw by his demeanour that he might not prosper in this world, for mistress bevice and other gentlewomen and his uncle were of the same opinion. and we desired and prayed him to be of good comfort and so comforted him as heartily as we could in your name and in my lady's, and so we departed from the chamber down into the hall, and he fell into a great slumbering and was busily moved in his spirits. and at eleven of the clock i called his uncle out of his bed into the gentleman's chamber, and i asked his advice and my mistress his wife, of the stock and of the demeanour thereof for the year and the half that is last past. and touching the stock he confessed that it was £ , , wherein at the sight of your acquittance in discharging of him and all his doers that shall be behind him, the said stock shall be ready. and as for the occupation of it, as he will answer between god and devil, the book that he bought it by ye shall be privy thereto; and the book that he sold by ye shall be also privy to, which two books shall be his judges, which remain in the keeping of my mistress his wife's hands under lock and key and other bills and obligations according, concerning the surety for divers payments to be made to divers merchants, as the said lord saith.... and as for the plate my mistress jane [probably jane riche, the younger sister of katherine] and i have caused it to be taken up and set in surety, save that that must needs by occupied. he sends to sir william for information about two sums of £ each owed by betson to his master and mistress, and adds: i trust to jesu he shall endure till the messenger come again; longer the physicians have not determined. the executors be three persons, my mistress his wife, humphrey starkey, recorder of london, robert tate, merchant of calais; notwithstanding i moved him, between him and me and mistress jane, that he should break this testament and make my mistress his wife sole executrix. what will be done therein as yet i cannot speak, but i shall do as i can, with god's grace.[ ] there is something unexpected and a little vulture-like about this gathering of creditors and seizing of plate about the death-bed of a man who had always, after all, shown himself exceedingly affectionate towards the stonors and devoted to their interests, and who was now my lady's son-in-law. the attempt to make the young wife of sixteen sole executrix, so that she might be completely in her family's hands and without the counsel of two experienced and disinterested merchants, has a somewhat sinister air. the intrigues went on, and three days later the agent writes again. it is pleasant to observe that bad-tempered old mistress croke, dame elizabeth's mother, was not unmindful of betson's forbearance during those visits when she had railed upon him with her sharp tongue: as for the tidings that is here, i trust to god it shall be very good. on thursday my lady croke came to stepney and brought with her master brinkley to see betson, and in faith he was a very sick man; and ere he departed he gave him plasters to his head, to his stomach and to his belly, [so] that he all that night was in a quiet rest. and he came to him again on friday ... and he was well amended and so said all the people that were about him. notwithstanding he will not determine him whether he shall live or die as yet, but he may keep him alive till tuesday noon, he will undertake him. the cause that i write to you now rather was because i had no certainty. sir, there hath been many special labours and secret i-made, sithen mistress jane and i were come, to the contrary disposition that we come for. i cannot write the plain[nes]s of them as yet, for my mistress betson attendeth, all things and counsels laid apart, to abide and trust in your good fatherhood and in my lady, and furthermore if he depart the world, ye shall hear tidings of her in as goodly haste as we may purvey for her. and whether he die or live, it is necessary and behoveful that mistress jane depart not from her into [i.e. until] such time as the certainty be knowen, for in truth divers folks, which ye shall know hereafter and my lady, both thus hath and would exhort her to a contrarier disposition, had not we been here by time. and mistress jane is worthy of much thank.[ ] however, all the schemings were premature, for betson happily recovered. on october the 'prentice' henham writes: 'my master betson is right well amended, blessed be jesus, and he is past all doubts of sickness and he takes the sustenance right well, and as for physicians, there come none unto him, for he hath no need of them.'[ ] but another death was at hand to break the close association between thomas betson and the stonors, for at the end of the year the kind, extravagant, affectionate dame elizabeth died. it is a surprising fact that her death seems to have brought to a close the business partnership between her husband and her son-in-law. henceforth the only references to thomas betson in the stonor papers are occasional notes of his debts to stonor: doubtless he had bought sir william's share in their joint business. on march , , he acknowledged obligations of £ , s. d. to stonor, and in he still owed £ , .[ ] it is impossible to guess why the relationship, which was an affectionate personal friendship as well as a business tie, should have come to such a sudden end. as the editor of the _stonor letters_ remarks, 'the sincerity and honesty of betson's character as revealed in his letters, forbids one to suppose that he was to blame.' such was the more private and domestic side of thomas betson's life; but it tells us little (save in occasional references to the fellowship of the staple or the price of cotswold wool) about that great company with which this chapter began; and since he stands here as a type as well as an individual, we must needs turn now to his public and business life, and try to find out from more indirect evidence how a merchant of the staple went about his business. the stapler, who would make a good livelihood, must do two things, and give his best attention to both of them: first, he must buy his wool from the english grower, then he must sell it to the foreign buyer. some of the best wool in england came from the cotswolds, and when you are a merchant of the staple you enjoy bargaining for it, whether you want the proceeds of the great summer clip or of the fells after the autumn sheep-killing. so thomas betson rides off to gloucestershire in the soft spring weather, his good sorrel between his knees, and the scent of the hawthorn blowing round him as he goes. other wool merchants ride farther afield--into the long dales of yorkshire to bargain with cistercian abbots for the wool from their huge flocks, but he and the celys swear by cotswold fells (he shipped , of them to london one july 'in the names of sir william stonor knight and thomas betson, in the _jesu_ of london, john lolyngton master under god'). may is the great month for purchases, and northleach the great meeting-place of staplers and wool dealers. it is no wonder that northleach church is so full of woolmen's brasses, for often they knelt there, and often the village hummed with the buyers and sellers, exchanging orders and examining samples. the celys bought chiefly from two northleach wool dealers, william midwinter and john busshe. the relations between dealers and sellers were often enough close and pleasant: midwinter even occasionally tried to provide a customer with a bride as well as with a cargo, and marriageable young ladies were not unwilling to be examined over a gallon of wine and much good cheer at the inn.[ ] it is true that midwinter was apt to be restive when his bills remained for too long unpaid, but he may be forgiven for that. thomas betson favoured the wool fells of robert turbot of lamberton,[ ] and dealt also with one john tate, with whyte of broadway (another famous wool village),[ ] and with john elmes, a henley merchant well known to the stonors. midwinter, busshe, and elmes were all wool dealers, or 'broggers'--middlemen, that is to say, between the farmers who grew and the staplers who bought wool, but often the staplers dealt directly with individual farmers, buying the small man's clip as well as the great man's, and warm friendships sprang from the annual visits, looked forward to in yorkshire dale and cotswold valley. it strikes a pleasant note when richard russell, citizen and merchant of york, leaves in his will, 'for distribution among the farmers of yorkes walde, from whom i bought wool l., and in the same way among the farmers of lyndeshay l.' ( ).[ ] the 'cely letters' give a mass of information about the wool buying at northleach. in the may of the same year in which betson's partnership with stonor would seem to have ended, old richard cely was up there doing business and reporting it to his son, 'jorge cely at caleys'. i greet you well and i have received a letter from you writ at calais the th day of may ( ), the which letter i have well understood of your being at the marts and of the sale of my middle wool, desired by john destermer and john underbay. wherefore by the grace of god i am abusied for to ship this foresaid sarplers, the which i bought of william midwinter of northleach, sarplers, the which is fair wool, as the wool packer will breten saith to me, and also the sarplers of the rector's is fair wool, much finer wool nor was the year before, the which i shipped afore easter last past. the shipping is begun at london, but i have none shipped as yet, but i will after these holy days, for the which i will ye order for the freight and other costs. this same day your brother richard cely is rid to northleach for to see and cast a sort of fell for me and another sort of fell for you.[ ] on another occasion he writes: 'by your letter you avise me for to buy wool in cotswold, for which i shall have of john cely his gathering sack, and of will midwinter of northleach sack. and i am avised to buy no more; wool in cotswold is at great price, s. d. a tod, and great riding for wool in cotswold as was any year this seven year.'[ ] what a picture it calls up of merchants trotting along the roads and looking as chaucer often saw them look: a marchant was ther with a forked berd, in motteleye and hye on horse he sat, upon his heed a flaundryssh bever hat, his boots clasped faire and fetisly; his resons he spak ful solempnely, sounynge alway thencrees of his wynnyng. often at northleach betson must have encountered his brethren of the staple, the staid old merchant richard cely among the rest, and son george who rides with 'meg', his hawk, on his wrist, and has a horse called 'bayard' and another called 'py'; and perhaps also john barton of holme beside newark, the proud stapler who set as a 'posy' in the stained glass windows of his house this motto: i thank god and ever shall it is the sheepe hath payed for all;[ ] though indeed it is unlikely that he came as far south as the cotswolds for his wool. sometimes also betson meets upon the road his rivals, stout, self-possessed flemings and thin sleek lombards with black eyes and gesticulating hands, who have no business in the cotswolds at all, but ought to be buying wool in the mart at calais. but they come, and all good englishmen are angry at their tricks and angrier still perhaps at their successful trade. 'i have not as yet packed my wool in london,' writes old richard cely on october , ; 'nor have i not bought this year a lock of wool, for the wool of cotswold is bought by lombards, wherefore i have the less haste for to pack my wool at london';[ ] and his son writes to him on november from calais: 'there is but little cotswold wool at calais and i understand lombards has bought it up in england.'[ ] it is true that the celys, other english merchants too, are not unwilling to conclude private bargains from time to time with foreign buyers in england. two years later their agent, william cely, writes to advise them that two flemish merchants are now trying to buy in england contrary to the ordinance, and that those in authority at calais have got wind of it, and therefore his masters must take care and make wyllykyn and peter bale pay at calais, 'but as for your dealings knoweth no man, without they search peter bale's books.'[ ] the upright betson no doubt eschewed such tricks and resented particularly the clever usurious lombards, so full of financial dodges to trick the english merchant, for did they not buy the wool in england on credit, riding about as they list in the cotswolds? in cotteswolde also they ryde aboute and al englonde, and bien wythouten doute, what them liste, wythe fredome and fraunchise more then we englisshe may getyn in any wyse. and then did they not carry the wool to flanders and sell it for ready money at a loss of five per cent, thereafter lending out this money at heavy usury, mostly to the english merchants themselves, so that by the time pay day came in england, they had realized a heavy profit? and thus they wold, if we will beleve wypen our nose with our owne sleve, thow this proverbe be homly and undew, yet be liklynesse it is forsoth fulle trew.[ ] the next serious piece of business thomas betson must take in hand is the packing and shipping of his wool to calais. here he found himself enmeshed in the regulations of the company and the crown, ever on the look-out for fraud in the packing or description of the staple product. the wool had to be packed in the county from which it came, and there were strict regulations against mixing hair and earth or rubbish with it. the collectors appointed by the company for the different wool-growing districts, and sworn in before the exchequer, rode round and sealed each package, so that it could not be opened without breaking the seal. then the great bales were carried on the backs of pack-horses 'by the ancient trackways over the wiltshire and hampshire downs, which had been used before the roman conquest, and thence through surrey and kent to the medway ports by the pilgrims' way.' at the different ports the collectors of customs were ready to enter on their rolls the names of the merchants shipping wool, together with the quantity and description of wool shipped by each.[ ] some of the wool came to london itself, where many of the staplers had offices in mark lane (which is a corruption of mart lane) and was weighed for the assessment of the customs and subsidy at the leadenhall.[ ] in this business thomas betson was helped by stonor's three assistants or 'prentices', as they call themselves, thomas henham, goddard oxbridge, and thomas howlake, for the last of whom he had a warm corner in his heart, because the young man was gentle to little katherine riche. these men were sometimes at the stonors' london warehouse and sometimes at their house in calais, and they saved betson a good deal of trouble, being experienced enough to oversee both the packing of wool in london and its sale in calais. to calais the wool thus packed, and weighed and marked and assessed by the customs officer, was carried in the ships of calais itself, or of the little ports on the east or south-eastern coast of england, many of which are mere villages today. for ships put out not only from hull and colchester, but from brightlingsea, rotherhithe, walberswick in suffolk, rainham in essex, bradwell, maidstone, milton, newhithe, and milhall. in august , the celys were paying the masters of twenty-one different ships for the freight of their sarplers of wool after the summer clip.[ ] all through the summer the shipping went on, and right up to christmas; but during the winter months the merchants were mostly sending over fells or sheepskins, after the great slaughter of sheep and cattle which took place at martinmas, when housewives salted down their meat for the winter and farmers made delivery of the fells and hides, for which the staplers had long ago bargained. very often merchants' letters and customs accounts give us the names of these doughty little ships and their cargoes. in the october of , for instance, the celys were shipping a consignment of fells: right worshipful sir, after due recommendation i lowly recommend unto you, letting you understand that my master hath shipped his fells at the port of london now at this shipping in october ..., which fells ye must receive and pay the freight first by the grace of god, in the 'mary' of london, william sordyvale master, packs, sum , lying be aft the mast, one pack lieth up rest and some of that pack is summer fells marked with an o, and then lieth packs fells of william daltons and under them lieth the other packs of my masters. item in the 'christopher' of rainham, harry wylkyns master, packs and a half cots[wold] fell, sum pelt, lying be aft the mast, and under them lieth a fells of welther fyldes, william lyndys man of northampton, and the partition is made with small cords. item, in the 'thomas' of maidstone, harry lawson master, pokes, sum pelt, whereof lieth packs next before the mast under hatches, no man above them, and one pack lieth in the stern sheet; of the six packs fells be some summer fells marked with an o likewise. item, in the 'mary grace' of london, john lokyngton master packs, sum pelt, lying be aft under the fells of thomas graunger, the partition between them is made with red; sum of the fells my master hath shipped at this time packs and a half whereof be winter fells of the country fells and they be marked with an c, and of summer fells there should be and more, but part of them be left behind, for we have two packs we could have no appointment for them, and all the summer fells be marked with an o. item, sir, ye shall receive of the 'mary' of rainham, john danyell master, your _male_ [trunk] with your gear and a essex cheese marked with my master's mark. and so on, with details of the number of fells shipped in like manner by the _michael_ of hull and the _thomas_ of newhithe, where they lay 'next the mast aftward under the fells of thomas betson's', over , fells in all.[ ] how invigorating is such a list of ships. cargoes are the most romantic of topics, whether they be apes and ivory and peacocks, or 'cheap tin trays'; and since the day that jason sailed to colchis fleeces have ever been among the most romantic of cargoes. how they smack of the salt too, those old master mariners, henry wilkins, master of the _christopher_ of rainham, john lollington, master of the _jesu_ of london, robert ewen, master of the _thomas_ of newhithe, and all the rest of them, waving their hands to their wives and sweethearts as they sail out of the sparkling little bays, with the good woolsacks abaft or under hatches--shipmen, all of them, after chaucer's heart: but of his craft, to rekene wel his tydes his stremes and his daungers hym besides, his herberwe and his moone, his lodemenage, ther was noon swich from hulle to cartage. hardy he was, and wys to undertake: with many a tempest hadde his berd been shake; he knew wel alle the havenes, as they were, from gootland to the cape of fynystere, and every cryke in britaigne and in spayne. his barge y-cleped was the maudelayne. their ships were doubtless like the _margaret cely_, which the two cely brothers bought and called after their mother, for the not excessive sum of £ , exclusive of rigging and fittings. she carried a master, boatswain, cook, and sixteen jolly sailor-men, and she kept a good look out for pirates and was armed with cannon and bows, bills, five dozen darts, and twelve pounds of gunpowder! she was victualled with salt fish, bread, wheat and beer, and she plied with the celys' trade to zealand, flanders, and bordeaux.[ ] she must have been about two hundred tons, but some of the other little ships were much smaller, for, as the learned editor of the _cely papers_ tells us, 'the ships of the little medway ports could scarcely have been of thirty tons to navigate the river safely; the "thomas" of maidstone can have been only a barge, if she had to pass aylesford bridge.'[ ] but they navigated the channel and dodged the pirates blithely enough, though often thomas betson at calais was nervous about the safe arrival of the wool fleet. like chaucer's merchant, he wolde the see were kept for any thing betwixe middelburgh and orewelle. side by side with george or richard cely he must often have strained his eyes from the quay, with the salt wind blowing out the feather in his cap, and breathed a thanksgiving to god when the ships hove in sight. 'and, sir,' he writes once to stonor from london, 'thanked be the good lord, i understand for certain that our wool shipped be comen in ... to calais. i would have kept the tidings till i had comen myself, because it is good, but i durst not be so bold, for your mastership now against this good time may be glad and joyful of these tidings, for in truth i am glad and heartily thank god of it.'[ ] the 'prentice' thomas henham writes likewise three weeks later: 'i departed from sandwich the th day of april and so came unto calais upon sher thursday[n] last with the wool ships, and so blessed be jesu i have received your wools in safety. furthermore, sir, if it please your mastership for to understand this, i have received your wools as fair and as whole as any man's in the fleet. moreover, sir, if it please your mastership for to understand how your wool was housed ever deal by easter even. furthermore, sir, if it please your mastership for to understand that the shipman be content and paid of their freight.'[ ] the celys write in the same strain too: 'this day the th of august the wool fleet came to calais both of london and ipswich in safety, thanked be god, and this same day was part landed and it riseth fair yet, thanked be god.'[ ] their letters tell us too what danger it was that they feared. 'i pray jesu send you safe hither and soon,' writes richard to his 'right well beloved brother george', on june , . 'robert eryke was chased with scots between calais and dover. they scaped narrow.'[ ] there are many such chases recorded, and we hear too of wool burnt under hatches or cast overboard in a storm.[ ] [footnote n: i.e. shrove thursday.] thomas betson and the celys travelled very often across the channel in these ships, which carried passengers and letters, and they were almost as much at home in calais as in london. when in calais english merchants were not allowed to live anywhere they liked, all over the town. the company of the staple had a list of regular licensed 'hosts', in whose houses they might stay. usually a number of merchants lived with each host, the most potent, grave, and reverend seniors dining at a high table, and smaller fry at side tables in the hall. sometimes they quarrelled over terms, as when william cely writes home one day to richard and george in london: item. sir, please it you to understand that here is a variance betwixt our host thomas graunger and the fellowship, of our lodging, for thomas graunger promised us at his coming in to our lodging that we should pay no more for our board but s. d. a week at the high table, and s. d. at the side table, and now he saith he will have no less than s. a week at the high table and d. at the side table, wherefore the fellowship here will depart into other lodgings, some to one place and some to another, william dalton will be at robert torneys and ralph temyngton and master brown's man of stamford shall be at thomas clarke's and so all the fellowship departs save i, wherefore i let your masterships have knowledge, that ye may do as it shall like you best.[ ] but thomas betson never fell out with his hosts, whose only complaint of him must have been that he sat long over his love letters and came down late to dinner. there was business enough for him to do at calais. first of all, when the wool was landed, it had to be inspected by the royal officers, to see that it had been properly labelled, and their skilled packers examined, repacked, and resealed the bales. this was an anxious moment for merchants who were conscious of inferior wool among their bulging sarplers. the honest betson, we may be certain, never cheated, but the celys knew more than a little about the tricks of the trade, and one year, when the lieutenant of calais took out sarpler no. , which their agent, william cely, knew to be poor wool, in order to make a test, he privily substitutes no. , which was 'fair wool' and changed the labels, so that he was soon able to write home, 'your wool is awarded by the sarpler that i cast out last.'[ ] no wonder gower said that trick was regent of the staple, siq'en le laines maintenir je voi plusours descontenir du loyalté la viele usance.[ ] then there was the custom and subsidy to be paid to the mayor and fellowship of the staple, who collected it for the king. and then came the main business of every merchant, the selling of the wool. thomas betson preferred, of course, to sell it as quickly as possible, as the ships came in, but sometimes the market was slow and wool remained for some months on his hands. such wool from the summer sheep shearing, shipped in or before the month of february following, and remaining unsold by april th, was classed as old wool, and the fellowship of the staple ordained that foreign buyers must take one sarpler of old wool with every three of new; and although the flemings grumbled and wanted to take one of old to five of new, they had to put up with the regulation.[ ] a great deal of betson's business would be done at the mart of calais itself, where he met with the dignified flemish merchants, scions of old families with estates of their own, and the more plebeian merchants of delft and leyden, and the wool dealers from sunny florence and genoa and venice. among the best customers both of the stonors and the celys (for they are mentioned in the letters of both) were peter and daniel van de rade of bruges. thomas howlake on one occasion reports a sale of four sarplers of fine cotswold wool to them at marks the sack, with a rebate of - / cloves on the sack of , and adds: 'sir, an it please you, as for the foresaid merchants that have bought your wool, [they] be as good as any that came out of flanders and for that i have showed them the more favour and given them the more respite of that.'[ ] the staplers, however, did not do business at calais alone, but rode also to the great fairs at antwerp, bruges, and the country round. 'thomas betson,' writes henham to his master, 'came unto calais the last day of april and so he departed in good health unto bruges mart the first day of may.'[ ] but so bifel this marchant on a day shoop hym to make redy his array toward the toun of brugges for to fare, to byen there a porcioun of ware--[ ] only it was to 'sellen' a portion that betson went. he himself writes sir william: 'liketh it you to wit that on trinity even i came to calais and, thanked be the good lord, i had a full fair passage, and, sir, with god's might i intend on friday next to depart to the mart-wards. i beseech the good lord be my speed and help me in all my works. and, sir, i trust to god's mercy, if the world be merry here, to do somewhat that shall be both to your profit and mine. as yet there cometh but few merchants here; hereafter with god's grace there will come more. i shall lose no time when the season shall come, i promise you.... and, sir, when i come from the mart i shall send you word of all matters by the mercy of our lord.'[ ] at the fairs betson would meet with a great crowd of merchants from all over europe, though often enough political disturbances made the roads dangerous and merchants ran some risk of being robbed. the english traders were commonly reputed to be the best sellers and customers at the fairs of flanders and brabant, though the flemings sometimes complained of them, and said that the staplers made regulations forbidding their merchants to buy except on the last day, when the flemish sellers, anxious to pack and be off, let their goods go at insufficient prices.[ ] the author of the _libelle of englyshe polycye_ boasts proudly of the custom brought by the english to these marts: but they of holonde at calyse byene oure felles, and oure wolles, that englyshe men hem selles... and wee to martis of braban charged bene wyth englysshe clothe, fulle gode and feyre to seyne, wee bene ageyne charged wyth mercerye haburdasshere ware and wyth grocerye, to whyche martis, that englisshe men call feyres iche nacion ofte makethe here repayeres, englysshe and frensh, lumbards, januayes [genoese], cathalones, theder take here wayes, scottes, spaynardes, iresshmen there abydes, wythe grete plente bringing of salt hydes, and i here saye that we in braban lye, flaunders and seland, we bye more marchaundy in common use, then done all other nacions; this have i herde of marchaundes relacions, and yff the englysshe be not in the martis, they bene febelle and as nought bene here partes; for they bye more and fro purse put owte more marchaundy than alle other rowte.[ ] fairs were held at different times in different places, but there were during the year four great fair seasons corresponding to the four seasons in the year.[ ] there was the cold mart in the winter, to which thomas betson rode muffled in fur, with his horse's hoofs ringing on the frosty roads; there was the pask (_pasques,_ easter) mart in the spring, when he whistled blithely and stuck a violet in his cap; there was the synxon (st john) mart in the summer, round about st john the baptist's day, when he was hot and mopped his brow, and bought a roll of tawny satin or lucca silk for katherine from a genoese in a booth at antwerp; and there was the balms, or bammys mart in the autumn, round about the day of st rémy, whom the flemings call st bamis (october ), when he would buy her a fur of budge or mink, or a mantle of fine black shanks from the hansards at their mart in bruges. it was at these marts that the merchants of the staple, jaunting about from place to place to meet buyers for their wool, did a hundred little commissions for their friends; for folk at home were apt to think that staplers existed to do their errands for them abroad and to send them presents. one wanted a pair of louvain gloves, the other a sugar loaf, the other a pipe of gascon wine ('you can get it cheaper over there, my dear'), the other a yard or two of holland cloth; while ginger and saffron were always welcome, and could be bought from the venetians, whom the celys spell 'whenysyans'. then, of course, there were purchases to be made in the way of business, such as calais packthread and canvas from arras or brittany or normandy to pack the bales of wool.[ ] as to the celys, thomas betson was wont to say that their talk was of nothing but sport and buying hawks, save on one gloomy occasion, when george cely rode for ten miles in silence and then confided to him that over in england his grey bitch had whelped and had fourteen pups, and then died and the pups with her.[ ] between the counting-house in calais and the fairs and marts of the country thomas betson would dispose of his wool and fells. but his labour did not end here, for he would now have to embark upon the complicated business of collecting money from his customers, the flemish merchants, and with it paying his creditors in england, the cotswold wool dealers. it was customary for the staplers to pay for their wool by bills due, as a rule, at six months, and thomas betson would be hard put to meet them if the foreign buyers delayed to pay him. moreover, his difficulties were inconceivably complicated by the exchanges. we think we know something about the difficulty of divers and fluctuating exchanges today, but we can hardly imagine the elaborate calculations and the constant disputes which racked the brain of a merchant of the staple in the fifteenth century. not only did the rates between england and the continent constantly vary, but, as the editor of the _cely papers_ points out, 'the number of potentates of all kinds who claimed the privilege of issuing their own coinage and the frequently suspicious character of what they uttered as gold and silver, made the matter of adjustment of values difficult for the celys, who were evidently obliged to take what they could get.'[ ] only imagine the difficulties of poor thomas betson, when into his counting-house there wandered in turn the andrew guilder of scotland, the arnoldus gulden of gueldres (very much debased), the carolus groat of charles of burgundy, new crowns and old crowns of france, the david and the falewe of the bishopric of utrecht, the hettinus groat of the counts of westphalia, the lewe or french louis d'or, the limburg groat, the milan groat, the nimueguen groat, the phelippus or philippe d'or of brabant, the plaques of utrecht, the postlates of various bishops, the english ryall (worth ten shillings), the scots rider or the rider of burgundy (so called because they bore the figure of a man on horseback), the florin rhenau of the bishopric of cologne and the setillers.[ ] he had to know the value in english money of them all, as it was fixed for the time being by the fellowship, and most of them were debased past all reason. indeed, english money enjoyed an enviable good fame in this respect until henry viii began debasing the coinage for his own nefarious ends. the letters of the celys are full of worried references to the exchange, and much we should pity thomas betson. but doubtless he was like chaucer's bearded merchant: 'wel koude he in exchaunge sheeldes [french crowns] selle.' [illustration: vii. calais about the time of thomas betson] to effect their payments between england and the netherlands the staplers used to make use of the excellent banking facilities and instruments of credit (bills of exchange and so forth), which were placed at their disposal by italian and spanish merchants and by the english mercers, all of whom combined trading with financial operations. thus we find william cely writing to his masters: [illustration: viii. thomas paycocke's house at coggeshall] please your masterships to understand that i have received of john delowppys upon payment of the bill, the which is sent me by adlington but £ fleming, whereof i have paid to gynott strabant £ _ s. d_. fleming. item, i have made you over by exchange with benynge decasonn, lombard, nobles sterling, payable at usance. i delivered it at _ s. - / d_. fleming the noble, it amounteth £ _ s. d_. fleming. item, i have made you over by exchange in like wise with jacob van de base nobles and _ s_. sterling, payable at london at usuance in like wise; i delivered it at _ s. d_. fleming for every noble sterling; it amounteth fl.--£ fleming and the rest of your £ remains still by me, for i can make you over no more at this season, for here is no more that will take any money as yet. and money goeth now upon the bourse at _ s. - / d_. the noble and none other money but nimueguen groats, crowns, andrew guilders and rhenish guilders, and the exchange goeth ever the longer worse and worse. item, sir, i send you enclosed in this said letter, the two first letters of the payment of the exchange above written. benynge decasonn's letter is directed to gabriel defuye and peter sanly, genoese, and jacob van de base's is directed to anthony carsy and marcy strossy, spaniards; in lombard street ye shall hear of them.[ ] a week later he writes: i understand your masterships hath taken up by exchange of john raynold, mercer, £ sterling, payable the th day of the month and of deago decastron [diego da castro, a spaniard] other £ sterling, payable the th day of the same month, the which shall be both content at the day; and as for master lewis more, lombard, [he] is paid and i have the bill; his attorney is a wrangling fellow--he would none other money but nimueguen groats.[ ] many a letter such as this must thomas betson have written at his lodgings, sitting so late over his work that he must needs write to his friends when he ought to be sleeping and date his letters: 'at london, on our lady day in the night, when i deem ye were in your bed, for mine eyne smarted, so god help me.'[ ] and when he came to make up his annual accounts he had the hardest work of all to do. here is a portrait of him at his labours: the thridde day this marchant up ariseth, and on his nedes sadly hym avyseth, and up into his countour-hous gooth he, to rekene with hymself, as wel may be, of thilke yeer, how that it with hymn stood, and how that he despended hadde his good, and if that he encressed were or noon. his bookes and his bagges, many oon, he leith biform hymn on his countyng-bord. ful riche was his tresor and his hord, for which ful faste his countour dore he shette; and eek he nolde that no man sholde hymn lette of his accountes, for the meene tyme; and thus he sit til it was passed pry me.[ ] thus was passed the life of a merchant of the staple: in riding to the cotswold farms for wool; in business at the counting-houses in marks lane; in sailing from london to calais and from calais to london again; in dealing with merchant strangers at the mart in calais, or riding to the marts of flanders in fair time. the great company sheltered him, arranged his lodging, kept a sharp eye on the quality of his wool, made rules for his buying and selling, and saw that he had justice in its court. it was in this setting of hard and withal of interesting work that thomas betson's love story flowered into a happy marriage. he was not destined to live long after his recovery from the serious illness of ; perhaps it left him permanently delicate, for he died some six years later, in . during her seven years of married life (beginning, be it remembered, at the age of fifteen), the diligent katherine had borne him five children, two sons, thomas and john, and three daughters, elizabeth, agnes, and alice. fortunately thomas died very comfortably off, as his will (still preserved in somerset house) informs us. he had become a member of the fishmongers' company as well as a merchant of the staple, for by his time the great city companies were no longer confined to persons actually engaged in the trade which each represented. in his will[ ] thomas betson leaves money for the repair of the roof loft in his parish church of all hallows, barking, where he was buried, and 'thirty pounds to the garnishing of the staple chapel in our lady church at calais, to buy some jewel', and twenty pounds to the 'stockfishmongers' to buy plate. he makes the latter company the guardian of his children, leaves his house to his wife, and a legacy of _s_. to thomas henham, his colleague in stonor's service, and characteristically gives directions 'for the costs of my burying to be done not outrageously, but soberly and discreetly and in a mean [moderate, medium] manner, that it may be unto the worship and laud of almighty god.' katherine, a widow with five children at the age of twenty-two, married as her second husband william welbech, haberdasher (the haberdashers were a wealthy company), by whom she had another son. but her heart stayed with the husband who wrote her her first playful love-letter when she was a child, and on her death in she directed that she should be laid by the side of thomas betson at all hallows, barking, where three staplers still lie beneath their brasses, although no trace of him remains.[ ] there let them lie, long forgotten, and yet worthier of memory than many of the armoured knights who sleep under carved sepulchres in our beautiful medieval churches. the garlands wither on your brow; then boast no more your mighty deeds! upon death's purple altar now see where the victor-victim bleeds. your heads must come to the cold tomb: only the actions of the just smell sweet and blossom in their dust. chapter vii _thomas paycocke of coggeshall_ an essex clothier in the days of henry vii this was a gallant cloathier sure whose fame for ever shall endure. --thomas deloney the great and noble trade of cloth-making has left many traces upon the life of england, architectural, literary, and social. it has filled our countryside with magnificent perpendicular churches and gracious oak-beamed houses. it has filled our popular literature with old wives' tales of the worthies of england, in which the clothiers thomas of reading and jack of newbury rub elbows with friar bacon and robin hood. it has filled our shires with gentlemen; for, as defoe observed, in the early eighteenth century 'many of the great families who now pass for gentry in the western counties have been originally raised from and built up by this truly noble manufacture'. it has filled our census lists with surnames--weaver, webber, webb, sherman, fuller, walker, dyer--and given to every unmarried woman the designation of a spinster. and from the time when the cloth trade ousted that of wool as the chief export trade of england down to the time when it was in its turn ousted by iron and cotton, it was the foundation of england's commercial greatness. 'among all crafts,' says old deloney, 'this was the only chief, for that it was the greatest merchandize, by the which our country became famous thorowout all nations.'[ ] already by the end of the fourteenth century the english clothiers were beginning to rival those of the netherlands in the making of fine cloth, as witness chaucer's wife of bath: of clooth-making she hadde swiche an haunt she passed hem of ypres and of gaunt, and by the end of the sixteenth century all real rivalry was at an end, for the english manufacture was so clearly victorious. with the development of the manufacture a change too took place in its organization. it had never been an easy industry to organize on a gild basis, because the making of a piece of cloth entailed so many distinct processes. the preliminary processes of spinning and carding were always by-industries, performed by women and children in their cottages; but the weavers, who bought the spun yarn, had their gild; and so had the fullers, who fulled it; and the shearmen, who finished it; and the dyers who dyed it. all could not sell the finished piece of cloth, and in the group of inter-dependent crafts, each with its gild, we sometimes find the weavers employing the fullers and sometimes the fullers the weavers. moreover, since weaving is a much quicker process than spinning, the weaver often wasted much time and found it hard to collect enough yarn to keep his loom busy; and, as the market for cloth grew wider and was no longer confined to the town of the weaver, the need was felt for some middleman to specialize in the selling of the finished cloth. so by degrees there grew up a class of men who bought wool in large quantities and sold it to the weavers, and then by a natural transition began, not to sell the wool outright, but to deliver it to the weavers to weave, to the fullers to full, and to the shearmen to finish at a wage, receiving it back again when the work was done. these men grew rich; they amassed capital; they could set many folk at work. soon they began to set to work all the different workers who combined to make a piece of cloth; their servants carried wool to the cottages for the women to card and spin; carried the spun yarn in turn to dyers, weavers, fullers, shearers; and carried the finished piece of cloth back to the industrial middleman--the clothier, as he was called--who in his turn disposed of it to the mercantile middleman, who was called a draper. the clothiers grew rapidly in wealth and importance, and in certain parts of the country became the backbone of the middle class. they pursued their activities in country villages, rather than in the old corporate towns, for they wished to avoid the restrictions of the gilds, and gradually the cloth industry migrated almost entirely to the country. in the west of england and in east anglia (though not in yorkshire) it was carried out by clothiers on this 'putting out' system, right up to the moment when the industrial revolution swept it out of the cottages into the factories and out of the south into the north. then the thriving villages emptied themselves, so that today we must needs re-create again from scattered traces and old buildings, and still older names, the once familiar figures of the east anglian clothier and his swarm of busy workmen. such a familiar figure was once old thomas paycocke, clothier, of coggeshall in essex, who died full of years and honour in . his family originally came from clare, in suffolk, but about the middle of the fifteenth century a branch settled at coggeshall, a village not far distant. his grandfather and father would seem to have been grazing butchers, but he and his brother and their descendants after them followed 'the truly noble manufacture' of cloth-making, and set an indelible mark upon the village where they dwelt. coggeshall lies in the great cloth-making district of essex, of which fuller wrote: 'this county is charactered like bethsheba, "she layeth her hand to the spindle and her hands hold the distaffe."... it will not be amiss to pray that the plough may go along and the wheel around, that so (being fed by the one and clothed by the other) there may be, by god's blessing, no danger of starving in our nation[ ] all over essex there lay villages famous for cloth-making, coggeshall and braintree, bocking and halstead, shalford and dedham, and above all colchester, the great centre and mart of the trade. the villages throve on the industry and there was hardly a cottage which did not hum with the spinning wheel, and hardly a street where you might not have counted weavers' workshops, kitchens where the rough loom stood by the wall to occupy the goodman's working hours. hardly a week but the clatter of the pack-horse would be heard in the straggling streets, bringing in new stores of wool to be worked and taking away the pieces of cloth to the clothiers of colchester and the surrounding villages. throughout the fifteenth century coggeshall was an important centre, second only to the great towns of norwich, colchester, and sudbury, and to this day its two inns are called the 'woolpack' and the 'fleece.' we must, as i said, build up the portrait of thomas paycocke and his compeers from scattered traces; but happily such traces are common enough in many and many an english village, and in coggeshall itself they lie ready to our hand. out of three things he can be brought to life again--to wit, his house in the village street, his family brasses in the aisle of the village church, and his will, which is preserved at somerset house. a house, a brass, a will--they seem little enough, but they hold all his history. it is the greatest error to suppose that history must needs be something written down; for it may just as well be something built up, and churches, houses, bridges, or amphitheatres can tell their story as plainly as print for those who have eyes to read. the roman villa, excavated after lying lost for centuries beneath the heel of the unwitting ploughboy--that villa with its spacious ground-plan, its floors rich with mosaic patterns, its elaborate heating apparatus, and its shattered vases--brings home more clearly than any textbook the real meaning of the roman empire, whose citizens lived like this in a foggy island at the uttermost edge of its world. the norman castle, with moat and drawbridge, gatehouse and bailey and keep, arrow slits instead of windows, is more eloquent than a hundred chronicles of the perils of life in the twelfth century; not thus dwelt the private gentleman in the days of rome. the country manor-house of the fourteenth century, with courtyard and chapel and hall and dovecote, speaks of an age of peace once more, when life on a thousand little manors revolved round the lord, and the great mass of englishmen went unscathed by the hundred years' war which seamed the fair face of france. then begin the merchants' elaborate perpendicular houses in the towns and villages of the fifteenth century, standing on the road, with gardens behind them, and carved beams, great fire-places, and a general air of comfort; they mark the advent of a new class in english history--the middle class, thrust between lord and peasant and coming to its own. how the spacious days of great elizabeth are mirrored in the beautiful elizabethan houses, with their wide wings and large rooms, their chimneys, their glass windows, looking outwards on to open parks and spreading trees, instead of inwards on to the closed courtyard. or go into a house built or redecorated in the eighteenth century, where you will see chippendale chairs and lacquer tables and chinese wall-papers covered with pagodas and mandarins; and surely there will come to your mind the age of the nabobs, the age which john company had familiarized with the products of the far east, the age in which tea ousted coffee as the drink for a gentleman of fashion, in which horace walpole collected porcelain, oliver goldsmith idealized china in 'the citizen of the world', and dr johnson was called the great cham of literature. look here upon this picture and on this: look at that row of jerry-built houses, a hundred in a row and all exactly alike, of that new-art villa, all roof and hardly any window, with false bottle glass in its panes; here is the twentieth century for you. indeed all the social and very much of the political history of england may be reconstructed from her architecture alone; and so i make no apology for calling thomas paycocke's house first-rate historical evidence. of much the same type, though less interesting, is the evidence of monumental brasses, which are to be found in most parts of england and which abound in east anglia, the home counties, and the thames valley.[ ] their variety is magnificent; brasses of ecclesiastics in vestments, of doctors of law and divinity and masters of arts in academic dress and of a few abbots and abbesses; brasses of knights in armour; brasses of ladies, with their little dogs at their feet and dresses which show the changes in fashion from century to century and make clear all the mysteries of kirtles and cotte-hardies, wimples and partlets and farthingales and the head-dresses appropriate to each successive mode. the brasses also, like the houses, bear witness to the prosperity of the middle class, for in the fourteenth century when merchants began to build themselves fine houses they began also to bury themselves under splendid brasses. finest of all, perhaps, are the brasses of the wool staplers, with feet resting on woolpack or sheep; but there are many other merchants too. mayors and aldermen abound; they set their merchants' marks upon their tombs as proudly as gentlemen set their coats of arms, and indeed they had as great cause for pride. you may see them at their proudest in the famous brass at lynn, where robert braunch lies between his two wives, and at his feet is incised a scene representing the feast at which he entertained edward iii royally and feasted him on peacocks. there is a tailor with his shears, as glorious as the crusader's sword, at northleach, and a wine merchant with his feet upon a wine cask at cirencester. there are smaller folk, too, less dowered with wealth but proud enough of the implements of their craft; two or three public notaries with penhorn and pencase complete, a huntsman with his horn, and in newland church one of the free miners of the forest of dean, cap and leather breeches tied below the knee, wooden mine-hod over shoulder, a small mattock in his right hand, and a candlestick between his teeth. this kind of historical evidence will help us with thomas paycocke. his family brasses were set in the north aisle of the parish church of st peter ad vincula. several of them have disappeared in the course of the last century and a half, and unluckily no brass of thomas himself survives; but in the aisle there still lie two--the brass of his brother john, who died in , and john's wife, and that of his nephew, another thomas, who died in ; the merchant's mark may still be seen thereon. lastly, there is the evidence of the paycocke wills, of which three are preserved at somerset house--the will of john paycocke _(d._ ), thomas's father and the builder of the house; the will of thomas paycocke himself _(d._ ); and the will of his nephew thomas, the same whose brass lies in the aisle and who left a long and splendidly detailed testament, full of information upon local history and the organization of the cloth industry. for social historians have as yet hardly, perhaps, made as much use as they might of the evidence of wills. the enormous amount of miscellaneous information to be derived therefrom about the life of our forefathers can hardly be believed, save by those who have turned the pages of such a collection as the great _testamenta eboracensia_.[ ] in wills you may see how many daughters a man could dower and how many he put into a nunnery, and what education he provided for his sons. you may note which were the most popular religious houses, and which men had books and what the books were, how much of their money they thought fit to leave for charitable purposes, and what they thought of the business capacity of their wives. you may read long and dazzling lists of family plate, all the favourite cups and dishes having pet names of their own, and of rings and brooches and belts and rosaries. there are detailed descriptions of dresses and furs, sometimes splendid, sometimes ordinary, for people handed on their rich clothes as carefully as their jewels. there are even more wonderful descriptions of beds, with all their bedclothes and hangings, for a bed was a very valuable article of furniture and must often, judging from the wills, have been a brilliant and beautiful object indeed; shakespeare has earned a great deal of unmerited obloquy for leaving ann hathaway his second-best bed, though it is not to be denied that he might have left her his first-best. even more beautiful than dressings and bed or chamber hangings are the brocaded and embroidered vestments mentioned in wills, and the elaborate arrangements for funeral ceremonies are extremely interesting. the wills are of all kinds; there are even villeins' wills, though in theory the villein's possessions were his lord's, and there are wills of kings and queens, lords and ladies, bishops and parsons and lawyers and shopkeepers. here also is more evidence for the social prosperity of the middle class, details of their trade, the contents of their shops, the inventories of their houses, their estates (sometimes) in the country, their house rents (almost always) in the town, their dressers garnished with plate and their wives' ornaments, their apprentices and their gilds, their philanthropy, their intermarriage with the gentry, their religious opinions. such a living picture do men's wills give us of their daily lives. these, then, are the three sources from which the life and times of thomas paycocke may be drawn. all three--houses, brasses, and wills--contain much evidence for the increasingly rapid growth during the last two centuries of the middle ages of a large and prosperous middle class, whose wealth was based not upon landed property but upon industry and trade. it is a class of whom we have already met typical examples in thomas betson and the anonymous ménagier de paris, and we must now see what his house, his will, and his family brasses tell us about the clothier thomas paycocke. first and foremost, they tell us a great deal about the noble industry which supported him. paycocke's house is full of relics of the cloth industry. the merchant mark of the paycockes, an ermine tail, looking like a two-stemmed clover leaf, is to be found on the carved beams of the chimney, on the breastsummers of the fire-places, and set in the midst of the strip of carving along the front of the house. thomas marked his bales of cloth thus, and what other armorial bearings did he need? the whole house is essentially middle class-the house of a man who was _nouveau riche_ in an age when to be _nouveau riche_ was not yet to be vulgar. his prosperity has blossomed out into exquisitely ornate decoration. a band of carving runs along the front of the house, and from the curved stem of it branch out a hundred charming devices--leaves, tendrils, strange flowers, human heads, tudor roses, a crowned king and queen lying hand in hand, a baby diving with a kick of fat legs into the bowl of an arum lily, and in the midst the merchant's mark upon a shield and the initials of the master of the house. in the hall is a beautiful ceiling of carved oakwork, exceedingly elaborate and bearing at intervals the merchant's mark again. upstairs in the big bedchamber is a ceiling of beams worked in bold roll mouldings; and there is an exquisite little parlour, lined with linen fold panels, with a breastsummer carved with strange animals. this elaboration is characteristic. it is all of a piece with coggeshall church, and with all those other spacious east anglian churches, lavenham, long melford, thaxted, saffron walden, lynn, snettisham, lofty and spacious, which the clothiers built out of their newly won wealth. the very architecture is characteristic, _nouveau riche_ again, like those who paid for it, the elaborate ornament and sumptuous detail of the perpendicular taking the place of the simple majesty of the early english style. it is just the sort of architecture that a merchant with a fortune would pay for. the middle class liked some show for its money; but again it was the ostentation without the vulgarity of wealth. looking upon his beautiful house, or worshipping beside his family tombs, with the merchant's mark on the brasses, in st katherine's aisle, thomas paycocke must often have blessed the noble industry which supported him. the wills of the paycockes tell the same story. to whom beside his family does thomas leave legacies but the good folk of the neighbourhood, who worked for him. there is the goodday family of cheerful name, two of whom were shearmen, or cloth finishers, and had substantial gifts. 'i bequeth to thomas goodday sherman xx s. and ych of his childryn iij s. iiij d. apece. item, i bequeth to edward goodday sherman xvj s. viij d., and to his child iij s. iiij d. he also left money to robert goodday of sampford and to robert's brother john and to each of robert's sisters, with something extra for grace, who was his goddaughter; and he did not forget nicholas goodday of stisted and robert goodday of coggeshall and their families, nor their relative john, who was a priest and had ten shillings for a trental. all these gooddays were doubtless bound to thomas paycocke by ties of work as well as of friendship. they belonged to a well-known coggeshall family, for generations connected with the cloth industry. thomas paycocke's namesake and grand-nephew, whose will is dated , was still in close relations with them, and left 'to edwarde goodaye my godson fourtie shillinges and to every brother and sister the saide edwarde hath livinge at the tyme of my decease tenne shillinges a pece,' and 'unto william gooday thelder tenne shillinges.' the hurrying, scattering generation of today can hardly imagine the immovable stability of the village of past centuries, when generation after generation grew from cradle to grave in the same houses, on the same cobbled streets, and folk of the same name were still friends, as their fathers and grandfathers had been before them. other friends and employees of thomas paycocke also had their legacies. he leaves _ s. d_. to humphrey stonor, 'somtyme my prentis'. we may see humphrey stonor, with sleepy eyes, making his way downstairs on a frosty morning, from those huge raftered attics, where perhaps the 'prentices used to sleep. he was on terms of impudent friendship, no doubt, with the weavers and fullers whom his master set to work; withal a young man of good family, a relative perchance of those stonors for whom thomas betson worked, for, as deloney wrote, 'the yonger sons of knights and gentlemen, to whom their fathers would leave no lands, were most commonly preferred to learn this trade, to the end that thereby they might live in good estate and drive forth their days in prosperity.' two of his friends got substantial legacies; apparently thomas paycocke had lent them money and wished to wipe out the debt upon his death-bed, for, says the will, 'i bequethe to john beycham, my weyver, v li and [i.e. if] there be so moch bitwene vs and ells to make it vp v li, and a gowne and a doublett.... i bequeth and forgive robert taylor, fuller, all that is betwixt vs, and more i give him iij s. iiij d.' other legacies show even more clearly that his operations were on a larger scale. 'i bequeth to all my wevers, ffullers and shermen that be not afore rehersed by name xij d. apece, and will they that have wrought me verey moch wark have iij s. iiij d. apece. item, i bequethe to be distributed amonge my kembers, carders and spynners summa iiij li.'[ ] here are all the branches of the cloth industry at a glance. it is thomas paycocke, clothier, round whom the whole manufacture revolves. he gives the wool to the women to comb it and card it and spin it; he receives it from them again and gives it to the weaver to be woven into cloth; he gives the cloth to the fuller to be fulled and the dyer to be dyed; and having received it when finished, he has it made up into dozens and sends it off to the wholesale dealer, the draper, who sells it; perhaps he has been wont to send it to that very 'thomas perpoint, draper' whom he calls 'my cosyn' and makes his executor. the whole of thomas paycocke's daily business is implicit in his will. in the year of his death he was still employing a large number of workers and was on friendly and benevolent terms with them. the building of his house had not signalized his retirement from business, as happened when another great clothier, thomas dolman, gave up cloth-making and the weavers of newbury went about lamenting: lord have mercy upon us, miserable sinners. thomas dolman has built a new house and turned away all his spinners.[ ] the relations between paycocke and his employees evinced in his will are happy ones. such was not always the case, for if the clothiers of this age had some of the virtues of capitalists, they also had many of their vices, and the age-old strife of capital and labour was already well advanced in the fifteenth century. one detail paycocke's will does not give us, which we should be glad to know: did he employ only domestic weavers, working in their own houses, or did he also keep a certain number of looms working in his house? it was characteristic of the period in which he lived that something like a miniature factory system was establishing itself in the midst of the new outwork system. the clothiers were beginning to set up looms in their own houses and to work them by journeymen weavers; as a rule the independent weavers greatly disliked the practice, for either they were forced from the position of free masters into that of hired servants, obliged to go and work in the clothier's loom shop, or else they found their payment forced down by the competition of the journeymen. moreover, the clothiers sometimes owned and let out looms to their work-people, and then also part of the industrial independence of the weaver was lost. all through the first half of the sixteenth century the weavers in the cloth districts kept on petitioning parliament against this new evil of capitalism. it was as though, long before it established itself in england they had a prevision of the factory system and of the worker no longer owning either his raw material, his tool, his workshop, or the produce of his industry, but only his labour; the master-weaver dwindled to a hired hand. certainly the practice was growing in essex, where, some twenty years after thomas paycocke's death, the weavers petitioned against the clothiers, who had their own looms and weavers and fullers in their own houses, so that the petitioners were rendered destitute; 'for the rich men, the clothiers, be concluded and agreed among themselves to hold and pay one price for weaving the said cloths,' a price too small to support their households, even if they worked day and night, holiday and work-day, so that many of them lost their independence and were reduced to become other men's servants.[ ] nevertheless, the outwork system remained the more common, and without doubt the majority of paycocke's workers lived in their own cottages, though it is probable also that he had some looms in his house, perhaps in the long, low room at the back, which is traditionally supposed to have been used for weaving, perhaps in a shed or 'spinning house'. a highly idyllic picture of work in one of these miniature factories, which we may amuse ourselves by applying to thomas paycocke's, is contained in deloney's _pleasant history of jack of newbery._ jack of newbury was an historical character, a very famous clothier named john winchcomb who died at newbury only a year later than paycocke himself, and of whom paycocke must certainly have heard, for his kersies were famous on the continent, and old fuller, who celebrates him among his _worthies of england_ calls him 'the most considerable clothier (without fancy or fiction) england ever beheld'.[ ] the tales of how he had led a hundred of his own 'prentices to flodden field, how he had feasted the king and queen in his house at newbury, how he had built part of newbury church, and how he had refused a knighthood, preferring 'to rest in his russet coat a poor clothier to his dying day,' spread about england, growing as they spread. in thomas deloney, the forefather of the novel, enshrined them in a rambling tale, half prose and half verse, which soon became extremely popular. it is from this tale that we may take an imaginary picture of work in a clothier's house, being wary to remember, however, that it is an exaggeration, a legend, and that the great john winchcomb certainly never had as many as two hundred looms in his own house, while our thomas paycocke probably had not more than a dozen. but the poet must have his licence, for, after all, the spirit of the ballad is the thing, and it is always a pleasant diversion to drop into rhyme: within one roome, being large and long there stood two hundred loomes full strong. two hundred men, the truth is so, wrought in these loomes all in a row. by every one a pretty boy sate making quilts with mickle joy, and in another place hard by a hundred women merily were carding hard with joy full cheere who singing sate with voyces cleere, and in a chamber close beside two hundred maidens did abide, in petticoats of stammell red, and milk white kerchers on their head. their smocke-sleeves like to winter snow that on the westerne mountaines flow, and each sleeve with a silken band was featly tied at the hand. these pretty maids did never lin but in that place all day did spin, and spinning so with voyces meet like nightingales they sang full sweet. then to another roome came they where children were in poore aray; and every one sate picking wool the finest from the course to cull: the number was sevenscore and ten the children of poore silly men: and these their labours to requite had every one a penny at night, beside their meat and drinke all day, which was to them a wondrous stay. within another place likewise full fifty proper men he spies and these were sheremen everyone, whose skill and cunning there was showne: and hard by them there did remaine full four-score rowers taking paine. a dye-house likewise had he then, wherein he kept full forty men: and likewise in his fulling mill full twenty persons kept he still. each weeke ten good fat oxen he spent in his house for certaintie, beside good butter, cheese and fish and many another wholesome dish. he kept a butcher all the yeere, a brewer eke for ale and beere; a baker for to bake his bread, which stood his hushold in good stead. five cookes within his kitchin great were all the yeare to dress his meat. six scullion boyes vnto their hands, to make clean dishes, pots and pans, beside poore children that did stay to turne the broaches every day. the old man that did see this sight was much amaz'd, as well he might: this was a gallant cloathier sure, whose fame forever shall endure.[ ] the private life of thomas paycocke, no less than his business, can be made to live again. of his family the invaluable will tells us a little. his first wife was that margaret whose initials, together with his own, decorate the woodwork of the house, and indeed it is probable that old john paycocke built the house for the young couple on their wedding. gay, indeed, must have been the sights which it witnessed on that happy day, for our ancestors knew how to put their hearts into a wedding, and merry england was never merrier then when the bridegroom led home the bride. we may borrow once again from deloney's idyll, to recreate the scene: the bride being attyred in a gowne of sheepes russet and a kertle of fine woosted, her head attyred with a billiment of gold and her haire as yeallow as gold hanging downe behinde her, which was curiously combed and pleated, according to the manner in those dayes; shee was led to church betweene two sweete boyes, with bridelaces and rosemary tied about their silken sleeves. then was there a fair bride-cup of silver and gilt carried before her, wherein was a goodly branch of rosemary gilded very faire, hung about with silken ribands of all colours; next was there a noyse of musicians that played all the way before her; after her came all the chiefest maydens of the country, some bearing great bride cakes and some garlands of wheate finely gilded and so she past unto the church. it is needlesse for mee to make any mention here of the bridegroome, who being a man so well beloued, wanted no company and those of the best sort, beside diuers marchant strangers of the stillyard that came from london to the wedding. the marriage being solemnized, home they came in order as before and to dinner they went where was no want of good cheare, no lack of melody.... the wedding endured ten dayes, to the great reliefe of the poore that dwelt all about.[ ] much dancing the house doubtless saw under the beautiful carved roof of the hall, with much song, games, kissing, and general abandon. even when the bride and groom retired to the bridal chamber with its roll-moulded beams the merry-making was not done; they must hold a levee to their nearest friends in the bedchamber itself, enthroned in the great four-poster bed. there was no false delicacy about our ancestors. indeed, as henry bullinger says (he was a very different person from jovial deloney, but he was a contemporary of paycocke's, and coverdale translated him, so let him speak): 'after supper must they begynne to pype and daunce agayne of the new. and though the yonge parsones, beynge weery of the bablyng noyse and inconuenience, come ones towarde theyer rest, yet can they haue no quietnesse. for a man shall fynd unmanerly and restlesse people, that will first go to theyr chambre dore, and there syng vycious and naughtie balates that the deuell maye haue his triumphe now to the vttermost.'[ ] what would we not give for one of those 'naughty ballads' today? the bride margaret, who was somewhat after this merry fashion brought home to coggeshall, came from clare, the ancient home of the coggeshall paycockes. she was the daughter of one thomas horrold, for whose memory paycocke retained a lively affection and respect, for in founding a chantry in coggeshall church he desired specially that it should be for the souls of himself and his wife, his mother and father, and his father-in-law, thomas horrold of clare. he also left five pounds, with which his executors were 'to purvey an oder stone to be hade to clare chirch and layd on my ffader in lawe thomas horrold w't his pycture and his wife and childryn thereon' (i.e. a memorial brass), and also five cows or else three pounds in money to clare church 'to kepe and mayntene my ffader in lawe thomas horrold his obitt'. he also left money to his wife's brother and sisters. margaret paycocke died before her husband and without children; and the only young folk of his name whom thomas ever saw at play in his lofty hall, or climbing upon his dresser to find the head, as small as a walnut, hidden in the carving of the ceiling, were his nephews and nieces, robert and margaret uppcher, his sister's children; john, the son of his brother john; and thomas, robert, and emma, the children of his brother robert; perhaps also his little godchild grace goodday. it was perhaps in the hope of a son to whom he might leave his house and name that thomas paycocke married again a girl called ann cotton. she was the wife of his old age, 'anne my good wif', and her presence must have made bright the beautiful house, silent and lonely since margaret died. her father, george cotton, is mentioned in the will, and her brothers and sister, richard, william, and eleanor, have substantial legacies. but thomas and ann enjoyed only a short term of married life; she brought him his only child, but death overtook him before it was born. in his will he provides carefully for ann; she is to have five hundred marks sterling, and as long as she lives the beautiful house is to be hers; for to his elaborate arrangements for its inheritance he adds, 'provided alwey that my wif ann haue my house that i dwell in while she lyvyth at hir pleyser and my dof house [dove-house] with the garden y't stoundeth in.' a gap in the paycocke records makes it difficult to say whether thomas paycocke's child lived or died; but it seems probable that it either died or was a girl, for paycocke had bequeathed the house, provided that he had no male heirs, to his nephew john (son of his eldest brother john), and in we find it in the hands of this john paycocke, while the house next door was in the hands of another thomas paycocke, his brother robert's son. this thomas died about , leaving only daughters, and after him, in , died john paycocke, sadly commemorated in the parish register as 'the last of his name in coxall'. so the beautiful house passed out of the hands of the great family of clothiers who had held it for nearly a hundred years.[ ] of thomas paycocke's personal character it is also possible to divine something from his will. he was obviously a kind and benevolent employer, as his thought for his work-people and their children shows. he was often asked to stand godfather to the babies of coggeshall, for in his will he directs that at his burial and the ceremonies which were repeated on the seventh day and 'month mind' after it there were to be 'xxiiij or xij smale childryn in rochettes with tapers in theire hands and as many as may be of them lett them be my god childryn and they to have vj s. viij d. apece and euery oder child iiij d. apece ... and also euery god chyld besyde vj s. viij d. apece.' all these children were probably little bread-winners, employed at a very early age in sorting thomas paycocke's wool. 'poore people,' says thomas deloney, 'whom god lightly blessed with most children, did by meanes of this occupation so order them, that by the time they were come to be sixe or seven yeeres of age, they were able to get their owne bread';[ ] and when defoe rode from blackstone edge to halifax, observing the cloth manufacture, which occupied all the villages of the west riding, it was one of his chief grounds for admiration that 'all [were] employed from the youngest to the oldest; scarce any thing above four years old, but its hands were sufficient for its own support.'[ ] the employment of children at what we should regard as an excessively early age was by no means a new phenomenon introduced with the industrial revolution. that thomas paycocke had many friends, not only in coggeshall but in the villages round, the number of his legacies bears witness. his will also shows that he was a man of deep religious feeling. he was a brother of the crutched friars of colchester and left them on his death five pounds to pray 'for me and for them that i am bound to pray fore'. it was customary in the middle ages for monastic houses to give the privilege of the fraternity of the house to benefactors and persons of distinction; the reception took place at a long and elaborate ceremony, during which the _consrater_ received the kiss of peace from all the brethren. it is a mark of the respect in which thomas paycocke was held in the countryside that he should have been made a brother by the crutched friars. he seems to have had a special kindness for the order of friars; he left the grey friars of colchester and the friars of maldon, chelmsford, and sudbury each ten shillings for a trental and s. d. to repair their houses; and to the friars of clare he left twenty shillings for two trentals, 'and at lent after my deceste a kade of red heryng'. he had great interest in coggeshall abbey; it lay less than a mile from his house, and he must often have dined in state with the abbot at his guest table on feast days and attended mass in the abbey church. he remembered the abbey as he lay dying, and the sound of its bells ringing for vespers came softly in at his window on the mellow september air; and he left 'my lord abbot and convent' one of his famous broadcloths and four pounds in money 'for to have a dirige and masse and their belles ryngyng at my buriall when it is doon at chirche, lykewyse the vijth day and mounth day, with iij tryntalls upon the same day yf they can serve them, orells when they can at more leasur, summa x li.' his piety is shown also in his bequests to the churches of bradwell, pattiswick, and markshall, parishes adjacent to coggeshall, and to stoke nayland, clare, poslingford, ovington, and beauchamp st pauls, over the essex order, in the district from which the paycockes originally came. but his greatest care was naturally for coggeshall church. one of the paycockes had probably built the north aisle, where the altar was dedicated to st katherine, and all the paycocke tombs lay there. thomas paycocke left instructions in his will that he should be buried before st katherine's altar, and made the following gifts to the church: 'item, i bequeth to the high aulter of coxhall chirche in recompence of tithes and all oder thyngs forgoten, summa iiij li. item, i bequethe to the tabernacle of the trenyte at the high awlter and an other of seint margarete in seint katryne ile, there as the great lady stands, for carvyng and gildyng of them summa c. marcs sterlinge. item, to the reparacons of the chirch and bells and for my lying in the chirche summa c. nobles.' he founded a chantry there also and left money to be given weekly to six poor men to attend mass in his chantry thrice a week. of piety and of family pride these legacies to religious houses and to churches speak clearly. another series of legacies, which takes a form characteristic of medieval charity, bears witness perhaps to thomas paycocke's habits. he must often have ridden abroad, to see the folk who worked for him or to visit his friends in the villages round coggeshall; or farther afield to clare, first to see the home of his ancestors, then to court margaret horrold, his bride, and then, with margaret beside him, to visit his well-loved father-in-law. certainly, whether he walked to church in coggeshall, or whether he rode along the country lanes, he often sighed over the state of the road as he went; often he must have struggled through torrents of mud in winter or stumbled among holes in summer; for in the middle ages the care of the roads was a matter for private or ecclesiastical charity, and all except the great highways were likely to be but indifferently kept. langland, in his _piers plowman_, mentions the amending of 'wikked wayes' (by which he means not bad habits but bad roads) as one of those works of charity which rich merchants must do for the salvation of their souls. thomas paycocke's choice of roads no doubt reflects many a wearisome journey, from which he returned home splashed and testy, to the ministrations of 'john reyner my man' or 'henry briggs my servant', and of margaret, looking anxiously from her oriel window for his return. in his own town he leaves no less than forty pounds, of which twenty pounds was to go to amend a section of west street (where his house stood), and the other twenty was 'to be layde on the fowle wayes bitwene coxhall and blackwater where as moost nede ys'; he had doubtless experienced the evils of this road on his way to the abbey. farther afield, he leaves twenty pounds for the 'fowle way' between clare and ovington, and another twenty for the road between ovington and beauchamp st pauls. as his life drew to its close he doubtless rode less often afield. the days would pass peacefully for him; his business flourished and he was everywhere loved and respected. he took pride in his lovely house, adding bit by bit to its beauties. in the cool of the evening he must often have stood outside the garden room and seen the monks from the big abbey fishing in their stewpond across the field, or lifted his eyes to where the last rays of sun slanted on to the lichened roof of the great tithebarn, and on to the rows of tenants, carrying their sheaves of corn along the road; and he reflected, perhaps, that john mann and thomas spooner, his own tenants, were good, steady friends, and that it was well to leave them a gown or a pound when he died. often also, in his last year or two, he must have sat with his wife in his garden with the dove-house and watched the white pigeons circling round the apple-trees, and smiled upon her bed of flowers. and in winter evenings sometimes he would take his furred cloak and stroll to the dragon inn, and edward aylward, mine host, would welcome him with bows; and so he would sit and drink a tankard of sack with his neighbours, very slow and dignified, as befitted the greatest clothier of the town, and looking benevolently upon the company. but at times he would frown, if he saw a truant monk from the abbey stolen out for a drink in spite of all the prohibitions of bishop and abbot, shaking his head, perhaps, and complaining that religion was not what it had been in the good old days; but not meaning much of it, as his will shows, and never dreaming that twenty years after his death abbot and monks would be scattered and the king's servants would be selling at auction the lead from off the roof of coggeshall abbey; never dreaming that after four hundred years his house would still stand, mellow and lovely, with its carved ceiling and its proud merchant's mark, when the abbey church was only a shadow on the surface of a field in hot weather and all the abbey buildings were shrunk to one ruined ambulatory, ignobly sheltering blue essex hay wagons from the rain. so thomas paycocke's days drew to a close amid the peace and beauty of the most english of counties, 'fatt, frutefull and full of profitable thinges,'[ ] whose little rolling hills, wych elms, and huge clouded skies constable loved to paint. there came a day in september when gloom hung over the streets of coggeshall, when the spinning-wheels were silent in the cottages, and spinners and weavers stood in anxious groups outside the beautiful house in west street; for upstairs in his bridal chamber, under its noble ceiling, the great clothier lay dying, and his wife wept by his bedside, knowing that he would never see his child. a few days later the cottages were deserted again, and a concourse of weeping people followed thomas paycocke to his last rest. the ceremony of his burial befitted his dignity: it comprised services, not only on burial day itself, but on the seventh day after it, and then again after a month had passed. it is given best in the words of his will, for thomas paycocke followed the custom of his time, in giving his executors elaborate injunctions for his funeral rites: 'i will myne executors bestowe vpon my buryng daye, vij day and mounthe daye after this manner: at my buriall to have a tryntall of prests and to be at dirige, lawdis, and comendacons as many of them as may be purveyed that day to serve the tryntall, and yf eny lack to make it vpp the vij'th daye. and at the mounthe daye an oder tryntall to be purveyed hoole of myne executors and to kepe dirige, lawdis and commendacons as is afore reherssed, with iij high massis be note [by note, i.e. with music], oon of the holy gost, an other of owre lady, and an other of requiem, both buriall, seuenth day and mounthe daye. and prests beyng at this obseruance iiij d. at euery tyme and childryn at euery tyme ij d., w't torches at the buriall xij, and vj at the vij'th day and xij at the mounthe daye, with xxiij'th or xij smale childryn in rochettes with tapers in theire honds, and as many as may be of them lett them be my god childryn, and they to haue vj s. viij d. apece; and euery oder child iiij d. apece; and euery man that holdith torches at euery day he to have ij apece; and euery man, woman and child that holdeth upp hound [hand] at eny of thes iij days to haue j d. apece; and also euery god chyld besyde vj s. viij d. apece; and to the ryngars for all iij dayes x s.; and for mete, drynke, and for twoo semones of a doctor, and also to haue a dirige at home, or i be borne to the chirche summa j li.' here is something very different from the modest thomas betson's injunction: 'the costes of my burying to be don not outrageously, but sobrely and discretly and in a meane maner, that it may be unto the worship and laude of almyghty god.' the worthy old clothier was not unmindful of the worship and laud of thomas paycocke also, and over £ in modern money was expended upon his burial ceremonies, over and above the cost of founding his new chantry. well indeed it was that his eyes were closed in death, ere the coming of the reformation abolished all the chantries of england, and with them the paycocke chantry in st katherine's aisle, which had provided alms for six poor men weekly. thomas paycocke belonged to the good old days; in a quarter of a century after his death essex was already changing. the monks were scattered from the abbey, which stood roofless; the sonorous latin tongue no longer echoed in the church, nor priests prayed there for the souls of thomas and his wife and his parents and his father-in-law. even the cloth industry was changing, and the county was growing more prosperous still with the advent of finer kinds of cloth, brought over there by feat-fingered aliens, the 'new drapery', known as 'bays and says'. for as the adage says: hops, reformation, bays and beer came into england all in a year, and coggeshall was destined to become more famous still for a new sort of cloth called 'coxall's whites', which thomas paycocke's nephews made when he was in his grave.[ ] one thing, however, did not change; for his beautiful house still stood in west street, opposite the vicarage, and was the delight of all who saw it. it stands there still, and looking upon it today, and thinking of thomas paycocke who once dwelt in it, do there not come to mind the famous words of ecclesiasticus? let us now praise famous men and our fathers that begat us. the lord hath wrought great glory by them through his great power from the beginning... rich men furnished with ability, living peaceably in their habitations: all these were honoured in their generations and were the glory of their times. _notes and sources_ * * * * * chapter ii the peasant bodo _a. raw material_ . the roll of the abbot irminon, an estate book of the abbey of st germain des prés, near paris, written between and . see _polyptyque de l'abbaye de saint-germain des prés_, pub. auguste longnon, t. i, _introduction_; t. ii, _texte_ (soc. de l'hist. de paris, - ). . charlemagne's capitulary, _de villis_, instructions to his stewards on the management of his estates. see guerard, _explication du capitulaire 'de villis'_ (acad. des inscriptions et belles-lettres, _mémoires_, t. xxi, ), pp. - , containing the text, with a detailed commentary and a translation into french. . _early lives of charlemagne_, ed. a.j. grant (king's classics, ). contains the lives by einhard and the monk of st gall, on which see halphen, cited below. . various pieces of information about social life may be gleaned from the decrees of church councils, old high german and anglo-saxon charms and poems, and aelfric's _colloquium_, extracts from which are translated in bell's eng. hist. source books, _the welding of the race_, - , ed. j.e.w. wallis ( ). for a general sketch of the period see lavisse _hist. de france_, t. ii, and for an elaborate critical study of certain aspects of charlemagne's reign (including the _polyptychum_) see halphen, _Études critiques sur l'histoire de charlemagne_ ( ); also a. dopsch, _wirtschaftsentwicklung der karolingerzeit, vornehmlich in deutschland_, vols. (weimar, - ), which halphen criticizes. _b. notes to the text_ . 'habet bodo colonus et uxor ejus colona, nomine ermentrudis, homines sancti germani, habent secum infantes iii. tenet mansum ingenuilem i, habentem de terre arabili bunuaria viii et antsingas ii, de vinea aripennos ii, de prato aripennos vii. solvit ad hostem de argento solidos ii, de vino in pascione modios ii; ad tertium annum sundolas c; de sepe perticas iii. arat ad hibernaticum perticas iii, ad tramisem perticas ii. in unaquaque ebdomada corvadas ii, manuoperam i. pullos iii, ova xv; et caropera ibi injungitur. et habet medietatem de farinarium, inde solvit de argento solidos ii.' op. cit., ii, p. . 'bodo a _colonus_ and his wife ermentrude a _colona_, tenants of saint-germain, have with them three children. he holds one free manse, containing eight _bunuaria_ and two _antsinga_ of arable land, two _aripenni_ of vines and seven _aripenni_ of meadow. he pays two silver shillings to the army and two hogsheads of wine for the right to pasture his pigs in the woods. every third year he pays a hundred planks and three poles for fences. he ploughs at the winter sowing four perches and at the spring sowing two perches. every week he owes two labour services _(corvées)_ and one handwork. he pays three fowls and fifteen eggs, and carrying service when it is enjoined upon him. and he owns the half of a windmill, for which he pays two silver shillings.' . _de villis_, c. . . ibid. cc. , . . from 'the casuistry of roman meals,' in _the collected writings of thomas de quincey_, ed. d. masson ( ), vii, p. . . aelfric's _colloquium_ in op. cit. p. . . the monk of st gall's _life_ in _early lives of charlemagne_, pp. - . . einhard's _life_ in op. cit., p. . . anglo-saxon charms translated in stopford brook, _english literature from the beginning to the norman conquest_ ( ), p. . . old high german charm written in a tenth-century hand in a ninth-century codex containing sermons of st augustine, now in the vatican library. brawne, _althochdeutsches lesebuch_ (fifth edition, halle, ), p. . . another old high german charm preserved in a tenth-century codex now at vienna. brawne, op. cit., p. . . from the ninth-century _libellus de ecclesiasticis disciplinis_, art. , quoted in ozanam, _la civilisation chrétienne chez les francs_ ( ), p. . the injunction however, really refers to the recently conquered and still half-pagan saxons. . _penitential_ of haligart, bishop of cambrai, quoted ibid. p. . . _documents relatifs à l'histoire de l'industrie et du commerce en france_, ed. g. faigniez, t. i, pp. - . . see references in chambers, _the medieval stage_ ( ), i, pp. - . . for the famous legend of the dancers of kölbigk, see gaston paris, _les danseurs maudits, légende allemande du xie siècle_ (paris , reprinted from the _journal des savants_, dec., ), which is a _conte rendu_ of schröder's study in _zeitschrift für kirchengeschichte_ ( ). the poem occurs in a version of english origin, in which one of the dancers, thierry, is cured of a perpetual trembling in all his limbs by a miracle of st edith at the nunnery of wilton in . see loc. cit., pp. , . . 'swete lamman dhin are,' in the original. the story is told by giraldus cambrensis in _gemma ecclesiastica_, pt. i, c. xlii. see _selections from giraldus cambrensis_, ed. c.a.j. skeel (s.p.c.k. _texts for students_, no. xi), p. . . einhard's _life_ in op. cit. p. . see also ibid., p. (note). . the monk of st gall's _life_ in op. cit., pp. - . . einhard's _life_ in op. cit., p. . . ibid., p. . . beazley, _dawn of modern geography_ ( ), i, p. . . the monk of st gall's _life_ in op. cit., pp. - . . see the description in lavisse, _hist. de france ii_, pt. i, p. ; also g. monod, _les moeurs judiciaires au viiie siècle_, revue historique, t. xxxv ( ). . see faigniez, op. cit., pp. - . . see the monk of st gall's account of the finery of the frankish nobles: 'it was a holiday and they had just come from pavia, whither the venetians had carried all the wealth of the east from their territories beyond the sea,--others, i say, strutted in robes made of pheasant-skins and silk; or of the necks, backs and tails of peacocks in their first plumage. some were decorated with purple and lemon-coloured ribbons; some were wrapped round with blankets and some in ermine robes.' op. cit., p. . the translation is a little loose: the 'phoenix robes' of the original were more probably made out of the plumage, not of the pheasant but of the scarlet flamingo, as hodgson thinks _(early hist. of venice_, p. ), or possibly silks woven or embroidered with figures of birds, as heyd thinks _(hist. du commerce du levant_, i, p. ). . the monk of st. gall's _life_ in op. cit., pp. - . . this little poem was scribbled by an irish scribe in the margin of a copy of priscian in the monastery of st gall, in switzerland, the same from which charlemagne's highly imaginative biographer came. the original will be found in stokes and strachan, _thesaurus palæohibernicus_ ( ) ii, p. . it has often been translated and i quote the translation by kuno meyer, _ancient irish poetry_ ( nd ed., ), p. . the quotation from the _triads of ireland_ at the head of this chapter is taken from kuno meyer also, ibid. pp. - . chapter iii marco polo _a. raw material_ . _the book of ser marco polo the venetian concerning the kingdoms and marvels of the east_, trans. and ed. with notes by sir henry yule ( rd edit., revised by henri cordier, vols., hakluyt soc., ). see also h. cordier, _ser marco polo: notes and addenda_ ( ). the best edition of the original french text is _le livre de marco polo_, ed. g. pauthier (paris, ), the most convenient and cheap edition of the book for english readers is a reprint of marsden's translation (of the latin text) and notes (first published, ), with an introduction by john masefield, _the travels of marco polo the venetian_ (everyman's library, ; reprinted, ); but some of the notes (identifying places, etc.) are now out of date, and the great edition by yule and cordier should be consulted where exact and detailed information is required. it is a mine of information, geographical and historical, about the east. i quote from the everyman edition as marco polo, op. cit., and from the yule edition as yule, op. cit. . _la cronique des veneciens de maistre martin da canal_. in _archivo storico italiano_, st ser., vol. viii (florence, ). written in french and accompanied by a translation into modern italian. one of the most charming of medieval chronicles. _b. modern works_ . for medieval venice see-- f.c. hodgson: _the early history of venice from the foundation to the conquest of constantinople_ ( ); and _venice in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, a sketch of venetian history, - _ ( ). p.g. molmenti: _venice, its growth to the fall of the republic_, vols. i and ii (_the middle ages_), trans. h.f. brown ( ); and _la vie privée à venise_, vol. i ( ). h.f. brown: _studies in the history of venice_, vol. i ( ). mrs oliphant: _the makers of venice_ ( ) is pleasant reading and contains a chapter on marco polo. . for medieval china, the tartars, and european intercourse with the far east see-- sir henry yule's introduction to his great edition of marco polo (above). _cathay and the way thither: medieval notices of china_, trans. and ed. by sir henry yule, vols. (hakluyt soc., - ). contains an invaluable introduction and all the best accounts of china left by medieval european travellers. above all, oderic of pordenone (d. ) should be read as a pendant to marco polo. r. beazley: _the dawn of modern geography_, vols. ii and iii ( - ). r. grousset: _histoire de l'asie_, t. iii ( rd edit., ), chap. i. a short and charmingly written account of the mongol empires from genghis khan to timour. h. howarth: _history of the mongols_ ( ). . for medieval trade with the east the best book is-- w. heyd: _histoire du commerce du levant au moyen-Âge_, trans., f. raynaud; vols. (leipzig and paris, - , reprinted ). _c. notes to the text_ . to be exact, the flanders galleys which sailed via gibraltar to southampton and bruges were first sent out forty years after --in . throughout the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries they sailed every year, and southampton owes its rise to prosperity to the fact that it was their port of call. . the occasion of the speech quoted was when the imperial representative longinus was trying to get the help of the venetians against the lombards in and invited them to acknowledge themselves subjects of the emperor. the speech is quoted in _encyclop. brit._, art. _venice_ (by h.f. brown), p. . the episode of the loaves of bread belongs to the attempt of pipin, son of charlemagne, to starve out the rialto in the winter of - . compare the tale of charlemagne casting his sword into the sea, with the words, 'truly, even as this brand which i have cast into the sea shall belong neither to me nor to you nor to any other man in all the world, even so shall no man in the world have power to hurt the realm of venice; and he who would harm it shall feel the wrath and displeasure of god, even as it has fallen upon me and my people.'--see canale, _cron._, c. viii. these are, of course, all legends. . 'voirs est que la mer arians est de le ducat de venise.'--canale, op. cit., p. . albertino mussato calls venice 'dominatrix adriaci maris.'--molmenti, _venice_, i, p. . . see some good contemporary accounts of the ceremony quoted in molmenti, _venice_, i, pp. - . . during the fatal war of chioggia between the two republics of venice and genoa, which ended in , it was said that the genoese admiral (or some say francesco carrara), when asked by the doge to receive peace ambassadors, replied, 'not before i have bitted the horses on st mark's.'--h.f. brown, _studies in the hist. of venice_, i, p. . . canale, op. cit., p. . . 'the weather was clear and fine ... and when they were at sea, the mariners let out the sails to the wind, and let the ships run with spread sails before the wind over the sea'--see, for instance, canale, op. cit., pp. , , and elsewhere. . canale, op. cit., cc. i and ii, pp. - . venice is particularly fortunate in the descriptions which contemporaries have left of her--not only her own citizens (such as canale, sanudo and the doge mocenigo) but also strangers. petrarch's famous description of venetian commerce, as occasioned by the view which he saw from his window in the fourteenth century, has often been quoted: 'see the innumerable vessels which set forth from the italian shore in the desolate winter, in the most variable and stormy spring, one turning its prow to the east, the other to the west; some carrying our wine to foam in british cups, our fruits to flatter the palates of the scythians and, still more hard of credence, the wood of our forests to the egean and the achaian isles; some to syria, to armenia, to the arabs and persians, carrying oil and linen and saffron, and bringing back all their diverse goods to us.... let me persuade you to pass another hour in my company. it was the depth of night and the heavens were full of storm, and i, already weary and half asleep, had come to an end of my writing, when suddenly a burst of shouts from the sailors penetrated my ear. aware of what these shouts should mean from former experience, i rose hastily and went up to the higher windows of this house, which look out upon the port. oh, what a spectacle, mingled with feelings of pity, of wonder, of fear and of delight! resting on their anchors close to the marble banks which serve as a mole to the vast palace which this free and liberal city has conceded to me for my dwelling, several vessels have passed the winter, exceeding with the height of their masts and spars the two towers which flank my house. the larger of the two was at this moment--though the stars were all hidden by the clouds, the winds shaking the walls, and the roar of the sea filling the air--leaving the quay and setting out upon its voyage. jason and hercules would have been stupefied with wonder, and tiphys, seated at the helm, would have been ashamed of the nothing which won him so much fame. if you had seen it, you would have said it was no ship but a mountain, swimming upon the sea, although under the weight of its immense wings a great part of it was hidden in the waves. the end of the voyage was to be the don, beyond which nothing can navigate from our seas; but many of those who were on board, when they had reached that point, meant to prosecute their journey, never pausing till they had reached the ganges or the caucasus, india and the eastern ocean. so far does love of gain stimulate the human mind.'--quoted from petrarch's _lettere senili_ in oliphant, _makers of venice_ ( ), p. ; the whole of this charming chapter, 'the guest of venice', should be read. another famous description of venice occurs in a letter written by pietro aretino, a guest of venice during the years to , to titian, quoted in e. hutton, _pietro aretino, the scourge of princes_ ( ), pp. - ; compare also his description of the view from his window on another occasion, quoted ibid., pp. - . the earliest of all is the famous letter written by cassiodorus to the venetians in the sixth century, which is partly translated in molmenti, op. cit., i, pp. - . . the account of the march of the gilds occupies cc. cclxiii-cclxxxiii of canale's chronicle, op. cit., pp. - . it has often been quoted. . canale, op. cit., c. cclxi, p. . . this account of hangchow is taken partly from marco polo, op. cit., bk. ii, c. lxviii: 'of the noble and magnificent city of kinsai'; and partly from odoric of pordenone, _cathay and the way thither_, ed. yule, pp. - . . oderic of pordenone, who was a man before he was a friar, remarks: 'the chinese are comely enough, but colourless, having beards of long straggling hair like mousers, cats i mean. and as for the women, they are the most beautiful in the world.' marco polo likewise never fails to note when the women of a district are specially lovely, in the same way that that other traveller arthur young always notes the looks of the chambermaids at the french inns among the other details of the countryside, and is so much affronted if waited on by a plain girl. marco polo gives the palm for beauty to the women of the province of timochain (or damaghan) on the north-east border of persia, of which, he says, 'the people are in general a handsome race, especially the women, who, in my opinion, are the most beautiful in the world.'--marco polo, op. cit., p. . of the women of kinsai he reports thus: 'the courtesans are accomplished and are perfect in the arts of blandishment and dalliance, which they accompany with expressions adapted to every description of person, insomuch that strangers who have once tasted of their charms, remain in a state of fascination, and become so enchanted by their meretricious arts, that they can never divest themselves of the impression. thus intoxicated with sensual pleasures, when they return to their homes they report that they have been in kinsai, or the celestial city, and pant for the time when they may be enabled to revisit paradise.' of the respectable ladies, wives of the master craftsmen he likewise says: 'they have much beauty and are brought up with languid and delicate habits. the costliness of their dresses, in silks and jewellery, can scarcely be imagined.'--op. cit., pp. , - . . yule, op. cit., ii, p. . . for prester john see sir henry yule's article 'prester john' in the _encyclopædia britannica_, and lynn thorndike, _a history of magic and experimental science_ ( ), ii, pp. - . there is a pleasant popular account in s. baring gould, _popular myths of the middle ages_ ( - ). . for their accounts see _the journal of william of rubruck to the eastern parts, - , by himself, with two accounts of the earlier journey of john of pian da carpine_, trans. and ed. with notes by w.w. rockhill (hakluyt soc., ). rubruck especially is a most delightful person. . this, together with the whole account of the first journey of the elder polos, the circumstances of the second journey, and of their subsequent return occurs in the first chapter of marco polo's book, which is a general introduction, after which he proceeds to describe in order the lands through which he passed. this autobiographical section is unfortunately all too short. . as a matter of fact, william of rubruck had seen and described it before him. . for marco polo's account of this custom in the province which he calls 'kardandan', see op. cit., p. . an illustration of it from an album belonging to the close of the ming dynasty is reproduced in s.w. bushell, _chinese art_ ( ), fig. . . marco polo, _op. cit_., pp. - . . a certain _poh-lo_ was, according to the chinese annals of the mongol dynasty, appointed superintendent of salt mines at yangchow shortly after . professor parker thinks that he may be identified with our polo, but m. cordier disagrees. see e.h. parker _some new facts about marco polos book_ in _imperial and asiatic quarterly review_ ( ), p. ; and h. cordier, _ser marco polo_, p. . see also yule, _marco polo_, i, introd., p. . . p. parrenin in _lett. edis_., xxiv, , quoted in yule, _op. cit_., i, introd., p. ii. . on marco polo's omissions see yule, _op. cit_., i, introd., p. . . marco polo, _op. cit_., p. . . on chao mêng-fu see s.w. bushell, _chinese art_ ( ), ii, pp. -- ; h.a. giles, _introd. to the history of chinese pictorial art_ (shanghai, nd ed., ), pp. ff.; the whole of c. vi of this book on the art which flourished under the mongol dynasty is interesting. see also l. binyon, _painting in the far east_ ( ), pp. - , - . one of chao mêng-fu's horse pictures, or rather a copy of it by a japanese artist, is reproduced in giles, _op. cit_., opposite p. . see also my notes on illustrations for an account of the famous landscape roll painted by him in the style of wang wei. . bushell, _op. cit_., p. . . _ibid_., pp. - , where the picture is reproduced. . for the episode of the mangonels constructed by nestorian mechanics under the directions of nicolo and maffeo see marco polo, _op. cit_., pp. - . . marco polo, _op. cit_., bk. iii, c. i, pp. - . . ramusio's preface, containing this account, and also the story of how rusticiano came to write the book at marco polo's dictation at genoa, is translated in yule, _op. cit_., i, introd., pp. - . . he mentions these in marco polo, _op. cit_., pp. , , . . yule, _op. cit_., i, introd., p. . . on rusticiano (who is mistakenly called a genoese by ramusio), see _ibid_., introd., pp. ff. . paulin paris, quoted _ibid_., introd., p. . . _ibid_., introd., pp. - . . extract from jacopo of acqui's _imago mondi_, quoted _ibid_., introd., p. . . m. ch.-v. langlois in _hist. litt. de la france_, xxxv ( ), p. . for tributes to marco polo's accuracy see aurel stein, _ancient_ _khotan_ ( ) and _ruins of desert cathay_ ( ); ellsworth huntington, _the pulse of asia_ ( ); and sven hedin, _overland to india_ ( ). . yule, _op. cit_., i, introd., pp. - . . for these later missions and traders see yule, _cathay and the way thither_, introd., pp. cxxxii-iv, and text, _passim_. . _ibid_., ii, p. ; and app., p. lxv. . concerning the marginal notes by columbus see yule, _op. cit_., ii, app. h, p. . the book is preserved in the colombina at seville. i must, however, frankly admit that modern research, iconoclastic as ever, not content with white-washing lucrezia borgia and catherine de medicis, and with reducing catherine of siena to something near insignificance, is also making it appear more and more probable that columbus originally set sail in to look for the islands of the antilles, and that, although on his return after his great discovery in he maintained that his design had always been to reach cipangu, this was a _post hoc_ story, the idea of searching for cipangu having probably come from his partner, martin pinzon. it is a pity that we do not know _when_ he made his notes in the edition (the probable date of publication of which was ) of marco polo's book, which might settle the matter. on the whole question see henry vignaud, _Études critiques sur la vie de colomb avant ses découvertes_ (paris, ) and _histoire de la grande enterprise de _, vols. (paris, ), and the summary and discussion of his conclusions by professor a.p. newton in _history_, vii ( ), pp. - (_historical revisions_ xx.--'christopher columbus and his great enterprise.') the idea that a new road to the east was being sought at this time, primarily because the turks were blocking the old trade routes, has also been exploded. see a.h. lybyer, _the ottoman turks and the routes of oriental trade_ in _eng. hist. review_, xxx ( ), pp. - . chapter iv madame eglentyne _a. raw material_ . chaucer's description of the prioress in the prologue to the _canterbury tales_. . miscellaneous visitation reports in episcopal registers. on these registers, and in particular the visitation documents therein, see r.c. fowler, _episcopal registers of england and wales_ (s.p.c.k. helps for students of history, no. ), g.g. coulton, _the interpretation of visitation documents_ (eng. hist. review, ), and c. xii of my book, cited below. a great many registers have been, or are being, published by learned societies, notably by the canterbury and york society, which exists for this purpose. the most important are the lincoln visitations, now in the course of publication, by dr a. hamilton thompson, _visitations of religious houses in the diocese of lincoln_, ed. a. hamilton thompson (lincoln rec. soc. and canterbury and york soc., ff.); two volumes have appeared so far, of which see especially vol. ii, which contains part of bishop alnwick's visitations ( - ); each volume contains text, translation, and an admirable introduction. see also the extracts from winchester visitations trans. in h.g.d. liveing, _records of romsey abbey_ ( ). full extracts from visitation reports and injunctions are given under the accounts of religious houses in the different volumes of the victoria county histories (cited as v.c.h.). . the monastic rules. see _the rule of st benedict_, ed. f.a. gasquet (kings classics, ), and f.a. gasquet, _english monastic life_ ( th ed., ). . for a very full study of the whole subject of english convent life at this period see eileen power, _medieval english nunneries c. to _( ). _b. notes to the text_ . _the register of walter de stapeldon, bishop of exeter_ ( - ), ed. f. hingeston randolph ( ), p. . the passage about philippa is translated in g.g. coulton, _chaucer and his england_ ( ), p. . . see the account of expenses involved in making elizabeth sewardby a nun of nunmonkton ( ) in _testamenta eboracensia_, ed. james raine (surtees soc., ), iii, p. ; and power, _op. cit_., p. . . _year book of king richard ii_, ed. c.f. deiser ( ), pp. - ; and power, _op. cit_., pp. - . . g.j. aungier, _hist. of syon_ ( ), p. . . as at gracedieu ( - ), _alnwick's visit_, ed. a.h. thompson, pp. - . . g.j. aungier, _op. cit_., pp. - . . translated from john de grandisson's register in g.g. coulton, _a medieval garner_ ( ), pp. - . . _rule of st benedict_, c. . . _v.c.h. lincs_., ii, p. . . translated in g.g. coulton, _a medieval garner_. . _myroure of oure ladye_, ed. j.h. blunt (e.e.t.s., ), p. . on tittivillus see my article in _the cambridge magazine_ ( ), pp. - . . _linc. visit_., ed. a.h. thompson, ii, pp. - ; and power, _op. cit._ pp. - . . _v.c.h. oxon_, ii. p. . . _linc. visit_., ed. a.h. thompson, i, p. . . on these gaieties see power, _op. cit_. pp. - . . _linc. visit_., ii, pp. - ; and see power, _op. cit_., pp. - , - , on gay clothes in nunneries. . _linc. visit_., ii. p. . . power, _op. cit_., p. . on pet animals see _ibid_., pp. - , and note e ('convent pets in literature'), pp. - . . power, _op. cit_., p. . . _ibid_., pp. - ; and see chap. ix _passim_ on the bull _periculoso_ and the wandering of nuns in the world. . _linc. visit_., ii, p. . . _v.c.h. yorks_., iii, p. . chapter v the mÉnagier's wife _a. raw material_ i. _le ménagier de paris, traité de morale et d'economie domestique, compose vers_ _par un bourgeois parisien ... publié pour la première fois par la société des bibliophiles francois_. (paris, ). vols., edited with an introduction by jérôme pichon. there is a notice of it by dr f.j. furnivall, at the end of his edition of _a booke of precedence_ (early english text soc., and ), pp. - . it was a book after his own heart, and he observes that it well deserves translation into english. . on the subject of medieval books of deportment for women see a.a. hentsch, _de la littérature didactique du moyen âge s'addressant spécialement aux femmes_ (cahors, ), an admirably complete collection of analyses of all the chief works of this sort produced in western europe from the time of st jerome to the eve of the renaissance. it is full of plums for adventurous jack horners. . with the ménagier's cookery book there may profitably be compared _two fifteenth century cookery books_, ed. by thomas austin (e.e.t.s., ). _b. notes to the text_ . pp. - . . these long moral treatises on the seven deadly sins and the even deadlier virtues were very popular in the middle ages. the best known to english readers occurs in the _parson's tale_ in chaucer's _canterbury tales,_ and is taken from the _somme de vices et de vertus_ of frère lorens, a thirteenth-century author. the sections on the deadly sins are usually, however, well worth reading, because of the vivid illustrative details which they often give about daily life. the ménagier's sections are full of vigour and colour, as one would expect. here, for instance, is his description of the female glutton: 'god commands fasting and the glutton says: "i will eat". god commands us to get up early and go to church and the glutton says: "i must sleep. i was drunk yesterday. the church is not a hare; it will wait for me." when she has with some difficulty risen, do you know what her hours are? her matins are: "ha! what shall we have to drink? is there nothing left over from last night?" afterwards she says her lauds thus: "ha! we drank good wine yesterday." afterwards she says thus her orisons: "my head aches, i shan't be comfortable until i have had a drink." certes, such gluttony putteth a woman to shame, for from it she becomes a ribald, a disreputable person and a thief. the tavern is the devil's church, where his disciples go to do him service and where he works his miracles. for when folk go there they go upright and well spoken, wise and sensible and well advised, and when they return they cannot hold themselves upright nor speak; they are all foolish and all mad, and they return swearing, beating and giving the lie to each other.'--_op. cit_., i, pp. - . the section on avarice is particularly valuable for its picture of the sins of executors of wills, rack-renting lords, extortionate shopkeepers, false lawyers, usurers, and gamblers.--see _ibid_., i, pp. - . . _prudence and melibeus_ is worth reading once, either in chaucer's or in renault de louens' version, because of its great popularity in the middle ages, and because of occasional vivid passages. here, for instance, is the episode in chaucer's version, in which melibeus, the sages, and the young men discuss going to war, and the sages advise against it: 'up stirten thanne the yonge folk at ones, and the mooste partie of that compaignye scorned the wise olde men, and bigonnen to make noyse, and seyden that "right so as, whil that iren is hoot, men sholden smyte, right so men sholde wreken hir wronges while that they been fresshe and newe"; and with loud voys they criden, "werre! werre!" up roos tho oon of thise olde wise, and with his hand made contenaunce that men sholde holden hem stille, and yeven hym audience. "lordynges," quod he, "ther is ful many a man that crieth 'werre! werre!' that woot ful litel what werre amounteth. werre at his bigynnyng hath so greet an entryng and so large, that every wight may entre whan hym liketh and lightly fynde werre; but certes, what ende that shal ther-of bifalle it is nat light to knowe; for soothly, whan that werre is ones bigonne ther is ful many a child unborn of his mooder that shal sterve yong by cause of that ilke werre, or elles lyve in sarwe, and dye in wrecchednesse; and therefore, er that any werre bigynne, men moste have greet conseil and greet deliberacioun."--chaucer, _tale of melibeus_,§ ; and see the french version, _op. cit_., i, p. . . ii, p. - . . i, pp. - . these medieval games are very difficult to identify. the learned editor remarks that _bric_, which is mentioned in the thirteenth century by rutebeuf was played, seated, with a little stick; _qui féry_ is probably the modern game called by the french _main chaude; pince merille,_ which is mentioned among the games of gargantua, was a game in which you pinched one of the players' arms, crying 'mérille' or 'morille'. though the details of these games are vague, there are many analagous games played by children today, and it is easy to guess the kind of thing which is meant. . i, pp. - . . i, , . . the story of jeanne la quentine is reproduced in the _heptameron_ of margaret of navarre (the th tale, or the th of the th day), where it is attributed to a _bourgeoise_ of tours, but it is probable that the ménagier's is the original version, since he says that he had it from his father; although, knowing the ways of the professional raconteur, i should be the first to admit that this is not proof positive. . i, pp. - . . i, p. . . this was a favourite saying. it occurs in the story of melibeus, 'trois choses sont qui gettent homme hors de sa maison, c'est assavoir la fumée, la goutière et la femme mauvaise.'--_ibid_., i, p. . compare chaucer's use of it: 'men seyn that thre thynges dryven a man out of his hous,--that is to seyn, smoke, droppyng of reyn and wikked wyves.'--_tale of melibeus_, § ; and 'thou seyst that droppying houses, and eek smoke, and chidyng wyves, maken men to flee out of hir owene hous.' --_wife of bath's prologue_, ll, - . . i, pp. - , - . . ii, p. . the ménagier also warns against running up long bills on credit. 'tell your folk to deal with peaceable people and to bargain always beforehand and to account and pay often, without running up long bills on credit by tally or on paper, although tally or paper are better than doing everything by memory, for the creditors always think it more and the debtors less, and thus are born arguments, hatreds, and reproaches; and cause your good creditors to be paid willingly and frequently what is owed to them, and keep them in friendship so that they depart not from you, for one cannot always get peaceable folk again.' . ii, pp. - . . it is curious here to note the antiquity of the term 'bloody' as an expletive. the ménagier says: 'forbid them ... to use ugly oaths, or words which are bad or indecent, as do certain evil or ill bred persons who swear at bad bloody fevers, the bad bloody week, the bad bloody day ('de males sanglantes fièvres,' 'de male sanglante sepmaine,' 'de male sanglante journée'), and they know not, nor should they know, what a bloody thing is, for honest women know it not, since it is abominable to them to see the blood but of a lamb or a pigeon, when it is killed before them.'--_ibid._, ii, p. . . the section on household management described above occupies sec. ii, art. , of the ménagier's book (ii, pp. - ). . i, pp. - . . i, pp. - . . the cookery book occupies sec. ii, arts. and (ii, pp. - ). . ii, pp. - . translated by dr furnivall in _a booke of precedence_ (e.e.t.s.), pp. - . . ii, pp. - , . the feast was still a thing of the future when the ménagier thus gathered all the details. he calls it 'l'ordenance de nopces que fera maistre helye en may, à un mardy ... l'ordonnance du souper que fera ce jour.' . 'the office of the woman is to make provision of tapestries, to order and spread them, and in especial to dight the room and the bed which shall be blessed.... and note that if the bed be covered with cloth, there is needed a fur coverlet of small vair, but if it be covered with serge, or broidery, or pinwork of cendal, not.'--ii, p. . the editor quotes the following ceremony for blessing the wedding bed: '_benedictio thalami ad nuptias et als_, beredic, domine, thalamum hunc et omnes habitantes in eo, ut in tua voluntate permaneant, requiescant et multiplicentur in longitudinem dierum. per christum, etc. _tunc thurificet thalamum in matrimonio, postea sponsum et sponsam sedentes vel jacentes in lecto suo. benedicentur dicendo_: benedic, domine, adolescentulos istos; sicut benedixisti thobiam et sarram filiam raguelis, ita benedicere eos digneris, domine, ut in nomine tuo vivant et senescant, et multiplicentur in longitudinem dierum. per christum, etc. benedictio dei omnipotentis, patris et filii et spiritus sancti descendat super vos et maneat super vobiscum. in nomine patris, etc.'--_ibid._, i, _introd._, p. lxxxvi. . chaucer, _tale of melibeus_, § . chapter vi thomas betson _a. raw material_ . _the stonor letters and papers_, - , ed. c.l. kingsford (royal hist. soc., camden, rd series), vols., . the betson correspondence is in vol. ii. . _the cely papers, selected from the correspondence and memoranda of the cely family, merchants of the staple_, - , ed. h.e. malden (royal hist. soc., camden rd series), . i am much beholden to the excellent introductions to these two books, which are models of what editorial introductions should be. . the best introduction to the history of the company of the staple is to be found in mr malden's aforesaid introduction to _the cely papers_, which also contains a masterly account of the political relations of england, france and burgundy during the period. i have constantly relied upon mr malden's account of the working of the staple system. other useful short accounts of the wool trade and the stapler's company may be found in the following works: sir c.p. lucas, _the beginnings of english overseas enterprise_ ( ), c. ii; and a.l. jenckes, _the staple of england_ ( ). _b. notes to the text_ . four interesting contemporary illustrations of parliament in , , some date during the seventeenth century, and respectively, are reproduced in professor a.f. pollard's stimulating study of _the evolution of parliament_ ( ). . _the lybelle of englyshe polycye_, in _political poems and songs_, ed. thos. wright (rolls ser., ), ii, p. . this remarkable poem was written in or , in order to exhort the english 'to kepe the see enviroun and namelye the narowe see' between dover and calais, since in the author's opinion the basis of england's greatness lay in her trade, for the preservation of which she needed the dominion of the seas. its chief value lies in the very complete picture which it gives of english import and export trade with the various european countries. there is a convenient edition of it in _the principal navigations voyages traffiques and discoveries of the english nation by richard hakluyt_ (everyman's lib. edition, ), i, pp. - . . g.w. morris and l.s. wood, _the golden fleece_ ( ), p. . . for accounts of these brasses see h. druitt, _a manual of costume as illustrated by monumental brasses_ ( ), pp. , , , , . john fortey's brass and william greville's brass are conveniently reproduced in g.w. morris and l.s. wood, _op. cit_., pp. , , together with several other illustrations, pertinent to the wool trade. . gower, _mirour de l'omme_ in _the works of john gower_. i. _the french works_, ed. g.c. macaulay ( ), p. - . . _the paston letters_, ed. j. gairdner (london, - ); supplement . see also h.s. bennett, _the pastons and their england_ ( ). . _plumpton correspondence_, ed. t. stapleton (camden soc., ). . _cely papers_, p. ; and compare below p. . . _stonor letters_, ii, p. . . _ibid_., ii, pp. - . . the brasses of his father 'john lyndewode, woolman', and of his brother, also 'john lyndewode, woolman' (_d._ ), are still in linwood church. they both have their feet on woolpacks, and on the son's woolpack is his merchant's mark. see h. druitt, _op. cit_., pp. - . . see _magna vita s. hugonis episcopi lincolniensis_, ed. j.f. dimock (rolls series, ), pp. - . . for these extracts see a vastly entertaining book, _child marriages and divorces in the diocese of chester_, - , ed. f.j. furnivall (e.e.t.s., ), pp. xxii, , - . . _stonor letters_, ii, pp. - . . _ibid_., ii, pp. , . . _ibid_., ii, p. . . _ibid_., ii, pp. - . . _ibid_., ii, p. . . _ibid_., ii, pp. , - . . _ibid_., ii, pp. - . . _ibid_., ii, p. . . _ibid_., ii, p. . . _ibid_., ii, p. . . _ibid_., ii, p. . . _ibid_., ii, pp. - . . _ibid_., ii, pp. - . . _ibid_., ii, p. . . _ibid_., ii, pp. - . . _ibid_., ii, pp. - . . _ibid_., ii, p. . . _ibid_., ii, pp. - , . . see richard cely's amusing account of the affair in a letter to his brother george, written on may , , _cely papers_, pp. - . for other references to the wool dealer william midwinter see _ibid_., pp. , , , , , , , , , , , , , . . _stonor letters_, ii, p. . . _ibid_., ii, p. . . _testamenta eboracensia_ (surtees soc.), ii, p. . he was a well-known wool merchant of york, at different times member of the town council of twelve, sheriff and mayor, who died in . he is constantly mentioned in the city records; see _york memorandum book_, ed. maud sellers (surtees soc., and ), vols. i and ii, _passim_. . _cely papers_, pp. - . . _ibid_., p. . . see his will ( ) in _test. ebor._, iv, p. , where he is called 'johannes barton de holme juxta newarke, stapulae villae carlisiae marcator,' and ordains 'volo quod thomas filius meus johannem tamworth fieri faciat liberum hominem stapulae carlis,' _ibid_., p. . . _ibid_., p. . . _ibid_., p. . . _ibid_., pp. - . . _the lybelle of englysche polycye_ in _loc. cit._, pp. - , _passim_. compare gower's account of the machinations of the lombards, _op. cit_., pp. - . . see the clear account of all these operations in mr malden's introduction to the _cely papers_, pp. xi-xiii, xxxviii. . _ibid_., p. vii. . _cely papers_, pp. - ; and see _introd_., pp. xxxvi-viii. . _ibid_., pp. - . . _ibid_., pp. - , a book entitled on the cover 'the rekenyng of the margett cely,' and beginning, 'the first viage of the margaret of london was to seland in the yere of our lord god m iiijciiijxxv. the secunde to caleis and the thrid to burdews ut videt. md to se the pursers accomptes of the seide viages. g. cely.' . _ibid_., p. xxxviii. . _stonor letters_, ii, p. . . _ibid_., ii, p. . . _cely papers_, pp. - . . _ibid_., p. ; compare _ibid_., p. . . 'sir, the wool ships be come to calais all save three, whereof two be in sandwich haven and one is at ostend, and he hath cast over all his wool overboard.'--_ibid_., p. . 'item, sir, on friday the day of february came passage from dover and they say that on thursday afore came forth a passenger from dover to calais ward and she was chased with frenchmen and driven in to dunkirk haven.'--_ibid_., p. . (there are many records of similar chases; see _introd_., pp. xxxiv-v.) . _ibid_., p. . . 'sir, i cannot have your wool yet awarded, for i have do cast out a sarpler, the which is [ap]pointed by the lieutenant to be casten out toward the sort by, as the ordinance now is made that the lieutenant shall [ap]point the [a]warding sarplers of every man's wool, the which sarpler that i have casten out is no. , and therein is found by william smith, packer, a middle fleeces and it is a very gruff wool; and so i have caused william smith privily to cast out another sarpler no. , and packed up the wool of the first sarpler in the sarpler of no. , for this last sarpler is fair wool enough, and therefore i must understand how many be of that sort and the number of the[m], for they must be packed again' ( sept., ).--_ibid_., p. . item, sir, your wool is awarded by the sarpler that i cast out last, etc. item, sir, this same day your mastership is elected and appointed here by the court one of the , the which shall assist the master of the staple now at this parliament time.'-_ibid_., p. . . gower, _op. cit_., p. . . _cely papers_, pp. xii, xxiv-v. . _stonor letters_, ii, pp. - ; see also _cely papers_, pp. , , . . _stonor letters_, ii, p. . . chaucer, _canterbury tales (shipman's tale_) ll, - . . _stonor letters_, ii, p. . . _cely papers_, p. xxiii. . _lybelle of englysshe polycye_ in _loc. cit_., pp. - . . with deference, i think that mr malden in his introduction to the _cely papers_, app. ii, pp. lii-iii, is mistaken in seeking to identify synchon mart with a particular fair at antwerp on st john's day, bammes mart with the fair at st rémy (a flemish name for whom is bamis) on august , and cold mart with cortemarck near thourout. the names simply refer to the seasons in which there were fairs in most of the important centres, though doubtless in one place the winter and in another the spring, summer, or autumn fair was the more important. that the names refer to seasons and not to places appears quite clearly in various letters and regulations relating to the merchant adventurers of york. see _the york mercers and merchant adventurers_, - , ed. m. sellers (surtees soc., ), pp. , - , , - ; see miss sellers' note, _ibid_., p. , quoting w. cunningham: 'the ancient celtic fairs ... were a widespread primitive institution and appear to have been fixed for dates marked by the change of seasons.'--_scottish hist. review_, xiii, p. . for instance, a document of ('for now att this cold marte last past, holdyn at barow in brabond,' _loc. cit_. p. ) disposes of the idea that the cold mart was the mart at cortemarck, while another document refers to merchants intending to ship 'to the cold martes' and 'to the synxon martes' in the plural. _ibid_., p. . the identification of balms mart with the fair at st rémy on august is, moreover, belied by the same document ( - ), which runs, 'whereas this present marte ... we have lycensed and set you at libertie to shipp your commodities to the balmes marte next coming. nevertheless ... we thinke it good ... that upon the recepte of these our letters ye ... assemble and consult together, and if ye shall thinke good amongest yourselffs ... discretly to withdraw and with holde your hands from shippyng to the said balmes marte.... wryten at andwarp the xvij day of august.' _ibid_., p. . the balms mart was obviously the autumn fairtide, and mr malden is no doubt right in identifying balms (bammys, bammes) with bamis, the local flemish name of st rémy; st rémy's day was october , and the balms mart was not the mart held on august at st rémy, but the mart held on and round about st rémy's day. another document of gives interesting information about the shippings for three of the marts: 'the last daye of shippinge unto the fyrst shippinge beinge for the pasche marte is ordeyned to be the laste of marche nexte ensuyinge; and the seconde shippinge which is appointed for the sinxon marte the laste day to the same, is appoynted the laste of june then nexte followinge; and unto the colde marte the laste day of shippinge is appoynted to be the laste of november then nexte insuyinge.'--_ibid_., p. . the merchant adventurers tried sometimes to restrict merchants to the cold and the synxon marts, which were the most important. . _cely papers_, p. xl, and _passim_. . _ibid_., p. . richard cely the younger to george: 'i understand that ye have a fair hawk. i am right glad of her, for i trust to god she shall make you and me right great sport. if i were sure at what passage ye would send her i would fetch her at dover and keep her till ye come. a great infortune is fallen on your bitch, for she had fair whelps, and after that she had whelped she would never eat meat, and so she is dead and all her whelps; but i trust to purvey against your coming as fair and as good to please that gentleman.'--_ibid_., p. . . _ibid_., p. xlix. . _ibid_., app. i., pp. xlix-lii, a very interesting note on contemporary coinage, identifying all the coins mentioned in the letters. . _ibid_., p. . . _ibid_., p. . . _stonor letters_, ii, p. . so dame elizabeth stonor ends a letter to her husband: 'written at stonor, when i would fain have slept, the morrow after our lady day in the morning,'--_ibid_., p. . . chaucer, _canterbury tales (shipman's tale_), ll, - , in _works_ (globe ed., ), p. . . the will is p.c.c. logge at somerset house. for this analysis of its contents and information about the life of thomas betson after his breach with the stonors see _stonor letters_, i, pp. xxviii-ix. . they are ( ) john bacon, citizen and woolman, and joan, his wife (_d_. ); ( ) thomas gilbert, citizen and draper of london and merchant of the staple of calais (_d_. ), and agnes, his wife (_d_. ); ( ) christopher rawson, mercer of london and merchant of the staple of calais, junior warden of the mercers' company in (_d_. ), and his two wives. thomas betson was doubtless acquainted with gilbert and rawson. chapter vii thomas paycocke of coggeshall _a. raw material_ . the raw material for this chapter consists of paycocke's house, presented to the nation in by the right hon. noel buxton, m.p., which stands in west street, coggeshall, essex (station, kelvedon); the paycocke brasses, which lie in the north aisle of the parish church of st peter ad vincula at coggeshall; and the wills of john paycocke (_d_. ), thomas paycocke (_d_. ), and thomas paycocke (_d_. ), which are now preserved at somerset house (p.c.c. adeane , ayloffe , and arundell , respectively), and of which that of the first thomas has been printed in mr beaumont's paper, cited below, while i have analysed fully the other two in my book, _the paycockes of coggeshall_ ( ), which deals at length with the history of the paycockes and their house. see also g.f. beaumont, _paycocke's house, coggeshall, with some notes on the families of paycocke and buxton_ (reprinted from trans. essex archæol. soc., ix, pt. v) and the same author's _history of coggeshall_ ( ). there is a beautifully illustrated article on the house in _country life_ (june , ), vol. liii, pp. - . . for an apotheosis of the clothiers, see _the pleasant history of john winchcomb, in his younger days called jack of newbery, the famous and worthy clothier of england_ and _thomas of reading, or the six worthy yeomen of the west_, in _the works of thomas deloney_, ed. f.o. mann ( ), nos. ii and v. the first of these was published in and the other soon afterwards and both went through several editions by . . on the cloth industry in general see g. morris and l. wood, _the golden fleece_ ( ); e. lipson, _the woollen industry_ ( ); and w.j. ashley, _introd. to english economic history_ ( edit.). for the east anglian woollen industry see especially the _victoria county histories_ of essex and suffolk. for a charming account of another famous family of clothiers see b. mcclenaghan, _the springs of lavenham_ (harrison, ipswich, ). _b. notes to the text_ . _deloney's works_, ed. f.o. mann, p. . . thomas fuller, _the worthies of england_ ( ), p. . . a convenient introduction to the study of monumental brasses, with illustrations and a list of all the surviving brasses in england, arranged according to counties, is w. macklin, _monumental brasses_ ( ). see also h. druitt, _costume on brasses_ ( ). these books also give details as to the famous early writers on the subject, such as weaver, holman, and a.j. dunkin. . _testamenta eboracensia, a selection of wills from the registry at york_, ed. james raine, vols. (surtees soc., - ). the surtees society has also published several other collections of wills from durham and elsewhere, relating to the northern counties. a large number of wills have been printed or abstracted. see, for instance, _wills and inventories from the registers of bury st edmunds_, ed. s. tymms (camden soc., ); _calendar of wills proved and enrolled in the court of hastings_, _london_, ed. r.r. sharpe, vols. ( ); _the fifty earliest english wills in the court of probate, london_, ed. f.j. furnivall (e.e.t.s., ); _lincoln wills_, ed. c.w. foster (lincoln record soc., ); and _somerset medieval wills_, - , ed. f.w. weaver, vols. (somerset record soc., - ). . the will of the other thomas paycocke 'cloathemaker', who died in , also refers to the family business. he leaves twenty shillings 'to william gyon my weaver'; also 'item, i doe give seaven poundes tenne shillinges of lawful money of englande to and amongest thirtie of the poorest journeymen of the fullers occupacion in coggeshall aforesaide, that is to every one of them fyve shillinges.' william gyon or guyon was related to a very rich clothier, thomas guyon, baptized in and buried in , who is said to have amassed £ , by the trade. thomas paycocke's son-in-law thomas tyll also came of a family of clothiers, for in a certificate under date of wool bought by clothiers of coggeshall during the past year there occur the names of thomas tyll, william gyon, john gooddaye (to whose family the first thomas paycocke left legacies), robert lytherland (who receives a considerable legacy under the will of the second thomas), and robert jegon (who is mentioned incidentally in the will as having a house near the church and was father of the bishop of norwich of that name). see power, _the paycockes of coggeshall_, pp. - . . quoted in lipson, _introd. to the econ. hist, of england_ ( ), i, p. . . quoted _ibid_., p. . . on john winchcomb see power, _op. cit_., pp. - ; and lipson, _op. cit_., p. . . deloney's works, ed. f.c. mann, pp. - . . _ibid_., p. . . quoted in c.l. powell, _eng. domestic relations_, - ( ), p. . . the house subsequently passed, it is not quite clear at what date, into the hands of another family of clothiers, the buxtons, who had intermarried with the paycockes some time before . william buxton (_d_. ) describes himself as 'clothyer of coggeshall' and leaves 'all my baey lombs [looms]' to his son thomas. thomas was seventeen when his father died and lived until , also carrying on business as a clothier, and the house was certainly in his possession. he or his father may have bought it from john paycocke's executors. by him it was handed down to his son thomas, also a clothier (_d_. ), who passed it on to his son isaac, clothier (_d_. ). isaac's two eldest sons were clothiers likewise, but soon after their father's death they retired from business. he apparently allowed his third son, john, to occupy the house as his tenant, and john was still living there in . but isaac had left the house by will in to his youngest son, samuel, and samuel, dying in , left it to his brother charles, the fourth son of isaac. charles never lived in it, because he spent most of his life in the pursuit of his business as an oil merchant in london, though he is buried among his ancestors in coggeshall church. in he sold the house to robert ludgater and it passed completely out of the paycocke-buxton connexion, and in the course of time fell upon evil days and was turned into two cottages, the beautiful ceilings being plastered over. it was on the verge of being destroyed some years ago when it was bought and restored to its present fine condition by mr noel buxton, a direct lineal descendant of the charles buxton who sold it. see power, _op. cit_., pp. - . . _deloney's works_, ed. f.o. mann, p. . . defoe, _tour through great britain_, ( edit.), pp. - . . 'this shire is the most fatt, frutefull and full of profitable thinges, exceeding (as far as i can finde) anie other shire for the general commodities and the plentie, thowgh suffolk be more highlie comended by some (wherewith i am not yet acquainted). but this shire seemeth to me to deserve the title of the englishe goshen, the fattest of the lande, comparable to palestina, that flowed with milk and hunnye.'--norden, _description of essex_ ( ), (camden soc.), p. . . according to leake, writing about , 'about began the first spinning on the distaffe and making of coxall clothes.... these coxall clothes weare first taught by one bonvise, an italian.'--quoted _v.c.h. essex_, ii, p. . _notes on illustrations_ plate i. _bodo at his work_ from an eleventh-century anglo-saxon calendar in the british museum (ms. tit., b.v., pt. i), showing the occupations of bodo, or of his masters, for each month of the year. the months illustrated are january (ploughing with oxen), march (breaking clods in a storm), august (reaping), and december (threshing and winnowing). the other pictures represent february (pruning), april (bodo's masters feasting), may (keeping sheep), june (mowing), july (woodcutting), september (bodo's masters boar-hunting), october (bodo's masters hawking), and november (making a bonfire). plate ii. _embarkation of the polos at venice_ from the magnificent ms. of marco polo's book, written early in the fifteenth century and now preserved at the bodleian library, oxford (ms. no. , f. ). the artist gives an admirable view of medieval venice, with the piazetta to the left, and the polos embarking on a rowing boat to go on board their ship. in the foreground are depicted (after the medieval fashion of showing several scenes of a story in the same picture) some of the strange lands through which they passed. note the venetian trading ships. plate iii. _part of a landscape roll by chao mêng-fu_ this very beautiful scene is taken from a roll painted by chao mêng-fu in in the style of wang wei, a poet and artist of the t'ang dynasty (a.d. - ). a fine description of it is given by mr laurence binyon: 'in the british museum collection is a long roll, over seventeen feet long, painted almost entirely in blues and greens on the usual warm brown silk.... it is one continuous landscape, in which the scenes melt into one another. such rolls are not meant to be exhibited or looked at all at once, but enjoyed in small portions at a time, as the painting is slowly unrolled and the part already seen rolled up again. no small mastery is requisite, as may be imagined, to contrive that wherever the spectator pauses an harmonious composition is presented. one has the sensation, as the roll unfolds, of passing through a delectable country. in the foreground water winds, narrowing and expanding, among verdant knolls and lawns, joined here and there by little wooden bridges; and the water is fed by torrents that plunge down among pine-woods from crags of fantastic form, glowing with hues of lapis-lazuli and jade; under towering peaks are luxuriant valleys, groves with glimpses of scattered deer, walled parks, clumps of delicate bamboo, and the distant roofs of some nestling village. here and there is a pavilion by the water in which poet or sage sits contemplating the beauty round him. these happy and romantic scenes yield at last to promontory and reed-bed on the borders of a bay where a fisherman's boat is rocking on the swell. it is possible that a philosophic idea is intended to be suggested--the passage of the soul through the pleasant delights of earth to the contemplation of the infinite.'--laurence binyon, _painting in the far east_ ( ), pp. - . the section of the roll which has been chosen for reproduction here has already been reproduced in s.w. bushell, _chinese art_ ( ), ii, fig. , where it is thus described: 'a lake with a terraced pavilion on an island towards which a visitor is being ferried in a boat, while fishermen are seen in another boat pulling in their draw-net; the distant mountains, the pine-clad hills in the foreground, the clump of willow opposite, and the line of reeds swaying in the wind along the bank of the water are delightfully rendered, and skilfully combined to make a characteristic picture.'--_ibid_., ii, p. . other sections of the same roll are reproduced in h.a. giles, _introd. to the hist, of chinese pictorial art_ ( nd ed., ) facing p. ; and in l. binyon, _op. cit_., plate iii (facing p. ). it is exceedingly interesting to compare this landscape roll with the ms of marco polo, illuminated about a century later, from which the scene of the embarkation at venice has been taken; the one is so obviously the work of a highly developed and the other of an almost naïve and childish civilization. plate iv. _madame eglentyne at home_ this is a page from a fine manuscript of _la sainte abbaye_, now in the british museum (ms. add. , f. vo). at the top of the picture a priest with two acolytes prepares the sacrament; behind them stands the abbess, holding her staff and a book, and accompanied by her chaplain and the sacristan, who rings the bell; behind them is a group of four nuns, including the cellaress with her keys, and nuns are seen at the windows of the dorter above. at the bottom is a procession of priest, acolytes and nuns in the choir; notice the big candles carried by the young nuns (perhaps novices) in front, and the notation of the music books. plate v. _the ménagier's wife has a garden party_ this beautiful scene is taken from a fifteenth-century manuscript of the _roman de la rose_ (harl. ms. ), which is one of the greatest treasures of the british museum. plate vi. _the ménagier's wife cooks his supper with the aid of his book_ from ms. royal, d. i, f. , in the british museum which is part of a _petite bible historiale_, or biblical history, by guyart des moulins, expanded by the addition of certain books of the bible, in french. it was made at bruges by the order of edward iv, king of england by one j. du ries and finished in , so that it is about eighty years later than the ménagier's book. the illustration represents a scene from the story of tobias; tobit, sick and blind, is lying in bed, and his wife anna is cooking by the fire, with the help of a book and a serving maid. the right-hand half of the picture, which is not reproduced here, shows the outside of the house, with tobias bringing in the angel raphael. the illuminated border of the page from which this scene is taken contains the arms of edward iv, with the garter and crown. plate vii. _calais about the time of thomas betson_ this plan of calais in is reproduced from a 'platt of the lowe countrye att calleys, drawne in october, the th hen. viii, by thomas pettyt,' now in the british museum. (cott. ms. aug. i, vol. ii, no. ). there is only room to show the top corner of the plan, with the drawing of calais itself, but the whole plan is charming, with its little villages and great ships riding in the channel. plate viii. _thomas paycocke's house at coggeshall_ from a photograph of the front of the house, standing on the street. note the long carved breastsummer that supports the overhanging upper story. on the left can be seen, much foreshortened, the archway and double doors of linen fold panels. the windows are renovations on the original design, flat sash windows having been put in in the eighteenth century. _index_ abu lubabah, acqui, jacapo of, , acre, , adrianople, , adriatic, , , , , aegean, , aelfric, _colloquium_, , agnes, dame, _see_ beguine aldgate, alexander, alexandria, , alnwick, william, bishop of lincoln, , ambrose, andaman islands, , anglia, east, , antilha, antilles, , antwerp, , , arab, arabia, , , , ararat, mount, aretino, pietro, arghun, khan of persia, , armenia, , , , arnold, matthew, arras, asia: central, , , , , , , , ; minor, attila, , audley, lady, augustine, st, , augustus, ausonius, ff; his country estate, ff; his friends, ff; and university of bordeaux, austin friars, auvergne, ff bacon, francis, badakhshan, , , bagdad, , baku, bale: peter, ; wyllikyn, balk, ballard: james, ; jane, balms (_bammers, bamis, bammys_) mart, , barbarians, - babarian invasions, bardi, barton, john, of holme, base, jacob van de, bath, wife of, , , , bayard, _bays and says_, beauchamp st pauls, , becerillo, _beguine_, dame agnes the, , , bellela, _see_ polo benedict, st, , , betson: agnes, alice, elizabeth, john, thomas (the younger), ; katherine, _see_ riche betson, thomas; chap vi _passim_, ; children of, ; death of, ; illness of, - ; letters of, , , , , , , , ; member of fishmongers company, ; partnership with sir w. stonor, , ; will of, , , bevice, mistress, bishops' registers, , , , , _bicorne_, black death, , black prince, black sea, , , , blakey, sir roger, booking, bodo, chap _ii passim_, - , - , bokhara, , bolgana, wife of khan of persia, bordeaux, burdews, ; university of, bordelais, the, , brabant, , brad well, brasses, , , , , , , , , braunch, robert, brenner pass, brescia, albertano de, breten, will, brews, margery, - bridge, john, briggs, henry, brightlingsea, brinkley, brittany, broadway, whyte of, _brogger_, bruges, , , , , bruyant, jean, bucephalus, buddha, bullinger, henry, burgundy, dukes of, , burma, , bury, busshe, john, buxton: charles, isaac, samuel, thomas, william, ; mr noel, byzantium, _see_ constantinople caffa, calais, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , cambaluc (see peking), , , , , cambrensis, giraldus, canale, martino da, - , , , , , candia, canterbury, _canterbury tales_, , , , , canton, ca' polo, , carrara, francesco, carsy, anthony, caspian sea, , cassiodorus, , castro, diego da, cathay (_see also_ china), , , , , , , caucasus, , cely: family of wood merchants, - _passim_; george, , , , , ; richard, , , , ; william, , , , _cely papers_, , , , , , , ceylon, , , , chagatai, khan of, chao mêng-fu, , , chao yung, charlemagne, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , charms (_see also_ superstition), - , , , châtelet, chaucer, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , chelmsford, chesne, jean du, _chichevache_, chi'en hsüan, child-marriages, - , chilperic, king, , chilterns, china (_see also_ cathay), , - , , - , , - , , , chioggia, war of, church, attitude to: child marriages, , ; convent pets, ; dancing, , , ; decline of roman empire, ; monastic intercourse with the world, , ; nuns' dowries, ; superstition, , , ; attack on worldliness of, ; bequests to (_see also_ wills), , ; brasses in, _see_ brasses; councils of, churches of: barking, all hallows, , ; beauchamp st pauls, ; bradwell, ; calais, our lady, ; chipping campden, ; chipping norton, ; cirencester, , ; clare, , ; coggeshall, st peter ad vincula, , , , , ; constantinople, st sophia, ; east anglia, ; lechlade, ; london, st olave's, ; linwood, , ; markswell, ; newbury, ; newland, ; northleach, , ; ovington, ; pattiswick, ; peking, ; poslingford, ; stoke nayland, ; venice, st mark's, , , , , , cipangu (japan), , cistercian, citeaux, , clare, , , , clarke, thomas, cloth, _see_ chapter vii _passim_, ; capitalism in industry, ; coxall's whites, , ; growth of english manufacture of, - ; makers of, , ; merchants of, _see_ merchants, paycocke, staple; processes in manufacture, , , , ; where made, - , , cochin china, , coggeshall, _see_ chapter vii _passim_, , , , , , , , , , , coinage, debasement and rates of exchange of, coins: crown, new and old, of france, ; david, of utrecht, ; falewe, of utrecht, ; florin, rhenau, ; groat, carolus, hettinus, limburg, of milan, of nimueguen, , ; venetian, ; guilder, andrew (of scotland), arnoldus (of gueldres) rhenish, , ; lewe, louis d'or, ; noble, ; philippus (philipe d'or) of brabant, ; plaques, of utrecht, ; postlate, ; rider, scots, of burgundy, ; ryall, english, ; setiller, colchester, , , cold mart, , coleridge, colne, curate of, cologne, _coloni_, - columbina, the (seville), columbus, , company: east india ('john company'), ; fishmongers, ; haberdashers, ; mercers, ; merchant adventurers, ; staplers. chapter vi _passim_ compline, , _consrater_, constantinople (_see_ byzantium), , , , , , convent, _see_ nunneries cookery, medieval, , - , corea, _corte milioni_, cotswolds, , , , , , , , , cotton, ann, court rolls, coverdale, coxall, _see_ coggeshall _coxall's whites_, , crimea, , croke, mistress, crusader, crusades, , dalmatia, , dalton, william, , damaghan, dancing: at clothier's wedding, ; church's attitude to, , , ; in churchyard, , ; of dancers of kölbigk, , ; of nun at northampton, dandolo, doge, enrico, danube, river, danyell, john, dardanelles, dean, forest of, decasoun, benynge, dedham, defoe, , defuye, gabriel, deloney, thomas, , - , , , delowppys, john, denys, st, abbey of, ; fair of, , destermer, john, dogs, , , , , , , dogaressa, doges, , - , , dolman, thomas, _domesday book_, dominic, dominican, , don, river, donata, _see_ polo doria, lamba, edith, st, edward ii, edward iii, , eglentyne, madame (_see_ chapter iv _passim_), _see also_ nunnery, prioress egypt, , einhard, , , , , elias, master, , elizabeth, queen, elmes, john, of henley, , england, , , , , , , , , ermentrude, wife of bodo, - , ermoin, eryke, robert, essex, , , , , euric, king, ewen, robert, exchange, rates of, - exeter: bishop of, , ; canons of, fairs, , , , . _see_ marts fantina, _see_ polo felmersham, wife of, fisc, flanders, , , , , , , , , flemings, , , , flodden field, florence, , fo-kien, _fondaco_, fortey: john, ; thomas, fortunatus, ff frambert, france, french, , , , , , ; _see also_ gaul franciscan: convents, ; friars, , , ; nuns, ; tertiaries, franks, ff, fredegond, friars: austin, ; of chelmsford, ; of clare, ; crutched, of colchester, ; franciscan, , ; of maldon, ; of sudbury, frisia, fuller, thomas, , fyldes, welther, gallo-roman civilization, ff games, medieval, , gall, monk of st, , , , gascon, gaul, ff genoa, , , , , , , georgia, germain des pres, abbey of, - , - , germans, germany, , , , , , , gerbert, , ghent, gibraltar, gilds (_see also_ companies); procession of, at venice, , ; restrictions of, gloucestershire, gobi, desert of, goës, benedict, golconda, golden horde, , gooday (coggeshall family), , goths, , gower, , , graunger, thomas, , greece, gregory x, gregory of tours, ff grève, place de, grevel (greville) william, griselda, , , , , groat (_see_ coins), , , , guelder, guilder, gulden (_see_ coins), , , guntrum, king, hainault, philippa of, halitgart, halstead, hangchow (_see also_ kinsai), - , , , , , hansard, haroun el raschid, hautecourt, wedding of, hedin, sven, henham, thomas, , , , , henley, _see_ elmes, john henry viii, , , _heptameron_, hildegard, , hiwen thsang, hoangho, river, holake, _see_ howlake holme, _see_ barton, john holy roman emperor, , hormuz, horrold: margaret, ; thomas, house of lords, howlake, thomas, , _hugh, st, tale of_, hull, , hun, , hungarian, , hundred years war, , huntington, ellsworth, india, , , , , indian ocean, indies, , indo-china, , , inns: the 'dragon' (coggeshall), ; the 'fleece' (coggeshall), ; the 'tabard' (southwark), ; the 'woolpack' (coggeshall), ipswich, irminon, abbot of st germain des pres, estate book of, - , , , islam, isomachus, , italy, italian, ; _see also_ florence, genoa, venice, etc. jamui, queen of kublai khan, japan, java, , jerusalem, , jews, , johnson, doctor, judea, julian the apostate, , justices, itinerant, , karakorum, , kashgar, kerman, khan: of central asia, ; of kipchak, ; of persia, , , (_see also_ mangu, kublai) khorassan, khotan, , kinsai (_see also_ hangchow), - , , , kipchak, , kölbigk, dancers of, , kuan, kublai khan, , , , , , , , , , , , lagny, abbot of, lajazzo, lamberton, _see_ turbot, robert lancaster, thomas of, langland, , laos, lauds, leadenhall, letters, _see_ cely, paston, plumpton, stonor levant, , , , _libelle of englyshe policye_, , lincoln, , linwood, , lob, lake, lokyngton, john, lollington, john, , lombard, peter, lombards, the, , , , lombard street, lombardy, london, , , , , , , , , , louens, renault de, louis, st, ; the pious, , louvain, lucca, lucolongo, peter, of ludgater, robert, lyndeshay, lyndwood (lyndewode): john, , ; william, lyndys, william, lynn, , lyons, madagascar, , maidstone, , , major, _see_ steward malabar, , , maldon, manchuria, manji, , mangu khan, mann, john, manor, _see_ bodo, manse, , , , , mansi. _see_ manji marcus aurelius, , , marignolli, john, marino faliero, mark lane, , markshall, marmora, sea of, marts, , , . _see_ fairs mass, , , , , matins, , mechlin, mediterranean, , , medway, , 'meg', a hawk, melaria, _melibeus and prudence_, , ménagier de paris, chap. v _passim_ , ; on accounts, ; on cookery, , , , , , , ; on deportment, , - , ; on duty to husband, , , - , ; on extermination of insects, in, ; on games, , , ; on garments and household linen, , , , , , , ; on management of farm, ; on servants, , , - , , , , ; on wife's second marriage, , mercers, merchant adventurers, , merchant: arab, ; chinese, , , , ; english, _see_ betson, company merchant adventurers, paycocke, staple; indian, ; italian, ; roman, ff; spanish, ; venetian, _see_ venice, trade of, marks of, , , , ; repair of roads by, merovingian, meung, jean de, middleburgh, middle classes: growth of, ; houses of, , ; ménagier as type of, midwinter, william, , milhall, milton, minoresses, minstrels, , , _missi dominici, see_ justices money, _see_ coins mongol, , , , mongolia, , , , monte corvino, john of, montfort, simon de, more, lewis, moreta. _see_ polo moslem, , mosul, _myroure of our ladye_, , navarre, margaret of, navy: genoese, , ; vandal, ; venetian, , nestorian, , netherlands, , , newark, newbury, ; jack of (john winchcomb), , , - , newhithe, nicobar, nile, none, norman, normandy, northampton, , northleach, , , , norwich, nunneries, chap. iv _passim_, and , ; of minoresses, ; at stainfield, ; of syon, ; of wilton, ; bishops' visits to, - ; chaucer's sources for study of, ; dissolution of, , ; fashions in, , ; management of, - ; mentioned in wills, ; paying guests in, , ; pets in, , ; schoolgirls in, , ; silence hours in, ; sources for study of, nuns (_see_ eglentyne, nunneries, prioress, chap. iv _passim_), ; clothes of, , ; complaints of, to bishop, - , , ; dowries of, - ; intercourse of, with the world, - ; meals of, ; offices of, ; periods of silence of, ; pets of, , ; recreations of, ; work of, orewelle (orwell), orleans, bishop of, orosius, ovington, , ovis poli, oxbridge, goddard, oxus, river, , paris, , , , , , , parliament, _pask_ (pasche) mart, , paston, john, ; letters, , pattiswick, paulinus, st, of nela, paycocke: emma, ; john, , ; john, jun., ; margaret, , ; robert, ; robert, jun., ; thomas, jun., ; thomas, chap. vii _passim, see also_ cloth; bequests of, , _see_ will of; brasses of family of, , ; burial ceremonies of, - ; character of, ; child of, , ; _consrater_ of crutched friars, ; death of, , ; friends of, ; house of, , , , , , ; merchant mark of, , ; repairs roads, ; second wife of, , , ; wedding of, ; will of, , , , , , , , , pegolotti, francis balducci, peking (_see also_ cambaluc, china, polo), , , , ; ambassadors sent to, ; archbishop of, ; description of, by oderic of pordenone, ; papal legate, to, ; tartar rule in, pembroke, william, earl of, perpendicular architecture, , , perpoint, thomas, persia, , , , , , , peter the tartar, petrarch, , , piacenza, tebaldo di, pian da carpine (_see_ piano carpini) pierre an lait, _piers plowman_, , pilgrims' way, piano carpini, john of, , _pleasant history of jack of newbury_, , plumpton letters, polo: bellela, donata, fantina, moreta, maffeo, - marco, _see_ chap. ill _passim_, , kublai khan; attendant on khan, ; book of, ff, , , , ; death of, ; departure from china of, ; father of (_see_ maffeo), - ; governor of yangchow, , ; interest in tartars, - ; journeys of, - , ; mention of, in venetian records, ; nicknamed _il milione_, ; prisoner of genoese, - ; released by genoese, ; return to venice of, ; sent on mission by khan, ; stories of, about khan, - ; uncle of, - , ; wife and family, nicolo, - _polyptychum_, pope, , , , , , , pordenone, ordoric of, , , porte-de-paris, prester john, , prioress, _see_ eglentyne, nunneries, nuns, chap. iv _passim_, ; in bishop's registers, - ; clothes of, , , ; complaints by nuns of, - , , ; entertainment of visitors by, , ; intercourse of, with world, , - ; pets of, , ; treatment of nuns by, ; work of, , , , prime, prologue: of _canterbury tales_, - , , , , , , , ; of ménagier de paris, quentin, la'quentine, jehanne, , quincey, de, , rade, daniel and peter van de, ragenold, rainham, , ramsbotham, elizabeth, ramusio, , raynold, john, reading, thomas of, , reformation, , remy, saint, renault de louens, revolution, industrial, , , reyner, rialto, , ricimer, riche: anne, ; elizabeth, , _see_ stoner, elizabeth, jane, ; katherine, - , , , rigmarden, john, roman: civilization, ; emperor - ; villa, , , _roman de la rose_, rome, chap. i _passim_, , , roman empire, - , , , decline of, - ; reasons for disintegration of, - ; trade of, ff? romsey abbey, rotherhithe, rouen, _round table_, , rubruck, william of, , , rumania, rumney wine, russell, richard, russia, , rusticiano, , , salvian of marseilles, st gothard pass, st sophia, saleby, grace de, samarcand, sanly, peter, sandwich, sext, shalford, shandu, xanadu, shansi, , shensi, , ships, , , , , ; masters of, , ; names of, , - siam, siberia, , sicily, sidonius apollinaris, , ff; and his villa, ; and siege of clermont, ff socrates, _sohrab and rustum_, soldaia, somerset house, , sordyvale, william, spain, spaniards, spanish, , spices, , spice islands, spooner, thomas, stainfield, stamford, staple, chap. vi _passim, see_ betson, merchant; banking facilities of, ; benefits of, , ; brasses of merchants of, , ; business of merchants of, - ; competition of, with merchant adventurers, ; history of company of, ; location of, ; merchants of the, chap. vi _passim_; organization of, ; regulations of, , , , , ; wills of merchants of, ; _see also_ betson, wills starkey, humphrey, stein, sir aurel, stepney, steward: charlemagne's instructions to, , , , ; master john the, , - , - ; of villaris, , , - stoke nayland, stonor: dame elizabeth, , , , , ; humphrey, ; letters, , , , ; sir william, , - , , , strabant, gynott, stratford-atte-bowe, , strossy, marcy, suchow, sugui, , , sudbury, suffolk, sugui, _see_ suchow sumatra, , , sung dynasty, , , superstition (_see_ charms), - , symmachus, , _synxon_ (synchon) mart, , syon abbey, syria, , - szechuen, tabriz, tacitus, tana, tangut, , , , tartar(s), - , , , - , , _see also_ marco polo; attitude of west to, ; embassy of, ; fall of dynasty of, ; modern books on, ; peter the, ; power of, ; princess, , ; slaves, tartary, , , tate, john, , taylor, robert, templars, temyngton, . _testamenta eboracensia_, , , , thames, theodulf, bishop of orleans, tibet, , , , , , tiepolo, doge lorenzo, , , tierce, timochain, , tittivillus, - torneys, robert, trade, _see_ merchant trebizond, , , tripoli, turbot, robert of lamberton, turcomania, turkestan, tuscan, tyre, , udine, underbay, _f_ uppcher, margaret and robert, vandals, venice: venetian, - , - , , , - , , , , - ; cassiodorus on, ; chronicler of, _see_ canale, martino da; doge of, , - , ; excommunication of, ; history of, - , , ; merchants of, at hangchow, , ; modern works on, ; polos' return to, , ; procession of gilds in, , , ; records of, ; rivalry of, with genoa, , - ; trade of, , , , - , , , , ; wedding of, with sea, , ; wool dealers of, vespers, villaris, , , _villicus, see_ steward villein, villeinage, , , visigoths, walberswick, walpole, wang wei, _way of poverty and wealth_, wedding feasts, - , - welbech, william, west: riding, ; street, coggeshall, , , whyte of broadway, wido (_see also_ bodo), , , , wilkins (wylkyns) henry, william i, wills: of john barton of holme, ; of thomas betson, , , ; of bishops, ; of paycockes, , - , , ; of villeins, ; general sources for, , , wilton, winchester, st mary's, abbess of, winchcomb, john (_see_ jack of newbury) wood, lieutenant john, wool (_see_ betson, cely, merchan staple); export of, , gower on, , ; inspection of, ; lives of merchants of, (_see_ betson); packing and shipping of, - ; ports from whence sent, ; private bargains in, ; private letters or export of, ; purchase of, - , regulations concerning, - ; revenues from, ; sale of, , - ; tombs of merchants of, ; where grown, , woolsack, wykeham, william of, xanadu (_see_ shandu), xenophon, yangchow, , yangtze river, yarkand, yellow river, yezd, york, , yorkshire, , , ypres, yuan dynasty, yule, sir henry, , yunnen, zaiton, , , zanzibar, zara, zealand (seland), , zeno, renier, note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustration. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h.zip) the camp fire girls on the open road or, glorify work by hildegard g. frey author of the camp fire girls series a. l. burt company publishers new york * * * * * * the camp fire girls series by hildegard g. frey the camp fire girls in the maine woods or, the winnebago's go camping the camp fire girls at school or, the wohelo weavers the camp fire girls at onoway house or, the magic garden the camp fire girls go motoring or, along the road that leads the way the camp fire girls larks and pranks or, the house of the open door the camp fire girls on ellen's isle or, the trail of the seven cedars the camp fire girls on the open road or, glorify work the camp fire girls do their bit or, over the top with the winnebago's copyright, by a. l. burt company * * * * * * katherine to the winnebagos oct. , --. dear first-and-onlys: when i got to the post-office to-day and found there was no letter from you, my heart sank right through the bottom of my number seven boots and buried itself in the mud under the doorsill. all day long i had had a feeling that there would be a letter, and that hope kept me up nobly through the trying ordeal of attempting to teach spelling and geography and arithmetic to a roomful of children of assorted ages who seem as determined not to learn as i am determined to teach them. it sustained and soothed me through the exciting process of "settling" absalom butts, the fourteen-year-old bully of the class, with whom i have a preliminary skirmish every day in the week before recitations can begin; and through the equally trying business of listening to his dull-witted sister, clarissa, spell "example" forty ways but the right way, and then dissolve into inevitable tears. when school was out i was as limp as a rag, and so thankful it was friday night that i could have kissed the calendar. i fairly "sic"ed sandhelo along the road to the post-office, expecting to revel in the bale of news from my belovéds that was awaiting me, but when i got there and the post box was bare the last button burst off the mantle of my philosophy and left me naked to the cold winds of disappointment. a whole orphan asylum with the mumps on both sides would have been gay and chipper compared to me when i turned sandhelo's head homeward and started on the six-mile drive. it had been raining for more than a week, a steady, warmish, sickening drizzle, that had taken all the curl out of my spirits and left them hanging in dejected, stringy wisps. i couldn't help feeling how well the weather matched my state of mind as i drove homeward. the whole landscape was one gray blur, and the tall weeds that bordered the road on both sides wept unconsolably on each other's shoulders, their tears mingling in a stream down their stems. i could almost hear them sob. the muddy yellow road wound endlessly past empty, barren fields, and seemed to hold out no promise of ever arriving anywhere in particular. all my life i have hated that aimlessly winding road, just as i have always hated those empty, barren fields. they have always seemed so shiftless, so utterly unambitious. i can't help thinking that this corner of arkansas was made out of the scraps that were left after everything else was finished. how father ever came to take up land here when he had the whole state to choose from is one of the seven things we will never know till the coming of the cocqcigrues. it's as flat as a pancake, and, for the most part, treeless. the few trees there are seem to be ashamed to be caught growing in such a place, and make themselves as small as possible. the land is stony and barren and sterile, neither very good for farming or grazing. the only certain thing about the rainfall is that it is certain to come at the wrong time, and upset all your plans. "principal rivers, there are none; principal mountains--i'm the only one," as alice-in-wonderland used to say. but father has always been the kind of man that gets the worst of every bargain. now, you unvaryingly cheerful winnebagos, go ahead and sniff contemptuously when you breathe the damp vapors rising from this epistle, and hear the pitiful moans issuing therefrom. "for shame, katherine!" i can hear you saying, in superior tones, "to get low in your mind so soon! why, you haven't come to the first turn in the open road, and you've gone lame already. where is the torch that you started out with so gaily flaring? quenched completely by the first shower! katherine adams, you big baby, straighten up your face this minute and stop blubbering!" but oh, you round pegs in your nice smooth, round holes, you have never been a stranger in a familiar land! you have never known what it was to be out of tune with everything around you. oh, why wasn't i built to admire vast stretches of nothing, content to dwell among untrodden ways and be a maid whom there were none to praise and very few to love, and all that wordsworth business? why do crickets and grasshoppers and owls make me feel as though i'd lost my last friend, instead of impressing me with the sociability of nature? why don't i rejoice that i've got the whole road to myself, instead of wishing that it were jammed with automobiles and trolley cars, and swarming with people? why did fate set me down on a backwoods farm when my only desire in life is to dwell in a house by the side of the road where the circus parade of life is continually passing? why am i not like the other people in this section, with whom ignorance is bliss, grammar an unknown quantity, and culture a thing to be sneered at? although i can't see them, i know that somewhere to the north, just beyond the horizon, the mountains lift their great frowning heads, and ever since i can remember i have looked upon them as a fence which shut me out from the big bustling world, and over which i would climb some day. just as napoleon said, "beyond the alps lies italy," so i thought, "beyond the ozarks lies my world." i don't believe i had my nose out of a book for half an hour at a time in those early days. i went without new clothes to buy them, and got up early and worked late to get my chores done so that i might have more time to read. when i was twelve years old i had learned all that the teacher in a little school at the cross roads could teach me, and then i went to the high school in the little town of spencer, six miles away, traveling the distance twice every day. when there was a horse available i rode, if not, i walked. but whether riding or walking, i always had a book in my hand, and read as i went along. it often happened that, being deep in the fortunes of my story book friends, i did not notice when old major ambled off the road in quest of a nibble of clover, and would sometimes come to with a start to find myself lying in the ditch. the neighbors thought my actions scandalous and pitied my father and mother because they had such a good-for-nothing daughter. all this time my father was getting poorer and poorer. he changed from farming to cotton raising and then made a failure of that, and finally, in despair, he turned to raising horses, not beautiful race horses like you read about in stories, but wiry little cow ponies that the cattlemen use. for some unaccountable reason he had good luck in this line for three years in succession, and a year or so after i had finished this little one-horse high school there was enough money for me to climb over my ozark fence and go and play in the land of my dreams. one wonderful year, that surpassed in reality anything i had ever pictured in imagination, and then the sky fell, and here i am, inside the fence once more. not that i am sorry i came back, no sirree! father was so pleased and touched to think i gave up my college course and came home that he chirked up right away and started in from the beginning once more to pay the mortgage off the land and the stock, and mother is feeling well enough to be up almost all day now; but to-day i just couldn't help shedding a few perfectly good tears over what i might be doing instead of what i am. a flock of wild geese, headed south, flew above my head in a dark triangle, and honked derisively at me as they passed. "not even a goose would stop off in this dismal country!" i exclaimed aloud. then, simply wild for sympathy from someone, i slid off sandhelo's back and stood there, ankle deep in the yellow mud, and put my arms around his neck. "oh, sandhelo," i croaked dismally, "you're all i have left of my wonderful year up north. you love me, don't you?" but sandhelo looked unfeelingly over my shoulder at the rain splashing down into the road and yawned elaborately right in my face. there are times when sandhelo shows no more feeling than eeny-meeny. seeing there was no sympathy to be had from him, i climbed on his back again and rode grimly home, trying to resign myself to a life of school teaching at the cross roads, ending in an early death from boredom. father was nowhere about when i rode into the stableyard, and the door into the stable was shut. i slid it back, with sandhelo nosing at my arm all the while. "oh, you're affectionate enough now that you want your dinner," i couldn't help saying a little spitefully. then my heart melted toward him, and, with my arm around his neck, we walked in together. inside of sandhelo's stall i ran into something and jumped as if i had been shot. in the dusk i could make out the figure of a man sitting on the floor and leaning against the wall. "is that you, father?" i asked, while sandhelo blinked in astonishment at this invasion of his premises. there was no answer from the man on the floor. why i wasn't more excited i don't know, but i calmly took the lantern down from the hook and lit it and held it in front of me. the light showed the man in sandhelo's stall to be sound asleep, with his hand leaned back against the wooden partition. he had a black beard and his face was all streaked with mud and dirt, and there was mud even in his matted hair. he had no hat on. his clothes were all covered with mud and one sleeve of his coat was torn partly out. sandhelo put down his nose and sniffed inquiringly at the stranger's feet. without ceremony i thrust the lantern right into the man's face. "who are you and what are you doing here?" i said, loudly and firmly. the man stirred and opened his eyes, and then sat up suddenly, blinking at the light. "who are you?" i repeated sternly. the man stared at me stupidly for an instant; then he passed his hand over his forehead and stumbled to his feet. "who am i?" he repeated wildly; then his face screwed up into a frightful grimace and with a groan he crumpled up on the floor. leaving sandhelo still standing there gazing at him in mild astonishment, i ran out calling for father. father came presently and took a long look at the man in the stall, and then, without asking any questions, he got a wet cloth and laid it on his head. that washed some of the mud off and showed a big bruise on his forehead over his left eye. father called the man that helps with the horses. "help me carry this man into the house," he said shortly. "but father," i said, "you surely aren't going to carry that man into the house? all dirty like that!" father gave me one look and i said no more. together father and jim wiggin lifted the stranger from the floor and started toward the house with him, while i capered around in my excitement and finally ran on ahead to tell mother. they carried him into the kitchen and laid him down on the old lounge and tried to bring him around with smelling salts and things. but he just kept on talking and muttering to himself, and never opened his eyes. and that's what he's still doing, while i'm off in my room writing this. it was five o'clock when we brought him in, and now it's after ten and he hasn't come to his senses yet. there isn't a thing in his pockets to show who he is or where he came from. i feel so strange since i found that man there. i'm not a bit low in my mind any more, like i was this afternoon. i have a curious feeling as if i had passed a turn in the road and come upon something new and wonderful. forget the lengthy moan i indulged in at the beginning of this letter, will you, and think of me as gay and chipper as ever. yours in wohelo, katherine. katherine to the winnebagos oct. , --. darling winnies: and to think, after all that fuss i made about not getting a letter from you that day, i didn't have time to open it for three whole days after it finally arrived! you remember where i left off the last time, with the strange man i had found in sandhelo's stable out of his head on the kitchen lounge? well, he kept on like that, lying with his eyes shut and occasionally saying a word or two that didn't make sense, all that night and all the next day. then on sunday he developed a high fever and began to rave. he shouted at the top of his voice until he was hoarse; always about somebody pursuing him and whom he was trying to run away from. then he began to jump up and try to run outdoors, until we had to bar the door. it took all father and jim wiggin and i could do to keep him on the lounge. we had a pretty exciting time of it, i can tell you. of course, all the uproar upset mother and she had another spell with her heart and took to her bed, and by tuesday night things got so strenuous that i had to dismiss school for the rest of the week and keep all my ten fingers in the domestic pie. i don't know who rejoiced more over the unexpected lapse from lessons, the scholars or myself. i never saw a group of children who were so constitutionally opposed to learning as the twenty-two stony-faced specimens of "hoomanity" that i had to deal with in that little shanty of a school. they'd rather be ignorant than educated any day. i just can't make them do the homework i give them. every day it's the same story. they haven't done their examples and they haven't learned their spelling; they haven't studied their geography. the only way i can get them to study their lessons is to keep them in after school and stand over them while they do it. their only motto seems to be, "pa and ma didn't have no education and they got along, so why should we bother?" the families from which these children come are what is known in this section as "hard-uppers," people who are and have always been "hard up." nearly everybody around here is a hard-upper. if they weren't they wouldn't be here. the land is so poor that nobody will pay any price for it, so it has drifted into the hands of shiftless people who couldn't get along anywhere, and they work it in a backward, inefficient sort of way and make such a bare living that you couldn't call it a living at all. they live in little houses that aren't much more than cabins--some of them have only one or two rooms in them--and haven't one of the comforts that you girls think you absolutely couldn't live without. they have no books, no pictures, no magazines. it's no wonder the children are stony-faced when i try to shower blessings upon them in the form of spelling and grammar; they know they won't have a mite of use for them if they do learn them, so why take the trouble? "what a dreadful set of people!" i can hear you say disdainfully. "how can you stand it among such poor trash?" o my belovéds, i have a sad admission to make. i am a hard-upper myself! my father, while he is the dearest daddy in the world, never had a scrap of business ability; that's how he came to live in this made-out-of-the-scraps-after-every-thing-else-was-made corner of arkansas. he never had any education either, though it wasn't because he didn't want it. he doesn't care a rap for reading; all he cares for is horses. we live in a shack, too, though it has four rooms and is much better than most around here. we never had any books or magazines, either, except the ones for which i sacrificed everything else i wanted to buy. but i wanted to learn,--oh, how i wanted to learn!--and that's where i differed altogether from the rest of the hard-uppers. they're still wagging their heads about the way i used to walk along the road reading. the very first week i taught school this year i was taking absalom butts (mentioned in my former epistle) to task for speaking saucily to me, and thinking to impress him with the dignity of my position i said, "do you know whom you're talking to?" and he answered back impudently, "yer bill adamses good-for-nothing daughter, that's who you are!" you see what i'm up against? those children hear their parents make such remarks about me and they haven't the slightest respect for me. did you know that i only got this job of teaching because nobody else would take it? absalom butts' father, who is about the only man around here who isn't a hard-upper, and is the most influential man in the community because he can talk the loudest, held out against me to the very end, declaring i hadn't enough sense to come in out of the rain. as he is president of the school board in this township--the whole thing is a farce, but the members are tremendously impressed with their own dignity--it pretty nearly ended up in your little katherine not getting any school to teach this winter, but when one applicant after another came and saw and turned up her nose, it became a question of me or no schoolmarm, so they gave me the place, but with much misgiving. i had become very much discouraged over the whole business, for i really needed the money, and began to consider myself a regular idiot, but father said i needn't worry very much about being considered a good-for-nothing by elijah butts; his whole grudge against me rose from the fact that he had wanted to marry my mother when she was young and had never forgiven father for beating him to it. that cheered me up considerably, and i determined to swallow no slights from the family of butts. since then it's been nip and tuck between us. young absalom is a big, overgrown gawk of fourteen with no brain for anything but mischief. his chief aim in life just now is to think up something to annoy me. i ignore him as much as possible so as not to give him the satisfaction of knowing he can annoy me, but about every three days we have a regular pitched battle, and it keeps me worn out. his sister clarissa hasn't enough brain for mischief, but her constant flow of tears is nearly as bad as his impudence. taken all in all, you can guess that i didn't shed any tears about having to close the school that tuesday to help take care of the sick man. anything, even sitting on a delirious stranger, was a relief from the constant warfare of teaching school. it was in the midst of this mess that your letter came, and lay three whole days before i had time to open it. on saturday the sick man stopped raving and struggling and lay perfectly motionless. jim wiggin looked at his white, sunken face, and remarked oracularly, "he's a goner." even father shook his head and asked me to ride sandhelo over to spencer and fetch the doctor again. i went, feeling queer and shaky. nobody had ever died in our house and the thought gave me a chill. i wished he had never come, because the business had upset mother so. besides that, the man himself bothered me. who was he, wandering around like that among strangers and dying in the house of a man he had never seen? how could we notify his family--if he had a family? i couldn't help thinking how dreadful it would be if my father were to be taken sick away from home like that, and we never knowing what had become of him. i was quite low in my mind again by the time i had come back with the doctor. but while i had been away a change came over the sick man. he still lay like dead with his eyes closed, but he seemed to be breathing differently. the doctor said he was asleep; the fever had left him. he wasn't going to die under a strange roof after all. when he wakened he was conscious, but the doctor wouldn't let us ask him any questions. he slept nearly all day sunday and on monday i went back to school. when i came home monday night i had the surprise of my young life. when i looked over at the lounge to see how the sick man was to-day i saw, not a man, but a boy lying there. a white-faced boy with a sensitive, beautiful mouth, wan cheeks and great black eyes that seemed to be the biggest part of his face. my books clattered to the floor in my astonishment. father came in just then and laughed at my amazed face. "quite a different-looking bird, isn't he?" he said. "the doctor was in again to-day and shaved him. it does make quite a difference, now, doesn't it?" he finished. difference! i should say it did! i had thought all the while that he was a man, because he wore a beard; it had never occurred to me that the hair had grown out on his face from neglect, and not because he wanted it there. "i suppose i must have looked frightful," said the boy in a weak voice, but with a smile of amusement in his eyes. those were the first words i had heard him speak to anyone, and that was the first time he had had his eyes wide open and looked directly at me. for the life of me i couldn't stop staring at him. i couldn't get over how beautiful he was. he had been so repulsive before, with his hair all matted and his face discolored by bruises; now his hair was clipped short and was very soft and black and shiny. one small transparent hand lay on top of the blanket. he didn't look a day over eighteen. he lay there half smiling at me and suddenly for no reason at all i felt large and awkward and sloppy. involuntarily my hand flew to the back of my belt to see if i was coming to pieces, and i stole a stealthy glance at my feet to see if the shoes i had on were mates. i was glad when he closed his eyes and i could slip out of the room unnoticed. i suppose mother wondered why i was so long getting supper ready that night. but the truth of the matter is i spent fifteen minutes hunting through my bureau drawers for that list of rules of neatness that gladys made out for me last summer, and which i had never thought of once since coming home. i unearthed them at last and applied them carefully to my toilet before reappearing in the kitchen. my hair was very trying; it _would_ hang down in my eyes until at last in desperation i tucked it under a cap. as a rule i loathe caps. just as soon as this letter reaches you, gladys, will you send me that recipe for hand lotion you told me you used? my hands are a fright, all red and rough. don't wait until the letters from the other girls are ready, but send the recipe right on by return mail. after supper that night we talked to the man on the couch. at first he seemed very unwilling to tell anything about himself. we finally got from him that his name was justice sherman; that he was from texas, where he had been working on a sheep ranch; that he had left there and gone up into oklahoma and had worked at various places; that he had gradually worked his way into arkansas; that he had fallen in with bad men who had attacked and robbed him and left him lying senseless in the road with his head cut open; that he had wandered around several days in the rain half out of his head, trying to get someone to take him in, but he looked so frightful that everyone turned him out and set the dogs on him, until finally he had stumbled over a stone and broken his ankle and dragged himself into our stable and crept into sandhelo's stall. that's what had made him crumple up on the floor the day i found him when he tried to get up. he had fainted from the pain. we asked him if he wouldn't like us to write to his family or his friends and he answered wearily that he had no family and no friends in particular that he would care to notify. then he closed his eyes and one corner of his mouth drew up as if with pain. poor fellow, i suppose that ankle did hurt horribly. now, you best and dearest of winnebagos, let the dear round robin letter come chirping along just as soon as you can, and i'll promise not to let it lie three days this time before i read it. lovingly your katherine. gladys to katherine brownell college, oct. , --. darling katherine: well, we're settled at last, though it did seem at first as though we were going to spend all our college life wandering around with our belongings in our arms. we came a day late and found the room we had arranged for occupied by someone else. through a mistake it had been assigned to us after it had been once assigned to these other two, so we had to relinquish our claim. the freshman dormitory was full to the eaves and we realized that there wasn't going to be any place for us. we made our roomless plight known and to make up for it we were told there was a vacant double in the sophomore dormitory that we might take provided no sophomores wanted it. we hadn't expected such an honor and sped like the wind after our belongings. the sophomore dormitory is right across from the freshman one; they are called paradise and purgatory, respectively. it sounded awfully funny to us at first to hear the girls asking each other where they were and to hear them answer, "i'm in paradise," or, "i'm in purgatory." we were overcome with joy when we discovered that migwan roomed in paradise. our room was way up on the third floor and hers was down on second, but to be under the same roof with her was such a comfort that all our troubles seemed over for good. we just had our things pretty well straightened out and hinpoha was nailing her shoebag to the closet door when the sky fell and we were informed that a couple of sophomores wanted our room, and, as there was now a vacancy in the freshman dormitory, would we kindly move? so we were thrown out of paradise and landed in purgatory after all, and, for the second time that day, we trailed across the campus with our arms full of personal property, strewing table covers and laundry bags in our wake. we didn't have time to straighten out before exams began and for two days we lived like shipwrecked sailors with the goods that had been saved from the wreck piled on the floor and when we wanted anything we had to rummage for half an hour before we found it. even after we had survived exams we were half afraid to begin settling for fear we would be ordered to move once more. we couldn't quite believe that we were anchored at last. the first week went around very fast; we were so busy getting our classes straightened out and learning our way through the different buildings that we didn't have time to feel homesick. but by saturday the first strangeness had worn off; we had stopped wandering into senior class rooms and professors' committee meetings, but still we hadn't had time to get very well acquainted. saturday afternoon was perfect weather and most everybody in the house had gone off for a walk, but we had stayed at home to finish putting our room to rights. when everything was finally in place we sat down on the bed and looked at each other. hinpoha's eyes suddenly filled with tears. "i want the other winnebagos!" she declared. "i can't live without them. i want sahwah and nakwisi and medmangi, and i want katherine! oh-h-h-h, i want katherine! how will we ever get along without her here?" and we both sat there and wanted you so hard that it seemed as if the heavens must open up and drop you down on the bed beside us. katherine, do you know that you have ruined our whole lives? why, o why did you come to us only to go away again? you got us so in the habit of looking to you to tell us what to do next that now we aren't able to start a thing for ourselves. we knew that if you had been there with us that first week you would have had the whole house in an uproar and something wonderful would have been happening every minute. but for the life of us we couldn't think of a single thing to do for ourselves. we were still sitting there steeped in gloom when migwan came in to see how we were getting on. she had some delicious milk chocolate with her and that cheered hinpoha up quite a bit. it's going to be a heavenly comfort to have migwan just ahead of us in college. she knows all the ropes and the teachers and the gossip about the upper classmen and tells us things that keep us from making the ridiculous mistakes so many of the freshmen make all the time. "but just think how _i_ felt here, all alone, last year," said migwan. "perhaps i didn't miss you girls, though! you were still altogether and had nyoda, but here there wasn't a soul who had ever heard of the winnebagos. now it seems like old times again. think of it, three whole winnebagos living together almost under the same roof! didn't we say that night when we had our last council fire with nyoda that although we couldn't be together any more, we were still winnebagos and were loyal friends and true, and that wherever two winnebagos should meet, whether it was in the street, or on mid-ocean, or in a far country, right then and there would take place a winnebago meeting? why, we're having a winnebago meeting this very minute!" "let's keep on having meetings, as often as we can, just us three," said hinpoha, "and talk over old times and have 'counts.' we can call ourselves the last of the winnebagos, like the last of the mohicans, and our password will be 'remember!' that means, 'remember the old days!'" migwan smiled a little mysteriously, but she agreed that it was a fine idea. we three sat down on the floor in a wohelo triangle and repeated our desire and promised to seek beauty in everything that came along, and to give service to all the other girls in college whenever we had the chance, and to pursue knowledge for all we were worth now that there was so much of it on every side of us, and to be trustworthy and obey all the rules to the smallest detail and never cheat at exams, and to glorify work until everybody noticed how well we did everything, and hold on to health by not sitting up late studying and eating horrible messes, and to be happy all the time and try to like every girl in college. "let's clasp hands on it," said hinpoha, and we did, and then stood up and sang "wohelo for aye" until the window rattled. (it's awfully loose and rattles at the slightest pretext.) we had just gotten to the last "wohelo for love" when all of a sudden a face appeared at the window. we were all so surprised we stopped short and the last syllable of "wohelo" was chopped off as if somebody had taken a knife. our room is on the third floor, and for anyone to look in at the window they would have to be suspended in the air. so when that head appeared without any warning we all stood petrified and stared open-mouthed. it was a girl's head with very black hair and very red lips. at first the face just looked at us; then when it saw our amazement it grinned from ear to ear in the widest grin i ever saw. "did i scare you?" said the face in a voice so rich and deep that we jumped again. "no, i'm not hamlet, thy father's ghost, i'm agony, thy next door neighbor. i heard you singing 'wohelo for aye' and i just looked in to see if i could believe my ears." we all ran to the window and then we saw how easily the thing had been done. our window is right up against the corner of our room and the window in the other room is right next to it, so that all the apparition had to do was lean out of her window and look into ours, which was open from the bottom. "come on over!" we urged hospitably. the apparition withdrew from the window and appeared a moment later in the doorway, leading a second apparition. "i brought my better half along," said the deep, rich voice again, as the two girls came into the room. they looked so much alike that we knew at a glance they were sisters. the one who had looked in at the window did the introducing. "we're the wing twins," she said, as if she took it for granted that we had heard about them already. "_she's_ oh-pshaw and i'm agony." "oh-pshaw and agony?" we repeated wonderingly, whereupon the twins burst out laughing. "oh, those are not our real names," said agony, "but we've been called that so long that it seems as if they were. her name's alta and mine's agnes. i've been nicknamed agony ever since i can remember, and alta got the habit of saying 'oh-pshaw!' at everything until the girls at the boarding school where we went always called her that and the name stuck. you pronounce it this way, '_oh_-pshaw,' with the accent on the 'oh.'" we were friends all in a minute. how in the world could you be stiff and formal with two girls whose names were agony and _oh_-pshaw? "we heard you singing 'wohelo for aye,'" agony explained, "and it made us so homesick we almost went up in smoke. we belonged to the corkingest group back home. it nearly killed us off to go away and leave them." here _oh_-pshaw broke in and took up the tale. "when we heard that song coming from next door agony squealed, 'camp fire girls!' and began to dance a jig. she wouldn't wait until i got my hair done so we could come over and call; she just stretched her neck until it reached into your window. oh, i'm so glad you're next door to us i could just pass away!" and _oh_-pshaw caught agony around the neck and they both lost their balance on the foot of the bed and rolled over on the pillows. "i'm sorry you have such dandy nicknames," said migwan. "if you didn't have them we could call you first apparition and second apparition, like macbeth, you know. but the ones you have are far superior to anything we could think up now." then we told them about the winnebagos and about you and sahwah and the rest of them, and how we had formed the last of the winnebagos and meant to have meetings right along. of course, we asked them to come and "remember" their lost group with us, and they were perfectly wild about it. "let's have our first meeting right now," proposed agony, "and go on a long hike. it's a scrumptious day." we flew to get our hats and hinpoha was in such a hurry that she knocked over the japanese screen that stands gracefully across one corner of our room and that brought to light the pile of things that we just naturally couldn't fit into the room anywhere and had chucked behind the screen until we decided how to get rid of them. there was hinpoha's desk lamp, the one with the light green shade with bunches of purple grapes on it--a perfect beauty, only there was no room for it after we'd decided to use mine with the two lamps in it; and an extra rug and a book rack and a rookwood bowl and quantities of pictures. you see, we'd both brought along enough stuff to furnish a room twice the size of ours. "whatever will we do with those things?" sighed hinpoha in despair. "can't you give them to somebody?" suggested migwan. "that lamp and that vase are perfect beauties. i'd covet them myself if i didn't have more now than i know what to do with." "the very thing!" said hinpoha. "here we promised not a half hour ago to 'give service' all the time, and yet we didn't think of sharing our possessions. to whom shall we give them?" "to sally prindle," said agony and oh-pshaw in one breath. "who's sally prindle?" asked hinpoha and i, also in chorus. "she lives down at the other end of the hall in purgatory," said agony, "in that tiny little box of a room at the head of the stairs. she's working her way through college and waits on table for her board and does some of the upstairs work for her room, and she's awfully poor. she hasn't a thing in her room but the bare furniture--not a rug or a picture. she'd probably be crazy to get them." "let's give them to her right away," said hinpoha, beginning to gather things up in her arms. hinpoha is just like a whirlwind when she gets enthusiastic about anything. "but how shall we give them to her?" i asked. "we don't know her, and she might feel offended if she thought we had noticed how bare her room was and pitied her. how shall we manage it, migwan?" "don't act as if you pitied her at all," replied migwan. "simply knock at her door and tell her you've got your room all furnished and there are some things left over and you're going up and down the corridor trying to find out if anybody has room to take care of them for you until the end of the year. of course she has room to take them, so it will be very simple." "oh, migwan, what would we do without you?" cried hinpoha, and nearly dropped the rookwood bowl trying to hug her with her arms full. "you always know the right thing to do and say." agony and oh-pshaw stopped into their room on the way up and came out with a leather pillow and an ivory clock to add to the collection. their room wasn't too full, but they wanted to do something for sally, too. we had to knock on sally's door twice before she opened it and we were beginning to be afraid she wasn't at home. when she did come to the door she didn't ask us in; but just stood looking at us and our armful of things as if to ask what we wanted. she was a tall, stoop-shouldered girl with spectacles and a wrinkle running up and down on her forehead between her eyes. the room was just as bare as agony had described; it looked like a cell. "we're making a tour of purgatory trying to dispose of our surplus furniture," i said, trying to be offhand, "have you any room to spare?" "no, i haven't," answered sally with a snap. "you're the third bunch to-day that's tried to decorate my room for me. when i want any donations i'll ask for them." and she shut the door right in our faces. we backed away in such a hurry that agony dropped the clock and it went rolling and bumping down the stairway. "of all things!" said agony. "i wish poor people wouldn't be so disagreeable about it. i'm sure i'd be tickled to death to use anybody's surplus to make up what i lacked. well, we've tried to 'give service' anyway, and if it didn't work it wasn't our fault. i think there ought to be a law about 'taking service' as well as giving. now let's hurry up and go for our hike before the sun goes down." we went out and had the most glorious tramp over the hills and found a tiny little village that looks the same as it must have a hundred years ago, and then we came back and had hot chocolate in a darling little shop that was just jammed with students. agony and oh-pshaw know just quantities of girls, and introduced us to dozens, and we went back to purgatory too happy to think. "i told you so," said migwan, as she came into the room with us for a minute to get a book. "what did you tell us?" asked hinpoha. "i meant about us three trying to have meetings just by ourselves and trying to do exactly what we did when we were winnebagos. it won't work. you'll keep on making new friends all the time that you'll love just as much as the old ones. don't forget the old winnebagos, but don't mourn because the old days have come to an end. there's more fun coming to you than you've ever had before in your lives, so be on the lookout for it every minute. 'remember!'" oh, katherine, we just love college, and the only fly in the ointment is that you aren't here! your loving gladys. p. s. medmangi writes that she has passed her exams and entered the medical school. sahwah is going to business college and having the time of her life with shorthand. p.p.s. hinpoha is dying of curiosity to hear more about the sick man. please answer by return mail. katherine to the winnebagos nov. , --. dearest winnies: well, justice sherman may be a sheep herder and a son of the pasture, but i hae me doots. i know a hawk from a handsaw if i was born and bred in the backwoods. i know it isn't polite to doubt people's word, and he seemed to be telling an absolutely straight story when he told how he beat his way across from texas, but for all that there's some mystery about him. his manners betrayed him the first time he ever sat down to the table with us. even though he limped badly and was still awfully wobbly, he stood behind my mother's chair and shoved it in for her and then hobbled over and did the same for me. you can see it, can't you? the table set in the kitchen--for our humble cot does not boast of a dining room--father and jim wiggin collarless and in their shirtsleeves, and the stranded sheep herder waiting upon mother and me as if we were queens. for no reason at all i suddenly became abashed. i felt my face flaming to the roots of my hair, and absentmindedly began to eat my soup with a fork, whereat jim wiggin set up a great thundering haw! haw! jim had been a sheep herder before he came to take care of father's horses, and it struck me forcibly just then that there was a wide difference between him and the stranger within our gates. i said something to father about it that night when we were out in the stable together giving sandhelo his nightly dole. father rubbed his nose with the back of his hand, a sign that a thing is of no concern to him. "don't you get to worryin' about the stranger's affairs," he advised mildly. "if he's got something he doesn't want to tell, you ain't got no business tryin' to find it out. tend to your own affairs, i say, and leave others' alone. there ain't nobody goin' to be pestered with embarrassing questions while they're under my roof." so i promised not to ask any questions. just about the time the stranger's foot was well enough to walk on, jim wiggin stepped on a rusty nail and laid himself up. justice sherman was a godsend just then because men were so hard to get, and father hired him to help with the horses until jim was about again. father begged me again at this time not to ask him anything about his past. "just as soon as he thinks we're gettin' curious he'll up and leave," he said, "and that would put us in a bad way. help is so scarce now i don't know where i _would_ get an extra man. seems almost as though the hand of providence had sent him to us." it was perfectly true. since so many men had gone into the army it was next thing to impossible to get any help on the farms except good-for-nothing negroes that weren't worth their salt. it seemed, indeed, an act of providence to cast an able man at our door just at this juncture. so i promised again not to bother the man with questions. indeed, it bade fair to be an easy matter not to ask him any questions. beyond a few polite words at meals he never said anything at all, and as he had moved his sleeping quarters to a small cabin away from the house i saw very little of him, and i suppose we never would have gotten any better acquainted if your letter hadn't come that friday. friday is the worst day of the week for me, because after five days of constant set-to-ing with absalom butts my philosophy is at its lowest ebb. this week was the worst because i had a visitation from the school board to see how i was getting on, and, of course, none of the pupils knew a thing and most of them acted as if the very devil of mischief had gotten into them. elijah butts gave me a solemn warning that i would have to keep better order if i wanted to stay in the school, and absalom, who had been hanging around listening, made an impudent grimace at me and laughed in a taunting manner. if i hadn't needed the money so badly i would have thrown up the job right there. then, on top of that, came your letter describing the supergorgeousness of your college rooms, and when i thought of the room i had planned to have at college this winter, adjoining yours, my heart turned to water within me and melancholy marked me for its own. i wept large and pearly tears which niagara-ed over the end of my nose and sizzled on the hot stove, as i stood in the kitchen stirring a pudding for supper. get the effect, do you? me standing there with the spoon in one hand and your letter in the other, doing the niobe act, quite oblivious to the fact that i was not the only person in the county. i was just in the act of swallowing a small rapid which had gotten side-tracked from the main channel and gone whirlpooling down my sunday throat, when a voice behind me said, "did you get bad news in your letter?" i jumped so i dropped the letter right into the pudding. i made a savage dab at my eyes with the corner of my apron and wheeled around furiously. there stood the justice sherman person looking at me with his solemn black eyes. i was ready to die with shame at being caught. "no, i didn't," i exploded, mopping my face vehemently with my apron, and thereby capping the climax. for while i had been reading your letter and absently stirring the pudding it had slopped over and run down the front of my apron, and, of course, i had to use just that part to wipe my face with. the pudding was huckleberry, and what it did to my features is beyond description. i caught one glimpse of myself in the mirror over the sink and then i sank down into a chair and just yelled. justice sherman doubled up against the door frame in a regular spasm of mirth, although he tried not to make much noise about it. finally he bolted out of the door and came back with a basin of water from the pump, which he set down beside me. "here," he said, "remove the marks of bloody carnage, before you scare the wolf from the door." so i scrubbed, wishing all the while that he would go away, and still furious for having made such a spectacle of myself. but he stayed around, and when i resembled a human being once more (if i ever could be said to resemble one), he came over and handed me the letter, which he had fished out of the pudding. "here's the fatal missive," he said, "or would you rather leave it in the pudding?" "throw it into the fire," i commanded. "that's the right way," he said approvingly. "i always burn bad news myself." "it wasn't bad news," i insisted. "then why the tears?" he inquired curiously. "tears, idle tears, i know not what they mean----" he was smiling, but somehow i had a feeling that he was trying to cheer me up and not making fun of me. i was so low in my mind that afternoon that anyone who acted in the least degree sympathetic was destined to fall a victim. before i knew it i had told him of my shipwrecked hopes and how your letter had opened the flood gates of disappointment and nearly put out the kitchen fire. "college--you!" i heard him exclaim under his breath. he stared at me solemnly for a moment and then he exclaimed, "o tempora, o mores! what's to hinder?" "what's to hinder?" i repeated blankly. "yes," he said, "having the room anyway." "what do you mean?" i asked. "why," he explained, "you have a room of your own, haven't you? why don't you fix it up just the way you had planned to have your room in college? then you can go there and study and make believe you're in college." i stared at him open-mouthed. "make-believe has never been my long suit," i said. "come on," he urged. "i'll help you fix it up. if you have any more tears prepare to shed them now into the paint pot and dissolve the paint." before i knew what had happened we had laid forcible hands on the bare little cell i had indifferently been inhabiting all these years and transformed it into the study of my dreams. we cut a window in the side that faces in the direction of the mountains and made a corking window seat out of a packing case, on which i piled cushions stuffed with thistle down. we papered the whole place with light yellow paper, tacked up my last year's school pennants and put up a book shelf. this last proved to be a delusion and a snare, because one end of it came down in the middle of the night not long afterward and all the books came tobogganing on top of me in bed. as a finishing touch, i brought out the snowshoes and painted paddle that were a relic of my golden age, and which i had never had the heart to unpack since i came home. when finished the effect was quite epic, though i suppose it would make hinpoha's artistic eye water. of course, it will never make up for not going to college, but it helped some, and in working at it i got very well acquainted with justice sherman all of a sudden. we had long talks about everything under the sun, and he continually bubbled over with funny sayings. he confided to me that he had never been so surprised in all his life as when i told him i wanted to go to college. you see, he had thought we were like the other poor whites in the neighborhood, and i was like the other girls he had seen. he didn't take any interest in me until i bowled him over with the statement that i had already passed my college entrance exams. all this time i never hinted that i suspected he was not the simple sheep herder he pretended to be. i had given father my word and, of course, had to keep it. but one afternoon the fates had their fingers crossed, and pandora like, i got my foot in it. i had driven justice over to spencer in the rattledy old cart with sandhelo. on the way we talked of many things, and i came home surer than ever that he was no sheep herder. once when the conversation lagged and in the silence sandhelo's heels seemed to be beating out a tune as they clicked along, i remarked ruminatingly, "there's a line in virgil that is supposed to imitate the sound of galloping horses." "_quadrupedante putrem sonitu quatit angula campam,_" quoted justice promptly. so he was on quoting terms with virgil! but i remembered my promise and made no remarks. a little later i was telling about the winter hike we had taken on snowshoes last year. "you ought to see the sport they have on snowshoes in switzerland," he began with kindling eyes. then he broke off suddenly and changed the subject. so texas sheep herders learn their trade in switzerland! but again i yanked on the curb rein of my curiosity. i apparently took no notice of his remark, for just then a negro stepped suddenly from behind the bushes along the road and startled sandhelo so that he promptly became temperamental and sat up on his haunches to get a better look at the apparition, and the mess he made of the harness furnished us plenty of theme for conversation for the next ten minutes. "lord, what an ape," remarked justice, gazing after the departing form of the negro shambling along the road, "he looks like the things you see in nightmares." accustomed as i was to seeing low-down niggers, this one struck me as being the worst specimen nature had ever produced. he had the features of a baboon, and the flapping rags of the grotesque garments he wore made him look like a wild creature. "do you have many such intellectual-looking gentlemen around here?" asked justice, twisting his neck around for a final look at the fellow. "i'd hate to meet that professor at the dark of the moon." "oh, they're really not as bad as they look," i replied. "they look like apes, but they're quite harmless. they're shiftless to the last degree, but not violent. they're too lazy to do any mischief." "just the same, i'd rather not get into an argument with that particular brother, if it's all the same to you," answered justice. "he looks like mischief to me." "he _doesn't_ look like a prize entry in a beauty contest," i admitted. with all that talk about the negro justice's remark about switzerland went unheeded, but i didn't forget it just the same. i thought about it all the rest of the afternoon and it was as plain as the nose on your face that there was some mystery about justice sherman. a sheep herder who spouted virgil at a touch, quoted continually from the classics, had refined manners and had traveled abroad, couldn't hide his light under a bushel very well. another thing; he wasn't a texan as he had led us to believe. he talked with the crisp, clear accent of the north, and the fuss he made about the negro in the road that afternoon betrayed the fact that he was no southerner. nobody around here pays any attention to niggers, no matter how tattered they are. we're used to them, but northerners always make a fuss. the question bubbled up and down in my mind, keeping time to the bubbling of the soup on the stove; why was this educated and refined young man working for thirty dollars a month as a handy man around horses on a third-rate stock farm in this god-forsaken part of the country? then a suspicion flashed into my mind and at the dreadful thought i stopped stirring with the upraised spoon frozen in mid-air. then i gathered my wits together and started resolutely for the table. i had promised father i would never ask justice sherman anything about his past, but here was something that swept aside all personal obligations and promises. i found him with father in the stable working over a sick colt. i marched straight up to him and began without any preamble. "see here, justice sherman," i said, "are you hiding yourself to avoid military service? are you a slacker?" justice sherman straightened up and looked at me with flashing eyes. "no, i'm not!" he shouted in a voice quite unlike his. i never saw anyone in such a rage. his face was as red as a beet and his hair actually stood on end. "i registered for the service," he went on hotly, "and wasn't called in the draft. i tried to enlist and they wouldn't take me. i was under weight and had a weak throat. if anyone thinks i'm a slacker, i'll----" here he choked and had a violent coughing spell. i stared at him, dazed. i never thought he could get so angry. he looked at me with hostile, indignant eyes. then he straightened up stiffly and walked out of the stable. "i won't stay here any longer," he exploded, still at the boiling point. "i won't be insulted." "i apologize," i said humbly. "i spoke in haste. won't you please consider it unsaid?" no, he wouldn't consider it unsaid. he wouldn't listen to father's pathetic plea not to leave him without a helper. we suspected him of being a slacker and that finished it. he would leave immediately. down the road he marched as fast as he could go without ever turning his head. a worm in the dust was much too exalted to describe the way i felt. with the best of intentions i had precipitated a calamity, taking away father's best helper at a critical time, to say nothing of my losing him as a companion. i was too disgusted with myself to live and chopped wood to relieve my feelings. after supper i hitched up sandhelo and drove to spencer to post a letter. i am not in the least sentimental--you know that--but all along the road i kept seeing things that reminded me of justice sherman and the fun we had had together. now that he was gone the days ahead of me seemed suddenly very empty, and desolation laid a firm hand on my ankle. also, i had an uncomfortable recollection that it was right along here we had met the horrid negro, and i became filled with fear that i would meet him again. the fear grew, and turned into absolute panic when i approached that same clump of bushes and in the dusk saw a figure rise from behind them and lurch toward the road. i pulled sandhelo up sharply, thinking to turn around and flee in the opposite direction, but sandhelo refused to be turned. when i pulled him up he sat back and mixed up the harness so he got the bit into his teeth, and then he jumped up and went straight on forward, with a squeal of mischief. when we were opposite the figure in the road sandhelo stopped short and poked his nose forward just the way he used to do when justice sherman came into his stall. "hello," said a voice in the darkness, and then i saw that the figure in the road was justice sherman. his bad ankle had given out on him and he had been sitting there on the ground waiting for some vehicle to come along and give him a lift to spencer. "get in," i said briefly, helping him up, and he got in beside me without a word. we drove to spencer in silence and he made no move to get out when we got there. i mailed my letter and then turned and drove homeward. about half way home he spoke up and apologized for being so hasty, and wondered if father would take him back again. i reassured him heartily and we were on the old footing of intimacy by the time we reached home. we found father standing in front of the house talking to a negro whom we recognized as the one we had met in the road that afternoon. father greeted justice sherman with joy and relief. "you pretty nearly came back too late," he said. "here i was just hiring a man to take your place." then he turned to the negro and said, "it's all off, solomon. i don't need you. my own man has come back. you go along and get a job somewhere else." the negro shuffled off and i fancied that he looked rather resentful at being sent away. "father," i said, when the creature was out of earshot, "you surely weren't going to hire that ape to work here?" "why not?" answered father. "i have to have a man to help with the horses, and this fellow came up to the door and asked for work, so i promised him a job." "but he's such a terrible looking thing," i said. father only laughed and dismissed the subject with a wave of his hands. "i wasn't hiring him for his looks," he answered. "he said he could handle horses and that was enough for me." so justice sherman came back to us and the subject of military service was never broached again. about a week after his return, and when jim wiggin was able to be about again, justice sherman walked into the kitchen with a mincing air quite unlike his ordinary free stride. he had been to spencer for the mail. "tread softly when you see me," he advised. "i'm a perfessor, i am." i looked up inquiringly from the potato i was paring. "behold in me," he went on, "the entire faculty of the spencer high school. i am instructor in latin, greek, mathematics, science, history, english and dramatics; also civics and economics." "you don't mean really?" i asked. "really and truly, for sartain sure," he repeated. "the last faculty got drafted and left the school in a bad way. i heard about it down at the post-office this afternoon and went over and applied for the job. the hardened warriors that compose the school board fell for me to a man. i recited one line of latin and they applauded to the echo; i recited a line of gibberish and told them it was greek, and they wept with delight at the purity of my accent. then they cautiously inquired if i was qualified to teach any other branches and i told them that i also included in my repertoire cooking, dressmaking and millinery. this last remark was intended to be facetious, but those solemn old birds took it seriously and forthwith broke into loud hosannas. i was somewhat mystified at the outbreak until i gathered from bits of conversation that the extravagant township of spencer had intended to hire two high school teachers this year, as the last incumbent's accomplishments had been rather brief and fleeting, but what was the use, as one pious old hairpin by the name of butts delicately put it, what was the use of paying two teachers when one feller could do the hull thing himself? then he shook me feelingly by the hand and said he knowed i was a bargain the minute he laid eyes on me. o tempora, o mores! papers were brought and shoved into my yielding hands, the writ duly executed, and i passed out of the door a fully fledged 'perfessor' with a six-months' contract. smile on me, please, i'm a bargain!" and he danced a hornpipe in the middle of the floor until the dishes rattled in the cupboard. i stared at him speechless. he teach high school? and the things he mentioned as being able to teach! history, french, mathematics, physics, literature, philosophy, latin, greek! quite a well-rounded sheep herder, this! the mystery about him deepened. it was clear now that he was a college graduate. again i revised my estimate as to his age, and decided he must be about twenty-three or four. why would he be willing to teach a farce of a high school like the one in spencer? then in the midst of my puzzling it came over me that i did not want him to leave us, and that i would miss him terribly. of course, he would go to live in spencer. "are you going to board with any of the school board?" i asked jealously, that being what the last "faculty" had done. "board with the board?" he repeated. "neat expression, that. not that i know of. i haven't been requested to vacate my present quarters yet, or do i understand that you are even now serving notice?" a thrill of joy shot through me. maybe he would still live in the little cabin on our farm. "i thought of course you would rather live near the school," i said. "it's six miles from here. why don't you?" "'i would dwell with thee, merry grasshopper,'" he quoted. "that is, if i am kindly permitted to do so." and so we settled it. he is to ride with sandhelo in the cart every day as far as my school, then drive on to spencer, and stop for me on the way home. what fun it is going to be! yours, _summa cum felicitate_, katherine. p. s. sandhelo sends three large and loving hee-haws. sahwah to katherine nov. , --. darling k: this big old town is like the deserted village since you and the other winnies went away. for the first few weeks it was simply ghastly; there wasn't a tree or a telephone pole that didn't remind me of the good times we used to have. do you realize that i am the sole survivor of our once large and lusty crew? migwan and hinpoha and gladys are at brownell; veronica is in new york; nakwisi has gone to california with her aunt; medmangi is in town, but she is locked up in a nasty old hospital learning to be a doctor in double quick time so she can go abroad with the red cross. nothing is nice the way it used to be. i like to go to business college, of course, and there are lots of pleasant girls there, but they aren't my winnies. i get invited to things, and i go and enjoy myself after a fashion, but the tang is gone. it's like ice cream with the cream left out. i went to the house of the open door one saturday afternoon and poked around a bit, but i didn't stay very long; the loneliness seemed to grab hold of me with a bony hand. everything was just the way we had left it the night of our last ceremonial meeting--do you realize that we never went out after that? there was the candle grease on the floor where hinpoha's emotion had overcome her and made her hand wobble so she spilled the melted wax all out of her candlestick. there were the scattered bones of our indian pottery dish that you knocked off the shelf making the gestures to your "wotes for wimmen" speech. there was the indian bed all sagged down on one side where we had all sat on nyoda at once. it all brought back last year so plainly that it seemed as if you must everyone come bouncing out of the corners presently. but you didn't come, and by and by i went down the ladder to the sandwiches' lodge. that was just as bad as our nook upstairs. the gym apparatus was there, just as it used to be, with the mat on the floor where they used to roll slim, and beside it the wreck of a chair that slim had sat down on too suddenly. poor slim! he tried to enlist in every branch of the service, but, of course, they wouldn't take him; he was too fat. he starved himself and drank vinegar and water for a week and then went the rounds again, hoping he had lost enough to make him eligible, and was horribly cut up when he found he had gained instead. he was quite inconsolable for a while and went off to college with the firm determination to trim himself down somehow. captain has gone to yale, so he can be a yale graduate like his father and go along with him to the class reunions. munson mckee has enlisted in the navy and the bottomless pitt in the ambulance corps. the rest of the sandwiches have gone away to school, too. the boards creaked mournfully under my feet as i moved around, and it seemed to me that the old building was just as lonesome for you as i was. "you ought to be proud," i said aloud to the walls, "that you ever sheltered the sandwich club, because now you are going to be honored above all other barns," and i hung in the window the service flag with the two stars that i had brought with me. it looked very splendid; but it suddenly made the place seem strange and unfamiliar. here was something that did not belong to the old days. it is so hard to realize that the boys who used to wrestle around here have gone to war. i went out and closed the door, but outside i lingered a minute to look sadly up at the little window in the end where the candle always used to burn on ceremonial nights. "good-bye, house of the open door," i said, "we've had lots of good times in you and nobody can ever take them away from us. we've got to stop playing now for awhile and glorify work. we're going to do our bit, and you must do yours, too, by standing up proudly through all winds and weather and showing your service flag. some day we'll all come back to you, or else the winnebago spirit will come back in somebody else, and you must be ready." i said good-bye to the house of the open door with the hand sign of fire and a military salute, and went away feeling a heavy sense of responsibility, because in all this big lonely city i was the only one left to uphold the honor of the winnebagos. and hoop-la! i did it, too, all by myself. the week after i had paid the visit to the house of the open door someone called me on the telephone and wanted to know if this was miss sarah brewster who belonged to the winnebago camp fire girls, and when i said yes it was the voice informed me that she was mrs. lewis, the new chief guardian for the city, and president of the guardians' association. she went on to say that she wanted to plan a patriotic parade for all the camp fire girls in the city to take part in, and as part of the ceremony to present a large flag to the city. she knew what she wanted all right, but she wasn't sure that she could carry it out, and as she had seen the winnebagos the time they took part in the fourth of july pageant, she wanted to know if we would take hold and help her manage the thing. i started to tell her that the winnebagos weren't here and couldn't help her; then i reflected that i, at least, was left and it was up to me to do what you all would have done if you had been here. so i said yes, i'd be glad to take hold and help make the parade a success. and, believe me, it was! can you guess how many girls marched? _twenty-three hundred!_ glory! i didn't know there were so many girls in the whole world! the line stretched back until you couldn't see the end, and still they kept on coming. and who do you suppose led the parade? why, _i_ did, of all people! and on a _horse_! carrying the stars and stripes on a long staff that fitted into a contrivance on the saddle to hold it firm. right in front of me marched the second regiment band, and my horse pawed the ground in time to the music until i nearly burst with excitement. after me came the twenty girls, all torch bearers, who carried the big flag we were going to present to the city, and behind them came the floats and figures of the pageant. i must tell you about some of these, and a few of them you'll recognize, because they are our old stunts trimmed up to suit the occasion. give service was the most impressive, because it is the most important just now. it was in twelve parts, showing all the different ways in which camp fire girls could serve the nation in the great crisis. there was the red cross float, showing the girls making surgical dressings and knitting socks and sweaters. another showed them making clothes for themselves and for other members of the family to cut down the hiring of extra help; and similar floats carried out the same idea in regard to cooking, washing and ironing. yes ma'am! washing and ironing! you don't need to turn up your nose. one float was equipped with a complete modern household laundry and the girls on it had their sleeves rolled up to their elbows and were doing up fine waists and dresses in great shape, besides operating electric washing machines and mangles. one float was just packed full of good things which the girls had cooked without sugar, eggs or white flour, and with fruits and vegetables which they had canned and preserved themselves, while the fertile garden in which said fruits and vegetables had grown came trundling on behind, the girls armed with spades, hoes and rakes. i consumed two sleepless nights and several strenuous afternoons accomplishing that garden on wheels and i want you to know it was a work of art. the plants were all artificial, but they looked most lifelike, indeed. besides those things we had groups of girls taking care of children so their mothers could go out and work; and teaching foreign girls how to take care of their own small brothers and sisters, so they'll grow up strong and healthy. there really seemed to be no end to our usefulness. behind the wheeled portion of the parade came hundreds of girls on foot, carrying pennants that stretched clear across the street, with clever slogans on them like this: don't forget us, uncle sammy, we're always on the job * * * * * * you're here because we're here * * * * * * and this is only the beginning! * * * * * * we are proud to labor for our country and the people! oh, my stars! they lined the streets for thirty blocks, packed in solid from the store fronts to the curb. and the way they cheered! it made shivers of ecstasy chase up and down my spine, while the tears came to my eyes and a big lump formed in my throat. if you've never heard thousands of people cheering at you, you can't imagine how it feels. one time when the procession halted at a cross street i saw a fat old man, who i'm sure was a dignified banker, balancing himself on a fireplug so he could see better, and waving his hat like crazy. he finally got so enthusiastic that he fell off the fireplug and landed on his hands and knees in the gutter, where some boy scouts picked him up and dusted him off, still feebly waving his hat. our line of march eventually brought us out at lincoln square, where the presentation of the flag was to take place. we stood in the shadow of the lincoln memorial monument, and who do you suppose presented the flag? me again. in the name of all the camp fire girls of the city, i ceremoniously presented it to the mayor, who accepted it with a flowery speech that beat mine all hollow. besides presenting the flag i was to help raise it. the pole was there already; it had seen many flag raisings in its long career and many flags had flapped themselves to shreds on its top. the thing i had to do was fasten our flag to the ropes and pull her up. in this i was to be assisted by a soldier brother of one of the girls who was home on furlough. he was to be standing there at the pole waiting for us, but when the time came he wasn't there. where he was i hadn't the slightest idea; nor did i have any time to spend wondering. mrs. lewis had set her heart on having a man in soldier's uniform help raise the flag; it added so much to the spirit of the occasion. just at this moment i saw a man in army uniform standing in the crowd at the foot of the monument, very close to me. without a moment's hesitation i beckoned him imperatively to me. he came and i thrust the rope into his hands, whispering directions as to what he was to do. it all went without a hitch and the crowd never knew that he wasn't the soldier we had planned to have right from the start. we pulled evenly together and the flag slowly unfolded over our heads and went fluttering to the top, while the band crashed out the "star spangled banner." it was glorious! if i had been thrilled through before, i was shaken to my very foundations now. i felt queer and dizzy, and felt myself making funny little gaspy noises in my throat. there was a great cheer from the crowd and the ceremonies were over. the parade marched on to the armory, where we were to listen to an address by major blanchard of the --th engineers. the girls had all filed in and found seats when mrs. lewis, who was to introduce major blanchard, came over to me where i was standing near the stage and said in a tragic tone, "major blanchard couldn't come; i've had a telegram. what on earth are we going to do? he was going to tell stories about camp life; the girls will be _so_ disappointed not to hear him." i rubbed my forehead, unable to think of anything that would meet the emergency. an ordinary speaker wouldn't fill the bill at all, i knew, when the girls all had their appetites whetted for a major. "we might ask the band to give a concert, and all of us sing patriotic songs," i ventured finally. "i don't see anything else to do," said mrs. lewis, "but i'm _so_ disappointed not to have the major here. the girls are all crazy to hear about the camp." just then i caught sight of a uniform outside of the open entrance way. "wait a minute," i said, "there's the soldier who helped us raise the flag, standing outside the door. maybe he'll come in and talk to the girls in place of the major." i hurried out and buttonholed the soldier. he declined at first, but i wouldn't take no for an answer. i literally pulled him in and chased him up the aisle to the stage. "but i can't make a speech," he said in an agonized whisper, as we reached the steps of the stage, trying to pull back. "don't try to," i answered cheerfully. "speeches are horrid bores, anyway. just tell them exactly what you do in camp; that's what they're crazy to hear about." mrs. lewis didn't tell the audience that the speaker was one i had kidnapped in a moment of desperation. she introduced him as a friend of the major's, who had come to speak in his place. the applause when she introduced him was just as hearty as if he had been the major himself. the fact that he was a soldier was enough for the girls. and he brought down the house! he wasn't an educated man, but he was very witty, and had the gift of telling things so they seemed real. he told little intimate details of camp life from the standpoint of the private as the major never could have told them. he had us alternately laughing and crying over the little comedies and tragedies of barracks life. he imitated the voices and gestures of his comrades and mimicked the officers until you could see them as plainly as if they stood on the stage. he talked for an hour instead of the half hour the major was scheduled to speak and when he stopped the air was full of clamorings for more. private kittredge had made more of a hit than major blanchard could have done. i never saw a person look so astonished or so pleased as he did at the ovation which followed his speech. he stood there a moment, looking down at the audience with a wistful smile, then he got fiery red and almost ran off the stage. "i don't know whether to be glad or sorry the major's not coming," whispered mrs. lewis to me under cover of the applause. "the major's a very fine speaker, but he wouldn't have made such a _human_ speech. you certainly have a knack of picking out able people, miss brewster! you chose just the right girls for each part in the pageant." i didn't acknowledge this compliment as i should have, because i was wondering why our soldier man had looked that way when we applauded him. he would have slipped out of the side door when he came off the stage, but i stopped him and made him wait for the rest of the program. a national fraternity was holding a convention in town that week and members from all the great colleges were in attendance. as it happened, our major is a member of that fraternity, and, as a mark of esteem for the camp fire girls, he asked the fraternity glee club to sing for us at the close of our patriotic demonstration. the singers came frolicking in from some banquet they had been attending, in a very frisky mood, and sang one funny song after another until our sides ached from laughing. i stole a glance now and then at private kittredge, beside me, but he never noticed. he was drinking in the antics of those carefree college boys with envious, wistful eyes. at the end of their concert the singers turned and faced the great flag that hung down at the back of the stage and sang an old college song that we had heard sung before, but which had suddenly taken on a new, deep meaning. with their very souls in their voices they sang it: "red is for harvard in that grand old flag, columbia can have her white and blue; and dear old yale will never fail to stand by her color true; penn and cornell amid the shot and shell were fighting for that torn and tattered rag, and our college cheer will be 'my country, 'tis of thee,' and old glory will be our college flag!" the effect was electrical. everybody cheered until they were hoarse. i looked at private kittredge. his head was buried in his hands and the tears were trickling out between his fingers. i was too much embarrassed to say anything, and i just sat looking at him until, all of a sudden, he sat up, and reaching out his hand he caught hold of mine and squeezed it until it hurt. "i'm going back," he said brokenly. "going back?" i repeated, bewildered. "where?" "back to camp," he replied. then he began to speak in a low, husky voice. "i want to tell you something," he said. "i'm not what you think i am. i'm a deserter. that is, i would have been by tomorrow. my leave expires to-night. i wasn't going back. i didn't want to go into the army. i didn't want to fight for the country. i hated the united states. it had never given me a square deal. my father was killed in a factory when i was a baby and my mother never got a cent out of it. she wasn't strong and she worked herself to death trying to support herself and me. i grew up in an orphan asylum where everybody was down on me and made me do all the unpleasant jobs, and at twelve i was adrift in the world. i sold papers in the streets and managed to make a living, but one night i went out with a crowd of boys and some of the older ones knocked a man down and stole his money and the police caught the whole bunch and we were sent to the reformatory. after that i had a hard time trying to make an honest living because people don't like to hire anyone that's been in the reformatory. i never had any fun the way other boys did. i had to live in cheap boarding places because i didn't earn much and nobody that was decent seemed to care to associate with me. i was sick of living that way and wanted to go away to south america where no one would know about the reformatory, and make a clean start. then i was drafted. i hated army life, too. all the other fellows got mail and boxes from home and had a big fuss made over them and i didn't have a soul to write to me or send me things. i was given a good deal of kitchen duty to do and everybody looks down on that. i kept getting sorer and sorer all the time and at last i decided to desert. i got a three-days' leave and made up my mind that i wouldn't go back. i was just hanging around the street killing time this afternoon when i saw a crowd and stopped to see what the excitement was about. then all of a sudden you looked at me and motioned me to come over and help you raise the flag. it was the first time i had ever touched the stars and stripes. when the folds fell around my shoulders before she went sailing up, something wakened in me that i had never felt before. i couldn't believe it was i, standing there raising the flag with all those people cheering. it intoxicated me and carried me along with the parade when it went to the armory. then again, like the hand of fate, you came out and pulled me in and made me speak to the girls. i had never spoken before anyone in my life. i had never 'been in' anything. it made another man of me. all of a sudden i found i did love my country after all. i _did_ have something to fight for. i _did_ belong somewhere. it _did_ thrill me to see old glory fluttering out in the wind. that was my country's flag, _my_ flag. i was willing to die for it. i'm going back to camp to-night," he finished simply. i gripped his hands silently, too moved to speak. all the while we were talking there the crowd had been busy getting their things together and going out and nobody paid any attention to us sitting there in the shadow under the gallery. now, however, i was aware of somebody approaching directly, and along came the mayor, gracious and smiling, to shake hands with the speaker of the afternoon. "those were rattling good stories you told," he said in his hearty way. "i say, won't you be a guest at a little dinner the frat brothers are giving this evening, and tell them to the boys? that's the kind of stuff everybody's interested in." and off went the man who had never had a chance, arm in arm with the mayor, to be guest of honor at a dinner in the finest hotel in the city! jiminy! do you see what the winnebagos have gone and done? they've saved a man from being a deserter! i've promised to write to him and get the rest of the girls to write and send him things, and i'll bet that he'll be loyal to the flag to the last gasp. now aren't you glad you're a winnebago? your loving old pal, sahwah. katherine to the winnebagos nov. , --. dearest winnebagos: you don't happen to know of anyone that would like to employ a good country schoolma'am for the rest of the term, do you? i'm fired; that is, i'll wager all my earthly possessions that i will be at the next session of the board. the prophet hath spoken truly; and you can't make a silk-purse-carrying schoolmarm out of katherine adams. this morning i woke up with a glouch, which is a combination of a gloom and a grouch, and worse than either. it didn't improve it to have to go to school on such a crisp, cool, ten-mile-walk day and listen to clarissa butts stammer out a paragraph in the reader about vegetation around extinct volcanoes, and all the while trying to keep my eye on the rest of the pupils, who were not listening, but throwing spitballs at each other. the worst of it was i didn't blame them a bit for not listening. why on earth can't they put something interesting into school readers? even i, with my insatiable thirst for information, gagged on vegetation around extinct volcanoes. clarissa's paragraph drew to a halting close and finally stopped with a rising inflection, regardless of my oft-repeated instructions how to behave in the presence of a period, and i had to go through the daily process of correction, which ended as usual with clarissa in tears and me wondering why i was born. the next little girl took up the tale in a droning sing-song that was almost as bad as clarissa's halting delivery, and fed the glouch until he was twice his original size. the climax came when absalom butts, by some feat of legerdemain, pulled the bottom out of his desk and his books suddenly fell to the floor with a crash that shattered the nerves of the entire class. absalom and some of the other boys snickered out loud; the girls looked at me with anxious expectancy. i sat up very straight. "class attention!" i commanded, rapping with my ruler. "close books and put them away," i ordered next. books and papers made a fluttering disappearance, through which the long-drawn sniffs of clarissa butts were plainly audible. "get your hats and form in line for dismissal," was the next order that fell on their startled ears. "she's going to send us home," came to my hearing in a sibilant whisper. clarissa's sniffs became gurgling sobs as she took her place in the apprehensive line. "forward march, and halt outside the door!" i drove them out like sheep before me and then i came out and banged the door shut with a vicious slam. passing between the two files i divided the ranks into sheep and goats, left and right. "class attention!" i called again. "do you all see that dark spot over there?" said i, pointing to the dim line of trees that marked the beginning of the woods, some seven miles distant. "yes, miss adams," came the wondering reply. "well," i continued, "the left half of the line will take the road around spencer way, and the right half will take the road around the other way, and the half that gets there last will have to give a show to amuse the winners. we're going to have a hike, and a picnic. you all have your lunch baskets, haven't you?" for a minute they stood dazed, looking at me as if they thought i had lost my senses. clarissa stopped short in the middle of a sob to gape open-mouthed. come to think of it, i don't believe she ever did finish that sob. i repeated my directions, and taking the youngest girl by the hand i started one half of the line down the road, calling over my shoulder to the other line that they might as well make up their stunts on the way, because they were going to get beaten. but after all it was our side that got there last, because we were mostly girls and i had to carry the littlest ones over some of the rough places. i sent the boys to gather wood and built up a big fire, and then i proceeded to initiate the crowd into some of the mysteries of camp cookery. i daubed a chicken with clay and baked it with the feathers on, like we used to do last summer on ellen's isle, and it would have been splendid if it hadn't been for one small oversight. i forgot to split the chicken open and take the insides out before i put the clay on. after dinner it was up to me to produce a show in obedience to my own mandate. none of the rest on my side could help me out, because not one of the blessed chicks had ever done a "stunt" in their lives. the only "prop" i had was a bright red tie, so i proceeded to do the stunt about the goat that ate the two red shirts right off the line--you remember the way sahwah used to bring the house down with it? well, i had just got to the part where "he heard the whistle; was in great pain----" and, accompanying the action to the music, was down on all fours giving a lifelike imitation of a goat tied to a railroad track, while the delighted boys and girls were doubled up in all stages of mirth, when i heard a sound that resembled the last gasp of a dying elephant. i jumped to my feet and whirled around, and there in the offing were anchored--anchored is the only expression that fits because they were literally rooted to the spot--the entire school board of spencer township, plus two strange men plus justice sherman. the board members and the strangers stood with their jaws dropped down on their chests and their eyes popping out of their heads; justice had his handkerchief over his mouth and was shaking from head to foot like a sapling in a high wind. i gave a gasp of dismay which resulted in further developments, for i had the whole red tie stuffed into my mouth with which to flag the train when the time came, and the minute i opened my mouth it billowed out in the breeze. that was the finishing touch. i might have explained away the quadruped attitude as a gymnastic pose, but it takes considerable of an artist to explain away a mouthful of red tie in a schoolmarm. besides that, i was mud from head to foot, having slid about ten feet for the home plate in a baseball game we had before dinner, so that i presented a front elevation in natural clay effect, broken here and there with elderberries in bas-relief, which had adhered when the can was accidentally spilled over me. being acutely conscious of all these facts in every corner of my anatomy did not add to my ease of manner, but i said as nonchalantly as i could, "how do you do, mr. butts? how do you do, gentlemen?" then i added rather lamely, "pleasant day, is it not?" mr. butts exploded into the same sort of snort as had interrupted me in time to prevent the goat from flagging the train. "miss adams," he said severely, when he had recovered his breath sufficiently to speak, "what does this mean? why ain't you teaching school to-day? here comes these here two fellers----" and he jerked his thumb in the direction of the two strangers--"from the new school board over to sabot junction, to visit our school, and i takes them over to the schoolhouse and finds it empty and no sign of you or the class. fine doin's, them! these fellers had their trip for nothin' and they were pretty mad about it i can tell you, and so i thinks i'll drive them over to kenridge to the schoolhouse there and here on the way i runs into you in the woods, acting like a lunytic. i always said bill adams's daughter was plumb crazy and now i'm sure of it." i stood aghast. how was i to explain to an irate school board that neither i nor the children had felt like going to school to-day and had decided to have a picnic instead, and that the "lunytic actin's" was sahwah's famous stunt, enacted to add to the hilarity of the occasion? i threw an appealing glance at justice sherman, and he sobered up enough to speak. "you don't understand, mr. butts," he said hastily. "miss adams _is_ teaching school to-day. she is teaching the children botany and it is sometimes necessary to go out into the woods and study right from nature. i heard her say that she was going to take the children out the first fine day." this was outrageous fibbing, but nobly done in a good cause. it was of no avail, however, for absalom butts promptly called out importantly, "it ain't either no botany class; it's a picnic. she made us put our books away when we didn't want to and come out here." and he made an impudent grimace at me, accompanied with the usual taunting grin. right here i had another surprise of my young life. no sooner had the craven absalom turned state's evidence when there rose from the masses an unexpected champion. as elijah butts began to express his opinion of my "carryin's on" in no veiled terms, his daughter clarissa, developing a hitherto undreamed of amount of spirit, suddenly threw her arms around my waist and stood there stamping her feet with anger. "she ain't a lunatic, she ain't a lunatic," she shrilled above her father's gruff tones, "she's nice and i love her!" after which astounding confession she melted into tears and stood there sobbing and hugging the breath out of me. to my greater astonishment all the other girls immediately followed suit and gathered around me with shielding caresses, turning defiant faces to the upbraiding school board members. the boys made themselves very inconspicuous in the rear, but i caught more than one glowering look cast in the direction of absalom. before this demonstration of affection, mr. butts paused in astonishment, and, having hesitated, was lost. he felt he was no longer cock of the walk, and in dignified silence led the way to the surrey standing in the road, with the rest of the school board members and the visitors stalking after. i watched them climb in and drive away, and then the reaction set in and i sat down on the ground and laughed until i cried, while the girls, not sure whether i was laughing or crying, alternately giggled convulsively and soothingly bade me "never mind." i sat up finally and shook the hair out of my eyes and then i discovered that justice sherman had not departed with the rest of the delegation, but was sitting on the ground not far away, still shaking with laughter and wiping his eyes on a red-bordered napkin that had strayed out of a lunch basket. a sudden suspicion seized me. "justice," i cried severely, "did you do it?" "did i do what?" he asked in a startled tone. "find out i was off on a picnic and bring the board down to visit me?" justice threw out his hands in a gesture of denial. "'thou canst not say i did it, never shake thy gory locks at me,'" he declaimed feelingly. "where did they come from? they dropped, fair one, like the gentle rain from heaven, upon the place beneath. they came first to my humble dispensary of learning, anxious to show the visiting solons what a bargain they had captured, and listened feelingly while i conducted a latin lesson, which impressed them so much they invited me to come along while they gave you the 'once over.' you never saw such an expression in your life as there was on the face of mr. butts when he arrived at your place and found it empty. i will remember it to my dying day. "but what on earth _were_ you doing when we found you in the woods?" he finished in a mystified tone. then i told him about sahwah's goat that ate the two red shirts right off the line, and again he laughed until he was weak. "some schoolma'am you, for visiting committees to make notes on!" he exclaimed. "i'm discharged, of course," i remarked, after a moment's silence. "oh, maybe not," said justice soothingly, as we reached home, and he turned off to go to his cabin. "i don't care if i am," i cried savagely. "i hate that old board so i wouldn't work for them another day." and i stalked into the house with my head in the air. but somehow, after i had eaten my supper and begun to write this letter, i began to feel differently. the way the girls stood up for me this afternoon changed my whole attitude toward school teaching. to find out that they actually loved me was the biggest surprise i had ever had in my life. i had hated them so thoroughly along with the school teaching that it had never occurred to me that they did not feel the same way toward me. i suddenly hated myself for my impatience with their stupidity. of course they were stupid--how could they be otherwise, poor, pitiful, ill-clad, overworked creatures, coming from such homes as they did? i stopped despising them and was filled only with pity for the narrow, colorless lives they led. that afternoon when they had told me, shyly and wistfully, how much they enjoyed my teaching, i was filled with guilty pangs, because i knew just how much _i_ had enjoyed it. that impromptu picnic had quite won their hearts and broken down the barriers between us, and the trouble it had gotten me into crystallized their affection into expression. now the ice was broken, and i would be able to get more out of them than ever before. the prospect of teaching began to have compensations. then suddenly i remembered. i would be discharged after the next meeting of the board. i would have no opportunity of getting better acquainted with my pupils and leading them in the pleasant paths of knowledge. just when the drink began to taste sweet i had to go and upset the cup! and your katherine, who had hated teaching the poor whites so fiercely all these months, buried her head on her arms and cried bitterly at the thought of having to give it up! yours, in tears, katherine. hinpoha to katherine brownell college, nov. , --. dearest katherine: at first glance i don't suppose you will recognize this sweet little creature, but you ought to, seeing you are his own mother. it's the pig you drew with your eyes shut in glady's pig book last year. gladys brought the pig book along with her and the other day we got it out and found your poor little piggy with the mournful inscription under him, "where is my wandering pig to-night?" he looked so sad and lonesome we knew he was simply pining away for you. his ink has faded perceptibly and he is just a shadow of his former emphatic self. migwan looked at it and said, "what charade does it make you think of?" it was just as plain as the nose on your face, and we all shouted at once, "pork-you-pine!" we couldn't bear to leave him there to die of grief and longing, so we transferred him tenderly to this letter and are sending him to his mumsey by special delivery. we hope he will pick up immediately upon arrival. we had lamb's _dissertation on roast pig_ in literature the other day and were asked to comment upon it, and agony wrote that she didn't think much of a dissertation on pig that was written by a lamb; she thought bacon could have handled the subject much better! as ever, your hinpoha. p. s. here is piggy's tail; we found it in a corner of the page after we had him transferred. katherine to the winnebagos dec. , --. dear winnies: hurray! i'm not fired. why, i wasn't i never will be able to figure out, but it's so. a week after the picnic the board sat, but not on me. for a while i lived in hourly expectation of forcible eviction, but nothing happened, and i heard from justice, who stands high in the favor of elijah butts and gets inside information about school matters, that nothing was going to be done about it. if justice had any further details he wouldn't divulge them. justice is a queer chap. although he talks nonsense incessantly, you can get very little information out of him. and the way he puts up with all kinds of inconveniences without complaint is wonderful to me. he must be accustomed to far different surroundings, and yet from his attitude you'd think his little cabin out beyond the stables was the one place on earth he'd select for an abode. he never even mentioned the fact that the roof leaked badly until i went out there to fetch him and discovered him on top patching it. then i went inside to see what else could be improved, and the bare, tumble-down-ness of the place struck me forcibly. light shone through chinks in the walls, the door sill was warped one way and the door another, and there was no sign of the pane that had once been in the window. it was simply a dilapidated cabin, and made no pretence of being anything else. how he could live in it was more than i could see. no light at night but a kerosene lamp, no furniture except what he himself had made from boards, boxes and logs; no carpet on the rough, rotting floor. why did he choose to live in this cell when he might have taken rooms with any of the school board members over in spencer? it was on this occasion that i saw the rough board table under the one window, strewn with pencils, compasses and sheets of paper covered with strange lines and figures. "what's this?" i asked curiously. "nothing, that amounts to anything," replied justice, with a queer, dry little laugh. "once i was fool enough to believe that it did amount to something." he swept the papers together and threw them face downward on the table. "tell me about it," i said coaxingly, scenting a secret, possibly a clue to his past. justice stared out of the open door for a few moments, his shoulders slumped into a discouraged curve, his face moody and resentful. then suddenly he threw back his head and squared his shoulders. "it's nothing," he said shortly. "only, once i thought i had a brilliant idea, and tried to patent it. then i found out i wasn't as smart as i thought i was, that's all." "what did you invent?" i asked. "oh, just an old electrical device--you probably wouldn't understand the workings of it--to be used in connection with wireless apparatus. it was a thing for recording vibrations and by its use a deaf man could receive wireless messages. i worked four years perfecting it and then thought my fortune was made. but nobody would back me on it. they all laughed at the thing. i got so disgusted one day that i threw the thing into the sad sea. four years' work went up at one splash! that was the end of my career as an inventor." poor justice! i sympathized with him so hard that i hardly knew what to say. i knew what that failure must have meant to his proud, sensitive soul. the first failure is always such a blow. it takes considerable experience in failing to be able to do it gracefully. i could see that he didn't want any voluble sympathy from me and that it was such a sore subject that he'd rather not talk about it. i didn't know what to say. then my eye fell on the sheets on the table. "what are you inventing now?" i asked, to break the silence that was growing awkward. "just working on bits of things," he replied, "to pass the time away. you can't experiment with wireless now, you know." the confidences justice had made to me almost drove my errand out of my head. it was rather breathless, this having a new side of him turn up every little while. i returned to my original quest for information. "i came for expert advice," i remarked. justice looked up inquiringly. "shoot," he said. "do you suppose," i inquired in a perplexed tone, "that they'd enjoy it just as much if the costumes have to be imaginary?" justice's face suddenly became contorted. "they'd probably enjoy wearing, ah--er imaginary costumes if the weather is warm enough," he replied, carefully avoiding my eye. "justice sherman!" i exploded, laughing in spite of myself. "you know very well what i mean. i mean can we have a ceremonial meeting in blue calico and imagine it's ceremonial costumes?" justice scratched his head. "it depends upon how much imagination 'we' have," he remarked. "now, for instance, i know someone not a hundred miles from here who can imagine herself in her college room when it's only make believe, and can do wonderful work in french and mathematics. she----" "that's enough from you," i interrupted. "the matter is settled. we'll have a ceremonial meeting. we'll pretend we've gone traveling and have left our ceremonial dresses at home. we're a war-time group, anyhow, and ought to do without things." there now! the secret is out! your poor stick of a katherine is a real camp fire guardian. i wasn't going to tell you at first, but i'm afraid i will have to come to you for advice very often. i have organized my girls into a group and they are entering upon the time of their young lives. make the hand sign of fire when you meet us, and greet us with the countersign, for we be of the same kindred. magic spell of wohelo! by its power even the poor spirited hard-uppers have become sisters of the incomparable winnebagos. wo-he-lo for aye! we are the tribe of wenonah, the eldest daughter, and our tepee is the schoolhouse. of course, as camp fire groups go, we are a very poor sister. we haven't any costumes, any headbands, any honor beads, or any camp fire adornments of any kind. i advanced the money to pay the dues, and that was all i could afford. there are so few ways of making money here and most of the families are so poor that i'm afraid we'll never have much to do with. but the girls are so taken up with the idea of camp fire that it's a joy to see them. in all their shiftless, drudging lives it had never once occurred to them that there was any fun to be gotten out of work. it's like opening up a new world to them. do you know, i've discovered why they never did the homework i used to give to them. it's because they never had any time at home. there were always so many chores to do. their people begrudged them the time that they had to be in school and wouldn't hear of any additional time being taken for lessons afterward. as soon as i heard that i changed the lessons around so they could do all their studying in school. besides that, i looked some of the schoolbooks in the face and decided that they were hopelessly behind the times, elijah butts to the contrary. they were the same books that had been used in this section for twenty-five years. "what is the use," i said aloud to the spider weaving a web across my desk, "of teaching people antiquated geography and cheap, incorrect editions of history when the thing they need most is to learn how to cook and sew and wash and iron so as to make their homes livable? why should they waste their precious time reading about things that happened a thousand years ago when they might be taking an active part in the stirring history that is being made every day in these times? blind, stubborn, moth-eaten old fogies!" i exclaimed, shaking my fist in the direction of spencer, where the board sat. right then and there i scrapped the time-honored curriculum and made out a truly winnebago one. it kept the fundamentals, but in addition it included cooking, sewing, table setting, bed making, camp cookery, singing of popular songs, folk dancing, hiking and stunts. yes sir, stunts! i teach them stunts as carefully as i teach them spelling and arithmetic. can you imagine anyone who has never done a stunt in all their lives? we rigged up a cook stove inside the schoolhouse--if you'd ever see it! the stovepipe comes down every day at the most critical moment. besides that we have a stone oven outside. every single day is a picnic. as all of us have to bring our lunch we turned the noon hour into a cooking lesson, and two different girls act as hostesses each day. the boys bring the wood and do the rough work and are our guests at dinner. they all behave pretty well except absalom butts, who is given to practical jokes. but as the rest of the boys side in with me against him, he gets very little applause for his pains and very little help in his mischief. the noon dinners continue to be the chief attraction at the little school at the cross roads. hardly anybody is ever absent now. i arranged the new schedule so that while i am teaching the girls the things which are of interest to them alone the boys have something else to do that appeals to them. i give them more advanced arithmetic, and have worked out a system of honor marks for those who do extra problems, with a prize promised at the end of the year. then i got hold of an old copy of dan beard's _new ideas for boys_ and have turned them loose on that, letting them make anything they choose, and giving credit marks according to how well they accomplish it. you see what a job i have ahead of me as a camp fire guardian? in order to teach my girls what they must know to win honors, i have had to turn the whole school system inside out, and then, because i couldn't bear to leave the boys out in the cold while the girls are having such a good time, i have to keep thinking up things for them to do, too. it stretches my ingenuity to the breaking point sometimes to get everything in, and keep all sides even. one afternoon each week i have the girls give to red cross work. every saturday i drive all the way over to thomasville, where the nearest red cross headquarters branch is, for gauze to make surgical dressings, returning the finished ones the next week. here's where dull-witted clarissa butts outshines all the brighter girls. she can make those dressings faster and better than any of us and her face is fairly radiant while she is working on them. i have made her inspector over the rest to see that there are no wrinkles and no loose threads, and she nearly bursts with importance. for once in her life she is head of the class. while they fold bandages i read to them about what is going on in the war and what the red cross is doing everywhere, and we have beautiful times. the worst trouble around here is getting up to date things to read. there isn't a library within fifty miles and the only books we have are the few i can manage to buy and those that justice sherman has. would you mind sending out a magazine once in a while after you have finished reading it? we had our first ceremonial meeting last night in blue calico instead of ceremonial gowns, but it didn't make a mite of difference. we felt the magic spell of it just the same and promised with all our hearts to seek beauty and give service and all the other things in the wood gatherers' desire. that is the wonderful thing about camp fire. it makes you have exactly the same feelings whether you learn it in a mansion or in a shack, in an exclusive girls' school or in a third-rate country schoolhouse. if nyoda only could have seen us! of all people to whom i had expected to pass on the torch, this group of arkansas hard-uppers would have been the very last to occur to me. was this what she meant, i wonder? yours, trying hard to be a torch bearer, katherine. hinpoha to katherine dec. , --. darling katherine: there's no use talking, i can never be the same again. my life is wrecked--ruined--blighted; my heart is broken, my faith in man shattered, but try as i like i can't forget him. his image is graven on my heart, and there it will be until i die. but for all that, i hate him--hate him--hate him! i don't want to be unpatriotic, but i do hope he gets killed in the very first battle he's in. then at least _she_ won't have him! but a few short weeks ago i was a mere child, playing at life, a schoolgirl, carefree and heedless, with no other thought in the world beside winning the freshman basketball championship and surviving midyear's; to-day i am a woman, old in experience, having eaten the fruit of the tree of knowledge and found it bitter as gall. and i must bear it all alone, because if i told the girls here they would laugh at me, and some would be spiteful enough to be glad about it. but i have to tell somebody or explode, and i know you will neither laugh nor tell anybody, being a perfect tombstone on secrets. it's really all agony and oh-pshaw's fault anyway, for being born. not that that actually had anything to do with it, but if they hadn't been born they wouldn't have had any birthday, and if they hadn't had any birthday they wouldn't have given that box party to the last of the winnebagos and i never would have met captain bannister. you will readily understand, katherine, how i burn to serve my country at a time like this. there is nothing i would not do to save her from the clutches of the enemy. it is all very well to say that woman's part in the war is to knit socks and sweaters and fold bandages and conserve the food supply, for that is all that the average woman would be capable of doing anyhow, but as for me, i know that my part is to be a much more definite and a far nobler one. of course, i do all the other things, too, along with the other winnies and the whole college, for that matter; joined the patriotic league, go to red cross two nights a week and go without sugar and wheat as much as possible. when i wrote and told nyoda that i hadn't eaten one speck of candy for three months except what was given me and was sending the money i usually spent for it to the belgians, she said i ought to have the cross of the legion of honor, and that "greater love hath no man than this, that he give up the craving of his stomach for his country." you see, nyoda understands perfectly what it means to have an awful candy hunger gnawing at your vitals like the vulture at the giant's liver and look the other way when you go past a window full of your favorite bon-bons. but somehow candy doesn't seem so satisfying when you know there are little belgian and french children suffering from a much worse gnawing than candy hunger, and usually dropping the price of a box of bonbons into the relief fund stops the craving almost as much as the bonbons themselves would. but this is only doing what thousands of other girls all over the country are doing and there isn't any individual glory in it. what i long to do is carry the message that saves the army from destruction, or discover the spy at his nefarious work. if only the chance would come for me to do something like that i could die happy. agony and oh-pshaw's birthday celebration was quite an event. we had luncheon first at the golden dragon, a wonderful new chinese restaurant that was recently opened, and had chop suey and chow main and other funny things in a little stall lit up with a gorgeous blue and gold lantern. of course, after that luncheon and the funny toasts we made to the long life and health of agony and oh-pshaw, we felt pretty frolicsome, and by the time we got settled in our seats at the opera house we were ready to start something. our seats were in the first row of the balcony, center aisle, and very prominent. i had my knitting along as usual, intending to do a few rows between the acts. i always knit in public places; it sets a good example to other people. besides, my new knitting bag is too sweet for anything. i had just got started knitting in the intermission between the first and second acts when the orchestra began to play "over there," and agony got an inspiration. "let's all stand up," she whispered, "and see how many people will bite and stand up, too." so, stifling our giggles, we sprang promptly to our feet and stood stiffly at attention. in less than a minute more than half of the audience, not knowing why they should stand up for that piece, but blindly following our lead, gathered up their hats, wraps and programs in their arms and dutifully stood up. then as soon as they were standing we sat down and laughed at the poor dupes, who sat down in a hurry when they saw us, looking terribly foolish. i haven't seen anything so funny in a long time. "stop laughing," said gladys, giving me a poke with her elbow. "you're shaking the seat so i'm getting seasick." but i couldn't stop. "look out, hinpoha, there goes your knitting," said migwan. "catch it, somebody!" but it was too late. when we stood up i had laid the sock and the ball of yarn on the broad, low rail in front of us, and now the ball had rolled over the edge and dropped down into the audience below, right into the lap of a young man who was sitting on the end seat. he looked up in great surprise and everybody laughed. they just _roared_! there i stood, leaning over the balcony, hanging on to the sock for dear life and trying to keep it from raveling, and there he stood down below holding onto the ball, and plainly puzzled what to do with it. "throw down the sock, silly," whispered agony, reaching over and pulling my sleeve. "do you think he's going to throw up the ball?" i dropped the sock and the man caught it in his other hand and stood there laughing, as he started to wind up the yards and yards of yarn between the ball and the sock. when he had it wound up he brought it upstairs to me. i went out into the corridor to get it. then for the first time i got a good look at the man. he was dressed in uniform and wore an officer's cap. he was very tall and slim, with black eyes and hair and a small black mustache. "here, patriotic little knitting lady," he said, making a deep bow and handing me my knitting. i looked up into his handsome, smiling face, and little needle points began pricking in my spine. his eyes met mine, he smiled, blushed to the roots of his hair and looked away. all in one instant i knew. i had met my fate. this was my man, my own. i felt faint and light-headed and all i could see was his black eyes shining like stars. his deep, thrilling voice still rang in my ears. with another low bow he turned to leave me. "captain bannister, at your service," he said. i went back to my seat with my head swimming. "patriotic little knitting lady," i found myself whispering under my breath. the girls suddenly seemed awfully young and silly as they sat there giggling at me and at each other. my mind was above all such childish things; it was soaring up in the blue realms of true love. i was glad he was tall and thin. i think fat girls should marry thin men, don't you? and he was dark, too, just the right mate for redheaded me. and he was a captain in the army! how the other girls would envy me! some of them had friends who were lieutenants and were quite uppish about it, but none that i knew had a captain. then at another thought my heart stood still. suppose he should be killed? i pictured myself in deep mourning, wearing on my breast the medal he had won for bravery, which with his dying breath he had asked his comrades to send to "my wife!" i couldn't help brushing away a tear then and was quite bewildered when agony poked me and wanted to know if i wasn't ever going to make a move to go home. the show was over and the people were streaming out. i hadn't seen a bit of the last two acts. down in the lobby i saw him again. he was standing by the door talking to another man in uniform. how he stood out among all other men! he was one out of a thousand. my heart beat to suffocation and i couldn't raise my eyes. in a moment more i must pass him. i tried to look straight ahead, but something i couldn't resist drew my head around and i turned and looked straight into his eyes. he tilted back his head and gave me one long, thrilling glance, raised his hand to his cap, then blushed and looked down. just then gladys pulled at my sleeve and dragged me over to some girls we knew and we were swept out with the crowd to the sidewalk. i scarcely knew where i was going. my feet walked along between gladys and migwan, but my soul was in the clouds, listening to strains of heavenly music, while the others squabbled over ice cream flavors and who should stand treat after the show. ice cream! ye gods! who could eat ice cream with their soul seething in love? from that hour when i had looked into captain bannister's eyes and read the truth in them, i was a changed being. i listened in silence to the idle chatter of the girls around me as we walked to and from classes. their souls were wrapped up in their knitting, in their lessons, in their meals. agony and oh-pshaw were trying to learn a new and difficult back dive and they talked of nothing else night and day. they were constantly at me to come and try it, too, but i sat loftily apart, hugging my delicious secret. as it says in the poem we learned in literature class: "what were the garden bowers of thebes to me?" like semele, i scorned the sports of mortals and thought only of my beloved. i didn't envy her a bit because her love was jupiter. what was jupiter compared to captain bannister? twice i had seen him since that day in the theater--had spoken to him, in fact. he was stationed in the recruiting office and one day i happened to be walking past with old professor remie and he knew him and stopped and talked and introduced me. as if we needed any introduction! we chatted of commonplaces, but all the while our eyes told volumes. however, soul cannot speak to soul in a public recruiting station where curious eyes are looking on. i had an errand uptown every day after that. only once did i see him as i passed the recruiting station, however. then he was throwing out a socialist who had tried to stop the recruiting and he didn't see me. but the next day there came a perfectly huge box of chocolates, addressed quaintly to "miss bradford, somewhere in purgatory." inside the box was a card which read: "the strand you dropped with careless art has wound itself around my heart." underneath was written "captain bannister," in a bold, masculine hand. i buried the chocolates in the depths of my shirtwaist box where no profane eye could see them or profane tooth bite into them. i didn't mean to be selfish, but i just couldn't bear to pass _his_ chocolates around to the crowd and hear agony's delighted squeal as she dove into them, "come on, girls, have one on hinpoha's latest crush!" for agony has absolutely no understanding of affairs of the heart--everything is a "crush" to her. the chocolates were fine and i ate a great many of them, thinking of my captain all the while, and wondering when i would see him again. "hinpoha, what on earth is the matter with you?" said gladys that night. "you didn't eat a bite of supper and you're as pale as a ghost. have you upset your stomach again?" i drew myself up haughtily. the idea! to call this delicious turmoil in my bosom an upset stomach! i was glad i looked pale. i am usually as red as a beet. it was more in keeping with the way i felt to be pale. "i am not myself," i replied loftily, "but it's not my stomach." "go to bed, honey," said gladys, "and i'll bring you a glass of hot water." i curled up in bed with captain bannister's card in my hand under the pillow. i was so happy i felt dizzy. gladys came back with the hot water and made me drink it in spite of my protests, and, strange to say, i felt much calmer after it. needless to say, i couldn't pin my mind down on my lessons. i did such queer things that people began to notice it. for instance, mild old professor remie, the chemistry teacher, handed back my paper one day after he had given us a written lesson on the atomic theory, and inquired in a puzzled tone if i had meant just what i wrote. i glanced at it and blushed furiously when i realized that i had written down some lines that had been running through my head all day: "why do i fearfully cling to thee, maidenhood? 'tis but a pearl to be cast in thy waves, o love!" then one day the word went around that he was coming to make a speech in the college chapel. how my heart fluttered! i could hardly sit still in the seat when he came out on the platform. it seemed as if everyone could hear what my heart was saying. soon that deep voice of his was filling the room, thrilling me with unearthly things. again and again his eyes sought mine, full of joyous recognition, of love and longing. i smiled reassuringly, trying to telegraph the message, "be patient, all will be well." to myself i was singing, "o captain, my captain!" unknown to himself, i had seen him before he came into chapel. i was stooping down in the shadow of the gymnasium steps, tying my shoestring, when he came along the walk and was met by dr. thorn, our president. they stood there and talked a minute and i heard captain bannister say that he was going to washington that afternoon on the five o'clock train and that he was going directly from the college to the station. he carried a small black handbag, which dr. thorn offered to relieve him of, but he said no, he didn't want to leave it out of his hand even for a minute, there were valuable papers in it. when he came out on the platform i noticed that he had the bag with him. he set it down on the table while he talked and never got very far away from it. i looked at that bag with deep interest. what was in it? something terribly important, i knew. i thrilled with pride that my captain should have such great things to look after, and longed to be of service to him. his speech came to an end all too soon for me, who could have gone on listening for a week, and he went out before the rest of us were dismissed. no chance to speak to me or give me one word of farewell for the brief separation; only one long, lingering look between us that left me shaken to the soul. now i knew what the poet meant when he spoke of "the troth of glance and glance." i wandered around by myself after he had gone. i didn't desire to speak to any of the girls or have them speak to me. i just wanted to be by myself. roaming thus i came to the little rustic summerhouse in the park behind the college buildings, and stopped in to rest a moment. it was a lovely mild day, not a bit like winter, and not too cold to sit in a summerhouse and dream. i didn't sit down, though. for on the bark-covered bench i spied something that brought my heart up into my mouth. it was captain bannister's bag. no doubt about it. there was his name on a card tied to the handle. how came it here? they must have shown him around the grounds after his speech and in some way he had put the bag down in here and then gone off and forgotten it. how dreadful he would feel when he found it out! my mind was made up in a minute. here was a real chance to "give service." if i hurried i could get down to the station and catch him before he got on the train. i made sure from the watchman that he had left the college grounds. i looked at my wrist watch. it was quarter to five. without a moment's hesitation i picked up the bag and ran out to the street. i caught a car right away and sank down in a seat breathless, but easy in my mind, because the station was only a ten minutes' ride in the car. then, of course, something had to happen. a sand wagon was in the cartrack ahead of us and the motorman jingled his bell so furiously that the driver got excited and pulled the lever that dumped the whole load of sand on the car track. i jumped out of the car and looked wildly up and down the road to see if there was a taxi in sight. there wasn't; nothing but a motor truck from the glue factory. there was something covered with canvas in the back of it, and i knew instinctively that it was a dead horse. did i hesitate a second? not i. for the sake of my captain and my country i would have endured anything. i hailed the driver. "i'll give you a dollar if you'll take me to the station," i panted. the driver laughed out loud. "this is _some_ depoe hack," he said, "but if _you_ can stand it i guess _i_ can." with that he gave me a sidewise glance that was meant to be admiring, i suppose, but i froze him with a look and climbed gravely up beside him. "it is very important that i be there in time for the five o'clock train," i remarked by way of explanation. "you ain't running away from school, are you?" inquired the driver genially. "i am _not_," i replied frigidly, and looked loftily past him for the remainder of the five minutes' ride to the station. i flung the man the dollar and was out of the truck before he had time to say a word, and raced into the long waiting room of the station. i could have shouted with relief when i saw on the blackboard the notice that the five o'clock train for washington was forty minutes late. i was in time! but where was captain bannister? nowhere in sight. i walked up and down the length of the waiting room several times, growing more nervous every minute. suppose that he had discovered that he had left the bag behind and gone back after it only to find it gone? the thought made my blood run cold. would he come down to the train at all without the bag? would he not go back and search for it, alarming the whole college? and all the while i had it safe with me! what should i do? should i go back and run the risk of missing him, or stay and see if he came? one thing i could do. i could telephone back to the college and find out if he had returned for it. i had just gotten inside the telephone booth and was ringing up the number when there was a commotion in the upper end of the waiting room and a large party of people entered, men and women and soldiers and young girls, laughing and shrieking and pelting somebody with rice and old shoes. soon they came past the booth and i caught a glimpse of the bride and groom. the telephone receiver fell out of my hand and my heart stopped beating. for there, in the midst of that crowd, laughing and dodging the showers of rice, and hanging for dear life to the arm of a pretty young girl in a traveling suit, was captain bannister, my captain! i shrank back into the depths of the telephone booth and struggled to swallow the lump in my throat. bits of talk floated in through the closed door. "thought you'd do it up quietly this morning and then sneak out this afternoon without anybody finding it out," i heard a voice shout, as a fresh shower of rice flew through the air. "went out and made a speech this afternoon, too, just as unconcerned as if it wasn't his wedding day," said another voice. "pretty sly, captain. they ought to put you in the diplomatic service. you'd be an ornament." i crouched miserably in the telephone booth, trying to collect my scattered thoughts. my captain was married this morning! how i hated that pretty girl clinging to him and laughing as the showers of rice fell around her! then all of a sudden my hand touched the bag on the floor. the papers! in the excitement of his wedding day he had forgotten them! well, even if he had, i hadn't. i would still serve my country if it did nearly kill me to go out there and face captain bannister. i shut my eyes and prayed for strength. it would have been so easy to slip out and throw the bag over the bridge into the river, and get captain bannister into a bad predicament. but i did not waver in my duty. opening the door of the booth softly, i crept out. resolutely i approached the crowd and walked right up to captain bannister. "here are the papers, captain bannister," i said in a voice i tried to make coldly sarcastic, as is fitting when talking to a man who has let his wedding make him forget his country's business. captain bannister whirled around and faced me with a look of astonishment that changed to annoyance when he saw the bag. he did not offer to take it from my outstretched hand. he could not look into my eyes. he stood there, his face getting redder every minute, while the people stared curiously. at last he pulled himself together and took the bag. "thank you," he said in a flat voice. a dozen hands pulled the bag away from him. "let's see the papers, banny," called several voices. "are they the plans of your wedding journey or your new home?" he made a desperate effort to regain possession of the bag, but they kept it away from him and opened it. then such a roar of laughter went up as i have never heard. everybody was laughing but the bride, and she looked like a thundercloud. soon the things from the bag were being handed around and i saw what they were. they were a girl's ballet dress, very flimsy and very short and very much bespangled; a pair of light blue silk stockings and a pair of high-heeled dancing slippers. standing on the edge of the crowd i heard one man explain to another, between snorts of laughter, how captain bannister had taken part in a show that the soldiers had given a week before and had worn that ballet dress. his bride-to-be had been at the show, and being a very straight-laced sort of a person had been very much shocked at the men dressed as girls. she didn't know that captain bannister had been one of them, and he didn't intend that she should find out. some of his friends knew this and for a joke they got hold of the handbag in which he had packed his clothes for his wedding journey and hid them away, putting in the ballet dress instead. he found it out on the way out to the college, and conceived the brilliant idea of leaving it there. he figured that a suit like that found in a girls' college would cause no commotion; nothing like what would happen if his bride should find it among his things. but of all things--here the man who was telling all this nearly turned inside out--somebody sees him leave the bag behind and chases after him with it! i fled without ever looking behind. my heart was broken, my life wrecked, my hopes shattered. my captain, my man, whose eyes had told me the secret of his love, was pledged to another! if i hadn't known it beyond any doubt, i wouldn't have believed such perfidy possible. and the "valuable papers" he was carrying around were nothing but a girl's dancing dress! for this i had raced to catch the train, for this i had ridden on a truck with a dead horse! no doubt he had lied to dr. thorn about the bag, because he was afraid he would find out what really was in it. righteous anger drowned my heartbroken tears. with head high i wandered down to the swimming pool in the gym and prepared to go in. "oh, hinpoha, come and watch me do the new back dive," called agony. she mounted the diving platform and went off badly, striking the water with the flat of her back and making a splash like a house falling into the water. she righted herself and swam around lazily. "hinpoha," she said suddenly, popping her head out of the water like a devil fish, "what did you ever do with them all? i expected to get at least one." "what did i do with what?" i asked in bewilderment. "chocolates, sweet cherub," said agony, kicking the water into foam with her feet. "i sent you five pounds." "_you_ sent them?" i echoed blankly. "yes, dearest child, i sent them, and it took the last of my birthday check. who did you think sent them?" and with a malicious grin she sank down under the surface of the water. so it had been agony who had sent the chocolates, and not captain bannister! i might have known---- oh, what a fool i had been! "what did you do with them all?" came agony's teasing voice from the other end of the pool, where she had risen to take the air. "wouldn't you like to know?" i said mysteriously. agony looked at me gravely for a minute. "didn't i hear gladys putting you to bed that night and going off for hot water?" she murmured dreamily. "seems to me i have a faint, far off recollection." she made little snorting noises, plainly in imitation of a pig, and sank below the surface again. i was filled with a blind fury at agony. i wanted to jump on her and choke her. i had been standing on the diving board and on the spur of the moment i went off backwards. i had only one thought in my mind; to reach agony and duck her as she deserved. there was a great shout as i went off, followed by a round of applause. "what is it?" i asked, coming up and blinking stupidly at the knot of watchers gathered around the pool. "the hawaiian dive!" they cried. "you did it perfectly. do it again." agony came up out of the pool and watched enviously. for four weeks she had been practising that dive and hadn't mastered it yet. i hadn't ever hoped to learn it. and here i had done it the very first time! they made me do it again and again, and clapped until the ceiling echoed as i got the somersault in every time. it was glorious. i forgave agony for fooling me about the captain; i even forgave the captain for the time being. _he_ could go off and get married if he wanted to; _i_ could do the hawaiian back dive! "how did you ever do it?" asked agony enviously, as we dressed together, "somersault and all? do you really think there's any chance of my ever doing it?" "sure, you'll do it some day," i replied out of the fullness of my wisdom,--"if you get mad enough." your broken-hearted, hinpoha. katherine to the winnebagos dec. , --. dearest and best of winnies: oh, you angels without wings, how am i ever going to thank you? how on earth did you manage to do it all? such a christmas present! when i saw that array of boxes in the express office at spencer all addressed to me i said to the agent, "there's some mistake. those can't possibly be all mine." "you're the only katherine adams in these parts, aren't you?" said the agent, eyeing that imposing pile with unconcealed curiosity. i admitted that i was, as far as i knew. "then they're yours," said the agent, and mine they proved to be. altogether there was a wagonload. "what on earth?" said father and justice when i drove up to the house. "have you gone into the trucking business?" "christmas presents, father!" i shouted. "all christmas presents. i've got the whole of santa claus's load. quick, bring me a hammer and an ax and a jimmy!" oh, girls, when i saw what was in those first three boxes i just sat down on the floor and wept for joy. only the winnebagos could have thought of sending me the house of the open door. there were the indian beds and hinpoha's bearskin and all the navajo blankets and the pottery, just as i had seen it last in the open door lodge, big as life and twice as natural. and the note from sahwah that came along with them was a piece of sahwah herself. "the things are lonesome," she wrote, "and pining for someone to love them and use them. i am sending them to your new camp fire because i know your girls will love them as they deserve to be loved. the ghosts of all the good times we had in the house of the open door are hovering around the things, so anyone that gets them can't help falling under the old spell and learning how to squeeze the most fun out of every minute. "the gymnasium apparatus is the sandwiches' christmas present. it was slim's and the captain's idea to send it out to you for your girls and boys to use. "the house of the open door is being turned into red cross work rooms for camp fire girls and we need every inch of space for the work tables. even our beloved lodge is giving service." gladys evans, your father is an _angel_! he doesn't need to wait until he gets to heaven for his halo, it's visible a mile off, this minute! to think of sending me a graphophone and a hundred records! i simply can't tell you what that is going to mean to my school. i won't be able to _drive_ the boys and girls away now! and your mother! that lantern machine and the slides showing the red cross work and all the other splendid things is worth its weight in gold. oh, my dears! _where_ did you ever find time to make those twelve ceremonial dresses? "from the last of the winnebagos to the first of the wenonahs. let big sister winnie see that little sissy weenie is properly clothed." i'll bet anything your friend agony wrote that. i have a feeling that she and i are kindred spirits. won't my girls revel in those beads and looms, though? books! four whole cases of them! what on earth have you done now? "the winnebago library passed on by those who know and love good books to those who will soon know and love them" how did you do it? asked a hundred girls to give one book apiece? you don't mean to say that there are a hundred girls interested in us poor backwoods folks out here in spencer? i can't believe it! oh, we'll work and work and _work_, to prove ourselves worthy of it all! and oh, all those little personal pretties just for me! hinpoha, _where_ did you find that darling pen-holder with the parrot's head on the end, and gladys, who told you that i broke my handglass and was pining for a white ivory one? and even a lump of sugar for sandhelo and a bow for piggy's tail! i admire the artist who drew that bow. the last box bore nyoda's return address. what do you suppose was in it? her chafing dish! the very one she used to have in her room, that i used to admire so much. dear nyoda! she knew i would rather have that than anything else. o my dears, there never _was_ such a christmas! there never _will_ be such a christmas! nobody ever had such friends before. if i live to be a thousand years old i'll never be able to return one-tenth of your kindness. yours, swimming in ecstasy, katherine. gladys to katherine march , --. dearest katherine: listen, my beloved, while i sing you a song of migwan. she has awakened at last to find herself famous, and the rest of us, by reason of reflected glory, found ourselves looked upon as different from all other animals, and wonderfully popular and run after by five o'clock in the afternoon, like old man kangaroo. and, all precepts upon precepts to the contrary, it wasn't conscientiously applying herself to her task that turned the trick, but deliberate shirking. after all, though, it was mostly a matter of chance, because if it hadn't rained so that night last october, migwan would have gone to the library as she should have, and the world would have lost a priceless contribution to indian lore. it happened thusly. one of migwan's cronies in the sophomore class has a weak throat and a condition in indian history. on the night i have mentioned she trickled tearfully into migwan's room and confided that she simply had to have an indian legend to read in class the following day or be marked zero. she had had all the week in which to look one up in the library, but, according to immemorial custom, she had left it for the last night. now it was raining pitchforks and she didn't dare go out, because she got a terrible attack of quinsy every time there was an east wind. migwan, like the angel she is, promptly offered to go over and hunt one up for her. "what kind of an indian legend?" she inquired. "oh, any kind," replied harriet carelessly, "so long as it's _indian_. we're studying the soul of the savage as revealed by legend, or something like that. slip it under my door when you come back with it. i'm going to bed and coddle my throat. be sure you don't get one that's too long," she called back over her shoulder, "remember there are twenty in the class to help reveal the savage soul." harriet ambled placidly back to her room and migwan began hunting through her closet for her raincoat and rubbers. she didn't find them, because she had lent them to somebody the week before and couldn't remember whom she lent them to. she looked out of the window at the torrents coming down and decided that her little rocking chair by the lamp held out more attraction than a trip to the library. but she didn't have the heart to disappoint harriet by not getting her an indian legend to read in class the next day, so she sat down and manufactured one, which is as easy as rolling off a log for migwan. harriet would never know the difference, and neither would the teacher, off hand, and a made-up legend would save the day for harriet as well as a genuine one. the chances were she wouldn't be called upon to read it anyway. you never are, you know, when you've broken your neck to be ready. migwan slipped it under harriet's door and then forgot all about it. several weeks later, when the _monthly morterboard_ came out, there was migwan's indian legend, big as life. it had obviously been used to fill up space and was not credited to the literary talent of the college; but to joseph latoka, or "standing pine," the penobscot indian who had collected the legends of his tribe into a book, which was in the college library and which was our authority on things indian. migwan laughed to herself over it, but never gave away the fact that she had written it. she discovered in a roundabout way that the literary editor of the _morterboard_ had been in despair over lack of material when the october number was due, and told her tale of woe to miss percival, one of the teachers, and asked her if she had any essays fit to print. miss percival replied that she hadn't had a decent essay this semester, but a girl in one of her classes had brought in a rather remarkable indian legend several days before, which might serve to cast into the breach. the _morterboard_ editor promptly hunted up harriet and demanded the legend. harriet still had it among her goods and chattels, and gave it to her readily, saying that it was one of joseph latoka's _legends of the penobscot indians_, which she honestly believed to be the fact. the _morterboard_ editor took her word for it and used the legend to fill up the chinks in the october issue. * * * * * * it was not long after this that very seldom paid his annual visit to brownell. his name really wasn't very seldom; it was jeremiah selden, but everybody referred to him as jerry, and it wasn't long before "jerry selden" became "very seldom." he used to be professor of sociology at brownell, but he had to give up lecturing because he lost his voice. he was a sad little man with a plaintive droop to his white mustache and only a whisper of a voice. he had lost his whole family in some kind of a railroad accident and always went around with such a homeless air that everybody felt sorry for him. his hobby was indian history, indian legends and indian relics. after he gave up teaching sociology he took to writing books, dry old essays and that sort of thing. nobody ever read them, and he didn't make much out of them, but he kept plodding along, always hoping that he would make a hit the next time. once every year he came back to brownell to spend sunday, to keep alive the memories of his former life, he used to explain sentimentally. miss allison, his successor as professor of sociology, and who has him beat forty miles for teaching, always entertained him at tea on the occasion of his visit, and used to ask him stacks of questions, jollying him along and making him believe she was in doubt about a lot of things she knew better than he did. having his opinion consulted that way made him feel quite cheerful and important, and his visit to brownell always put new life into him. it happened that one sunday afternoon migwan went to miss allison's room to ask her about something and ran into very seldom paying his annual visit. miss allison herself wasn't there. she had been called out of town the night before and had turned over the job of entertaining very seldom to her room-mate, miss lee. miss lee taught mathematics and didn't care a rap about sociology, and still less about indians. miss lee is very fond of migwan, and invited her to stay to tea. migwan is forever getting asked to tea by the faculty; it's because she always gets her hair parted so straight in the middle, and never upsets her teacup. migwan had heard about very seldom, and was just as anxious to help cheer him up as anybody, but this time he didn't need any cheering. he was positively radiant. he was talking about his latest book and was nearly bursting with enthusiasm. it seems that all his life he had been having an argument with another indian history shark as to whether, before the coming of the white man to this continent, the eastern indians had ever lived on, or visited the western plains. he maintained that they had, while his friend insisted that they hadn't. just recently he had read, in a magazine published by the indian society of north america, a hitherto unpublished legend of joseph latoka's, a curious legend of the white buffalo. to his mind this proved beyond a doubt that the penobscot indians had, at some time or other, lived on or visited the great plains, and had seen the buffalo. it was the only penobscot legend that mentioned the buffalo as an object of worship. he had immediately written a monograph on the subject which was even then in the hands of the publisher. it was a great point to have discovered. fame would come to him at last. very seldom's air of desolation had vanished; his hour of triumph had come. it was at this point that migwan, the expert tea drinker, suddenly upset her cup all over miss allison's cherished mexican drawnwork lunchcloth. that foolish legend that she had manufactured to save herself a trip to the library in the rain had been taken as authentic and had been copied from the _morterboard_ into other magazines! at the time she wrote it she was in too much of a hurry to pay attention to any such trifles as the difference between eastern and plains indians. anyway, she hadn't _said_ anywhere that they were penobscot indians, it was harriet who had said so to the _morterboard_ editor. several times during the evening she tried to tell poor very seldom that the legend of the white buffalo, which proved his point so conclusively, was not a legend at all, but her own composition, but each time the words choked her. the little ex-professor's satisfaction was so great and his happiness so supreme that she didn't have the heart to blot it out. the secret was hers. everybody in college believed that legend to have come from the collection of joseph latoka. all the evening she debated with herself whether or not she should tell, or let the fake legend go down on record. in the end the professor's happiness won the day and she decided not to mar his almost childish glee in his discovery. "what does it matter, after all?" she thought. "about three-fourths of the things that are written about indians aren't true. nobody will read his old monograph anyway, so no harm will be done. if it gives him so much pleasure to think he's discovered something, why spoil it all?" the whole matter seemed so trivial to migwan that it wasn't worth fussing about. just what difference did it make to the world, especially at this time, whether the eastern indians of the united states had ever visited the western plains or not? it seemed about as important as whether the fourth emperor of the ming dynasty had carrots for dinner or parsnips. so she went home without revealing the origin of the legend of the white buffalo. she thought the incident was decently interred, and had forgotten all about it, when--pop! out came jack-in-the-box once more. along in march came the celebrated lecturer on indian costumes, dr. burnett. handbills announcing his lecture were distributed all over town a week before his coming. the public was to be admitted and half the proceeds were to go to the library fund. migwan picked up one of the handbills and glanced casually at the subject of the lecture. then her hair nearly turned green. it was "the legend of the white buffalo," based on the book of the late professor jeremiah selden! the first fact that struck migwan was that very seldom was dead, which came as a shock of surprise. poor very seldom! he had found a home at last. but before he went he had had his inning and had died happy that he had contributed an important link to the chains of indian history. then migwan realized what a horrible mess she had started by writing that legend and keeping still about it. if anybody ever found out about it now, dr. burnett's reputation would be ruined. an hour before the lecture was to begin found migwan sitting in the parlor of the hotel waiting for dr. burnett to come down in answer to the note she sent up with a bellboy. he came presently, a long-haired, van dyke-y sort of man, who smiled genially at her and inquired affably what he could do for the charming miss. "if you please," said migwan breathlessly, "could you give some other lecture just as well?" "could i give some other lecture just as well?" repeated dr. burnett in perplexity. "yes," migwan went on desperately, trying to get it over with quickly, "could you? you see, the legend of the white buffalo isn't a legend at all." "the legend of the white buffalo _isn't_ a legend!" repeated dr. burnett again, looking at migwan as if he thought she was not in her right mind. "pray, what is it?" "it's--it's a fake," said migwan. "a fake!" exclaimed dr. burnett, in astonishment. "and how do you know it is a fake?" "because i wrote it myself," said migwan, trying to break the news as gently as possible, "because it was simply pouring, and harriet had a sore throat." "you wrote it yourself because it was simply pouring and harriet had a sore throat?" repeated dr. burnett, now acting as if he were sure she was out of her mind. then migwan explained. "but, my dear," said dr. burnett, "you _couldn't_ have written that legend. no white man could have invented it. it is the very breath and spirit of the indian. in it the soul of the savage stands revealed." "but i _did_," insisted migwan, and finally succeeded in convincing him that she was telling the truth. dr. burnett usually spent from one to three months preparing a new lecture. he prepared one that night in an hour that knocked the shine out of all his previous ones. his speech entitled, "what chance has a man when a woman takes a hand" brought down the house. he told the story of the fake legend, and the audience was alternately laughing at the neat way migwan had taken everybody in and weeping at the way she wouldn't spoil poor very seldom's pleasure. migwan was the heroine of the hour. the whole college sought her acquaintance forthwith. of course, they found out all about the winnebagos, and how migwan came to know so much about indian lore, and hinpoha and i, being winnebagos, too, came in for our share of the glory. our humble apartment is filled to overflowing all day long with girls who want to make migwan's acquaintance and casually drop in on us in the hope of meeting her in our chamber. it is great to be fellow-winnebago with a celebrity. but i haven't told you all yet. the day after the lecture dr. burnett had a solemn conference with that portion of the english department which was so fortunate to have migwan in its classes, after which migwan was called in. she went with a kind of scary feeling because she thought dr. burnett might be going to have her arrested for perpetrating the fake, but instead of that she was informed that she showed such budding talent in composition and had such a positive genius for portraying the soul of the indian that he wanted her to work with him in his research work after she graduated from college. she is to make a grand tour with him among the real indians on the reservations and get them to tell tales of the old days as they remember them from the legends of their fathers and then she is to write them down to be published in a book. just imagine it! there is migwan's future all cut out for her with a cookie cutter, all because she was too lazy to go across the campus in the rain and get a real legend for a sick friend. isn't life queer? famously yours, gladys. p. s. o katherine, _mon amie_, why aren't you here? but from the tone of your last letters it seems that you have become reconciled to your lonely lot. so the "mysterious him" that came to you from out the vast is teaching you french and history and reading literature with you! katherine adams, you sly puss, you'll be better educated yet than we! sahwah to katherine april , --. dearest k: you don't need to think you're the only one having adventures with your work. your little old sahwah is a sure enough grown up young lady now, a real wage-earner, making her little track along the open road, and frequently stepping into mud holes and falling flat on her face. i'm "miss brewster" now, in a tailored suit and plain shirtwaist, ready to conquer the world with a notebook and typewriter. i finished my course at the business college early in february, and one day while i was in the last stages of completion as a stenographer and nearly ready to have a shipping tag pasted on me in the shape of a graduation certificate, i was summoned into the private office of mr. barrett, the head of the school. i had a chill when the office girl brought me the message. there were only two or three things you were ever sent to mr. barrett for. one was failure to pay your tuition; another was doing so poorly in your work that you were a disgrace instead of a credit to the school; another was for "skipping school." a number of the girls were in the habit of cutting classes after lunch several days in the week and either going to the matinee or running around town with boys from the school. many complaints about this had come to mr. barrett from the teachers, until he got so that he sent for everyone who skipped and read them a stiff lecture. he is a very stern, austere man, and the whole school stands in dread of him. i went over my list of sins when i was summoned to the office. my tuition was paid up until the end; there was no trouble there. it wouldn't be my lessons either; for, while i was far from being the eighth wonder of the world on the typewriter, i still had managed to stay in the "a" division since the first. but--here my hair began to stand on end--i had "skipped school" the afternoon before. slim had come home from college to attend the funeral of his grandfather, and had called me up and invited me to go automobiling with him while he was waiting for his train to go back, and you can guess what happened to duty. i just naturally skipped school and went with him. it was the first and only time i had skipped in my whole career, but i was evidently going to get my trimmings for it. i went into the office with a sinking heart, for up until this time i had managed to keep in mr. barrett's good graces, and i did pride myself quite a bit on my unreproved state. but i made up my mind to take it like a good sport--i had danced and now i would pay the piper. having gone into the office in such a state of mind, i wasn't prepared for the shock when mr. barrett looked up from his desk and greeted me with a (for him) extremely amiable smile. "sit down, miss brewster," he said pleasantly, pulling up a chair for me beside his own. i sat down. it was time, for my knees were giving away under me. "miss brewster," mr. barrett began affably, "i have here"--and he picked up a paper on which he had made some notations--"a call for a stenographer which is a little out of the ordinary line." he paused to let that sink in. "yes, sir," i murmured respectfully. my heart began to beat freely again. he wasn't going to lecture me about skipping school! "mrs. osgood harper," continued mr. barrett crisply, "telephoned me this morning personally, and asked if i had a young lady whom i could send her every day from nine until one to attend to her personal correspondence. she is very particular about the kind of person she wants; it must be someone who is refined and educated, as well as a good stenographer, for a good deal of her work will be social correspondence. she also intimated that the girl must be--er, reasonably good looking." he paused a second time and again i said meekly, "yes, sir." there didn't seem to be anything else to say. "i have carefully considered all the girls in the finishing class," continued mr. barrett, "and you seem to be the only one i could consider for the position. i know mrs. harper and know that in some ways she will be hard to work for. but the pay she offers is generous; better than you could do as a beginner in a commercial house, and the hours are excellent, nine to one, leaving your afternoons free. besides that, there will be the advantage to yourself of coming in contact with such people as the harpers, and the pleasure of working in such beautiful surroundings. you are a girl who will appreciate such things. you know who the harpers are, of course?" i had never heard of them, but i was quite willing to be enlightened. the harpers, it seemed, were in the first boatload of settlers that landed on our town site; they had since accumulated such a fortune that it made pike's peak look like an ant hill; and no matter what string mrs. harper harped on, people were sure to sit still and listen. now she desired a personal stenographer of maidenly form, and i, sahwah the sunfish, had been measured by the awe-inspiring mr. barrett and found fit. my feelings as i came out of the office were far different from those with which i went in. i entered with a guilty droop; i came out with my head in the air. i hadn't dreamed of getting such a position to start with. i had pictured myself as beginning at the bottom in some big office and slowly working to the top. but to begin my career by doing the private work of mrs. osgood harper! it seemed like some fairy tale. i tried to think of something to say to mr. barrett to thank him for having recommended me for the position, but the shock had sent my wits skylarking, and the only thing that came into my head was that song that we used to sing: "out of a city of six million people, why did you pick upon me?" and that, of course, was impossible as a noble sentiment. the next morning i set out on my joyous venture. the osgood harpers lived on the heights in a great colonial house set up high on a hill and approached by long, winding walks. it was more than a mile from the street-car, but i enjoyed the walk through those beautiful estates. i couldn't have served a tennis ball in any direction without hitting a millionaire. mrs. harper was a stout and tremendously impressive lady about forty years old. she had steely blue eyes that looked right through me until i began to have horrible fears that there was something wrong with my appearance and she would presently say that i would not do at all. but she didn't; all she said was, "so you are miss brewster, are you?" and motioned me to sit down at a writing table. she had received me in a cozy little sitting room which opened out of her bedroom, and it seemed that this was to be my office. she started right in to lay out my work for me and i didn't have much time to look around at the beautiful furnishings. the work was far different from anything we had had in school, but very interesting, and i took to it from the start. mrs. harper is chairman of countless committees, and secretary of several societies, and there were quantities of notices to send out to committee members, and letters to write to business men soliciting subscriptions to various funds and things like that, all to be written on heavy linen paper of finest quality, bearing the harper monogram in embossed gold in the upper left-hand corner. i worked away with a will and the morning hours flew. i would have worked right on past one o'clock without knowing it if there hadn't been an interruption. shortly after noon the door opened and a girl of about seventeen walked in. she was extremely pretty; that is, at first glance she was. she was very fair, with bright pink cheeks and big blue eyes. her yellow hair was plastered down over her forehead in an exaggerated style, and monstrous pearl earrings dangled from her ears. she had evidently just come in from outdoors, for she wore an all mink coat and held a mink cap in her hand. without a glance in my direction she began chatting to mrs. harper in a thin, nasal, high-pitched voice. i dropped my eyes and went on with my work. in a minute i could feel her staring at me. "ethel," said mrs. harper, as soon as she could get the floor, "this is miss brewster, my stenographer. miss brewster, my daughter ethel." i acknowledged the introduction pleasantly; miss ethel favored me with another stare, murmured something in an indistinct tone and then immediately turned her back on me and went on talking to her mother. right then and there my admiration for the "first families" got a setback; i didn't admire ethel harper's manners, not a little bit. she had "snob" written all over her features. i could see that she classed me with the servants and as such she didn't trouble herself to be polite to me. "a lot there is to be gained by associating with _her_," i said to myself. "i'll be just as cool and dignified as possible when _she's_ around. she won't get another chance to snub me." but in spite of her i was enthusiastic about the position and could hardly wait until i got there the next day. mrs. harper went out shortly after i arrived and i worked alone. ethel harper came home from school at noon and went through the room on the way to her mother's, but i rattled away on the typewriter and never looked up. she came out soon and went into her own room, which was on the other side. in about fifteen minutes i heard her call me. "miss brewster!" i stopped typing. "what is it?" i asked. "come here," she called, and her voice sounded impatient. i stepped across the hall into her room. she was standing in front of the mirror putting on a ruffled taffeta dress, which she was struggling to adjust. "hook me up!" she commanded, without the formality of saying "please." i had it on the end of my tongue to tell her that i was a stenographer, not a lady's maid, but i remembered "give service" in time, and hooked her up without a word. she never even said "thank you!" she just sat down at her dressing table and began pencilling her eyebrows. evidently it must have been the maid's day out, for she called me in again later to pin her collar. "have i got too much color on my face?" she asked languidly, dabbing away at her cheeks with some red stuff out of a box in front of her. then she put carmine on her lips, a sort of whitewash on her nose and forehead and finished it with some pencilled shadows under her eyes. all i could think of was eeny-meeny, the time we gave her that coat of war paint. "what's that?" asked milady while i was fastening her collar, poking her finger at my torch bearer's pin. "it's a camp fire pin," i replied. "what's camp fire?" she demanded idly. i explained briefly what camp fire was. "gee," said ethel elegantly, "none of that for mine!" and she picked up her eyebrow pencil again and did a little more frescoing. i went back to my work in disgust. i was so disappointed in ethel harper. i had expected that the daughter of such a fine family would be a real lady in every sense of the word--cultured, genuine, thoroughbred; and she had turned out to be nothing but a cheap imitation--slangy, ill-bred, snobbish, overdressed and made up like an actress. beyond her pretty, baby doll face there was nothing to her. there wasn't an ounce of brains in her poor flat head. and yet, she was tremendously popular in her own snobbish set, as i could gather from conversations around me, and by the invitations she was constantly receiving to festivities. although she was not formally out in society, i knew that she went out to dances with men very often, when her mother thought that she was spending the night with girl friends. i found that out from telephone conversations ethel carried on when her mother was out of the way. it was plain to be seen that ethel had only one ambition in the world, and that was to have a good time, regardless of how she got it. it wasn't any of my business, of course, but i couldn't help wondering what mrs. harper would do if she knew about some of ethel's little excursions. mrs. harper had a flinty sort of nature and you only had to look into those cold eyes of hers to know that it would go hard with anyone who had displeased her. one morning i had a good chance to see her when she was roused. a cloisonné locket belonging to mrs. harper had disappeared from her jewel box and she had accused her maid, clarice, of taking it. clarice, frightened out of her wits, was tearfully protesting her innocence, but mrs. harper towered over her like a fury, threatening to hand her over to the police. ethel, sitting in a rocking chair polishing her finger nails, listened indifferently. i felt embarrassed to witness this painful scene and stood irresolute, unable to decide whether to go out or stay, when mrs. harper turned to me and said, "make out a check for clarice's wages for the month and deduct twenty-five dollars from it, the value of the locket she stole. then insert an advertisement in the papers for a new maid." clarice, with a fresh burst of grief, declared again that she knew nothing about the locket, and begged not to be sent away with a black character, because she had a paralyzed sister to support, but mrs. harper was unmoved. out went clarice, bag and baggage, crying as she went and still declaring her innocence. "these maids will steal you blind, if you give them a chance," said mrs. harper, still bristling with anger. "i never did like clarice," remarked ethel with a yawn. the next day mrs. harper went out during the morning and ethel called me to help her pack her visiting bag. she was going to spend the week-end with a girl friend. no new maid had come to take clarice's place as yet, so ethel took advantage of my not having much work to do for her mother that morning to press me into service. "i can't find my wrist watch," she said as i came in. "i don't know whether i put it in the bag or not, and i haven't time to look. will you look through the bag while i finish dressing?" i pawed carefully through the bag, and brought to light, not the wrist watch, but the cloisonné locket, which mrs. harper had accused clarice of taking. "why, ethel," i said delightedly, "here is your mother's locket! clarice didn't steal it after all. it was down in your bag." "i know it was," said ethel coolly. "i put it there." "_you_ put it there?" i echoed. "did you find it, then?" ethel laughed disagreeably. "i had it all the while," she said. "i'm going to a dance to-night that mamma doesn't know anything about, and i've set my heart on wearing that locket. mamma will never let me wear it; it was brought to her from paris by an old friend that's dead now, and she's afraid i'll lose it. so i just took it out of her jewel box the other day and made her believe clarice took it." "ethel!" i exclaimed in horror. "how could you? how could you sit there and hear your mother accuse poor clarice of taking it?" ethel shrugged her shoulders. "i never did like clarice," she said. "she was an impertinent piece. it served her right. put the locket back in the bag. i've got to start in a minute." but i didn't budge. i stood looking at her until she looked the other way. with all her millions and all her fine connections, i despised ethel harper as if she had been a crawling worm. i didn't want to get mixed up in anything that wasn't my business, but i had no intention of letting poor clarice remain under a cloud. "i'm not going to put it back in the bag," i replied firmly. "i'm going to take it right back to your mother when she comes home. she must know that it isn't stolen so she can make things right with clarice." "don't you dare tell mamma," said ethel furiously. "she'll kill me if she knows i've got it. give it to me, i say." she tried to snatch it out of my hand, but i kept hold of it. "give it to me, you impertinent little stenographer, you!" she shrieked. it was getting disgraceful. i tried to save a shred of dignity. i laid the locket on the dresser and faced ethel steadily. i still had a vivid memory of clarice's distressed face as she went out that day. "you have done clarice a wrong," i said firmly, "and it must be righted. i'll give you your choice. either you take the locket back to your mother or i'll tell her where it is." ethel changed her tactics and tried to bribe me. "i'll give you a dozen pairs of silk stockings if you don't say anything to mamma about it and let her go on thinking it's stolen, so i can wear it whenever i please," she offered. i longed to choke her. "don't you try to bribe me, ethel harper," i said severely. "i've got a code of honor, even if i am a poor stenographer, which is more than you have, with all your millions." "some more of your campfire stuff," she said sneeringly. "you bet it is 'campfire stuff,'" i replied hotly. "you see that little pin? one of things it says is 'be trustworthy.' if i let clarice be unjustly accused i wouldn't be worthy of that pin. remember! either you tell your mother or i do." and i started for the door. ethel changed her tune again and began to cry. "everybody is so horrid to me," she sobbed. "mamma will never let me go anywhere i want to go or wear what i want to wear, and the servants won't do what i tell them. even my mother's stenographer bosses me around! i wish i was dead!" but i was firm in my championship of clarice. "you'll have to tell," i repeated. "i see your mother coming in now." ethel began to look frightened. "i'll not tell her i took it, she'd kill me," she whined. "i'll tell her i just found it and she can take back what she said to clarice." i looked her steadily in the eyes. she flushed and looked down. "i suppose you'll go and tell anyway, you old tattletale," she said savagely. "i'll get even with you for this, see if i don't!" she ran out of the room and i didn't see her again for several days. however, i knew the locket had gone back where it belonged, because mrs. harper had me send clarice a check for twenty-five dollars, with the brief statement that the locket had been found. right there was where i lost some of my regard for mrs. harper. she never apologized to clarice for accusing her wrongfully; never offered to do anything to make it up to her. she just sent that cold little note and the check. a real thoroughbred would have acknowledged herself to be in the wrong, but mrs. harper couldn't bring herself to apologize to a servant. the affair blew over and i never heard clarice mentioned again. i grew to like my work more and more, as the days went by, and gradually learned to handle quite a bit of it myself. mrs. harper was very busy; she did a great deal of red cross and other war work, besides keeping up in all her clubs, and she got into the habit of telling me what to say to people and letting me write the letters myself. early in march she went out of town to a convention and left me with a great many letters to write to various people, telling me to sign her name for her. i took very great pains with all those letters so as to be sure to say the right things to the right people, and i felt satisfied when the week was out that i had done myself credit. accordingly, it struck me like a thunderbolt when, several days after her return, mrs. harper came to me, blazing with anger, and demanded to know what i meant by writing such letters in her absence. startled, i asked her what she referred to. "you wrote mr. samuel butler that if he didn't hurry and pay up his subscription to the red cross mr. harper would pay it for him and take it out of his next bill," said mrs. harper furiously. "mr. butler is insulted and has withdrawn his subscription of ten thousand dollars to the perkins settlement house, which i am trying so hard to establish. whatever possessed you to write such a letter?" "i never wrote a letter like that," i replied with spirit. "i wrote mr. butler a very polite, respectful reminder that his pledge was due this month; i never mentioned mr. harper or anything about paying it and taking the amount out of any bill." i was completely at sea. "you _did_ write that letter!" declared mrs. harper angrily. "how dare you deny it? mr. butler showed it to me. it was written on this very stationery, on this typewriter with the green ribbon, and signed with my name in the way you sign it. you wrote it to be funny, i suppose. well, i can tell you that i can't have anything like that. i won't have any further need for your services." she was so positive i had written it that i began to have an awful feeling that i might have written it in my sleep. you know what strange things i do in my sleep sometimes. but all the while i knew who had done it. ethel harper had sworn to get even with me for making her tell her mother about the locket. she had written that letter in place of the one i had written. i remembered that one day while mrs. harper was away i had been called downstairs and kept talking for over an hour to one of mrs. harper's committee members who had undertaken to distribute some literature and came for instructions. during that time ethel would have had plenty of chance to read through my mail upstairs. i started to tell mrs. harper that i suspected someone else of writing it, intending to lead gently up to the subject of ethel, but mrs. harper scoffed at the idea. "there isn't anyone else in the house who can run the typewriter," she said flatly. this was untrue. ethel could run it; she had done so several times when i was there. but what was the use of accusing ethel when her mother wouldn't believe it anyway? i realized the hopelessness of trying to convince mrs. harper of something she didn't want to believe. "and further," continued mrs. harper, "i have found that you have not been attending strictly to business. ethel tells me that you often go over to her room when she is there and stand and talk to her instead of giving your time to my work." "little snake-in-the-grass!" i thought vengefully. i had never gone to her room unless she had called me to do something. i made up my mind i wouldn't stay there another minute. i didn't have to work for such people. i drew myself up stiffly. "if you believe such things, mrs. harper," i said icily, "there can be no business relations between us. i shall not even take the trouble to prove the truth about that letter. i shall go immediately." and go i did. i knew mr. barrett would be very much put out over the affair, because he seemed to think mrs. harper had done his school an honor by hiring one of his pupils, but what was i to do? stay there and be the scapegoat for all ethel's sins. not while i had feet to walk away on. as i went down the steps i met ethel coming up. she looked at me with a meaning expression and a triumphant smile. she had kept her word and gotten even with me. i felt badly over it, of course, for who can lose a good position and not be cut up about it? i suppose i must have looked pretty doleful for a couple of days, because i met mrs. anderson, that friend of nyoda's, who used to lend us so many "props" for our winnebago performances, on the street and she asked me right away what was the matter. "you're lonesome for those friends of yours," she went on, without giving me a chance to answer. "i'm lonesome, too," she went on. "my husband has been in washington all winter. come out and spend a few days with me. you used to be pretty good company, if i remember rightly." she persuaded me and i went. you remember the anderson place out on the east shore, don't you? we were all out there once last year. perfect duck of a house all made of soft gray shingles and seven acres of garden and woods around it. i tramped all over the place through the march mud, looking for signs of spring, and had a perfectly glorious time. "there's one sign of spring, over there," said mrs. anderson, who was with me on one of my tramps. "where?" i asked, looking around. "young man's fancy," said mrs. anderson with a laugh of tolerant amusement, "lightly turning to thoughts of love. look up on the barn there." i looked where she pointed, and saw a boy of about eighteen standing on the roof of the barn gazing off into space through a field glass. he had a white flag tied to his right wrist, which he was waving over his head, like the soldiers do when they signal. "who is he and what is he doing?" i asked. "that's peter, the boy who helps around the stable," replied mrs. anderson. "he's sending messages to his lady love. a certain combination of flourishes means 'i love you,' and another means 'meet me to-night,' and so on. he told john, my chauffeur, about it, and john told me." "how silly!" said i, with a laugh for poor lovesick peter. "who is the object of his affection?" "some servant girl from the next estate," replied mrs. anderson. "they carry on their affair through field glasses and with signals. they think they are having a thrilling romance." "disgusting!" said i. "how could any girl make such a fool of herself where everybody can see her!" mrs. anderson laughed indulgently, but i could feel her scorn underneath it. "some girls will sell every scrap of dignity they have for what they consider a good time, my dear," she said, laying her hand on my arm in a motherly way. we left romeo on the barn flourishing out his messages in the late march sunshine and wandered over to the next estate. there was a new litter of prize bull pups over there and mrs. anderson had promised that i should see them before i went home. a creek divided the two estates, which we crossed on a little foot bridge. the path led along beside the creek for a while until the little stream widened out into a beautiful pond, big enough for boating. a pier had been built at one side of the pond, running out into the water. someone was standing out on the end of the pier, and as we came up we saw that we had discovered the other half of the romance. a girl, with a field glass held to her eyes and a white flag tied around her right wrist, was signalling in the direction of the anderson barn, the roof of which was visible in the distance, beyond mrs. anderson's apple orchard. something about the girl was familiar, even in the distance, and as we came near i recognized the mink coat that i had seen many times lately. there was no doubt about it. the girl on the end of the pier was ethel harper. i stood still, too much disgusted to speak. ethel harper, the daughter of one of the "first" families, with the best social position in the city, her mother prominent in all great uplift movements, carrying on a vulgar flirtation with mrs. anderson's stable boy! so this was the great romance she had been hinting about at various times! randall--that was the name of the girl she was intimate with; this was the randall place. she had been coming here so often for the sake of the boy next door. did she know he was an ignorant servant? i doubted it. anything in men's clothes set her silly head awhirl. i wished her haughty mother could have seen her then. mrs. anderson suddenly laughed out loud and at that ethel turned around and saw us. she gave a great start as she recognized me, took a step backward and fell off the end of the pier into the pond, disappearing with a shriek into the deep water. i slipped out of my coat, threw off my shoes and went in after her. the water was so icy i could hardly swim at first. when i did get hold of her it was a battle royal to get her back to the pier. she was so weighted down by the fur coat and she struggled so fiercely that several times i thought we were both going down. mrs. anderson threw us a plank and with its help i finally got her to the pier. "now run for your life!" i ordered, my own teeth chattering in my head. "drop that wet coat and i'll race you to the house." she didn't move nearly fast enough to avoid a chill and i took hold of her hand and pulled her along. up in a cosy bedroom in the randall's house we sat up, some hours later, wrapped in blankets, and looked at each other gravely. mrs. anderson had been in and talked with ethel like a big sister about the cheapness of carrying on flirtations with strange boys. ethel had seen her little affair in its true light, robbed of all romance, and shame had taken hold of her. mrs. anderson explained how the gallant romeo had seen his juliet fall into the pond and had fled basely in the other direction for fear he would be blamed, making no effort to rescue her, and she might have been drowned if i hadn't fished her out. ethel had been frightened out of her wits when she fell into the water; she was still suffering from the shock. she flushed hotly as she caught my glance, and cast down her eyes. "thank you, miss brewster, for saving my life," she said rather shame-facedly. then she went on in a low tone, "i want to tell you something. i wrote that letter to mr. butler,--the one that made mamma so angry." "i know," i answered gravely. "you knew, and you jumped into the water after me anyway?" she said in a tone of unbelief. "why, you might have let me drown as easy as not." "o no, i mightn't," i answered. "that isn't the way a camp fire girl gets even." ethel was silent a long while. then she said, "will you come back to our house after i have told mother the whole thing? she misses you a lot, says she never had anyone do her work so well as you did it, and she has been in a terrible temper ever since you left." "i don't know," i answered slowly. i had been very deeply hurt and my foolish pride was still on its hind legs. "will you please come?" pleaded ethel, slipping out of her chair and putting her arms around me. "we can have such good times after your work hours. please, for my sake, i want you. you're the most wonderful girl i've ever met!" old mr. pride and i had a final round and we came out with me sitting on his head. "i'll come back," i said, slipping my arm around ethel. so you see, katherine, adventure isn't dead, not by any means, even if you do have to take it along with your bread and butter. loads of love from your stenographic friend, sadie shorthander, once upon a time your sahwah. katherine to the winnebagos april , --. dearest winnies: daggers and dirks! did i say it was dull out here? deluded mortal! for the past week it's been so strenuous that i have seriously considered moving to bedlam for a rest. if i'm not gray by the time i'm thirty it'll be because i'm bald. as mistress of ceremonies your humble servant is a rather watery success. you know from sad experience my fatal fondness for trying new and startling experiments and also my genius for leaving the most important things undone. remember the time i was lemonade committee when we climbed windy hill and i carefully provided water and sugar and spoons and glasses, and no lemons? and the time i hid the unwashed dishes in the oven at aunt anna's and then went home with gladys and forgot all about them, and aunt anna nearly had spasms because she thought her silverware had been stolen? and the time we went to ellen's isle and i mislaid the vital portion of my traveling suit half an hour before the train started and had to go in a borrowed suit that didn't fit? every time little katherine was given something to do she either forgot to do it altogether, or else did it in such a way as to make herself ridiculous. the memory of all those things rose up and oppressed me after i had undertaken to stage a patriotic pageant for the township of spencer. i was so afraid i would do something that would turn it into a farce that i began to have nightmares the minute i sank to weary slumber. it was a daring idea, this patriotic pageant. since history began there had never been a pageant, patriotic or otherwise, in this section. most of the folks had never seen a circus, or a show, or a parade; so there was nobody to give me any help except justice. i myself would never have thought of tackling it, but no sooner had my camp fire girls gotten absorbed in red cross work, and been thrilled by reading accounts of what camp fire girls were doing in other sections, than they begged me to get up a pageant. i had my misgivings, but, being a winnebago, i couldn't back out. a pageant it should be, if it cost my head. (it pretty nearly did, but not in the way i had feared.) justice sherman hailed the plan with delight. "go to it," he encouraged. "i'm with you to the bitter end. i've never done it before but i'll never begin any younger. "'there is a tide in the affairs of schoolma'ams, that, taken at the flood, leads on to pageants.' "lead on macduff! trot out the order of events." at justice's suggestion i summed up all the possibilities. "there isn't much to work with," i said thoughtfully, having counted up all my assets on the fingers of one hand. "just ten camp fire girls, about as many boys, one trick mule, and--you." "so glad i know, right at the outset, just where i come in," said justice politely, "after the mule." "sandhelo's got his red, white and blue pompom that the girls sent him for christmas," i went on, ignoring justice's gibe. "we could make red, white and blue harness for him, too." "if only he doesn't get temperamental!" said justice fervently. "the girls could wear their red cross caps and aprons in one part of it," i continued, "and flags draped on them when they act out 'the spirit of columbia.' one of the girls can wear her ceremonial gown and be the spirit of nature that comes to tell the others the secret of the soil that will help them win the war. oh, ideas are coming to me faster than flies to molasses." "would you advise me to wear my ceremonial gown or my red cross apron and cap?" asked justice soberly. "i could braid my hair in two pig-tails--" "oh, justice!" i interrupted, "if you only had a soldier's uniform!" then, as i saw justice wince and the laughter die out of his eyes, i stopped abruptly and changed the subject. it was an awfully sore point with him that he had been rejected for the army. "we'll have a flag raising, of course, and tableaux," i rushed on. "would you put the flag on the schoolhouse, or set up a pole in the ground?" "i think on the schoolhouse," said justice, with a return of interest. "that's where it belongs." justice and i held more conferences in the next day or so than the king and his prime minister. lessons in the little schoolhouse were abandoned while we drilled and rehearsed for the pageant. justice and i put together and bought the flag. "who's going to raise it?" asked justice, shaking the beautiful bright starry folds out of the package. i considered. "i think the pupil that has the best record in school should raise it," suggested justice. "i think," i said slowly, "i'll let absalom butts raise it." "absalom butts!" exclaimed justice incredulously. "the laziest, meanest, most mischievous boy in school! i wouldn't let him be in the pageant, if i had my way, let alone raise the flag." "exactly," i said calmly. "you're just like the rest of them. that's the whole trouble with absalom butts. he's been used to harsh measures all his life. his father has cuffed him about ever since he can remember. everybody considers him a bad boy and a terror to snakes and all that and now he acts the part thoroughly. he's so homely that nobody will ever be attracted to him by his looks, and such a poor scholar that he will never make a name for himself at his lessons, and the only way he can make himself prominent is through his pranks. he's too old to be in school with the rest of the children; he should be with boys of his own age. his father makes him stay there because he is too obstinate to admit that he will never get out by the graduation route, and absalom takes out his spite on the teacher. i can read him like a book. i've tried fighting him to a finish on every point and it hasn't worked. he's still ready to break out at a moment's notice. now i'm going to change my tactics. i'm going to appoint him, as the oldest pupil, to be my special aid in the pageant, and help work out the details. i'm going to honor him by letting him raise the flag. we'll see how that will change his mind about playing pranks to spoil the pageant." "it won't work," said justice gloomily. "absalom butts is absalom butts, the son of elijah butts; and a chip off the old block. the old man has a mean, crafty disposition, and he probably was just like absalom when he was young. absalom is going to do something to spoil that pageant, i see it in his eye. you watch." "it's worth trying, anyhow," i said determinedly. "it won't work," reiterated justice. "you can't change human nature." "it worked once," i said, and i told him about the dalrymple twins, antha and anthony, last summer on ellen's isle. "so you turned little cry-baby into a lion of bravery and sir boastful into a modest violet!" said justice, in a tone of incredulity. "yes, and if you'd ever seen them at the beginning of the summer you wouldn't have held any high hopes of changing human nature, either," i remarked, a little nettled at justice's tone. justice started to reply, but was seized with a violent fit of coughing that left him leaning weakly against the door. i looked at him in some alarm. i knew it was throat trouble that had kept him out of the army, but it hadn't seemed to be anything to worry about--just a dry, hacking cough from time to time. now, standing out there in the brilliant sunshine, he looked very white and haggard. "you're all tired out, you've been working too hard," i said, remembering how he had been putting in time after school hours working in elijah butts' cotton storehouse, because it was impossible to get enough men to handle the cotton. then, by drilling my boys and girls by the hour in military marching and running countless errands for me--poor justice was in danger of being sacrificed on the altar of my ambition. "i'm a selfish thing!" i said vehemently. "nonsense!" said justice, holding up his head and beginning to fold up the flag. "i got choked with dust, that's all." manlike, he hated to display any sign of physical weakness before a girl. i decided to say no more about it, but i knew he needed rest. "sit down a minute," i said artfully, sinking down on the doorsill, "and keep me 'mused. i'm tired to death. tell me all the news in the metropolis of spencer." justice fell into the trap. he sat down beside me and launched into a lively imitation of elijah butts convincing the school board that the old school books were better than the new ones some venturous soul had suggested. "if he only knew how you took him off behind his back, he wouldn't confide in you so trustingly," said i. "that's what comes of being a bargain," replied justice loftily. "great ones linger in my presence, anxious to breathe the same air. the board coddles me like a rare bit of old china and proudly exhibits me to visitors. "oh, by the way," he added, "i hear there's a stranger in town." i looked up with interest. "fine or superfine?" i asked. "superfine," replied justice. "where from?" i inquired. "like shelley's immortal soul," replied justice solemnly, "she cometh from afar. she cometh to study rural school conditions--sent out by some commission or other. she's likely to visit your school. thought i'd tell you ahead of time so you'd manage to be on the premises when the delegation arrived. she might object to hunting through the woods for you." here we were both overcome with laughter at the remembrance of the last "visitation" of the school board. "i can't figure out yet why i wasn't fired," said i, flicking a sociable spider off my lap with the stem of a leaf. "i would have been willing to bet my eyebrows on it that night. what made them change their minds, i wonder?" "maybe it was because they hated to lose the bargain," answered justice, half to himself. "hated to lose what bargain?" i asked innocently. then suddenly i understood. "justice sherman!" i exclaimed, starting up. "did you threaten to leave if they discharged me?" justice turned crimson and became reticent. "well, i don't know as i threatened them exactly," he replied in a soothing drawl. "i don't look very threatening, now, do i?" "oh, justice," was all i could say, for at the thought of what he had done for me i was stricken dumb. verily the power of the bargain was great in the land! the pageant grew under our hands until it assumed really respectable proportions. the girls and boys were wild about it and drilled tirelessly by the hour. "i wish we had a better parade ground," sighed justice regretfully, squinting at the small level plot of ground in front of the schoolhouse that was worn bare of grass. "we haven't room to make a really effective showing with our drill. if only the old schoolhouse wasn't in the way we could use the space that's behind it and on both sides of it." it was then that i had one of my old-time, wild inspirations. "move the schoolhouse back," i said calmly. justice shouted. "why not roll up the road and set it down on the other side of field?" he suggested. "i don't see why we couldn't move the schoolhouse back," i repeated. "why not, if it's in the way? it's no ornament, anyway." half-amused, half-serious, justice looked first at me and then at the little one-story shack that went by the name of schoolhouse. "by jove! we can do it!" he exclaimed suddenly. "it'll be no trick at all. just get her up on rollers and hitch sandhelo to the pulley rope and let him wind her up. just like that. an' zay say ze french have no sense of ze delicasse!" "what will the board say?" i inquired, half fearfully. "we won't ask the board," replied justice calmly. "move first, ask for orders afterwards, that's the way the great generals win battles. remember how general sherman cut the wires between him and washington when he started out on his famous march to the sea, so that no short-sighted one could wire him to change his plans? well, we're out to make this pageant a success, and we aren't going to risk it by stopping to ask too much permission. we'll move the schoolhouse first and ask permission afterward. by that time it'll be too late; the pageant is to-morrow." and we did move it. if you had ever seen us! it wasn't such a job as you might think. i suppose the word "schoolhouse" conjures up in your mind the brick and granite pile that is washington high--imagine moving that out of the way to make room for a military drill! 'vantage number one for our school. we also have our points of superiority, it seems. the old shack looked vastly better where we finally let it rest. there was a clump of bushes alongside that hid some of its battered boards beautifully. the parade ground seemed about three times as big as it had been before. "that's more like it," said justice approvingly. "now we can turn around without stubbing our toes against the schoolhouse." "what will mr. butts say?" i asked, beginning to have cold chills. "just wait until that gets between the wind and his nobility!" chuckled justice. "never mind, i'll take all the blame." nevertheless, when the crisis came, and elijah butts came driving up on the afternoon of the great occasion, i was there to face the music alone, justice being nowhere in sight. mr. and mrs. butts arrived in state, bringing with them a strange lady, who i figured out must be the one justice had told me about, the one who, like shelley's immortal soul, had come from afar and was sent by a commission to study rural school conditions. i glanced wildly about to see if justice were not hovering protectingly near, but there was no sign of him. however, i knew my duties as hostess. nonchalantly i strolled over to the road to welcome the newcomers. elijah butts had just finished tying his horse and, bristling with importance, had turned to help the commission lady out of the rig. "ah-h, miss fairlee," he said in smooth tones, "this is--ah--miss adams, our teacher at the corners school." then he suddenly jumped half out of his boots and stared over my shoulder as if he had seen a ghost. "where's that schoolhouse?" he demanded, in a voice which seemed to indicate he thought i had it in my pocket. "it's right over there," i said calmly, pointing toward the bushes. elijah butts' eyes followed my fingers in a fascinated way; he could hardly believe his senses. "how did it get there?" he demanded. "we moved it back," i replied casually. "it was in the way of the maneuvers." elijah butts sputtered, choked, and was speechless. but miss fairlee, the commission lady, laughed until she had to grip the side of the buggy for support. "it's the funniest thing i ever heard," she gasped. "i've heard of the mountain coming to mahomet, but i never heard of the mountain getting out of the road for mahomet. oh, mr. butts, i think the west is delightful. you people are _so_ original and forceful!" that took the wind out of mr. butts' sails. what could he do after that neat little speech but take the compliment to himself and pass the matter off lightly? the pageant was a wonderful success in spite of my misgivings. i didn't forget to hand the torch to columbia at the right moment and i didn't forget to bring the brown stockings for little lizzie cooper, who was the spirit of nature, and i made fire with the bow and drill without any mishap. but one thing was a dreadful disappointment to me. absalom butts was not there, and i had no chance to work out my experiment on him. where he was i couldn't imagine. i had taken clarissa home with me the night before to help me finish some things and she hadn't seen him since he went home from school; mr. butts also said he didn't know. he added, in a voice loud enough for miss fairlee to hear, that he would lick the tar out of him for not being in the patriotic pageant. no one knew that i had picked absalom in my mind to raise the flag. there had been much speculation about who was to have this honor and in order to keep everybody happy i said i would not announce this until the moment came. then i planned to make a speech and award the honor to absalom, thus singling him out for something besides punishment for once in his life. i had had him helping me for several days, and given him certain definite things to do on the great occasion and was much disappointed that he didn't come to do them. justice's warning came back and i had an uneasy feeling that he was in hiding somewhere, plotting mischief. i had a real inspiration, though, in regard to the flag raising. in a flowery speech i called upon mr. elijah butts, the "president of the school board and the most influential man in spencer township," to perform that rite. he swelled up until he almost burst, like the frog in the fable, as he stood there, conscious of miss fairlee's eye on him, with his great hairy hand on the pulley rope. round the corner of the schoolhouse and hidden from view by the bush, i caught justice sherman's eye and he applauded silently with his two forefingers, meaning to say that it was a master stroke on my part. then he dropped his eye decorously and started the singing of the national anthem. the pageant ended up in a picnic supper eaten on the erstwhile parade ground, and then the people began to go home through the softly falling dusk. miss fairlee came to me and complimented me on the success of the pageant and asked to take some notes for future use; and elijah butts was quite cordial as he departed. i've discovered something to-day; if you want to win a person's undying affection, single him out as the most important member of the bunch. he'll fall for it every time. you note that i am talking about male persons, now. "well, the show's over," said justice, when the last of the audience had departed. "now the actors can take it easy. come on, let's get sandhelo and go for a ride." we climbed into the little cart, still covered with its pageant finery, and drove slowly down the dusty road, discussing the events of the day. "o justice," said i, "did you ever see anything so touching as the pride some of those poor women took in their boys and girls? they fairly glowed, some of them. and did you see that one poor woman who tried to fix herself up for the occasion? she had nothing to wear but her faded old blue calico dress, but she had pinned a bunch of roses on the front of it to make herself look festive." "we've started something, i think," said justice thoughtfully. "we've taught the people how to get together and have a good time, and they like it. they'll be doing it again." "i hope so," i replied. then i added, "i wonder where absalom was?" "you see, your scheme didn't work after all," said justice, in an i-told-you-so tone of voice. "absalom wasn't impressed with the honor of being your right-hand man. he took the occasion to play hookey. it's a wonder he didn't try to play some trick on the rest of us; but i suppose he didn't dare, with his father there. he's afraid to draw a crooked breath when the old man's around." "i'm disappointed," i said pensively, leaning my head back and letting the cool wind blow the hair away from my face. it had been a strenuous day and i was tired out. the strain of being afraid every minute that i would do something ridiculous or had left something undone that was of vital importance had nearly turned my hair grey. now that it was all over without mishap, the people had enjoyed it and my camp fire girls had covered themselves with glory, i relaxed into a delicious tranquillity and gave myself over to enjoyment of the quiet drive in the sweet evening air. "why so deucedly pensive?" inquired justice, after we had jogged along for some minutes in silence. "just thanking whatever gods there be that i didn't make a holy show of myself somehow," i replied lazily. "isn't this evening peaceful, though? who would ever think that down around the other side of this sweet smelling earth men are killing each other like flies, and the night is hideous with the din of warfare?" above us the big white stars twinkled serenely, approvingly; all nature seemed in tune with my placid mood. justice fell under the spell of it, too, and leaned back in silent enjoyment. what was that sudden glare that shone out against the sky, over to the south? that red, lurid glare that dimmed the glory of the stars and threw buildings and barns into black relief? "the cotton storehouse!" exclaimed justice in a horrified voice. "hurry!" for once sandhelo responded to my urging without argument, and we soon arrived on the scene of the blaze. elijah butts' plantation is about three miles from spencer, and no water but the well and the cistern. "this is going to be a nice mess," said justice, jumping out of the car and charging into the throng of gaping negroes who stood around watching the spectacle. the family of butts had not returned from the pageant yet, having taken miss fairlee for a drive in the opposite direction. a few neighbors had gathered, but they stood there, gaping like the negroes and not lifting a hand to save the cotton. "here you, get busy!" shouted justice, taking command like a general. under his direction a bucket brigade was formed to check the flames as much as possible and keep the surrounding sheds from taking fire. "go through the barn and bring out the horses and cows, if there are any there," he called to me. i obeyed, and brought out one poor trembling bossy, the only livestock i found. then justice turned the command of the bucket brigade over to me and started in with one or two helpers to remove the cotton from the end of the storehouse that was not yet ablaze. he worked like a trojan, his face blackened with smoke until it was hard to tell him from the negroes, the remains of his pageant costume hanging about him in tatters. "somebody started this fire on purpose," he panted as he paused beside me a moment to clear his lungs of smoke. "there's been oil poured on the cotton!" just at that moment the butts family returned, driving into the yard at a gallop. mr. butts' wrath and excitement knew no bounds and he was hardly able to help effectively; he ran around for all the world like a chicken with its head off. assistance came swiftly as people began to arrive from far and near, attracted by the blaze, but if it hadn't been for justice's timely taking hold of the situation not a bit of the cotton would have been saved, and the house, barn and sheds would have gone up, too. conjectures began to fly thick and fast on all sides as to how the fire had started, and a whisper began going the rounds that soon became an open accusation. one of the negroes that works for mr. butts swore he saw absalom going into the storehouse that afternoon. my heart skipped a beat. he had not been at the celebration. was this where he had been and what he had done the while? elijah butts was stamping up and down in such a fury as i had never seen. "he couldn't get out!" he shouted hoarsely to the group that stood around him. "he's locked in the woodshed, i locked him in there myself, and there isn't even a window he could get out of!" i started at his words. so that was where absalom had been that afternoon. he hadn't deliberately disappointed me, then. but--elijah butts hadn't said that afternoon that he had locked absalom up at home. he had pretended to be much mystified over the non-appearance of his son. why had he done so? the answer came in a flash of intuition. elijah butts had probably had a set-to with absalom over some private affair and had locked him up as punishment, but he didn't want miss fairlee to know that he had kept him out of the patriotic pageant and so he had denied any knowledge of absalom's whereabouts. "the old hypocrite!" i said to myself scornfully. "your woodshed's wide open," said someone from the crowd. "we were in there looking for a bucket. the door was open and there wasn't nobody in it." "he got out!" shouted elijah butts in still greater fury. "he got out and set fire to the cotton to spite me! wait until i catch him! wait till i get my hands on him!" he stamped up and down, shouting threats against his son, awful to listen to. "i thought he'd drive that boy to turn against him yet," said justice, drawing me away to a quiet spot, and mopping his black forehead with a damp handkerchief. "i can't say but that it served him right. after all, absalom is a chip off the old block. that's his idea of getting even. he didn't stop to think that it was the government's loss as well as his father's. well, it's all over but the shouting; we might as well go home." we drove home in silence. justice was tuckered out, i could see that, and i began to worry for fear his strenuous efforts would lay him up. i was still too much excited to feel tired. that would come later. all my energy was concentrated into disappointment over absalom butts. i couldn't believe that he was really as bad as this. i didn't want to believe he had done it, and yet it seemed all too true. why had he run away if he hadn't? i shook my head. it was beyond me. silently we drove into the yard and unhitched sandhelo. "good night," said justice, starting off in the direction of his cabin. "good night," i replied absently. i did not go right into the house. i was wide awake and knew i could not go to sleep for some time. instead i sat in the doorway and blinked at the moon, like a touseled-haired owl. it was after midnight and everything was still, even the wind. out of the corner of my eye i watched justice wearily plodding along to his sleeping quarters, saw him open the screen door and vanish from sight within. then, borne clearly on the night air, i heard an exclamation come from his lips, then a frightened cry. i sped down the path like the wind to the little cabin. a lamp flared out in the darkness just as i reached it and by its light i saw justice bending over something in a corner. "what's the matter?" i called through the screen door. justice turned around with a start. "oh, it's you, is it?" he said. "come in here." i went in. there, crouched in a corner on the floor, was absalom butts, his eyes blinking in the sudden light, his face like a scared rabbit's. it was he who had cried out, not justice. "what's the trouble, absalom," said i, trying to speak in a natural tone of voice, "can't you find your way home?" "dassent go home," replied absalom. "why not?" "pa'll kill me." "what for?" "because i ran away." "so you've run away, have you?" said i. "why?" "because pa licked me and locked me in the woodshed and wouldn't let me come to the doin's this afternoon, and i just wouldn't stand it, so i got out and cut." "when did you get out?" i asked, leaning forward a trifle. "this afternoon," replied absalom. "i thought first i'd come to the doin's anyhow and help you with those things i'd promised, but i was scared to come with pa there, so i went the other way. i walked and walked and walked, till i was tired out and most starved, because i hadn't brought anything along to eat, and i didn't know where i was headed for, anyway, and then i came along here and saw this shack and came in and sat down to rest. i must a fell asleep." "you didn't do it, then?" said i, eagerly. "do what?" absalom's tone was plainly bewildered. "set fire to your father's cotton storehouse." "whee-e-e-e-e!" absalom's whistle of astonishment was clearly genuine. "i should say not!" "do you know who did?" asked justice, watching him keenly. "_did_ somebody?" asked absalom innocently. "i should say they did," said justice, puzzled in his turn. "are you sure you don't know anything about it?" absalom shook his head vigorously. "i don't know anything about it," he said straightforwardly. "i was sure you didn't do it," i said triumphantly. "i had a feeling in my bones." "how does it happen that you weren't at the fire?" asked justice wonderingly. "you must have seen the glare in the sky. people came for miles around. didn't you see it?" absalom shook his head. "i must a slept through it," he said simply, and followed it with such a large sigh of regret for what he had missed that justice and i both had to smile. "well, there's one thing about it," said justice, "and that is, if you _didn't_ set fire to it, you'd better streak it for home about as fast as you can and clear yourself up. everybody thinks you did it and your running away made it look suspicious. besides, one of your father's men says he saw you coming out of the storehouse this afternoon. by the way, what _were_ you doing in there?" absalom met his gaze unwaveringly. "me? why, i went in there to get my knife, that i'd left in there yesterday. i couldn't go away without my knife, could i?" he pulled it from his pocket and gazed on it fondly,--an ugly old "toad stabber." "see here, you weren't smoking any cigarettes in there, and dropped a lighted stub, perhaps?" asked justice. "no," replied absalom, "i wasn't smokin' to-day. i do sometimes, though," he admitted. "well, you don't seem to be the villain, after all," said justice, "and i'm mighty glad to hear it. so will a lot of people be. things looked pretty bad for you this afternoon, absalom." "honest?" asked absalom. "do folks really think i set fire to it? what did pa say?" justice laughed. "what he isn't going to do to you when he catches you won't be worth doing," he said. absalom began to look apprehensive. "i'm afraid to go back," he said. "what are you afraid of, if you didn't do it?" asked justice. "pa wouldn't believe me," said absalom nervously. "oh, i guess he'll believe you all right," i said soothingly. "you go with me," begged absalom, eyeing us both beseechingly. "he'll believe you. he never believes me." "maybe we had better," said i. "he can stay here with you the rest of the night and we'll drive over the first thing in the morning." the next morning bright and early found us again on the scene of the fire. early as we were, we found elijah butts poking in the ashes of his cotton crop with a wrathful countenance. when he saw us coming he strode to meet us and without a word laid hold of absalom's collar. his expression was like that of a fox who has caught his goose after many hours of waiting. "i've got you, you rascal," he sputtered, shaking absalom until his teeth chattered. "where did you find him?" he demanded of justice. "in my bunk," replied justice, laying a hand on mr. butts' arm and trying to separate him from his son. "he had been there all evening, and knew nothing about the fire. he didn't do it." "didn't do it!" shouted mr. butts. "don't tell me he didn't do it. of course he did it! who else did?" we weren't prepared to answer. "i'm sure absalom didn't do it, mr. butts," said justice earnestly. "i'd stake a whole lot on it." "well, i wouldn't, you can better believe!" answered mr. butts. "he did it, and i'm going to take it out of him." he began to march absalom off toward the house, urging him along with a box on the ear that nearly felled him to the ground. justice did it so quickly that i never will be able to tell just what it was, but in a minute there stood elijah butts rubbing his wrist and wearing the most surprised look i ever saw on the face of a man, and there sat absalom on the ground half a dozen yards away. "beat it back to our shack, absalom," called justice. "i guess the climate's a little too hot around here for you just yet." absalom needed no second bidding. he sped down the road away from his paternal mansion as if the whole german army was after him. "when you can treat your son like a human being he'll come back," said justice to mr. butts. "he don't need to come back," said mr. butts sourly, but with fury carefully toned down. justice's use of an uncanny japanese wrestling trick to wrench absalom out of his vise-like grasp had created a vast respect in him. he wasn't quite sure what justice was going to do next, and eyed him warily for a possible attack in the rear. "he don't need to come back," he mumbled stubbornly, "until he either says he did it and takes what's coming to him, or finds out who did do it." growling to himself he went toward the house and we drove off to overtake absalom. "daggers and dirks!" exclaimed justice. "old butts sure is some knotty piece of timber to drive screws into!" it was a rather dejected trio that sandhelo, frisking in the morning air, carried back to the house. justice, i could see, was trying to figure out by calculus the probable result of having jiu-jitsu-ed the president of the school board; i was sorry for absalom and absalom was sorry for himself. once i caught him looking at me pleadingly. "_you_ don't think i done it?" he asked anxiously. "not for a minute!" i answered heartily, smiling into his eyes. he looked down, in a shame-faced way, and then he suddenly put his arm around my neck. "i'm sorry i treated you so horrid," he murmured. think of it! absalom, the bully, the one-time bane of my existence, the fly in the ointment, riding down the road with his arm around my neck, and me standing up for him against the world! don't things turn out queerly, though? who would ever have thought it possible, six months ago? absalom and i had quite a few long talks in the days that followed. he confided to me his hatred of lessons and his ambition to raise horses. father let him help him as much as he liked, and promised him a job on the place any time he wanted it. absalom seemed utterly transformed. he fooled around the horses day and night and showed a knack of handling them that proved beyond a doubt that he had chosen his profession wisely. i did not insist upon his going to school and was glad i hadn't; for in a day or two came the "visitation" of the board, bringing miss fairlee to see my school. she was absolutely enchanted with the way we conducted things; gasped with astonishment at the graphophone and the lantern slides; exclaimed in wonder at the library; listened approvingly to the reading lesson, which was from one of the current magazines; partook generously of our dinner, cooked and served in the most approved style, and laughed heartily at the stunts we did afterward by way of entertainment. i took a naughty satisfaction in showing off my changed curriculum for her approval and watching the effect it had on the august board members. none of them knew exactly what i had been doing all this time, and their amazement was immense. mr. butts did not come with the board this time, so i was spared the embarrassment of meeting him. without him the rest of the board were like sheep that had gotten separated from the bell-wether; they didn't know which direction to head into until miss fairlee expressed her unqualified approval of my methods; then they all endorsed it emphatically. "i wish i were a pupil again, so i could have you for a teacher!" said miss fairlee when school was out, and i considered that the highest compliment i had ever received. i immediately invited her to attend our ceremonial meeting that night and she accepted the invitation eagerly. we held it on the old parade ground in front of the school. in honor of our guest we acted out the pretty indian legend of kir-a-wa and the blackbirds and when we came to the place where we rush out looking for the two crows we found two real ones sitting on the fence, only, instead of attacking us as the ones did in the legend, these two applauded vigorously. they were justice and absalom, come with sandhelo and the cart to take me home, or rather what was left of me after the blackbirds had picked me to pieces. "another day gone without mishap!" i said, as justice slid back the stable door and i walked in with my arm around sandhelo's neck. "sandhelo will have to have a lump of sugar and an extra soft bed to celebrate. come on, sandy, let me tuck you in." but sandhelo would not enter his stall. he stuck his head in, sniffed the air, and then, with a squeal that always heralds an outbreak of temperament, he rose on his hind legs and began to dance. "whatever has gotten into him?" i began, tugging at his tail, which was the nearest thing i could get my hand onto, when suddenly a wild shriek rose up from under our very feet and in the dimness of the stall we saw something roll over and crouch in a corner. "quick, the lantern!" said justice. but we couldn't find it. then from the depths of the stall there came a voice, crying in terrified tones, "don' take me, mister debble; don' take me, mister debble, i done it, i done it; i set fiah to 'at ole cotton to get even with old mister butts fer settin' de dawgs on me; i done it, i done it; go 'way, mister debble, don' take me, i'll tell dem; only don' take me, mister debble!" justice and absalom and i stood frozen to the spot, listening to this remarkable outcry. then justice raised the lantern, which he just spied on the floor, and lighting it held it in the stall. by its flickering rays we saw a negro crouching in the corner, whose rolling eyes and trembling limbs showed him to be beside himself with fright. "glory!" exclaimed justice. "it's the same old bird we saw in the road that day, the one i said looked like mischief!" here sandhelo, nosing me aside, looked inquisitively over my shoulder and the darky immediately went into another spasm of fright, covering his face with his hands and imploring "mister debble" not to take him this time. "whee-e-e-e-!" said justice, whistling in his astonishment. "he's the one that fired the cotton and now he thinks sandhelo is the devil coming after him!" "mercy, what an awful creature!" said i, shuddering and looking the other way. "if sandhelo gets a good look at him i'm afraid he'll return the compliment about taking him for his satanic nibs." "there's only one way you can keep him from getting you," said justice to the darky gravely. "that's by going to mr. butts and telling him yourself that you did it. otherwise, it's good-bye, solomon." here sandhelo, as if he understood what was going on, suddenly snapped at the black legs stretched out across his stall. "i'll tell him, i'll tell him!" shuddered solomon, and with a prolonged howl of terror he fled from the stable and down the road in the direction of the butts plantation. "he'll tell him all right," chuckled justice. "he'll face a dozen elijah buttses, before he lets the devil get him. poor sandhelo! rather rough on him, though, to have his name used as a terror to evil doers!" talk about nothing ever happening around here! o you darling winnebagos, with your ladylike advantages, and your mildly eventful lives, you don't know what real excitement is! worn out, but happily yours, katherine. gladys to katherine april , --. dearest old k: the winnebagos have scored again, although it did take us nearly all year to make this particular basket. i know that if you had been here, you old miracle worker, you would have found the way before the first month had passed, but, not having your gift for seeing right through people's starched shirtwaists and straight into their hearts, we had to wait for chance to show us the way. and it turned out the way it usually does for the winnebagos--we stooped to pick up a common little stone and found a pearl of great price. of course, now there are lots of people who would like to be the setting for that pearl, but she belongs to the winnebagos by right of discovery and we mean to keep her for our very own. for, after all, who but the winnebagos could have discovered sally prindle, when up to that very week, day, hour and minute she hadn't even discovered herself? the chances are that she never would have, either, and what a shame it would have been! you remember my telling about sally prindle long ago, the time we tried to fix up her room for her and she wouldn't let us? of course she hurt our feelings, because we hadn't been trying to patronize her and didn't deserve to be snubbed, but we got over it in a day or two and saw her side of it. it probably _was_ annoying to have three separate delegations take notice of your poverty in one day, and there was no telling how tactless the first two had been. at the second meeting of the last of the winnebagos, held on and around oh-pshaw's bed, we formally decided, with much speechifying by agony and oh-pshaw, that sally would be the special object of our give service pledge. we would make her feel that we didn't care a rap whether she was poor or not; that it was she herself we cared about. we would ask her to share all our good times and would drop in to see her often, as good neighbors should, and would finally bring her around to the point where she would begin to seek beauty for herself, see that her bare room was too ugly for any good use, and gladly share our overflow with us. oh, we planned great things that night! "let's go over and call on her right away," suggested hinpoha, who was fired with enthusiasm at the plan and couldn't wait to begin the program of give service. off we went down the hall, filled with virtuous enthusiasm. sally was at home because we could see the light shining through the transom. "wait a minute, don't knock," whispered agony with a giggle. "i know a lot more epic way." she pulled a candy kiss from her pocket, scribbled an absurd note on a piece of paper about weary travelers waiting at the gate, tied it to the kiss and threw it through the transom. we heard it strike the floor and heard sally rise from a creaking chair and pick it up. giggling, we waited for her to come and let us in. in a minute her footsteps came toward the door and with comradely smiles we stepped forward. the door was opened a very small crack, and out flew the kiss, much faster than it had gone in. it just missed hinpoha's nose by a hair's breadth and fell on the floor with a spiteful thud. then the door slammed emphatically. we looked at each other in consternation. "whee-e-e-e-e-!" said agony in a long-drawn whistle. "horrid--old--thing!" said hinpoha, picking up the kiss from the floor and holding it up for us to see that the note had never been opened. feeling both foolish and hurt we trailed back home and sadly gave up the idea of giving service to sally prindle. "let her alone, she isn't worth worrying about," said hinpoha, beginning to be just as cross as she had been enthusiastic before. "she hasn't a spark of sociability in her." "there are hermit souls----" began oh-pshaw, and agony cut in with "twinkle, twinkle, little sal, how we'd like to be your pal, but you hold your nose so high you don't see us passing by." that ended sally prindle as far as the last of the winnebagos were concerned. but i had an uncomfortable feeling all the time that if nyoda had been there she would have managed to become friendly with sally in some way, and that we had failed to "warm the heart" of this "lonely mortal" who "stood without our open portal." sally haunted me. how any girl could live and not be friendly with the people she saw every day was more than i could understand. she just grubbed away at her lessons, paid no attention to what went on around her, snubbed any girl who tried to make advances and lived a life of lofty detachment. she was a good student and invariably recited correctly when called upon, but beyond that none of the teachers could get a particle of warmth out of her, not even fascinating miss allison, who has all her classes worshipping at her feet. sally worried me for a while; then she moved out of purgatory and took a room with some private family in town and as i hardly ever saw her any more i forgot her after a time. life is so _very_ full here, katherine dear, that you can't bother much about any one person. of course, the big thought that runs through everything this year, all our work and all our play, is the war and what we can do to help. at the beginning of the year brownell pledged herself to raise five thousand dollars for the red cross by various activities; this was outside of the personal subscription fund. a big christmas bazaar and several benefit performances brought the total close to four thousand, but the last thousand proved to be a sticker. various committees were called to discuss ways and means of raising the money, but they never could agree on anything for the whole college to do together, and finally abandoned the quest for a bright idea and decided to let everybody raise money in any way they could think of and put it all together to make up the total. the board of trustees offered a silver loving cup to the individual, club, sorority, group or clique of any kind that raised the largest amount inside of a month. the day that was announced there was a hastily called meeting of the last of the winnebagos. "we're going to win that loving cup," declared hinpoha in a tone of finality. "this is our chance to show what we're made of. up until now we've been doing little easy 'give services.' at last we're up against something big. now is the time for all good men to come to the aid of their party. the winnebagos have never fallen down on anything yet that they undertook and they're not going to now. we're going to win that contest. won't nyoda be proud of us?" we cheered until the windows rattled and then migwan brought us to earth with a thud. "how are we going to do it?" she asked soberly. we all fell silent and donned our thinking caps. minutes passed but nobody sprouted a bright idea. suggestion after suggestion was made, only to be turned down flat. "we might give a circus," suggested hinpoha rather doubtfully. "remember the circus we gave at home last year?" "there have been nine circuses of various kinds already this year," wet-blanketed agony. "you couldn't hire anybody to attend another." "masquerade as seeresses and give select parlor readings of people's futures," suggested oh-pshaw. "we could charge five dollars for a reading." "been done already," said migwan. "anyway, the faculty have forbidden it. the girls that did it last year scandalized a prominent trustee's wife by telling her that her daughter was going to elope with an italian count before the month was out. the daughter had married a minister the week before, only the girls didn't know it, and the trustee's wife got so excited she sat down on a two-hundred-dollar satsuma vase and smashed it and tried to sue the seeresses for damages. then, of course, she found out they were students and the faculty put an end to parlor seeresses." that's the way it went. not a plan was suggested but what turned out to be old stuff or not practicable. "oh, for an idea!" groaned agony, beating her white brow with the palm of her hand. "we might go round with a hand organ," suggested oh-pshaw in desperation. "gladys could be the monkey and pass around a tin cup." "thanks, i wouldn't think of aspiring to such an honor," i replied modestly. "what we want," said migwan decidedly, "is a fad--something that will take the college by storm and separate them from their cash. i remember last year some of the seniors started the fad of taking impressions of the palm of your hand on paper smoked with camphor gum and sending them away to have the lines read by some noted palmist, and they made oceans of money at twenty-five cents an impression." we talked possible fads until we were green in the face, but nobody got an inspiration and we finally adjourned with our heads in a whirl. the next day i went into a deserted classroom for a book i had left behind and found sally prindle with her head down on one of the desks, crying. by that time i had forgotten how disagreeable she had been to us and hastened over to see what was the matter. "what's the trouble, sally?" i asked, laying my hand on her shoulder. sally started up and tried to wipe the tears away hastily. "nothing," she answered in a flat voice. "there is too something," i said determinedly, and sat down on the desk in front of her. she looked at me sort of defiantly for a minute and then she broke down altogether. between sobs she told me that she wasn't going to be able to come back to college next year because she hadn't won the big andrews prize in mathematics she had counted confidently on winning, and she had worked so hard for it that she had neglected her other work, and the first thing she knew she had a condition in latin. besides, she was sick and couldn't do the hard work she had been doing outside to pay her board. i never saw anyone so broken up over anything. i wouldn't have expected her to care whether she came back to college or not; i couldn't see what fun she had ever gotten out of it, but i suppose in her own queer way she must have enjoyed it. i tried to comfort her by telling her that the way would probably be found somehow if she took it up with the right people, but sally wasn't the kind of girl that took comfort easily. life was terribly serious to her. she felt disgraced because she hadn't won the prize and was sure nobody would want to lend her money to finish her course. i left her at last with my heart aching because of the uneven way things are distributed in this world. our room was a mess when i got back. our floor was entertaining the floor below that night and hinpoha was in the show. she was standing in the middle of the room draping my dresser scarf around her shoulders for a fichu, while agony was piling her hair high on her head for her and oh-pshaw was pinning on a train made of bath towels. "have you a blue velvet band?" hinpoha demanded thickly, as i entered, through the pins she was holding in her mouth. "no, i haven't," i replied, retiring to a corner to escape the sweeping strokes of the hair brush in agony's hand. "why haven't you?" lamented hinpoha. "i just _have_ to have one." "what for?" i asked. "to put around my neck, of course," explained hinpoha impatiently. "it's absolutely necessary to finish off this costume. go out and scrape one up somewhere, gladys, there's a dear." i obediently made the rounds, but nowhere did i find the desired blue band. not even a ribbon of the right shade was forthcoming. "paint one on," suggested agony, with an inspiration born of despair. "then you'll surely have it the right shade." "the paint box is in the bottom dresser drawer," said hinpoha, warming to the plan at once. "hurry up, agony." "oh, i'll not have time to do it," said agony, moving toward the door. "i've got just fifteen minutes left to sew the ruffle back on the bottom of my white dress to wear in chapel to-morrow when we sing for the bishop, and it's really more important for the country's cause that i have a white dress to wear to-morrow than that you have a blue band around your neck to-night. my green and purple plaid silk would look chaste and retiring among the spotless white of the choir, now, wouldn't it?" and swinging her hairbrush she went out. oh-pshaw had already disappeared. "here, gladys," said hinpoha, holding out the box to me, "mix the turquoise with a little ultramarine." "i'm awfully sorry, 'poha, but i can't stop," said i. "i've an interview with miss allison in five minutes. get somebody else, dear." "everybody's rushed to death," grumbled hinpoha. i went off to keep my appointment and hinpoha took up her watch for a passer-by whom she could bully into painting a blue band on her neck. being part of the surprise for the guests she couldn't very well go out and risk being seen; she just had to stay in the room and wait for someone from our floor to come along. for a long while nobody came, and then, when she was about ready to give up, she did hear footsteps coming down the corridor. it was dark by that time and she couldn't see who it was, but she pounced out like a cat on a mouse and dragged the girl into her room. "paint a blue band on my neck, quick!" she commanded, thrusting out the paint box and switching on the light. then she saw who it was. it was sally prindle. hinpoha was a little taken aback, but she had about exhausted her patience waiting for someone to come by and help her. "will you, please?" she pleaded, holding out the paints enticingly. "what is it?" asked sally dully, looking at hinpoha in that crazy costume as if she thought she was not in her right mind. hinpoha explained the urgent and immediate need of a blue band of a certain shade on her neck. "but i never painted anything before," objected sally. "you'll never learn any younger," said hinpoha, jubilant that sally hadn't walked out with her nose in the air. "here, take the brush, i'll show you what to mix; see, this and this and this." under hinpoha's direction sally painted the blue band and then regarded her handiwork with critical eyes. "thanks, that's fine," said hinpoha, holding out her hand for the paints. "it needs something more," said sally slowly, squinting at hinpoha's neck. "do you mind if i use any more paint?" "go as far as you like," said hinpoha, surprised into flippancy, "let your conscience be your guide!" sally made swift dabs at the little color squares, her face all puckered up in a deep frown of concentration. "now, how do you like it?" she asked anxiously, after a few minutes, leading hinpoha to the mirror. hinpoha says she screamed right out when she looked, she was so surprised and delighted. for on the front of the band sally had painted the most wonderful ornament. it was an enormous ruby, set in a gold frame, the design of which simply took your breath away. how she ever did it with the colors in hinpoha's box is beyond us. "oh, wonderful!" raved hinpoha, hugging sally in her extravagant way. "i can't wait until the girls see it. won't i make a sensation, though! come to the party, won't you please, sally? we'd love to have you." sally shook her head and prepared to depart. "i have to go," she said with a return to her old brusque manner. "i have another engagement." but hinpoha saw the wistful look that came into her face and she knew that sally's "other engagement" was waiting on table in the boarding house where she lived. hinpoha's painted jewelry created a sensation all right. cries of admiration rose on every side, and the fact that the stony-faced sally prindle had done it only added to the sensation. who would ever have suspected that the most inartistic-looking girl in the whole college had such a talent up her sleeve? two days later there was another excited meeting of the last of the winnebagos. "our fortune's made!" shrieked agony joyfully, dancing around the room and waving a japanese umbrella over her head. "why? how?" we all cried. "the fad! the fad!" shouted agony. "what fad?" i asked. "do stop capering, agony, and put down that umbrella before you break the lamp shade. we've smashed three already this year." "don't you see," continued agony, breathless, dropping down on the bed and fanning herself with the handle of the umbrella. "hinpoha's started a fad with that painted jewelry--blessings on that fool notion of hers of painting a band on her neck, anyway! half a dozen girls came to classes this morning with bands painted on their necks and ornaments in front that they'd gotten sally to paint for them. in another day the whole college will be after her to paint ornaments on their necks. don't you see what i mean? we've got to join forces with sally, set up in business for the benefit of the red cross--and the cup is ours. whoop-la! oh, girls, don't you _see_!" we saw, all right. inside of two minutes sally was voted a member of the last of the winnebagos and in a few hours business was in full swing. sally, of course, was the star of the cast, but the rest of us worked just as hard as press agents. we placarded the whole college with posters announcing that mme. sallie prindle, the distinguished painter of jewelry, would create, for the benefit of the red cross, any combination of precious stones desired by the paintee--charges twenty-five cents and up. students were urged to show their patriotism by appearing in classroom adorned with one of the masterpieces of the above-mentioned prindle. it was a success from the word go. the fad spread like wildfire, and sally spent all her waking hours that were not actually taken up with recitations painting jewelry on fair necks and arms. lessons were almost forgotten in the fascinating business of admiring designs and comparing effects, and many were the wails because the wonderful things had to be washed off all too soon. we had offered our room as studio because sally's was too far away from the center of things, and most of the time it was so crowded with eager customers that we couldn't get in ourselves. prices rose as business increased, and the candy box we were using for a bank showed signs of collapsing. the next week the juniors gave a dance and they all ordered dog collars for the occasion. everybody else had to stand aside. prices for these were to be one dollar and up, according to how elaborate they were. how sally ever got them all on without fainting in her tracks will always be a mystery. she did a lot of them the night before and then the girls wound their necks with gauze bandages to keep them clean. miss allison, who dropped in during the performance, folded up on the bed and laughed until she was weak. "i never saw anything to equal it, never," she declared. "there's never been such a fad in the history of the college." then she sat up and demanded a dog collar herself. "why on earth didn't you tell us you could paint jewelry, sally prindle?" she asked, as she watched those swift fingers doing their wonderful work. "of all things, wasting your time specializing in mathematical figures, when all the time you had designs like these in your head!" "i never knew i could do it," said sally in a funny, bewildered fashion that set the girls all a-laughing. "i never had a paint brush in my hand before. _she_,"--pointing to hinpoha--"put the things into my hands and ordered me to paint, and i painted. it came to me all of a sudden." did we get the loving cup? i should say we did! by the end of the month we had raised five hundred and some odd dollars, more than half of the total, and by far the largest amount raised by any group. we were all wrecks by the time it was over, because we had to take turns waiting on table down at sally's boarding house to hold her job for her while she worked up in our room; besides getting the paint off the girls' necks again. that wasn't always an easy job because sometimes she had to use things beside water colors to get certain effects. but it was well worth our while, for the last of the winnebagos have achieved undying fame. migwan started it with her fake indian legend and the rest of us surely carried it to a grand finish. the best of the whole business, though, was getting sally. do you know why she was so queer and stand-offish to people all this while? she told us in a burst of confidence that night after we had been given the loving cup. o katherine, it would almost break your heart. it seems she has a brother who forged a note last year and was sent to prison. she considered that money a debt of honor which she must pay back, and so she came away to college, planning to work her way through and become a teacher of mathematics, which was her strong subject. but she had taken her brother's disgrace so to heart that she thought the people in college would consider her an outcast if they found it out, and, rather than go through the misery of having people drop her after they had been friendly with her she made up her mind to make no friends at all, and then she didn't need to worry about their finding it out and cutting her. it broke her all up to turn down our offers of friendship last fall and she left purgatory because she couldn't bear to see us after that. think of it, katherine, what she must have suffered, and nobody to tell it to! and everybody calling her a prune! we all cried over her and assured her a million times we didn't care a rap what her brother had done; we loved her and were proud to have her for a friend. she was a different girl after that. all the stiffness came out of her like magic and she looked like a person who has been let out of prison after being shut up for years. her great dread all the time had been that somebody would find out about her brother; now that we actually knew it and it didn't make a bit of difference, the big load was off her spirits. from being the most unpopular girl in the class she suddenly became one of the most popular. all her money troubles faded too, because she got work making designs for a big art craft jewelry shop that paid her enough so she didn't have to borrow any more money. the nicest part of it all, though, was what agony did. the night that sally prindle told us about her brother agony wrote to her father, who, i imagine, must be a very influential man, and asked if he could get sally's brother pardoned. just how agony's father went about it we will never know, but not long afterward sally got a letter from her brother saying that he had been pardoned on the condition that he would enlist in the army, which he had done. think what that meant to sally! instead of being afraid anyone would find out she had a brother she could now speak of him as proudly as the other girls did who had brothers in the army; could take her place with the proudest of them. oh, katherine, if we could only see right through people and know just why they do things the way they do, what a wonderful world this would be! lovingly yours, gladys. katherine to the winnebagos april , --. dearest winnies: i thought it had all happened, that is, everything that was going to happen for the next ten years, but it seemed that the excitement of the last few weeks was but a beginning, and a very humble beginning at that! we had just gotten over the sensation of the fire and the arrest of the negro, and school was in running order again and life in general had resumed the even tenor of its ways, when, without warning, the sky fell on the house of adams. they say that coming events cast their shadows before, and that everything works out according to a fixed rule, but this could only have been the exception that proved the rule. having battered around this wicked world for twenty years i thought i was prepared for all the shocks that human flesh is heir to, and that no matter what happened there was a special rule of etiquette to fit it, but there was nothing in all my experience, nor in the ten commandments, nor hoyle, nor avogadro's hypothesis, nor grimm's law, that prepared me for what happened next. saturday was the fateful day. saturday is the day on which everything happens to me. i was born on saturday; it was on saturday i met you and landed headfirst into the winnebago circus; it was on saturday i heard the news that i was not to go to college, and, i suppose, in the order of human events, i shall die on saturday. on this saturday morning--can it be only yesterday?--i sat in the doorway peacefully knitting and occasionally gazing off into space as my thoughts wandered, flitting from subject to subject like the yellow butterflies that flashed from flower to flower. the sunshine sprayed over the roof and glinted on my amber needles, until it seemed that i was knitting sunshine right into the socks. i was filled with a vast contentment that throbbed in my temples and quivered in my toes; from head to foot i was "in tune with the infinite." that morning father and i had gone over our accounts and our balance was so satisfactory that we figured in another year we could finish paying off the mortgage. when i complimented father on his talent for stock farming, he said simply: "it's all owing to you. you put new life into us again. we never could have done it alone. besides, i reckon most of the sharp bargaining in horseflesh was done by you. you got more out of people than i ever did. you've kept up the collections, too. you never got cheated once. you're certainly worth your salt as a business manager, child." imagine it! calling me his business manager! i wasn't an absolute good-for-nothing, then. all these things went serenely through my mind as i sat there knitting in the sunshine, and laying my plans for summer pleasures. i would take the wenonahs and go off camping somewhere in the woods for a week or two and give them a taste of real life in the open. the picture of that little camp rose vividly before me, and i planned out the details minutely. we would have to have a tent--somewhere or other i must acquire this necessary article. a humorous thought came to me of moving the schoolhouse out into the woods for a camper's dwelling, and in imagination i saw it bumping along behind us on our journey, with justice walking along beside it, carrying the chimney in his arms. i laughed aloud at my incongruous fancies, startling a hen that was clucking at my feet so that she fled with a scandalized squawk, stopping a few yards away to look around at me inquiringly, as if trying to figure out what was coming from me next. the hen broke up my fancies and i returned to my knitting with a start to find i had dropped several stitches and had a place in the heel of my sock that looked like the stem end of an apple. i raveled back and painstakingly re-knitted the heel, then i laid my knitting in my lap and gazed dreamily up the road, resting my eyes on the tender greenness of the fields. sitting thus i saw an automobile coming into view along the road. i watched it idly, glittering in the sunlight. to my surprise it turned into our lane and approached the house. i went down to the drive to meet it; tourists frequently stopped at the houses for water or for directions, and i would save these people the trouble of getting out of the car. the big machine rolled up to the drive and came to a standstill with a soft sliding of brakes. then a loud, hearty voice called out, "why here she is now! katherine adams, don't you know me? don't suppose you do, with these infernal glasses on." i looked hard at the man in the long linen dust coat and tourist cap who sat alone in the car; then my eyes nearly popped out of my head. "why, judge dalrymple!" i exclaimed, starting forward with a cry of joy and seizing the outstretched hand. "where did you come from? are you touring? how did you ever happen to stop here?" i tumbled the questions out thick and fast. "i didn't 'happen' to stop here," said the judge in his decisive way. "i've been rolling over these endless roads for three days on purpose to get here. lord, what a god-forsaken country! and now that i _am_ here at last," he added, "aren't you going to ask me in? where's your father?" "excuse me," said i, blushing furiously. "i was so taken by surprise at seeing you that i even forgot my own name, to say nothing of my manners. come right in." i settled him in the best chair in the house, brought him a glass of water and left him talking to mother in his hearty way while i went out in search of father. father was painting a shed when i found him, and he came just the way he was, with streaks of paint on his jumper and overalls. if he had had any inkling of what he was being summoned to----! judge dalrymple was just as pleased to meet father in his paint-streaked jumper as if he had been a senator in a silk hat, and after the first moment of embarrassment father felt as if the judge were an old-time friend. then the judge began to explain why he had come, and the bomb dropped on the roof of the house of adams. i couldn't comprehend it at first any more than father could. it sounded like a page out of grimm's fairy tales. but it seemed that he knew all about the company my father had lost his money in last summer, and he and some other men bought it up and set it on its feet again. war orders had suddenly boomed it and it was now solid as a rock. the original stockholders still held their shares and would draw their dividends as soon as they were declared, which judge dalrymple prophesied would be soon. our days of struggling were over. we were "hard-uppers" no longer; we were "well off" at last. i left the judge and father talking over the details of the business and wandered aimlessly around the dooryard, trying to comprehend the meaning of what had happened to us, and capering as each new thing occurred to me. my narrow horizon had suddenly rolled back and the whole world lay before me. college--travel--study--return to my beloved friends in the east--best doctors for mother--all those things kaleidoscoped before me, leaving me giddy and faint. i seized a hoe and began to demolish an ant hill for sheer exuberance of spirits. "what's the matter, have you had a sunstroke?" asked justice sherman, suddenly appearing beside me from somewhere. "worse than that, it's an earthquake," i replied. "take a deep breath, justice sherman, because you're going to need it in a minute." then i told him about father's investing his money in the western oil company last summer and apparently losing it, and how the company had unexpectedly come to life again. "whew!" said justice, looking dazed for a minute; then he expressed the sincerest joy at our good fortune i have ever heard one mortal express at the prosperity of another. but after his congratulations were all made he stopped short as if he had just thought of something and then he said slowly, "i suppose you'll be going away from here now; moving out west, possibly to san francisco?" it seemed to me that he looked very sober at the thought. "not if i know it," i replied decisively. "it'll be the east for me, if i go anywhere, where the winnebagos have their hunting grounds." "you _are_ going away then?" asked justice composedly. "i don't know," i replied truthfully. "nothing is settled yet. give us time to catch our breath. in the meantime, come in and meet our guest, the new president of the pacific refining company, who came to tell us the good news." justice assumed an exaggerated air of dignity and formality that upset my composure so i could hardly keep my face straight as i walked into the house. "oh, judge," i called blithely, "here is the rest of the happy family. justice, this is judge dalrymple." then the second bomb dropped. for, at the sight of justice, judge dalrymple sprang out of his chair with a hoarse sound in his throat as if he were choking, and stood staring at him as if he had seen a ghost. justice looked fit to drop. "father!" he said weakly. "justice!" said judge dalrymple with dry lips. "how did you get here? where have you been all this time?" "out west," replied justice. "why didn't you tell us where you were??" asked the judge, sitting down heavily again. "i merely followed your instructions," replied justice with dignity. "you told me to get out; that you didn't ever want to hear from me again, and i took you at your word." "i was a fool, a blind fool, and in a great rage when i said that. i didn't mean it," said the judge, in a choking voice. "but you said it, nevertheless," replied justice, "and i was hot-headed and went." "what have you been doing all this time?" asked the judge curiously. "roughing it," replied justice, in the tone of one who has great adventures to tell, "until i came here and turned into a professor." a humorous twinkle lit up his eye as he mentioned the word "professor." in a daze of astonishment father, mother and i watched this unexpected meeting and reconciliation between father and son. in due time we had all the story. judge dalrymple had set his heart on having his oldest son, justice, become a lawyer like himself, and go into his law firm as junior partner. but justice had no liking for the law. all he wanted to do was tinker with electrical things. it was the only thing in the world he cared for. when he got through college and his father insisted upon his entering the law school he flatly refused. there was a scene and he and his father quarreled bitterly. his father told him he could either go to law school or get out and hoe for himself and he chose the latter. he left home. all the while he had been in college he had been working on an electrical device to enable deaf men to receive wireless messages. he now went to work on this and finished it, and, boylike, thought his fortune was made. but it seemed fortune had turned her back on him. he had no money himself to market the device and he could not succeed in interesting anyone with capital. he spent many weary days, going from one place to another with his invention, only to meet with failure on all sides. he had always had delicate health and the long hours he had spent indoors working on his beloved experiments finally told on him and he developed a throat trouble which made it impossible for him to stay in the north. one day, in a moment of great discouragement, he threw his invention into the new york harbor and sorrowfully gave up his dream of being an inventor. he was down and out but still too proud to write home and ask help from his father. he had a chance to act as chauffeur for a party of ladies who wanted to tour the west and in this manner he made his way to texas. he worked there on a sheep ranch for a number of months; then, seized with a desire to see the country, he worked his way through the territory and into arkansas, and finally into the township of spencer, where he was attacked by robbers one night on the road, robbed of all his belongings and left lying there with his head cut open. then it was that he had wandered into our stable, was found, and nursed back to health. our climate agreed with him so well that he decided to stay for a while, and got the position of teaching in the high school at spencer, which wasn't very hard work. the long walk or drive in the open, back and forth every day, and his sleeping in the airy shack, gradually worked a cure to his throat, and brought back the health he had lost through overwork and disappointment. besides--just listen to this, will you--he said that i had given him such an amazing new outlook on life that he wanted to stay as near to me as he could and learn my philosophy. he had been utterly discouraged when he came, had lost his grip on things, and didn't care a hang what became of him, but i had put new life and ambition back into him. imagine it! my philosophy! he had resolved to have nothing more to do with his father after he had turned him out, and dropped the name of dalrymple, going by the name of justice sherman. his full name was justice sherman dalrymple. thus ended the mystery of the scholarly sheep herder. the son of _my_ judge dalrymple! i couldn't believe it, but it was true beyond a doubt. i _did_ know a hawk from a handsaw, after all. no wonder he had looked so sad sometimes when he thought no one was watching him, with such memories to brood over! no wonder he had acted so queerly when i told him what we had done to antha and anthony up on ellen's isle. they were his younger brother and sister! judge dalrymple was speaking to sherman again. "so you threw your invention into the new york harbor, did you?" he said regretfully. "it's too bad, because some one to whom you showed it has been writing and writing to the house about it. i couldn't forward the letter because i had no idea where you were. the government wants to try out your invention. i never dreamed that those fool experiments you were forever making amounted to anything. i see now you were wiser than i. come home, boy, and tinker all you like. we'll throw the lawyer business into the discard. could you build up your thingummyjig again?" at this astonishing news justice began whooping like a wild indian. "could i build it up again?" he shouted. "just give me a chance. just watch me!" he seized me around the waist and began jigging with me all over the floor. "save the pieces," i panted, sinking into a chair and making a vain attempt to smooth back my flying hair. then i noticed that judge dalrymple was looking at me with eyes filled with awe, not to say fear. "girl, what are you?" he asked in a strange voice. "are you fate? every time i come in touch with you, you work some miracle in my household. first you perform a magic in my two younger children, and then when i attempt to make some slight return for your great service and seek you out, i find that you have also drawn my other child to you from out of the vast and worked as great a miracle in him. are you human or superhuman, that you can play with people's destinies like that? under what star were you born, anyway?" "weren't any stars at all," i replied, laughing. "the sun was shining!" o my winnies, what a day this has been! the sun rose exactly as on any other day, without any warning of what was coming, and yet before he set the world had been turned topsy turvy for five people! isn't life glorious, though? mercy, but i'm glad i was born! breathlessly yours, katherine. katherine to the winnebagos april , --. oh, my winnies: how can i tell it? father died to-day. heart failure, brought on by excitement over the fire and the coming of judge dalrymple. think of it! after all these years of hard work and grinding poverty and bitter disappointment, to fall just at the moment when success and prosperity were within reach. oh, the terrible irony of life! your broken-hearted katherine. katherine to the winnebagos may , --. dearest winnies: thanks, a thousand times, for all the beautiful, comforting letters you wrote. when did anyone ever have such friends as i? everyone has been so kind, so sympathetic. the whole countryside turned out to help us. judge dalrymple and justice are still here, straightening up father's affairs. the farm and the stock are to be sold. mother is sick; father's death was a great shock to her. as soon as she is better she and i are going home with judge dalrymple for a visit. we are going to motor back with him and justice--won't it be glorious? justice is going back home to live. he and his father have become great pals; it is perfect joy to watch them going about like two boys, arm in arm. you never see one without the other any more. now that they are together it is possible to see quite a resemblance, but justice is much handsomer than his father ever could have been. sandhelo acted just as though he remembered the judge from last summer; he squealed when he saw him and put his nose into his pocket. we had a council about what should become of sandhelo and finally decided that he was to be sent home to judge dalrymple's to be a pet for antha and anthony. sandhelo nodded solemnly when we told him, as much as to say it was all right with him. i have a queer feeling all the time that that mule is more than half human. he has such an uncanny way of taking people's affairs into his own hands, sometimes. did he not recognize justice in the road that night when i would have fled from him, thinking he was the negro, solomon, and didn't he scare solomon into confessing that he had set fire to elijah butts' cotton storehouse? to-morrow is may th, the date that school closes in this district, and i have planned a farewell celebration for the scholars. i am going to give them "for keeps" all the things that came from the house of the open door, besides all the splendid things that came for christmas, to be the property of the corners schoolhouse from that time on henceforward, to make of it another house of the open door. may th, evening. another amazing day! do you know, i half believe that i have been transported in a dream back to the land of witches and fairies, and have to keep pinching myself to make sure i'm still myself, katherine adams, and not some other girl who has gotten into my shoes by mistake. i have a dreadful fear that i will find my real self sitting in the road somewhere, tumbled off old major's back as he ambled along, reading in some book of romance the wonderful things that are happening to this new, strange self. and presently it will be time to go home and help with supper, and romance will come to an end with the closing of the book. but i guess i'm real, all right. before the door stands judge dalrymple's car, latest model; its loud, raucous voice containing no hint of elfin horns as it announces the return of justice and his father from a spin in the country. beside me on the table is the deed of sale of our property, made out to one jim wiggin, and drawn up on very substantial-looking paper; and on my wrist sparkles the beautiful little gold watch which is a very tangible souvenir of this last amazing day. it ticks away companionably, as if to reassure me of its realness. i have named it thomas tickle, and we are going to be inseparable friends. you remember i told you i had planned a little last-day-of-school celebration for the scholars? well!!! as it turned out, it made the pageant look like five cents' worth of laundry soap by comparison. when i got to school in the morning i found the schoolhouse draped with flags and bunting, inside and outside, and my desk piled a foot high with great red roses. then the people began to arrive. it seemed the whole county was there. my eyes began to pop out of my head as one after another of the celebrities began to arrive. the school board from spencer came _en phalanx_, and in marching order behind them came the high school pupils with justice at their head. the parents of the pupils were all there in state and it soon became evident that we would have to hold our closing exercises outdoors, as the schoolhouse would not hold one-tenth of the crowd. i was rushing around like a fire engine with the steering gear gone, trying to find things for various mothers to sit on, when i was conscious of a solemn hush, and with a flourish the county school commissioners drove up and with them came miss fairlee, the commission lady. then there broke loose a sound of revelry by day. my scholars did the folk dances and gave the little play i taught them; the camp fire girls held a ceremonial meeting and gave demonstrations of poncho rolling, camp cooking, etc., while the boys had an exhibition of the articles they had made from wood, out of the dan beard book. then in a speech, which was more earnest than eloquent, i gave to the school the furnishings from the house of the open door, together with the graphophone, the lantern and the slides, to have and to hold, to be the foundation of a new house of the open door. there was tumultuous applause, and i sat down, red and perspiring, and my part of the show was over. thereupon, up rose absalom butts, punched in the back as i could see by three or four of the other boys, and, swallowing his fourteen-year-old embarrassment as well as he could, he thrust into my hands a little blue velvet case, mumbling the while, "it's yours. from the school. in token of our--of our----" here he forgot his speech, looked around wildly, and then burst out: "we're givin' it to you because you showed us such a good time, and we're sorry you're goin' away!" then he fled to his place and hid his blushes behind henry smoot's red head. i opened the case and took out a dear little gold wrist watch. i started to thank them, but choked utterly when i thought of the sacrifices it must have cost some of those people to help buy that watch. but this was no time for tears. the main dish of the feast was being brought in. the chief of the county school commissioners, the guest of honor, rose pompously and made his way to the front after being ceremoniously introduced by elijah butts. after much clearing of the throat he began a flowery speech about the fame that had been gained throughout the county by the little schoolhouse at our corners on account of its red cross activities and patriotic pageants; how it had been made the social center for the people all around and had helped educate them to better things; how the boys and girls had learned more useful things from me than from anyone else who had ever taught there; and how miss fairlee, who had come from the east to study rural school conditions in our section had been quite carried away with my work, and so on, _ad infinitum_. then, having loaded his cannon very carefully, so to speak, he proceeded to fire it into the crowd with telling effect. the county school commissioners, he announced with a fine air of jocularity, had heard that i was carrying the schoolhouse around with me wherever i went, and as they were afraid it might get mislaid some day they had voted to build a new brick schoolhouse on a foundation; one that couldn't be moved. a new schoolhouse for our district! nobody had ever dared hope for such a thing, not even in their wildest dreams. and it seems that i had precipitated all this good fortune! later on i happened to hear this same commissioner congratulating elijah butts on the good teacher he had picked, and elijah swelled up like a pouter pigeon and replied: "yes, sir, i spotted her for a good one the minute i laid eyes on her. it was me that persuaded the board to hire her when some of them was holdin' back, favorin' a different kind of female. yessir, it was me that picked her!" justice, who had also overheard the conversation, winked solemnly and we both fled where we could have our laugh out unnoticed. but the best part of it all came after the big show was over. miss fairlee came up and took me by the arm and strolled away with me. "my dear," she said, "would you consider leaving this place and coming east with me? i need an assistant in my social settlement work for the summer, and there's no one i've met in the whole country that would fill the bill as well as you. for handling difficult situations you are a perfect marvel. your talents are wasted out here--anyone can carry on the work that you have started so wonderfully. won't you please come?" we talked about it a bit, and where do you suppose this social settlement is? where but in the one spot on earth that i'd rather be than any other! the same city, my dears, that has the honor of being your home! it's all settled now, and i am to go, after my visit to the dalrymples. mother is going into a big sanitarium, and i am going to work with miss fairlee through the summer. clear the track! the winnebago special is about to start once more! o my winnies, don't you see the miracle of it all? here i was, pining to live in a house by the side of the road, when all the time i _was_ living in a house by the side of the road! it was my little despised schoolhouse. i was sent here by fate to prove myself worthy or unworthy of what she had in store for me. i was taken away from you that i might come back to a richer, fuller life than i had dreamed of in the old days. it is all part of a plan, so big and wonderful that i lose my breath when i think of it. but whatever the plan may turn out to be in the future, there's only one thing about it that interests me now, and that is, i'm coming back to you. i'm coming back! back to my winnies! hang out the latchstring and remove everything breakable, for the wanderer is coming home! your thrice-blessed katherine. * * * * * * transcriber's note: punctuation and obvious typographical errors were corrected without comment. popular technology; or, professions and trades. [illustration: the author.] by edward hazen, a. m., author of "the symbolical spelling-book," "the speller and definer," and "a practical grammar." embellished with eighty-one engravings. in two volumes. vol. i. new york: harper & brothers, publishers. entered, according to act of congress, in the year , by harper & brothers, in the clerk's office of the southern district of new york. contents of the first volume. page preface the agriculturist the horticulturist the miller the baker the confectioner the brewer, and the distiller the butcher the tobacco planter, and the tobacconist the manufacturer of cloth the dyer, and the calico-printer the hatter the rope-maker the tailor the milliner, and the lady's dress-maker the barber the tanner, and the currier the shoe and boot maker the saddler and harness-maker, and the trunk-maker the soap-boiler, and the candle-maker the comb-maker, and the brush-maker the tavern-keeper the hunter the fisherman the shipwright the mariner the merchant the auctioneer the clergyman the attorney at law the physician the chemist the druggist and apothecary the dentist the teacher preface. the following work has been written for the use of schools and families, as well as for miscellaneous readers. it embraces a class of subjects in which every individual is deeply interested, and with which, as a mere philosophical inspector of the affairs of men, he should become acquainted. they, however, challenge attention by considerations of greater moment than mere curiosity; for, in the present age, a great proportion of mankind pursue some kind of business as means of subsistence or distinction; and in this country especially, such pursuit is deemed honorable and, in fact, indispensable to a reputable position in the community. nevertheless, it is a fact that cannot have escaped the attention of persons of observation, that many individuals mistake their appropriate calling, and engage in employments for which they have neither mental nor physical adaptation; some learn a trade who should have studied a profession; others study a profession who should have learned a trade. hence arise, in a great measure, the ill success and discontent which so frequently attend the pursuits of men. for these reasons, parents should be particularly cautious in the choice of permanent employments for their children; and, in every case, capacity should be especially regarded, without paying much attention to the comparative favor in which the several employments may be held; for a successful prosecution of an humble business is far more honorable than inferiority or failure in one which may be greatly esteemed. to determine the particular genius of children, parents should give them, at least, a superficial knowledge of the several trades and professions. to do this effectually, a systematic course of instruction should be given, not only at the family fireside and in the schoolroom, but also at places where practical exhibitions of the several employments may be seen. these means, together with a competent literary education, and some tools and other facilities for mechanical operations, can scarcely fail of furnishing clear indications of intellectual bias. the course just proposed is not only necessary to a judicious choice of a trade or profession, but also as means of intellectual improvement; and as such it should be pursued, at all events, even though the choice of an employment were not in view. we are endowed with a nature composed of many faculties both of the intellectual and the animal kinds, and the reasoning faculties were originally designed by the creator to have the ascendency. in the present moral condition of man, however, they do not commonly maintain their right of precedence. this failure arises from imbecility, originating, in part, from a deficiency in judicious cultivation, and from the superior strength of the passions. this condition is particularly conspicuous in youth, and shows itself in disobedience to parents, and in various other aberrations from moral duty. if, therefore, parents would have their children act a reasonable part, while in their minority, and, also, after they have assumed their stations in manhood, they must pursue a course of early instruction, calculated to secure the ascendency of the reasoning faculties. the subjects for instruction best adapted to the cultivation of the young mind are the _common things_ with which we are surrounded. this is evident from the fact, that it uniformly expands with great rapidity under their influence during the first three or four years of life; for, it is from them, children obtain all their ideas, as well as a knowledge of the language by which they are expressed. the rapid progress of young children in the acquisition of knowledge often excites the surprise of parents of observation, and the fact that their improvement is almost imperceptible, after they have attained to the age of four or five years, is equally surprising. why, it is often asked, do not children continue to advance in knowledge with equal and increased rapidity, especially, as their capabilities increase with age? the solution of this question is not difficult. children continue to improve, while they have the means of doing so; but, having acquired a knowledge of the objects within their reach, at least, so far as they may be capable at the time, their advancement must consequently cease. it is hardly necessary to remark, that the march of mind might be continued with increased celerity, were new objects or subjects continually presented. in supplying subjects for mental improvement, as they may be needed at the several stages of advancement, there can be but little difficulty, since we are surrounded by works both of nature and of art. in fact, the same subjects may be presented several times, and, at each presentation, instructions might be given adapted to the particular state of improvement in the pupil. instructions of this nature need never interfere injuriously with those on the elementary branches of education, although the latter would undoubtedly be considered of minor importance. had they been always regarded in this light, our schools would now present a far more favorable aspect, and we should have been farther removed from the ignorance and the barbarism of the middle ages. were this view of education generally adopted, teachers would soon find, that the business of communicating instructions to the young has been changed from an irksome to a pleasant task, since their pupils will have become studious and intellectual, and, consequently, more capable of comprehending explanations upon every subject. such a course would also be attended with the incidental advantage of good conduct on the part of pupils, inasmuch as the elevation of the understanding over the passions uniformly tends to this result. for carrying into practice a system of intellectual education, the following work supplies as great an amount of materials as can be embodied in the same compass. every article may be made the foundation of one lecture or more, which might have reference not only to the particular subject on which it treats, but also to the meaning and application of the words. the articles have been concisely written, as must necessarily be the case in all works embracing so great a variety of subjects. this particular trait, however, need not be considered objectionable, since all who may desire to read more extensively on any particular subject, can easily obtain works which are exclusively devoted to it. prolix descriptions of machinery and of mechanical operations have been studiously avoided; for it has been presumed, that all who might have perseverance enough to read such details, would feel curiosity sufficient to visit the shops and manufactories, and see the machines and operations themselves. nevertheless, enough has been said, in all cases, to give a general idea of the business, and to guide in the researches of those who may wish to obtain information by the impressive method of actual inspection. a great proportion of the whole work is occupied in recounting historical facts, connected with the invention and progress of the arts. the author was induced to pay especial attention to this branch of history, from the consideration, that it furnishes very clear indications of the real state of society in past ages, as well as at the present time, and also that it would supply the reader with data, by which he might, in some measure, determine the vast capabilities of man. this kind of historical information will be especially beneficial to the youthful mind, by inducing a habit of investigation and antiquarian research. in addition to this, a knowledge of the origin and progress of the various employments which are in active operation all around, will throw upon the busy world an aspect exceedingly interesting. it may be well, however, to caution the reader against expecting too much information of this kind, in regard to most of the trades practised in very ancient times. many of the most useful inventions were effected, before any permanent means of record had been devised; and, in after ages, among the greeks and romans, the useful arts were practised almost exclusively by slaves. the latter circumstance led to their general neglect by the writers among these distinguished people. the information which may be obtained from this work, especially when accompanied by the inspection of the operations which it describes, may be daily applied to some useful purpose. it will be particularly valuable in furnishing subjects for conversation, and in preventing the mind from continuing in, or from sinking into, a state of indifference in regard to the busy scenes of this world. in the composition of this work, all puerile expressions have been avoided, not only because they would be offensive to adult individuals of taste, but because they are at least useless, if not positively injurious, to younger persons. what parent of reflection would suffer his children to peruse a book calculated to induce or confirm a manner of speaking or writing, which he would not have them use after having arrived to manhood? every sentence may be rendered perfectly plain by appropriate explanations and illustrations. no formal classification of the professions and trades has been adopted, although those articles which treat of kindred subjects have been placed near each other, and in that order which seemed to be the most natural. the paragraphs of the several articles have been numbered for the especial accommodation of classes in schools, but this particular feature of the work need meet with no serious objection from miscellaneous readers, as it has no other effect, in reference to its use by them, than to give it the aspect of a school-book. while writing the articles on the different subjects, the author consulted several works which embraced the arts and sciences generally, as well as many which were more circumscribed in their objects. he, however, relied more upon them for historical facts than for a knowledge of the operations and processes which he had occasion to detail. for this he depended, as far as practicable, upon his own personal researches, although in the employment of appropriate phraseology, he acknowledges his obligations to predecessors. with the preceding remarks, the author submits his work to the public, in the confident expectation, that the subjects which it embraces, that the care which has been taken in its composition, and that the skill of the artists employed in its embellishment, will secure to it an abundant and liberal patronage. [illustration: farmer.] the agriculturist. . agriculture embraces, in its broad application, whatever relates to the cultivation of the fields, with the view of producing food for man and those animals which he may have brought into a state of domestication. . if we carry our observations so far back as to reach the antediluvian history of the earth, we shall find, from the authority of scripture, that the cultivation of the soil was the first employment of man, after his expulsion from the garden of eden, when he was commanded to till the ground from which he had been taken. we shall also learn from the same source of information, that "cain was a husbandman," and that "abel was a keeper of sheep." hence it may be inferred, that adam instructed his sons in the art of husbandry; and that they, in turn, communicated the knowledge to _their_ posterity, together with the superadded information which had resulted from their own experience. improvement in this art was probably thenceforth progressive, until the overwhelming catastrophe of the flood. . after the waters had retired from the face of the earth, noah resorted to husbandry, as the certain means of procuring the necessaries and comforts of life. the art of cultivating the soil was uninterruptedly preserved in many branches of the great family of noah; but, in others, it was at length entirely lost. in the latter case, the people, having sunk into a state of barbarism, depended for subsistence on the natural productions of the earth, and on such animals as they could contrive to capture by hunting and fishing. many of these degenerate tribes did not emerge from this condition for several succeeding ages; while others have not done so to the present day. . notwithstanding the great antiquity of agriculture, the husbandmen, for several centuries immediately succeeding the deluge, seem to have been but little acquainted with any proper method of restoring fertility to exhausted soils; for we find them frequently changing their residence, as their flocks and herds required fresh pasturage, or as their tillage land became unproductive. as men, however, became more numerous, and as their flocks increased, this practice became inconvenient and, in some cases, impracticable. they were, therefore, compelled, by degrees, to confine their flocks and herds, and their farming operations, to lands of more narrow and specified limits. . the chaldeans were probably the people who first adopted the important measure of retaining perpetual possession of the soil which they had cultivated; and, consequently, were among the first who became skilful in agriculture. but all the great nations of antiquity held this art in the highest estimation, and usually attributed its invention to superhuman agency. the egyptians even worshipped the image of the ox in gratitude for the services of the living animal in the labours of the field. . the reader of ancient history can form some idea of the extent to which this art was cultivated in those days, from the warlike operations of different nations; for, from no other source, could the great armies which were then brought into the field, have been supplied with the necessary provisions. the greeks and the romans, who were more celebrated than any other people for their military enterprise, were also most attentive to the proper cultivation of the soil; and many of their distinguished men, especially among the romans, were practical husbandmen. . nor was agriculture neglected by the learned men of antiquity. several works on this subject, by greek and latin authors, have descended to our times; and the correctness of many of the principles which they inculcate, has been confirmed by modern experience. . throughout the extensive empire of rome, agriculture maintained a respectable standing, until the commencement of those formidable invasions of the northern hordes, which, finally, nearly extinguished the arts and sciences in every part of europe. during the long period of anarchy which succeeded the settlement of these barbarians in their newly-acquired possessions, pasturage was, in most cases, preferred to tillage, as being better suited to their state of civilization, and as affording facilities of removal, in cases of alarm from invading enemies. but, when permanent governments had been again established, and when the nations enjoyed comparative peace, the regular cultivation of the soil once more revived. . the art of husbandry was at a low ebb in england, until the fourteenth century, when it began to be practised with considerable success in the midland and south-western parts of the island; yet, it does not seem to have been cultivated as a science, until the latter end of the sixteenth century. the first book on husbandry, printed and published in the english language, appeared in . it was written by sir a. fitzherbert, a judge of the common pleas, who had studied the laws of vegetation, and the nature of soils, with philosophical accuracy. . very little improvement was made on the theory of this author, for upwards of a hundred years, when sir hugh platt discovered and brought into use several kinds of substances for fertilizing and restoring exhausted soils. . agriculture again received a new impulse, about the middle of the eighteenth century; and, in , a board of agriculture was established by an act of parliament, at the suggestion of sir john sinclair, who was elected its first president. through the influence of this board, a great number of agricultural societies have been formed in the kingdom, and much valuable information on rural economy has been communicated to the public, through the medium of a voluminous periodical under its superintendence. . after the example of great britain, agricultural societies have been formed, and periodical journals published, in various parts of the continent of europe, as well as in the united states. the principal publications devoted to this subject in this country, are the _american farmer_, at baltimore; the _new-england farmer_, at boston; and the _cultivator_, at albany. . the modern improvements in husbandry consist, principally, in the proper application of manures, in the mixture of different kinds of earths, in the use of plaster and lime, in the rotation of crops, in adapting the crop to the soil, in the introduction of new kinds of grain, roots, grasses, and fruits, as well as in improvements in the breeds of domestic animals, and in the implements with which the various operations of the art are performed. . for many of the improved processes which relate to the amelioration of the soil, we are indebted to chemistry. before this science was brought to the aid of the art, the cultivators of the soil were chiefly guided by the precept and example of their predecessors, which were often inapplicable. by the aid of chemical analysis, it is easy to discover the constituent parts of different soils; and, when this has been done, there is but little difficulty in determining the best mode of improving them, or in applying the most suitable crops. . in the large extent of territory embraced within the united states, there is great variation of soil and climate; but, in each state, or district, the attention of the cultivators is directed to the production of those articles which, under the circumstances, promise to be the most profitable. in the northern portions of our country, the cultivators of the soil are called farmers. they direct their attention chiefly to the production of wheat, rye, corn, oats, barley, peas, beans, potatoes, pumpkins, and flax, together with grasses and fruits of various kinds. the same class of men, in the southern states, are usually denominated planters, who confine themselves principally to tobacco, rice, cotton, sugar-cane, or hemp. in some parts of that portion of our country, however, rye, wheat, oats, and sweet potatoes, are extensively cultivated; and, in almost every part, corn is a favourite article. . the process of cultivating most of the productions which have been mentioned, is nearly the same. in general, with the occasional exception of new lands, the plough is used to prepare the ground for the reception of the seed. wheat, rye, barley, oats, peas, and the seeds of hemp and flax, are scattered with the hand, and covered in the earth with the harrow. in great britain, such seeds are sown in drills; and this method is thought to be better than ours, as it admits of the use of the hoe, while the vegetable is growing. . corn, beans, potatoes, and pumpkins, are covered in the earth with the hoe. the ground is ploughed several times during the summer, to make it loose, and to keep down the weeds. the hoe is also used in accomplishing the same objects, and in depositing fresh earth around the growing vegetable. . when ripe, wheat, barley, oats, and peas, are cut down with the sickle, cradle, or scythe; while hemp and flax are pulled up by the roots. the seeds are separated from the other parts of the plants with the flail, or by means of horses or oxen driven round upon them. of late, threshing machines are used to effect the same object. chaff, and extraneous matter generally, are separated from the grain, or seeds, by means of a fanning-mill, or with a large fan made of the twigs of the willow. the same thing was formerly, and is yet sometimes, effected by the aid of a current of air. . when the corn, or maize, has become ripe, the ears, with the husks, and sometimes the stalks, are deposited in large heaps. to assist in stripping the husks from the ears, it is customary to call together the neighbours. in such cases, the owner of the corn provides for them a supper, together with some means of merriment and good cheer. . this custom is most prevalent, where the greater part of the labour is performed by slaves. the blacks, when assembled for a husking match, choose a captain, whose business it is to lead the song, while the rest join in chorus. sometimes, they divide the corn as nearly as possible into two equal heaps, and apportion the hands accordingly, with a captain to each division. this is done to produce a contest for the most speedy execution of the task. should the owner of the corn be sparing of his refreshments, his want of generosity is sure to be published in song at every similar frolic in the neighborhood. . maize, or indian corn, and potatoes of all kinds, were unknown in the eastern continent, until the discovery of america. their origin is, therefore, known with certainty; but some of the other productions which have been mentioned, cannot be so satisfactorily traced. this is particularly the case with regard to those which have been extensively cultivated for many centuries. . the grasses have ever been valuable to man, as affording a supply of food for domestic animals. many portions of our country are particularly adapted to grazing. where this is the case, the farmers usually turn their attention to raising live stock, and to making butter and cheese. grass reserved in meadows, as a supply of food for the winter, is cut at maturity with a scythe, dried in the sun, and stored in barns, or heaped in stacks. . rice was first cultivated in the eastern parts of asia, and, from the earliest ages, has been the principal article of food among the chinese and hindoos. to this grain may be attributed, in a great measure, the early civilization of those nations; and its adaptation to marshy grounds caused many districts to become populous, which would otherwise have remained irreclaimable and desolate. . rice was long known in the east, before it was introduced into egypt and greece, whence it spread over africa generally, and the southern parts of europe. it is now cultivated in all the warm parts of the globe, chiefly on grounds subject to periodical inundations. the chinese obtain two crops a year from the same ground, and cultivate it in this way from generation to generation, without applying any manure, except the stubble of the preceding crop, and the mud deposited from the water overflowing it. . soon after the waters of the inundation have retired, a spot is inclosed with an embankment, lightly ploughed and harrowed, and then sown very thickly with the grain. immediately, a thin sheet of water is brought over it, either by a stream or some hydraulic machinery. when the plants have grown to the height of six or seven inches, they are transplanted in furrows; and again water is brought over them, and kept on, until the crop begins to ripen, when it is withheld. . the crop is cut with a sickle, threshed with a flail, or by the treading of cattle; and the husks, which adhere closely to the kernel, are beaten off in a stone mortar, or by passing the grain through a mill, similar to our corn-mills. the mode of cultivating rice in any part of the world, varies but little from the foregoing process. the point which requires the greatest attention, is keeping the ground properly covered with water. . rice was introduced into the carolinas in , where it is now produced in greater perfection than in any other part of the world. the seeds are dropped along, from the small end of a gourd, into drills made with one corner of the hoe. the plants, when partly grown, are not transferred to another place, as in asia, but are suffered to grow and ripen in the original drills. the crop is secured like wheat, and the husks are forced from the grain by a machine, which leaves the kernels more perfect than the methods adopted in other countries. . cotton is cultivated in the east and west indies, north and south america, egypt, and in many other parts of the world, where the climate is sufficiently warm for the purpose. there are several species of this plant; of which three kinds are cultivated in the southern states of the union--the _nankeen cotton_, the _green seed cotton_, and the _black seed_, or _sea island cotton_. the first two, which grow in the middle and upland countries, are denominated _short staple cotton_: the last is cultivated in the lower country, near the sea, and on the islands near the main land, and is of a fine quality, and of a long staple. . the plants are propagated annually from seeds, which are sown very thickly in ridges made with the plough or hoe. after they have grown to the height of three or four inches, part of them are pulled up, in order that the rest, while coming to maturity, may stand about four inches apart. it is henceforth managed, until fully grown, like indian corn. . the cotton is inclosed in pods, which open as fast as their contents become fit to be gathered. in georgia, about eighty pounds of upland cotton can be gathered by a single hand in a day; but in alabama and mississippi, where the plant thrives better, two hundred pounds are frequently collected in the same time. . the seeds adhere closely to the cotton, when picked from the pods; but they are properly separated by machines called _gins_; of which there are two kinds,--the _roller-gin_, and the _saw-gin_. the essential parts of the former are two cylinders, which are placed nearly in contact with each other. by their revolving motion, the cotton is drawn between them, while the size of the seeds prevents their passage. this machine, being of small size, is worked by hand. . the _saw-gin_ is much larger, and is moved by animal, steam, or water power. it consists of a receiver, having one side covered with strong wires, placed in a parallel direction about an eighth of an inch apart, and a number of circular saws, which revolve on a common axis. the saws pass between these wires, and entangle in their teeth the cotton, which is thereby drawn through the grating, while the seeds, from their size, are forced to remain on the other side. . before the invention of the saw-gin, the seeds were separated from the upland cottons by hand,--a method so extremely tedious, that their cultivation was attended with but little profit to the planter. this machine was invented in georgia by eli whitney, of massachusetts. it was undertaken at the request of several planters of the former state, and was there put in operation in . . in the preceding year, the whole crop of cotton in the united states was only sixty-four bales; but, in , it amounted to , , . the vast increase in the production of this article has arisen, in part, from the increased demand for it in europe, and in the northern states, but, chiefly, from the use of the invaluable machine just mentioned. . sugar-cane was cultivated by the chinese, at a very early period, probably two thousand years before it was known in europe; but sugar, in a candied form, was used in small quantities by the greeks and romans in the days of their prosperity. it was probably brought from bengal, siam, or some of the east india islands, as it is supposed, that it grew nowhere else at that time. . in the thirteenth century, soon after the merchants of the west began to traffic in indian articles of commerce, the plant was introduced into arabia felix, and thence into egypt, nubia, ethiopia, and morocco. the spaniards obtained it from the moors, and, in the fifteenth century, introduced it into the canary islands. it was brought to america, and to the west india islands, by the spaniards and portuguese. it is now cultivated in the united states, below the thirty-first degree of latitude, and in the warm parts of the globe generally. . previous to the year , sugar was known in england chiefly, as a medicine; and, although the sugar-cane was cultivated, at that time, in several places on the mediterranean, it was not more extensively used on the continent. now, in extent of cultivation, it ranks next to wheat and rice, and first in maritime commerce. . the cultivators of sugar-cane propagate the plant by means of cuttings from the lower end of the stalks, which are planted in the spring or autumn, in drills, or in furrows. the new plants spring from the joints of the cuttings, and are fit to be gathered for use in eight, ten, twelve, or fourteen months. while growing, sugar-cane is managed much like indian corn. . when ripe, the cane is cut and brought to the sugar-mill, where the juice is expressed between iron or stone cylinders, moved by steam, water, or animal power. the juice thus obtained is evaporated in large boilers to a syrup, which is afterwards removed to coolers, where it is agitated with wooden instruments called _stirrers_. to accelerate its cooling, it is next poured into casks, and, when yet warm, is conveyed to barrels, placed in an upright position over a cistern, and pierced in the bottom in several places. the holes being partially stopped with canes, the part which still remains in the form of syrup, filters through them into the cistern beneath, while the rest is left in the form of sugar, in the state called _muscovado_. . this sugar is of a yellow colour, being yet in a crude, or raw state. it is further purified by various processes, such as redissolving it in water, and again boiling it with lime and bullocks' blood, or with animal charcoal, and passing the syrup through several canvas filters. . loaf-sugar is manufactured by pouring the syrup, after it has been purified, and reduced to a certain thickness by evaporation, into unglazed earthen vessels of a conical shape. the cones have a hole at their apex, through which may filter the syrup which separates from the sugar above. most of the sugar is imported in a raw or crude state, and is afterward refined in the cities in sugar-houses. . molasses is far less free from extraneous substances than sugar, as it is nothing more than the drainings from the latter. rum is distilled from inferior molasses, and other saccharine matter of the cane, which will answer for no other purpose. . sugar is also manufactured from the sap of the sugar-maple, in considerable quantities, in the northern parts of the united states, and in the canadas. the sap is obtained by cutting a notch, or boring a hole, in the tree, and applying a spout to conduct it to a receiver, which is either a rude trough, or a cheap vessel made by a cooper. this operation is performed late in the winter, or early in the spring, when the weather is freezing at night, and thawing in the day. . the liquid in which the saccharine matter is suspended, is evaporated by heat, as in the case of the juice of the cane. during the process of evaporation, slices of pork are kept in the kettle, to prevent the sap or syrup from boiling over. . when a sufficient quantity of syrup, of a certain thickness, has been obtained, it is passed through a strainer, and, having been again placed over the fire, it is clarified with eggs and milk, the scum, as it rises, being carefully removed with a skimmer. when sufficiently reduced, it is usually poured into tin pans, or basins, in which, as it cools, it consolidates into hard cakes of sugar. . most of the lands in a state of nature, are covered with forest trees. this is especially the case in north america. when this division of our continent was first visited by europeans, it was nearly one vast wilderness, throughout its entire extent; and even now, after a lapse of three centuries, a great portion of it remains in the same condition. the industrious settlers, however, are rapidly clearing away the natural encumbrances of the soil; and, before a similar period shall have passed away, we may expect, that civilized men will have occupied every portion of this vast territory, which may be worthy of cultivation. . the mode of _clearing_ land, as it is termed, varies in different parts of the united states. in pennsylvania, and in neighborhoods settled by people from that state, the large trees are deadened by girdling them, and the small ones, together with the underbrush, are felled and burned. this mode is very objectionable, for the reason, that the limbs on the standing trees, when they have become rotten, sometimes peril the lives of persons and animals underneath. it seems, however, that those who pursue this method, prefer risking life in this way to wearing it out in wielding the axe, and in rolling logs. . a very different plan is pursued by settlers from new-england. the underbrush is first cut down, and piled in heaps. the large trees are then felled, to serve as foundations for log-heaps; and the smaller ones are cut so as to fall as nearly parallel to these as practicable. the smaller trees, as well as the limbs of the larger ones, are cut into lengths of twelve or fifteen feet. . at a proper season of the year, when the brush has become dry enough, fire is applied, which consumes much of the small stuff. the logs are next hauled together with oxen or horses, and rolled into heaps with handspikes. the small stuff which has escaped the first burning, is thrown upon the heaps, and, fire being applied, the whole is consumed together. . in the northern, middle, and western states, where a great proportion of the timber is beech, maple, and elm, great quantities of ashes are obtained in this mode of clearing land. from these ashes are extracted the pot and pearl ashes of commerce, which have been, and which still are, among the principal exports of the united states. . the usual process of making potash is as follows: the crude ashes are put into large tubs, or _leeches_, with a small quantity of salt and lime. the strength of this mixture is extracted by pouring upon it hot water, which passes through it into a reservoir. the water thus saturated is called black ley, which is evaporated in large kettles. the residuum is called black salts, which are converted into potash by applying to the kettle an intense heat. . the process of making pearlash is the same, until the ley has been reduced to black salts, except that no lime or salt is used. the salts are baked in large ovens, heated by a blazing fire, which proceeds from an arch below. having been thus _scorched_, the salts are dissolved in hot water. the solution is allowed to be at rest, until all extraneous substances have settled to the bottom, when it is drawn off and evaporated as before. the residuum is called white salts. another baking, like the former, completes the process. . very few of the settlers have an ashery, as it is called, in which the whole process of making either pot or pearl ash is performed. they usually sell the black salts to the store-keepers in their neighborhood, who complete the process of the manufacture. . the trade in ashes is often profitable to the settlers; some of them even pay, in this way, the whole expense of clearing their land. pot and pearl ashes are packed in strong barrels, and sent to the cities, where, previous to sale, they are inspected, and branded according to their quality. [illustration: gardener.] the horticulturist. . the creator of the universe, having formed man from the dust of the ground, provided a magnificent garden for his residence, and commanded him "to dress it and to keep it:" but, having transgressed the commandment of his lawful sovereign, he was driven from this delightful paradise, thenceforth to gain a subsistence from the earth at large, which had been cursed with barrenness, thorns, thistles, and briars. . scripture does not inform us, that adam turned his attention to gardening; nor have we any means of determining the state of this art, in the centuries previous to the flood; but it is highly probable, that it had arrived to considerable perfection, before the advent of this destructive visitation from heaven. . gardens, for useful purposes, were probably made, soon after the waters had subsided; and the statement in scripture, that "noah planted a vineyard," may, perhaps, be regarded as evidence sufficient to establish it as a fact. if this were the case, the art, doubtless, continued progressive among those descendants of noah, who did not sink into a state of barbarism, after the confusion of tongues. . among savage nations, one of the first indications of advancement towards a state of civilization, is the cultivation of a little spot of ground for raising vegetables; and the degree of refinement among the inhabitants of any country, may be determined, with tolerable certainty, by the taste and skill exhibited in their gardens. . ornamental gardening is never attended to, in any country, until the arts in general have advanced to a considerable degree of perfection; and it uniformly declines with other fine or ornamental arts. accordingly, we do not read of splendid gardens among the babylonians, egyptians, jews, greeks, romans, and other nations of antiquity, until they had reached an exalted state of refinement; and when these nations descended from this condition, or were overthrown by barbarians, this art declined or disappeared. . during the period of mental darkness, which prevailed between the eighth and thirteenth centuries, the practice of ornamental gardening had fallen into such general disuse, that it was confined exclusively to the monks. after this period, it began again to spread among the people generally. it revived in italy, germany, holland, and france, long before any attention was paid to it in england. . in the latter country, but few culinary vegetables were consumed before the beginning of the sixteenth century, and most of these were brought from holland; nor was gardening introduced there, as a source of profit, until about one hundred years after that period. peaches, pears, plums, nectarines, apricots, grapes, cherries, strawberries, and melons, were luxuries but little enjoyed in england, until near the middle of the seventeenth century. the first _hot_ and _ice houses_ known on the island, were built by charles ii., who ascended the british throne in , and soon after introduced french gardening at hampton court, carlton, and marlborough. . about the beginning of the eighteenth century, this art attracted the attention of some of the first characters in great britain, who gave it a new impulse in that country. but the style which they imitated was objectionable, inasmuch as the mode of laying out the gardens, and of planting and trimming the trees, was too formal and fantastical. . several eminent writers, among whom were pope and addison, ridiculed this dutch mode of gardening, as it was called, and endeavoured to introduce another, more consistent with genuine taste. their views were, at length, seconded by practical horticulturists; and those principles of the art which they advocated, were adopted in every part of great britain. the english mode has been followed and emulated by the refined nations of the eastern continent and by many opulent individuals in the united states. . since the beginning of the present century horticultural societies have been formed in every kingdom of europe. in great britain alone, there are no less than fifty; and, it is satisfactory to add, that there are also several of these institutions in the united states. the objects of the persons who compose these societies are, to collect and disseminate information on this interesting art, especially in regard to the introduction of new and valuable articles of cultivation. . the authors who have written upon scientific and practical gardening, at different periods, and in different countries, are very numerous. among the ancient greek writers, were hesiod, theophrastus, xenophon, and Ã�lian. among the latins, varo was the first; to whom succeeded, cato, pliny the elder, columella, and palladius. . since the revival of literature, horticulture, in common with agriculture, has shared largely in the labours of the learned; and many works, on this important branch of rural economy, have been published in every language of europe. but the publications on this subject, which attract the greatest attention, are the periodicals under the superintendence of the great horticultural societies. those of london and paris, are particularly distinguished. . it is impossible to draw a distinct line between horticulture and agriculture; since so many articles of cultivation are common to both, and since a well-regulated farm approaches very nearly to a garden. . the divisions of a complete garden, usually adopted by writers on this subject, are the following: st. the culinary garden; d. the flower garden; d. the orchard, embracing different kinds of fruits; th. the vineyard; th. the seminary, for raising seeds; th. the nursery, for raising trees to be transplanted; th. the botanical garden, for raising various kinds of plants; th. the arboretum of ornamental trees; and, th. the picturesque, or landscape garden. to become skilful in the management of even one or two of these branches, requires much attention; but to become proficient in all, would require years of the closest application. . in europe, the professed gardeners constitute a large class of the population. they are employed either in their own gardens, or in those of the wealthy, who engage them by the day or year. there are many in this country who devote their attention to this business; but they are chiefly from the other side of the atlantic. in our southern states, the rich assign one of their slaves to the garden. . in the united states, almost every family in the country, and in the villages, has its garden for the production of vegetables, in which are also usually reared, a few flowers, ornamental shrubs, and fruit-trees: but horticulture, as a science, is studied and practised here by very few, especially that branch of it called picturesque, or landscape. to produce a pleasing effect, in a garden of this kind, from twenty to one hundred acres are necessary, according to the manner in which the ground may be situated. in an area of that extent, every branch of this pleasing art can be advantageously embraced. . delicate exotic plants, which will not bear exposure to the open air during the winter, are preserved from the effects of the cold in _hot_ or _green houses_, which may be warmed by artificial heat. a _hot-house_ is exhibited in the representation of a garden, at the head of this article. it is composed chiefly of window-glass set in sashes of wood. a green-house is usually larger; and is designed for the preservation of those plants requiring less heat. . the vegetables commonly cultivated in gardens for the table, are,--corn, potatoes, tomatoes, peas, beans, squashes, cucumbers, melons, strawberries, raspberries, blackberries, gooseberries, currants, beets, parsnips, carrots, onions, radishes, cabbages, asparagus, lettuce, grapes, and various kinds of fruits. the flowers, ornamental shrubs, and trees, are very numerous, and are becoming more so by accessions from the forests, and from foreign countries. . the scientific horticulturist, in laying off his garden, endeavours to unite beauty and utility, locating the flowers, ornamental shrubs, and trees, where they will be most conspicuous, and those vegetables less pleasing to the eye, in more retired situations, yet, in a soil and exposure adapted to their constitution. in improving the soil of his garden, he brings to his aid the science of chemistry, together with the experience of practical men. he is also careful in the choice of his fruit-trees, and in increasing the variety of their products by engrafting, and by inoculation. [illustration: miller.] the miller. . the miller belongs to that class of employments which relates to the preparation of food and drinks for man. his business consists, chiefly, in reducing the farinaceous grains to a suitable degree of fineness. . the simplest method by which grain can be reduced to meal, or flour, is rubbing or pounding it between two stones; and this was probably the one first practised in all primitive conditions of society, as it is still pursued among some tribes of uncivilized men. . the first machine for comminuting grain, of which we have any knowledge, was a simple hand-mill, composed of a nether stone fixed in a horizontal position, and an upper stone, which was put in motion with the hand by means of a peg. this simple contrivance is still used in india, as well as in some sequestered parts of scotland, and on many of the plantations in the southern states of our union. but, in general, where large quantities of grain are to be ground, it has been entirely superseded by mills not moved by manual power. . the modern corn and flour mill differs from the primitive hand-mill in the size of the stones, in the addition of an apparatus for separating the hulls and bran from the farinaceous part of the grain, and in the power applied for putting it in motion. . the grinding surfaces of the stones have channels, or furrows, cut in them, which proceed obliquely from the centre to the circumference. the furrows are cut slantwise on one side, and perpendicular on the other; so that each of the ridges which they form, has a sharp edge; and, when the upper stone is in motion, these edges pass one another, like the blades of a pair of scissors, and cut the grain the more easily, as it falls upon the furrows. . by a careful inspection of the following picture, the whole machinery of a common mill may be understood. [illustration] a represents the water-wheel; b, the shaft to which is attached the cog-wheel c, which acts on the trundle-head, d; and this, in turn, acts on the moveable stone. the spindle, trundle-head, and upper stone, all rest entirely on the beam, f, which can be elevated or depressed, at pleasure, by a simple apparatus; so that the distance between the stones can be easily regulated, to grind either fine or coarse. the grain about to be submitted to the action of the mill, is thrown into the hopper, h, whence it passes by the shoe, or spout i, through a hole in the upper stone, and then between them both. . the upper stone is a little convex, and the other a little concave. there is a little difference, however, between the convexity and the concavity of the two stones: this difference causes the space between them to become less and less towards their edges; and the grain, being admitted between them, is, consequently, ground finer and finer, as it passes out in that direction, in which it is impelled by the centrifugal power of the moving stone. . if the flour, or meal, is not to be separated from the bran, the simple grinding completes the operation; but, when this separation is to be made, the comminuted grain, as it is thrown out from between the stones, is carried, by little leathern buckets fastened to a strap, to the upper end of an octagonal sieve, placed in an inclined position in a large box. the coarse bran passes out at the lower end of the sieve, or bolt, and the flour, or fine particles of bran, through the bolting-cloth, at different places, according to their fineness. at the head of the bolt, the superfine flour passes; in the middle, the fine flour; and at the lower end, the coarse flour and fine bran; which, when mixed, is called _canel_, or _shorts_. . the best material of which mill-stones are made, is the burr-stone, which is brought from france in small pieces, weighing from ten to one hundred pounds. these are cemented together with plaster of paris, and closely bound around the circumference with hoops made of bar iron. for grinding corn or rye, those made of sienite, or granite rock, are frequently used. . a mill, exclusively employed in grinding grain, consumed by the inhabitants of the neighborhood, is called a _grist_ or _custom_ mill; and a portion of the grist is allowed to the miller, in payment for his services. the proportion is regulated by law; and, in our own country, it varies according to the legislation of the different states. . mills in which flour is manufactured, and packed in barrels for sale, are called merchant mills. here, the wheat is purchased by the miller, or by the owner of the mill, who relies upon the difference between the original cost of the grain, and the probable amount of its several products, when sold, to remunerate him for the manufacture, and his investments of capital. in virginia, and, perhaps, in some of the other states, it is a common practice among the farmers, to deliver to the millers their wheat, for which they receive a specified quantity of flour. . the power most commonly employed to put heavy machinery in operation, is that supplied by water. this is especially the case with regard to mills for grinding grain; but, when this cannot be had, a substitute is found in steam, or animal strength. the wind is also rendered subservient to this purpose. the wind-mill was invented in the time of augustus cæsar. during the reign of this emperor, and probably long before, mules and asses were employed by both the greeks and romans in turning their mills. the period at which water-mills began to be used cannot be certainly determined. some writers place it as far back as the christian era. . wheat flour is one of the staple commodities of the united states, and there are mills for its manufacture in almost every part of the country, where wheat is extensively cultivated; but our most celebrated flour-mills are on the brandywine creek, del., at rochester, n. y., and at richmond, va. . in our southern states, hommony is a favorite article of food. it consists of the flinty portions of indian corn, which have been separated from the hulls and eyes of the grain. to effect this separation, the corn is sometimes ground very coarsely in a mill; but the most usual method is that of pounding it in a mortar. . the mortar is excavated from a log of hard wood, between twelve and eighteen inches in diameter. the form of the excavation is similar to that of a common iron mortar, except that it is less flat at the bottom, to prevent the corn from being reduced to meal during the operation. the pestle is usually made by confining an iron wedge in the split end of a round stick, by means of an iron ring. . the white flint corn is the kind usually chosen for hommony; although any kind, possessing the requisite solidity, will do. having been poured into the mortar, it is moistened with hot water, and immediately beaten with the pestle, until the eyes and hulls are forced from the flinty portions of the grain. the part of the corn which has been reduced to meal by the foregoing process, is removed by means of a sieve, and the hulls, by the aid of the wind. . hommony is prepared for the table by boiling it in water for twelve hours with about one fourth of its quantity of white beans, and some fat bacon. it is eaten while yet warm, with milk or butter; or, if suffered to get cold, is again warmed with lard or some other fat substance, before it is brought to the table. [illustration: baker.] the baker. . the business of the baker consists in making bread, rolls, biscuits, and crackers, and in baking various kinds of provisions. . man appears to be designed by nature, to eat all substances capable of affording nourishment to his system; but, being more inclined to vegetable than to animal food, he has, from the earliest times, used farinaceous grains, as his principal means of sustenance. as these, however, cannot be eaten in their native state without difficulty, means have been contrived for extracting their farinaceous part, and for converting it into an agreeable and wholesome aliment. . those who are accustomed to enjoy all the advantages of the most useful inventions, without reflecting on the labour expended in their completion, may fancy that there is nothing more easy than to grind grain, to make it into paste, and to bake it in an oven; but it must have been a long time, before men discovered any better method of preparing their grain, than roasting it in the fire, or boiling it in water, and forming it into viscous cakes. accident, probably, at length furnished some observing person a hint, by which good and wholesome bread could be made by means of fermentation. . before the invention of the oven, bread was exclusively baked in the embers, or ashes, or before the fire. these methods, with sometimes a little variation, are still practised, more or less, in all parts of the world. in england, the poor class of people place the loaf on the heated hearth, and invert over it an iron pot or kettle, which they surround with embers or coals. . the invention of the oven must have added much to the conveniences and comforts of the ancients; but it cannot be determined, at what period, or by whom, it was contrived. during that period of remote antiquity, in which the people were generally erratic in their habits, the ovens were made of clay, and hardened by fire, like earthenware; and, being small, they could be easily transported from place to place, like our iron bake-ovens. such ovens are still in use in some parts of asia. . there are few nations that do not use bread, or a substitute for it. its general use arises from a law of our economy, which requires a mixture of the animal fluids, in every stage of the process of digestion. the saliva is, therefore, essential; and the mastication of dry food is required, to bring it forth from the glands of the mouth. . the farinaceous grains most usually employed in making bread, are,--wheat, rye, barley, maize, and oats. the flour or meal of two of these are often mixed; and wheat flour is sometimes advantageously combined with rice, peas, beans, or potatoes. . the component parts of wheat, rye, and barley flour, are,--fecula, or starch, gluten, and saccharine mucilage. fecula is the most nutritive part of grain. it is found in all seeds, and is especially abundant in the potato. gluten is necessary to the production of light bread; and wheat flour, containing it in the greatest proportion, answers the purpose better than any other. the saccharine mucilage is equally necessary, as this is the substance on which yeast and leaven act, in producing the internal commotion in the particles of dough during fermentation. . there are three general methods of making bread; st. by mixing meal or flour with water, or with water and milk; d. by adding to the foregoing materials a small quantity of sour dough, or leaven, to serve as a fermenting agent; and, d. by using yeast, to produce the same general effect. . the theory of making light bread, is not difficult to be understood. the leaven or yeast acts upon the saccharine mucilage of the dough, and, by the aid of heat and moisture, disengages carbonaceous matter, which, uniting with oxygen, forms carbonic acid gas. this, being prevented from escaping by the gluten of the dough, causes the mass to become light and spongy. during the process of baking, the increased heat disengages more of the fixed air, which is further prevented from escaping by the formation of the crust. the superfluous moisture having been expelled, the substance becomes firm, and retains that spongy hollowness which distinguishes good bread. . many other substances contain fermenting qualities, and are, therefore, sometimes used as substitutes for yeast and leaven. the waters of several mineral springs, both in europe and america, being impregnated with carbonic acid gas, are occasionally employed in making light bread. . the three general methods of making bread, and the great number of materials employed, admit of a great variety in this essential article of food; so much so, that we cannot enter into details, as regards the particular modes of manufacture adopted by different nations, or people. there are, comparatively, but few people on the globe, among whom this art is not practised in some way or other. . it is impossible to ascertain, at what period of time the process of baking bread became a particular profession. it is supposed, that the first bakers in rome came from greece, about two hundred years before the christian era; and that these, together with some freemen of the city, were incorporated into a college, or company, from which neither they nor their children were permitted to withdraw. they held their effects in common, without possessing any individual power of parting with them. . each bake-house had a patron, or superintendent; and one of the patrons had the management of the rest, and the care of the college. so respectable was this class of men in rome, that one of the body was occasionally admitted, as a member of the senate; and all, on account of their peculiar corporate association, and the public utility of their employment, were exempted from the performance of the civil duties to which other citizens were liable. . in many of the large cities of europe, the price and weight of bread sold by bakers, are regulated by law. the weight of the loaves of different sizes must be always the same; but the price may vary, according to the current cost of the chief materials. the law was such in the city of london, a few years ago, that if a loaf fell short in weight a single ounce, the baker was liable to be put in the pillory; but now, he is subject only to a fine, varying from one to five shillings, according to the will of the magistrate before whom he may be indicted. . in this country, laws of a character somewhat similar have been enacted by the legislatures of several states, and by city authorities, with a view to protect the community against impositions; but whether there is a law or not, the bakers regulate the weight, price, and quality of their loaves by the general principles of trade. . there is, perhaps, no business more laborious than that of the baker of loaf bread, who has a regular set of customers to be supplied every morning. the twenty-four hours of the day are systematically appropriated to the performance of certain labours, and to rest. . after breakfast, the yeast is prepared, and the oven-wood provided: at two or three o'clock, the _sponge is set_: the hours from three to eight or nine o'clock, are appropriated to rest. the baking commences at nine or ten o'clock at night; and, in large bakeries, continues until five o'clock in the morning. from that time until the breakfast hour, the hands are engaged in distributing the bread to customers. for seven months in the year, and, in some cases, during the whole of it, part of the hands are employed, from eleven to one o'clock, in baking pies, puddings, and different kinds of meats, sent to them from neighboring families. . in large cities, the bakers usually confine their attention to particular branches of the business. some bake light loaf bread only; others bake unleavened bread, such as crackers, sea-biscuit, and cakes for people of the jewish faith. some, again, unite several branches together; and this is especially the case in small cities and towns, where the demand for different kinds of bread is more limited. [illustration: confectioner.] the confectioner. . the confectioner makes liquid and dry confects, jellies, marmalades, pastes, conserves, sugar-plums, ice-creams, candies, and cakes of various kinds. . many of the articles just enumerated, are prepared in families for domestic use; but, as their preparation requires skill and practice, and is likewise attended with some trouble, it is sometimes better to purchase them of the confectioner. . _liquid_ and dry _confects_ are preserves made of various kinds of fruits and berries, the principal of which are,--peaches, apricots, pears, quinces, apples, plums, cherries, grapes, strawberries, gooseberries, currants, and raspberries. the fruit, of whatever kind it may be, is confected by boiling it in a thick clarified syrup of sugar, until it is about half cooked. dry confects are made by boiling the fruit a little in syrup, and then drying it with a moderate heat in an oven. the ancients confected with honey; but, at present, sugar is deemed more suitable for this purpose, and is almost exclusively employed. . _jellies_ resemble a thin transparent glue, or size. they are made by mixing the juice of the fruits mentioned in the preceding paragraph, with a due proportion of sugar, and then boiling the composition down to a proper consistence. jellies are also made of the flesh of animals; but such preparations cannot be long kept, as they soon become corrupt. . _marmalades_ are thin pastes, usually made of the pulp of fruits that have some consistence, and about an equal weight of sugar. _pastes_ are similar to marmalades, in their materials, and mode of preparation. the difference consists only in their being reduced by evaporation to a consistence, which renders them capable of retaining a form, when put into moulds, and dried in an oven. . _conserves_ are a species of dry confects, compounded of sugar and flowers. the flowers usually employed, are,--roses, mallows, rosemary, orange, violets, jessamine, pistachoes, citrons, and sloes. orange-peel is also used for the same purpose. . _candies_ are made of clarified sugar, reduced by evaporation to a suitable degree of consistence. they receive their name from the essence, or substance, employed in giving them the required flavour. . _sugar-plums_ are small fruits, seeds, little pieces of bark, or odoriferous and aromatic roots, incrusted with hard sugar. these trifles are variously denominated; but, in most cases, according to the name of the substance inclosed by the incrustation. . _ice-cream_ is an article of agreeable refreshment in hot weather. it is sold in confectionary shops, as well as at the public gardens, and other places of temporary resort in cities. it is composed, chiefly, of milk or cream, fruit, and lemon-juice. it is prepared by beating the materials well together, and rubbing them through a fine hair sieve. the congelation is effected by placing the containing vessel in one which is somewhat larger, and filling the surrounding vacancy with a mixture of salt and fine ice. . _cakes_ are made of a great variety of ingredients; the principal of which are, flour, butter, eggs, sugar, water, milk, cream, yeast, wine, brandy, raisins, currants, caraway, lemon, orange, almonds, cinnamon, nutmeg, allspice, cloves, and ginger. the different combinations of these materials, produce so great a variety of cakes, that it would be tedious to detail even their names. . the confectioner, in addition to those articles which may be considered peculiar to his business, deals in various kinds of fruits and nuts, which grow in different climates. he also sells a variety of pickles, which he usually procures from those who make it a business to prepare them. . _soda-water_ is likewise often sold by the confectioner. this agreeable drink is merely water, impregnated with carbonic acid gas, by means of a forcing-pump. the confectioners, however, in large cities, seldom prepare it themselves, as they can procure it at less expense, and with less trouble, ready made. . sometimes, the business of the pastry-cook is united with that of the confectioner, especially with that branch of it which relates to making cakes. pies and tarts consist of paste, which, in baking, becomes a crust, and some kind of fruit or meat, or both, with suitable seasoning. the art of making pies and tarts is practised, more or less, in every family: it is not, therefore, essential to be particular in naming the materials employed, or the manner in which they are combined. [illustration: distiller.] the brewer, and the distiller. the brewer. . brewing is the art of preparing a liquor, which has received the general denomination of beer. this beverage can be brewed from any kind of farinaceous grain; but, on various accounts, barley is usually preferred. it is prepared for the brewer's use by converting it into malt, which is effected by the following process. . the grain is soaked in a cistern of water about two days, or until it is completely saturated with that fluid. it is then taken out, and spread upon a floor in a layer nearly two feet thick. when the inside of this heap begins to grow warm, and the kernels to germinate, the maltster checks the rapid growth of the grain in that situation by changing it to the outside. this operation is continued, until the saccharine matter in the barley has been sufficiently evolved by the natural process of germination. . the grain is next transferred to the kiln, which is an iron or tile floor, perforated with small holes, and moderately heated beneath with a fire of coke or stone coal. here, the grain is thoroughly dried, and the principle of germination completely destroyed. the malt thus made is prepared for being brewed, by crushing it in a common mill, or between rollers. malting, in great britain, and in some other parts of europe, is a business distinct from brewing; but, in the united states, the brewers generally make their own malt. . the first part of the process of brewing is called _mashing_. this is performed in a large tub, or _tun_, having two bottoms. the upper one, consisting of several moveable pieces, is perforated with a great number of small holes; the other, though tight and immoveable at the edges, has several large holes, furnished with ducts, which lead to a cistern beneath. . the malt, designed for one mashing, is spread in an even layer on the upper bottom, and thoroughly saturated and incorporated with water nearly boiling, by means of iron rakes, which are made to revolve and move round in the tub by the aid of machinery. the water, together with the soluble parts of the malt, at length passes off, through the holes before mentioned, into the reservoir beneath. . the malt requires to be mashed two or three times in succession with fresh quantities of water; and the product of each mashing is appropriated to making liquors of different degrees of strength. . the product of the _mashing-tun_ is called _wort_, which, being transferred to a large copper kettle, is boiled for a considerable time with a quantity of hops, and then drawn off into large shallow cisterns, called _coolers_. when the mixture has become cool enough to be submitted to fermentation, it is drawn off into the _working tun_. . the fermentation is effected with yeast, which, acting on the saccharine matter, disengages carbonic acid gas. this part of the process requires from eighteen to forty-eight hours, according to the degree of heat which may be in the atmosphere. . the beer is then drawn off into casks of different dimensions, in which it undergoes a still further fermentation, sometimes called the _brewer's cleansing_. during this fermentation, the froth, or yeast, works out at the bung-hole, and is received in a trough, on the edges of which the casks have been placed. the froth thus discharged from the beer, is the yeast used by the brewers. . the products of the brewery are denominated _beer_, _ale_, and _porter_. the difference between these liquors arises, chiefly, from the manner in which the malt has been prepared, the relative strength imparted to each, and the extent to which the fermentation has been carried. . there are several kinds of beer; such as table beer, half and half, and strong beer. they are adapted to use soon after being brewed, and differ from each other but little, except in the degree of their strength. . ale and porter are called stock liquors; because, not being designed for immediate consumption, they are kept for a considerable time, that they may improve in quality. porter is usually prepared for consumption by putting it into bottles. this is done either at the brewery, or in bottling establishments. in the latter case, the liquor is purchased in large quantities from the brewer by persons who make it their business to supply retailers and private families. . we have evidence that fermented liquor was in use three thousand years ago. it was first used in egypt, whence it passed into adjacent countries, and afterward into spain, france, and england. it was sometimes called the wine of barley; and one kind of it was denominated pelusian drink, from the city pelusium, where it was first made. . among the nations of modern times, the english are the most celebrated for brewing good liquors. london porter is especially in great repute, not only in that city, but in distant countries. much fermented liquor of the different kinds, is consumed in the united states, where it is also made in considerable perfection. the distiller. . although alcohol can be extracted from any substance containing saccharine matter, yet sugar-cane, grapes, apples, peaches, rye, corn, and rice, on account of their abundance, and superior adaptation to the purpose, are more commonly used than any other. as whiskey is the chief article of this kind, manufactured in the united states, it will be selected to illustrate the general principles of distillation. . corn and rye are the materials from which this liquor is mostly extracted; and these are used either together or separately, at the option of the distiller. the meal is scalded and mashed in a large tub: it is then permitted to stand, until it has become a little sweet, when more water is poured upon it, and, at a suitable temperature, a quantity of yeast is added. to aid in producing rapid fermentation, a little malt is sprinkled on the top. . after an adequate fermentation has taken place, the _beer_, as it is called, is transferred to a large close tub, from the top of which leads a tube extending to the worm in another tub filled with cold water. the worm is a long pewter tube, twisted spirally, that it may occupy a small space. . the beer is heated in the close tub, by means of steam, which is conveyed to it, from a large kettle or boiler, by a copper or iron pipe. the heat causes the alcoholic particles to rise like vapour, and pass into the worm, where they are condensed into a watery fluid, which passes out into a receiver. . at first, pure alcohol distils from the worm; but the produce becomes gradually weaker, until, at length, the spirit in the beer being exhausted, it consists only of water condensed from steam. the remains of the beer are given as feed to hogs and cattle. . brandy is distilled from grapes, rum from sugar-cane, arrack from rice, whiskey from various kinds of grain, peach-brandy from peaches, and cider-brandy from apples. . the great variety of articles employed in the productions of different kinds of ardent spirits, must necessarily vary the process of distillation in some particulars; but, in all cases, fermentation and heat are necessary to disengage the alcoholic properties of the saccharine matter, and also an apparatus for condensing the same from a gaseous to a liquid form. in some countries, the _alembic_ is used as a condenser, instead of a worm. the form of this instrument is much like that of the retort; and when applied, it is screwed upon the top of the boiler. . spirits, which come to market in a crude state, are sometimes distilled for the purpose of improving their quality, or for disguising them with drugs and colouring substances, that they may resemble superior liquors. the process by which they are thus changed, or improved, is called rectification. many distilleries in large cities, are employed in this branch of business. . there is, perhaps, no kind of merchandise in which the public is more deceived, than in the quality of ardent spirits and wines. to illustrate this, it is only necessary to observe, that holland gin is made by distilling french brandy with juniper-berries; but most of the spirits which are vended under that name, consist only of rum or whiskey, flavoured with the oil of turpentine. genuine french brandy is distilled from grapes; but the article usually sold under that denomination, is whiskey or rum coloured with treacle or scorched sugar, and flavoured with the oil of wine, or some kind of drug. . the ancient greeks and romans were acquainted with an instrument for distillation, which they denominated _ambix_. this was adopted, a long time afterward, by the arabian alchemists, for making their chemical experiments; but they made some improvements in its construction, and changed its name to _alembic_. . the ancients, however, knew nothing of alcohol. the method of extracting this intoxicating substance, was probably discovered some time in the twelfth or thirteenth century; but, for many ages after the discovery, it was used only as a medicine, and was kept for sale exclusively in apothecary shops. it is now used as a common article of stimulation, in almost every quarter of the globe. . but the opinion is becoming general, among all civilized people, that the use of alcohol, for this purpose, is destructive of health, and the primary cause of most of the crimes and pauperism in all places, where its consumption is common. the formation of temperance societies, and the publication of their reports, together with the extensive circulation of periodical papers, devoted to the cause of temperance, have already diminished, to a very great extent, the use of spirituous liquors. . although the ancients knew nothing of distilling alcohol, yet they were well versed in the art of making wine. we read of the vineyard, as far back as the time of noah, the second father of nations; and, from that period to the present, the grape has been the object of careful cultivation, in all civilized nations, where the climate and soil were adapted to the purpose. . the general process of making wine from grapes, is as follows. the grapes, when gathered, are crushed by treading them with the feet, and rubbing them in the hands, or by some other means, with the view to press out the juice. the whole is then suffered to stand in the vat, until it has passed through what is termed the _vinous_ fermentation, when the juice, which, in this state, is termed _must_, is drawn off into open vessels, where it remains until the pressing of the husks is finished. . the husks are submitted, in hair bags, to the press; and the _must_ which is the result of this operation, is mixed with that drawn from the vat. the whole is then put into casks, where it undergoes another fermentation, called the _spirituous_, which occupies from six to twelve days. the casks are then bunged up, and suffered to stand a few weeks, when the wine is racked off from the _lees_, and again returned to the same casks, after they have been perfectly cleansed. two such rackings generally render the wine clear and brilliant. . in many cases, sugar, brandy, and flavouring substances, are necessary, to render the wine palatable; but the best kinds of grapes seldom require any of these additions. wine-merchants often adulterate their wines in various ways, and afterwards sell them for those which are genuine. to correct acidity, and some other unpleasant qualities, lead, copper, antimony, and corrosive sublimate, are often used by the dealers in wine; though the practice is attended with deleterious effects to the health of the consumers. . the wines most usually met with in this country, are known by the following denominations, viz., _madeira_ and _teneriffe_, from islands of the same names; _port_, from portugal; _sherry_ and _malaga_, from spain; _champagne_, _burgundy_, and _claret_, from france; and _hock_, from germany. [illustration: butcher.] the butcher. . man is designed by nature, to subsist on vegetable and animal food. this is obvious, from the structure of his organs of mastication and digestion. it does not follow, however, that animal food is, in all cases, positively required. in some countries, the mass of the people subsist chiefly or entirely on vegetables. this is especially the case in the east indies, where rice and fruits are the chief articles of food. . on the other hand, the people who live in the higher latitudes subsist principally on the flesh of animals. this is preferred, not only because it is better suited to brace the system against the rigours of the climate, but because it is most easily provided. in temperate climates, a due proportion of both animal and vegetable substances is consumed. . although the skins of beasts were used for the purpose of clothing, soon after the fall of man, we have no intimation from the scriptures, that their flesh, or that of any other animal, was used, until after the flood. the divine permission was then given to noah and his posterity, to use, for this purpose, "every moving thing that liveth." but in the law of moses, delivered several centuries after this period, many exceptions are to be found, which were intended to apply only to the jewish people. these restrictions were removed, on the introduction of christianity. the unbelieving jews, however, still adhere to their ancient law. . the doctrine of transmigration has had a great influence in diminishing the consumption of animal food. this absurd notion arose somewhere in central asia, and, at a very early period, it spread into egypt, greece, italy, and finally among the remote countries of the ancient world. it is still entertained by the heathen nations of eastern asia, by the tribes in the vicinity of mount caucasus, and by some of the american savages, and african negroes. . the leading feature of this doctrine is, that the souls of departed men reappear on earth in the bodies of animals, both as a punishment for crimes committed during life, and as a means of purification from sin. this dogma was adopted by the pythagoreans, a sect of grecian philosophers; and, as a natural consequence, it led them, as it has ever done the votaries of this opinion, to the veneration of animals, and to abstinence from their flesh, lest they might devour that of some of their deceased friends or relatives. . people who dwell thinly scattered in the country, rear and slaughter the animals for the supply of their own tables; but, in villages, large towns, and cities, the inhabitants depend chiefly on the butcher for their meat. the animals commonly slaughtered are, sheep, cattle, and hogs. . the butchers obtain their animals from the farmers, or from drovers, who make it a business to purchase them in the country, and drive them to market. the farmers near large cities, who have good grazing farms, are accustomed to buy lean cattle, brought from a distance, with a view to fatten them for sale. there are also persons in the cities, who might, with propriety, be called cattle brokers; since they supply the butchers of small capital with a single animal at a time, on a credit of a few days. . every butcher who carries on the business, has a house in which he kills his animals, and prepares them for sale. when it is intended to slaughter an ox, a rope is thrown about his horns or neck, with which he is forced into the _slaughter-house_, and brought to the floor by the aid of a ring. the butcher then knocks him on the head, cuts his throat, deprives him of his hide, takes out his entrails, washes the inside of his body with water, and cuts him up into quarters. the beef is now ready to be conveyed to the market-house. the process of dressing other quadrupeds varies but little from this in its general details. the cellular substance of mutton, lamb and veal, is often inflated with air, that the meat may appear fat and plump. . in large cities and towns, the meat is chiefly sold in the market-house, where each butcher has a stall rented from the corporation. it is carried there in a cart, and cut into suitable pieces with a saw, knife, and a broad iron cleaver. . in some of the large cities, it is a practice among the butchers, to employ _runners_ to carry the meat to the houses, of those customers who may desire this accommodation. in villages, where there is no market-house, the butcher carries his meats from door to door in some kind of vehicle. . those who follow this occupation usually enjoy good health, and, as they advance in years, in most cases, become corpulent. their good health arises from exercise in the open air; and their corpulency, from subsisting principally on fresh meats. it is thought, however, that their longevity is not so great as that of men in many other employments. [illustration: tobacconist.] the tobacco planter, and the tobacconist the tobacco planter. . tobacco is a native production of america, which was in common use among nearly all of the indian tribes, when this continent was discovered by europeans. its original name among the nations of the islands, was _yoli_; whilst, with those of the continent, it was termed _petum_. the spaniards, however, chose to call it _tobacco_, a term in the haytian language, which designated the instrument in which the herb was smoked. . this plant was first introduced into spain, then into portugal and france, and, at length, into other countries of the eastern continent. sir walter raleigh carried it from virginia to england, and taught his countrymen the various methods of consuming it among the natives. . the introduction of this nauseous plant into europe, was everywhere attended with ridicule and opposition. hundreds of pamphlets were published, in various languages, dissuading from its use in the strongest terms. even james the first, king of great britain, did not regard it as inconsistent with the royal dignity to take up his pen on the subject. in his "_counterblast to tobacco_," published in , occurs the following remarkable passage: "it is a custom loathsome to the eye, hateful to the nose, harmful to the brain; and, in the black fume thereof, nearest resembling the horrible stygian smoke of the pit that is bottomless." . pope urban viii. excommunicated those who took tobacco in churches; and queen elizabeth also prohibited its use in houses of public worship. in , an ordinance was published in transylvania, threatening those who should plant tobacco with the confiscation of their estates. the grand-duke of moscow, and the king of persia, prohibited its use under the penalty of the loss of the nose, and even of life. at present, however, the consumption of tobacco is looked upon with so much greater indulgence, that all the sovereigns of europe, and most of those of other nations, derive a considerable revenue from the trade in this article. . but it is truly astonishing, that a nauseous weed, of an acrid taste, disagreeable odour, and deleterious qualities, should have had so great an influence on the social condition of nations; that its culture should have spread more rapidly than that of the most useful plants; and that it should, consequently, have become an article of extensive commerce. . of this plant there are several species, which differ from each other, in size, strength, and flavour. some one or more of these varieties, are cultivated in various parts of the world: but especially in north and south america, and in the west indies. it is one of the staple productions of maryland, virginia, kentucky, and ohio. the whole value of the tobacco, exported annually from the united states, amounts to about five millions of dollars. . the following description of the mode of cultivating this plant, and preparing it for the tobacconist, is applicable to the state of maryland. a little variation in some of the details, would render it applicable to other parts of the world. . a small piece of ground, say one-sixteenth of an acre, is prepared by burning a large quantity of brush upon it. the surface is rendered light and even, by means of a hoe and rake; and the seeds, mixed with ashes, are sown as equally as possible. after they have been covered with earth, the ground is trodden down with the bare feet. the tobacco beds are made in march, and the plants become fit for the field in eight or ten weeks. . the field, in which the cultivation of the crop is to be continued, is ploughed two or three times, and then cross-ploughed into equal checks, in each of which is made a hill. immediately after a rain, the plants are transferred to these hills, in the same manner in which cabbages are transplanted. while the tobacco is growing, the ground is ploughed several times, in order to keep it light, and to aid in destroying the weeds. when the plants are nearly grown, the tops are lopped or cut off, to prevent them from running to seed, and to cause the leaves to grow larger and thicker. . in july or august, the tobacco-worms begin to make their appearance, and to threaten the whole crop with destruction. to arrest the ravages of these insidious enemies, all hands, both great and small, together with all the turkeys that can be mustered, are brought into the field. these worms are produced from the eggs of a large insect, called the horn-bug. . the tobacco, when ripe, is cut near the ground, and hung on small sticks about five feet in length, generally by pegs driven into the stalks. these sticks are then laid upon poles, arranged at proper distances from each other in the tobacco-house, shed, or hovel, as the case may be. it is then suffered to dry gradually in the atmosphere; or a large fire is made in the tobacco-house, to effect the drying more rapidly. . the leaves are next stripped from the stalks, and tied in small bunches according to their quality. this can only be done when _in order_, or rather, when the leaves are rendered tough by the absorption of moisture from the atmosphere. these bunches, when the leaves are so damp that they will not break, and so dry that they will not heat, are packed in hogs-heads by the aid of a large lever press. the tobacco is inspected in public warehouses, by men who have been appointed for the purpose by the public authorities. the tobacconist. . it is the business of the tobacconist to convert the leaves of the tobacco plant into snuff, cigars, and smoking and chewing tobacco. . although there may seem to be a great variety of snuffs, yet they may be all reduced to three kinds, viz., scotch, rappee, and maccouba. these are variously modified by the quality of the tobacco, by some little variation in the manufacture, and by the articles employed in communicating the desired flavour. . in manufacturing snuff, the tobacco is ground in a mill of a peculiar construction. before the weed is submitted to this operation, it is reduced to a certain degree of fineness, by means of a cutting machine; and then spread in a heap, one or two feet thick, and sprinkled with water, that it may _heat_ and _sweat_. the time required in this preparation depends upon the state of the weather, and the kind of snuff for which the tobacco is designed. . scotch snuff is made of the strongest sort of tobacco, and is put up in bladders and bottles without being scented. rappee and maccouba are put up in jars and bottles; and the former is generally scented with bergamot, and the latter with the ottar of roses. sometimes, several ingredients, agreeable to the olfactory nerves, are employed. . cigars are composed of two parts, called the _wrapper_ and the _filling_. the former is made of pieces of thin leaves, cut to a proper shape, and the latter of those which are more broken. in all cases, the leaves used in the manufacture of cigars are deprived of the stems, which are reserved, either to be converted into inferior kinds of snuff, or for exportation to holland, where they are usually flattened between rollers, and afterwards cut fine for smoking tobacco, to be sold to the poorer class of people. . the value of cigars depends chiefly on the quality of the tobacco. the best kind for this purpose, grows on the island of cuba, near havana. tobacco from this seed is raised in many other places; and such, among tobacconists, is called _seed_; but it passes, among smokers of limited experience, for the real havana. a very fine silky tobacco of this sort, is cultivated in connecticut, which is much esteemed. . an expert hand will make five or six hundred spanish cigars in a day, or from one thousand to fifteen hundred of those composed of maryland or kentucky tobacco. making cigars, being light work, is well adapted to females, of whom great numbers are regularly employed in this branch of business. tobacco intended for the pipe, is cut in a machine; and, after having been properly dried, it is put up in papers of different sizes. . chewing tobacco is almost exclusively prepared from the species of this plant which is cultivated in virginia, chiefly in the vicinity of james river. it is better adapted to this purpose than any other, on account of its superior strength, and the great amount of resinous matter which it contains. . the first operation in preparing chewing tobacco, is that of depriving the leaves of the stems. the former are then twisted by hand into plugs of different sizes, or spun into a continued thread by the aid of the _tobacco-wheel_, which is a simple machine moved by a crank. the thread thus produced is formed into bunches, or twists, containing a definite amount of tobacco. . the tobacco, having been put into the form desired, is moistened with water, packed in strong kegs, and then pressed with powerful screw-presses. the whole process is completed by heating the kegs, with their contents, for several days, in an oven or a tight room made for the purpose. the same change in the quality of the tobacco is also produced by suffering it to stand nine or twelve months, before it is disposed of to the consumers. . snuff is very commonly used in the southern states, as a dentifrice; or, at least, it is applied to the teeth with this ostensible object. the application is made by means of a small stick, having the fibres minutely divided at one end. although the tobacco seems to have the desired effect upon the teeth, so far as respects their appearance, yet its stimulating and narcotic powers are more to be dreaded in this mode of using it than in any other. many females ruin their complexion and constitution, by _rubbing snuff_; and the deleterious effects of the practice are so well known, that few are willing to avow it. . tobacco is used, in some one of its various forms, by a great majority of mankind; and, although it is generally acknowledged to be, in most cases, injurious to the constitution, and often destructive of health, yet its consumption seems to be on the increase. it is one of the objects of trade, even in the most obscure parts of the world; and its devotees must and will have a supply, even though they stint themselves in food and clothing. . as regards the influence which this plant assumes over its votaries, it may be classed with alcohol and opium; although its effects are not so destructive; nor is the expense so considerable; yet this is an item by no means unworthy of attention, as the aggregate sum annually expended for this useless narcotic in the united states, would be sufficient for the support of common schools in every part of the country. . the general use of tobacco is perpetuated from generation to generation, by the desire, common to children and young people, to act and appear like older persons. few ever begin the use of this nauseous weed, because it is agreeable to the senses to which it is applied; but because they fancy, in their childish simplicity, that it confers upon them some additional importance. [illustration] the manufacturer of cloth. . men, in the primitive ages, were clad with the skins of animals, until they had acquired sufficient skill to employ a better material. it cannot be determined from history, at what time cloth began to be manufactured from animal or vegetable fibre; but it is evident, that it was done at a very early period, even long before the flood. . the fibres of the vegetable kind, most commonly applied to this purpose, are the bark of several kinds of trees, together with hemp, flax, and cotton; and those of the animal kingdom are, silk, the wool of the sheep and lama, and the hair, or wool, of the goat and camel. . that the general process of manufacturing cloth may be perfectly understood, the manner of performing several operations must be separately described. for the purpose of illustration, cotton, wool, and flax, will be selected; because these are the materials of which our clothing is principally fabricated. the operations of making cloth, may be comprised under _carding_ and _combing_, _spinning_, _weaving_, and _dressing_. . _carding and combing._--wool and cotton are carded, with the view of disentangling the fibres, and arranging them longitudinally in small rolls. this is done by means of the teeth of two instruments, called cards, used by hand on the knee, or by the carding machine, which acts on the same principle, although far more expeditiously. . machines for carding wool are to be found in every district of country in the united states, in which the people manufacture much of their woollen cloths in their own families. on account of the roughness of the fibres of wool, it is necessary to cover them well with grease or oil, that they may move freely on each other during the carding and spinning. . long, coarse, or hard wools, used in the manufacture of camlets, bombazines, circassians, and other worsted fabrics, are not carded, but combed. in england, and in other countries where much of this kind of wool is used, wool-combing forms a distinct trade. the operation consists, chiefly, in drawing the locks through steel combs, the teeth of which are similar to our common flax-hatchel. the comb is heated to a certain temperature, to cause the fibres to straighten, and to remove from them the roughness which might otherwise cause the cloth made of them to thicken in washing, like flannel. . the old method of combing wool, however, has been in part superseded by the application of machines, the first of which was invented by edmund cartwright, of england, about the year . the fibres of flax are arranged in a parallel direction, and freed from tow, by drawing them through a hatchel. . _spinning._--the process of spinning consists in twisting the fibres into threads. the most simple method by which this is effected, is that by the common spinning-wheel. of this well-known machine there are two kinds; one of which is applied to spinning wool, cotton, and tow, and the other, to spinning flax. . this operation is, in most cases, performed by females in the following manner. the roll of cotton or wool is attached to the spindle, which is put in rapid motion by a band passing over it from the rim, or periphery of the wheel. while the spinster is turning the wheel with the right hand, she brings back from the spindle her left, with which she has laid hold of the roll a few inches from the upper end. when the yarn thus produced has been sufficiently twisted, she turns it upon the spindle, and repeats the same operation, until it is full. this yarn is formed into skeins by winding it upon a reel. . the mode of spinning tow is a little different. the material having been formed into _bats_ by hand-cards, the fibres are drawn out from between the fingers and thumb by the twisted thread, while the spinster gradually moves backward. worsted is spun from combed wool nearly in the same manner. . the _flax_ or _little wheel_ is moved by the foot, so that both hands of the spinster are used in supplying, disposing, and occasionally wetting the fibres, as they are drawn from the distaff. two bands pass from the periphery of the wheel, each of which performs a distinct office: the one keeps in motion the spindle, which twists the thread; the other moves the fliers, which wind the thread upon a spool, as fast as it is produced. . spinning was almost exclusively performed in the modes just described, until the year , when richard heargreaves, of england, invented a machine for spinning cotton, which he called a _jenny_. this consisted, at first, of eight spindles, moved by a common wheel, or cylinder, which was turned by hand. the number of spindles was afterwards increased to eighty-four. . in , richard arkwright, also an englishman, invented the _water-spinning-frame_. the essential and most important feature of this invention, consists in drawing out the cotton, by causing it to pass between successive pairs of rollers, which revolve with different velocities, and which act as substitutes for the thumb and fingers, as applied in common spinning. these rollers are combined with the spindle and fliers of the common flax-wheel. . another machine was invented by samuel crompton, in . it is called a _mule_, because it combines the principles of the two preceding machines. it produces finer yarn than either of them, and has nearly superseded the jenny. before the cotton is submitted to the spinning machine, it is prepared by several others, by which it is carded, extended, and partially twisted. . in the manufactories, the fine, short wools, used in the fabrication of broadcloths, flannels, and a variety of other cloths, are carded by machinery, and spun on a _slubbing_ or _roving-machine_, or on a _jenny_ or _mule_, in each of which the spindles are mounted on a carriage, which is moved backwards in stretching and twisting the material, and forwards in winding the thread upon the spindle. . worsted still continues to be spun, in most cases, on the common spinning-wheel, as it can be done more perfectly in this way, than by any other machine which has hitherto been invented. several machines have been constructed, which spin coarse threads of flax very well, and with great rapidity; but the materials for fine linen fabrics are still spun on the ancient flax-wheel. . _weaving._--the first step preparatory to weaving, is to form a warp, consisting of a number of threads, which extend through the whole piece. to produce this parallel arrangement, the yarn is wound upon spools, which are afterwards placed in a frame perpendicularly by means of rods, on which they move as upon an axle. from these spools, the yarns are stretched upon pegs to the length of the proposed web, and are carried round or doubled a sufficient number of times to make it the proper width. the same object is more expeditiously effected, by winding the yarn spirally on a revolving frame. . the next step consists in winding the warp on a cylindrical beam, which is usually about ten inches in diameter. the threads, having been put through a harness, composed of moveable parts, called _heddles_, and also through a sley, or reed, are fastened on the other side to a large rod, from which three ropes extend to another cylinder, on which the cloth is wound, as fast as it is woven. . the heddles are suspended from cross-pieces, on the top of the loom, by means of cords and pulleys, and, during the operation of weaving, are moved up and down alternately by the aid of _treadles_. this reciprocal motion causes the web to open; and, while in this position, a shuttle, containing the _woof_, _weft_, or _filling_ on a quill or bobbin, is passed through from right to left, or from left to right, as often as the position of the warp is changed. the threads of the filling are beaten up by the reed, or sley, which is placed in the _lay_. . weaving is a business extensive in its application, being divided into almost as many branches as there are woven fabrics. plain cotton, linen, woollen, and twilled cloths, silks, satins, carpets, &c., are all woven in looms of some kind, constructed on the same general principles. power-looms, driven by water or steam, are now generally introduced into the cotton and woollen manufactories, both in europe and in this country. one person can attend to two of these looms at the same time, and each one will weave between twenty and forty yards in a day. . _dressing._--cotton fabrics, when the webs are taken from the loom, are covered with an irregular nap, or down, formed by the protruding ends of the fibres. from the finest cottons, this is removed, by drawing them rapidly over an iron cylinder, kept red-hot by a fire within. the flame of coal-gas has recently been applied, to effect the same object. . common domestic fabrics are taken from the loom, and, without further preparation, are folded up into pieces for sale. finer articles are usually whitened and calendered, before they pass from the hand of the manufacturer. stuffs of all kinds, made of vegetable fibres, are now whitened by immersing them in a solution of oxymuriate of lime. cotton and linen goods, with a view of making them smooth and glossy, are calendered, or pressed, between steel rollers. . many of the fine cottons are converted into calicoes, by transferring to them various colors. the process by which this is done, is called calico-printing, which will be described in a separate article. . the texture of the fabrics made of worsted, or long wool, is completed, when issued from the loom. the pieces are subsequently dyed, and then pressed between heated metallic plates, to communicate to them the required gloss. but weaving does not always complete the texture of the stuffs made of the short wools. when taken from the loom, the web is too loose and open, to answer the purposes to which such cloths are usually applied. it is, therefore, submitted to another process, called _fulling_. . _fulling_, in common with almost every other operation pertaining to the manufacture of cloth, constitutes a separate trade. the art is only applied to stuffs composed of wool, or hair, as these only possess the properties which render it applicable. the practicability of fulling cloth depends on a certain roughness of the fibres, which admits of motion in one way, and retards it in another. this may be more fully understood by consulting the article on making hats. . the cloth, having been prepared by a proper cleansing, is deposited in a strong box, with a quantity of water and fuller's earth or soap, and submitted to the action of the _pestles_, or _stampers_, which are moved in a horizontal direction, backwards and forwards, by means of appropriate machinery. this operation reduces the dimensions of the cloth, and greatly improves the beauty and stability of the texture. the cloth is afterwards dried in the open air on frames prepared for the purpose. . after the cloth has been dyed, a nap is raised on one side of it by means of the common teazle. the nap is next cut off to an even surface. this was formerly done with a huge pair of shears; but, within a few years, it has most commonly been effected by a machine, the essential part of which is a spiral blade, that revolves in contact with another blade, while the cloth is stretched over a bed, or support, just near enough for the projecting filaments to be cut off at a uniform length, without injuring the main texture. pressing and folding the cloth complete the whole process. . a great proportion of the woollen fabrics worn in the united states, are manufactured in families, part of which is sent to the clothiers to be dressed. much cotton yarn, spun at the manufactories, is purchased for domestic use. formerly, the raw material was procured, and spun into yarn on the _big wheel_. coarse linens are also extensively manufactured in families, especially among the german population. . the manufacture of cloth from wool was introduced into britain by the romans, some time in the augustan age. at winchester, they conducted the business on a scale sufficiently large to supply their army. after the romans withdrew from the island, in the fifth century, the art was comparatively neglected, and gradually declined, until the reign of edward iii. this monarch invited into his dominions workmen from flanders, in which country the manufacture had, for a long time, been in a flourishing condition. . shortly after the first immigration of the flemish manufacturers into england, an act was passed prohibiting the wearing of cloths made in any other country; and, in the time of elizabeth, the manufacture had become so extensive, that the exportation of the raw material was forbidden by law. . it is supposed that there are now, in great britain, thirty millions of sheep; whose annual produce of wool is worth, on an average, about seven millions of pounds sterling; to this may be added five millions of pounds weight from foreign countries. this amount is increased in value, by manufacturing skill, to twenty or thirty millions of pounds. not less than three millions of persons are supposed to be employed in this branch of british industry. . both the woollen and cotton manufactures have arisen to great importance, of late years, in the united states; and, from the mechanical skill of our countrymen, the abundance of the raw material, and the vast amount of water-power, there is every reason to anticipate a rapid and continual increase in these divisions of american enterprise. the silk-worm. . silk is the production of a worm, of the caterpillar species, which, in due course, passes through several transformations, and at length becomes a butterfly, like others of the genus. it is produced from an egg, and when about to die, or rather again to change its form, spins for itself an envelope, called _a cocoon_. the worm then changes to a chrysalis, and, after remaining in this state from to days, the butterfly, or moth, comes out, forcing its way through the cocoon. the moths, or butterflies, eat nothing, and die as soon as they have provided for the propagation of their species. enough of these are suffered to come to maturity, to provide a sufficient stock of eggs. the rest are killed, in a few days after they have spun their task, either by heating them in an oven, or by exposing them to the rays of the sun. . the fibres are wound upon a reel. to render this practicable, the cocoons are put into water heated to a suitable temperature, which dissolves the gummy substance that holds the fibres together. a number of threads being detached, and passed through a hole in an iron bar, form, by the aid of the remaining glutinous matter, one thread, which is wound upon a reel into skeins. . the raw silk, thus produced and prepared, is sold to the manufacturers, who twist and double the fibres variously, and finally form them into threads for sewing; or weave them into a great variety of fabrics, which are too well known to need particular description here. . according to the ancients, the silk-worm was originally a native of china, and the neighboring parts of asia, and had there been domesticated for a long time, before it was known in europe. for many years after silk was sold among the nations of the west, even the merchants were ignorant of both the manner and place of its production. . the greeks became acquainted with silk, soon after the time of alexander the great; and the romans knew little of the article, until the reign of augustus. dresses, composed entirely of this material, were seldom worn; but the fabrics which had been closely woven in the east, were unravelled, and the threads were recomposed in a looser texture, intermixed with linen or woollen yarn. . the prodigal hehogabalus is said to have been the first individual, in the roman empire, who wore a robe of pure silk. it is also stated, that the emperor aurelian refused his wife a garment of this description, on account of its exorbitant price. at that time, as well as at previous periods, it usually sold for its weight in gold. . a kind of gauze, originally made by the women on the island of cos, was very celebrated. it was dyed purple, with the substance usually employed in communicating that colour in those days; but this was done before it was woven, as in that state it was too frail to admit of the process. habits, made of this kind of stuff, were denominated "dresses of glass:" because the body could be seen through them. . the roman empire had been supplied with silk through the medium of the persians, until the time of justinian, in the year . this emperor, having become indignant at the rapacity of the silk-merchants, determined, if possible, to supply his people from the insect itself. . after many unsuccessful attempts, he at length obtained a small quantity of the eggs from india, by the assistance of two persian monks, who had contrived to conceal them in the hollow of their canes. the seeds of the mulberry-tree, on the leaves of which the worm feeds, were also procured at the same time, together with instructions necessary for the management of the worms. . for six hundred years after the period just mentioned, the rearing of these worms, in europe, was confined to the greek empire; but, in the twelfth century, roger, king of sicily, introduced it into that island, whence it gradually spread into italy, spain, france, and other european countries. . the silk-worm was introduced into england by james the first; but it has never succeeded well in that country, on account of the dampness and coldness of the climate. the manufacture of fabrics from silk, however, is there very extensive, the raw material being obtained, chiefly, from bengal and italy. in the latter of these countries, in france, and other parts of europe, as well as in asia, the manufacture is also extensive. . some attention has been paid to the rearing of silk-worms in the united states, and attempts have been made to introduce the manufacture of silks. the mulberry has been planted in various parts of the union; and it is highly probable, that, in a few years, we shall be able to obtain excellent silks, without sending for them to foreign countries. [illustration: dyer.] the dyer, and the calico-printer. the dyer. . the art of dyeing consists in impregnating flexible fibres with any color which may be desired, in such a manner, that it will remain permanent, under the common exposures to which it may be liable. . the union of the coloring matter with the fibres receiving the dye, is purely chemical, and not mechanical, as in the case of the application of paints. wool has the greatest attraction for coloring substances; silk comes next to it; then cotton; and, lastly, hemp and flax. these materials, also, absorb dye-stuffs in different proportions. . previous to the application of the dye, the greasy substance which covers the fibres of wool, and the gluey matter on those of silk, are removed by some kind of alkali. their natural color is, also, discharged by the fumes of sulphur. the resinous matter and natural color of cotton and linen, are removed by bleaching. . the materials used in dyeing are divided into two classes--_substantive_ and _adjective_. the former communicates durable tints without the aid of any other substance previously applied; the latter requires the intervention of some agent which possesses an attraction for both the coloring matter and the stuff to be dyed, in order to make the color permanent. the substances used for this purpose are usually termed _mordants_. . agents capable of acting in some way as mordants, are very numerous; but _alumina_, _alum_, the _sulphate_ or _acetate of iron_, the _muriate of tin_, and _nut-galls_, are principally employed. the mordant not only fixes the color, but, in many cases, alters and improves the tints. it is always dissolved in water, in which the stuffs are immersed, previous to the application of the dye. dyeing substances are also very numerous; but a few of the most important have, in practice, taken precedence of the others. . blue, red, yellow, and black, are the chief colors, for which appropriate coloring substances are applied; but, by a judicious combination of these same materials, and by a proper application of mordants, intermediate hues of every shade are produced; thus, a green is communicated by forming a blue ground of indigo, and then adding a yellow by means of quercitron bark. . the _blue dye_ is made of indigo; the _red dye_, of madder, cochineal, archil, brazil-wood, or safflowers; the _yellow dye_, of quercitron bark, turmeric, hickory, weld, fustic, or saffron; the _black dye_, of the oxide of iron combined with logwood, or the bark of the common red, or soft maple, and the sulphate or acetate of iron. the dyes made of some of these substances require the aid of mordants, and those from others do not. . in communicating the intermediate hues, the different dye-stuffs forming the leading colors, are sometimes mixed; and, at other times, they are made into separate dyes, and applied in succession. . in this country, the business of the dyer is often united with that of the clothier; but, where the amount of business will justify it, as in manufactories, and in cities or large towns, it is a separate business. the dyers sometimes confine their attention to particular branches. some dye wool only or silk, while others confine themselves to certain colors, such as scarlet and blue. the principal profits of the dyer, when unconnected with manufacturing establishments, arise from dyeing garments or stuffs which have been partly worn. . the origin of the art of dyeing is involved in great obscurity, as the ancients have not furnished even a fable, which might guide us in our researches. it is evident, however, that the art must have made considerable progress, long before authentic history begins. moses speaks of stuffs dyed blue, purple, and scarlet, and of sheep-skins dyed red. the knowledge of the preparation of these colors, implies an advanced state of the art, at that early period. . purple was the favorite color of the ancients, and appears to have been the first which was brought to a state of tolerable perfection. the discovery of the mode of communicating it, is stated to have been accidental. a shepherd's dog, while on the sea-shore, incited by hunger, broke a shell, the contents of which stained his mouth with a beautiful purple; and the circumstance suggested the application of the shell-fish, as a coloring substance. this discovery is thought to have been made about fifteen hundred years before the advent of christ. . the jews esteemed this color so highly, that they consecrated it especially to the service of the deity, using it in stuffs for decorating the tabernacle, and for the sacred vestments of the high-priests. the babylonians and other idolatrous nations clothed their idols in habits of purple, and even supposed this color capable of appeasing the wrath of the gods. . among the heathen nations of antiquity generally, purple was appropriated to the use of kings and princes, to the exclusion of their subjects. in rome, at a later period, purple habits were worn by the chief officers of the republic, and, at length, by the opulent, until the emperors reserved to themselves the distinguished privilege. . there were several kinds of shell-fish, from which this coloring substance was obtained, each of which communicated a shade somewhat different from the others. the kind collected near tyre was the best; and hence the tyrian purple acquired especial celebrity. so highly was it esteemed by the romans, in the time of augustus, that wool imbued with this color was sold for one thousand denarii per pound, which, in our currency, amounts to one hundred and sixty-eight dollars. . after all, the boasted purple of antiquity is supposed to have been a very inferior dye, when compared with many which we now possess; and this is only one among many instances, wherein modern science has given us a decided superiority over the ancients. . the color, second in repute with the people of antiquity, was scarlet. this color was communicated by means of an insect, called _coccus_, and which is now denominated _kermes_. besides the various hues of purple and scarlet, several others were in some degree of favor; such as green, orange, and blue. the use of vegetable dyes appears to have been but little known to the romans; but the gauls had the knowledge of imparting various colors, even the purple and scarlet, with the juice of certain herbs. . the irruption of the northern barbarians into the roman empire, destroyed this, with the rest of the arts of civilization, in the western parts of europe; but, having been preserved, more or less, in the east, it was again revived in the west, principally by means of the intercourse arising from the crusades. . although indigo seems to have been known to the ancient greeks and romans, yet it does not appear to have been used for dyeing. the first that was applied to this purpose in europe, was brought from india by the dutch; but its general use was not established without much opposition from interested individuals. it was strictly prohibited in england, in the reign of elizabeth, and, about the same time, in saxony. many valuable acquisitions were made to the materials employed in this art, on the discovery of america, among which may be enumerated, cochineal, logwood, brazil-wood, and nicaragua, together with the soft maple and quercitron barks. . the first book on the art of dyeing was published in . this, of course, appeared in manuscript, as the art of printing had not then been discovered. an edition was printed in . the authors to whom the world is most indebted for correct information on this subject, are dufuy, hallet, macquir, and berthollet, of france; and henry and bancroft, of england; all of whom wrote in the eighteenth century. the calico-printer. . calico-printing is a combination of the arts of dyeing, engraving, and printing, wherewith colors are applied in definite figures. this art is applicable to woven fabrics, and chiefly to those of which the material is cotton. . the first object, after preparing the stuffs, as in dyeing, is to apply a _mordant_ to those parts of the piece which are to receive the color. this is now usually done by means of a steel or copper cylinder, on which have been engraved the proposed figures, as on plates for copperplate-printing. . during the printing, the cylinder, in one part of its revolution, becomes charged with the mordant, the superfluous part of which is scraped off by a straight steel edge, leaving only the portion which fills the lines of the figures. as the cylinder revolves, the cloth comes into forcible contact with it, and receives the complete impression of the figures, in the pale color of the mordant. . the cloth, after having been washed and dried, is passed through the _coloring bath_, in which the parts previously printed, become permanently dyed with the intended color. although the whole piece receives the dye, yet, by washing the cloth, and bleaching it on the grass in the open air, the color is discharged from those parts not impregnated with the mordant. . by the use of different mordants, successively applied, and a single dye, several colors are often communicated to the same piece of cloth; thus, if stripes are first made with the acetate of alumina, and then others with the acetate of iron, a coloring bath of madder will produce red and brown stripes. the same mordants, with a dye of quercitron bark, give yellow and olive or drab. . sometimes, the second mordant is applied by means of engravings on wooden blocks. cuts, designed for this purpose, are engraved on the _side_ of the grain, and not on the _end_, like those for printing books. . calico-printing, so far as chemical affinities are concerned, is the same with dyeing. the difference consists, chiefly, in the mode of applying the materials, so as to communicate the desired tints and figures. the dye-stuffs, most commonly employed by calico-printers, are indigo, madder, and quercitron bark; by a dexterous application of these and the mordants, a great variety of colors can be produced. indigo, being a substantive color, does not require the aid of mordants, but, like them, when other dyes are used, is applied directly to the cloth, sometimes by the engraved cylinder or block, and at others with the pencil by hand. . calico-printing was practised in india twenty-two centuries ago, when alexander the great visited that country with his victorious army. the operation was then performed with a pencil. this method is still used in the east to the exclusion of every other. the art was also practised in egypt in pliny's time. . calicoes were first brought to england in the year . they derive their name from the city of calicut, whence they were first exported to europe. this branch of business was introduced into london in the year . since that time, it has been encouraged by several acts of parliament; but it never became extensive in england, until the introduction of machinery for spinning cotton. it is supposed, that the amount of cottons annually printed in the united states, cannot be less than twenty millions of yards. [illustration: hatter.] the hatter. . the business, peculiar to the hatter, consists in making hats from the fur or hair of animals, by the process called _felting_. the hair of animals is the only material which can be firmly matted together in this way; yet, that of every animal is not suitable for this purpose. the fur of the beaver, the otter, the seal, the muskrat, the rabbit, the hare, the coney, and the nutria, together with the wool of the lama, sheep, and camel, are employed to the exclusion of almost every other. . the skin of all animals having fur, is covered with two kinds of hair; the one, long and coarse; the other, short, fine, and thickly set. the coarse hair is pulled out from the skin, by the aid of a shoe-knife, and thrown away, while the fine, which is the fur, is cut from it with one of a circular form, such as the saddlers and harness-makers use in cutting leather. . in the application of the materials, the first object of the hatter is to make the _body_. in the common three, four, and five dollar hats, the body is composed of the wool of the sheep; but, in those of greater value, it is usually made of the wool of the lama, and different kinds of cheap furs. in describing the process of making hats, one of the latter kind will be selected. . a sufficient quantity of the materials for the body is weighed out, and divided into two equal parts. one of these is placed on a table, or, as the hatters call it, a _hurl_. the individual hairs composing this portion, are separated, and lightly and regularly spread out into a proper form, by the vibrations of a bow-string, which is plucked with a wooden pin. . the fur is then carefully compressed with a flat piece of wicker-work, denominated a hatter's basket, and covered with a damp piece of linen cloth, in which it is afterwards folded, pressed, and worked, with the hands, until it becomes matted together into a _bat_. this bat is next folded over a triangular piece of paper, and formed into a conical cap. . when another bat has been made in the same way, from the other half of the materials, the two are put together to form one, which is then worked in the damp cloth as before, until it is much contracted and matted together. after this, having been conveyed to another room, it is rolled in a woollen cloth, pressed, rubbed, and worked, with the hands and a rolling-pin, around a kettle of hot water, into which it is often plunged during the operation, which is called _planking_. . in this way, the materials are consolidated into _felt_, and the body contracted to the proper size. the reason why the process just described produces this effect, may be found in the nature of the fibres themselves. upon a close examination, it will be observed, that these are covered with little scales, or beards, which admit of motion in one direction, but retard it in the other. this peculiar formation causes them to interlock in such a way as to become closely matted together. . when the body has been dried, and shaved on the knee with a sharp knife, to free it from projecting filaments, it is stiffened with gum-shellac dissolved in alcohol, and then steamed in a box, to cause the stiffening _to set_. it is now prepared for being _napped_. . the fur for the _nap_ is prepared on the hurl, like the conical cap first described. in applying the nap to the body, the latter is wet with hot water, and _flakes_ of the former are matted down upon it, by working it on the planks around the kettle. after three layers have been put on in this way, the cap is beaten, while wet, with sticks, to raise the nap, and then drawn over a cylindrical block, which gives it the general form of a hat. . the nap having been raised with a card, the hat is prepared to be colored. the dye is made, chiefly, of the extract of logwood, copperas, and verdigris. the hats, to the number of forty-eight or more, are hung upon a wheel by means of pegs, which pass through the centre of the blocks. this wheel can be turned, so as to keep one half of the hats alternately in the dye. after having been properly colored, they are taken from the blocks, washed, and dried. . the hat is now prepared for the _finisher_, who first whips up the nap with a ratan, and, after having rendered it pliable with steam, draws it over the _finishing block_. the fibres composing the nap, are properly disposed with a card and brush, and rendered smooth and glossy by means of a hot iron. the superfluous part of the rim is cut off with a blade, placed in a gauge. the hat is finished by adding suitable trimmings, the nature of which, and the mode of application, can be easily learned by examining different kinds of hats. . hats of various colors have been worn; but those most in use are black, white, and drab. the white hats, which are intended only for ladies and children, have a nap of rabbits' fur, selected from the white skins. drab hats are also made of stuffs of the natural color, assorted for that purpose. . the value of hats depends, of course, upon the workmanship, and the cost of the materials used in the manufacture. so great is the difference in these respects, that their price ranges between seventy-five cents and fifteen dollars. the woollen bodies used by hatters are now often procured from persons, who devote their attention exclusively to their manufacture. . several years ago, woollen cloths were made in england, by the process of felting; but, on trial, they were found to be deficient in firmness and durability. since the year , an american citizen has been manufacturing cloths by this method; but, whether they are liable to the objection just mentioned, is yet uncertain. . some kind of covering for the head, either for defence or ornament, appears to have been usually worn in all ages and countries, where the inhabitants have made the least progress in the arts of civilized life. . the form, substance, and color, of this article of dress, have been exceedingly various in different ages, according to the circumstances or humor of the wearer. the ancient persians wore turbans, similar to those of the modern turks; and the nations inhabiting the indian peninsula, wore a kind of head-dress so large, that it divested the person of all proportion. . the imperial turban is said to have been composed of a great many yards of muslin, twisted and formed into a shape nearly oval, and surmounted with a woollen cap, encircled with a radiated crown. the turban of the prime minister was smaller in its dimensions, but of greater altitude. the chief magi, on account of his superior eminence, wore a higher turban than those of the monarch and minister united. those worn by the inferior magi, were regulated by the dignity of the stations which they held. . the jewish people and the neighboring nations borrowed the turban from the persians; but, at a later period, they very commonly adopted the cap which the romans were accustomed to give to their slaves, on their manumission. . the ancient helmet, made of steel, brass, and sometimes of more costly materials, was worn as a piece of defensive armor in war, instead of the ordinary coverings, used while engaged in peaceful occupations. . roman citizens went bare-headed, except upon occasions of sacred rites, games, and festivals; or when engaged in travelling or in war. they were accustomed, however, in the city, to throw over their head the lappet of their toga, as a screen from the wind or sun. the people of scotland used to wear a kind of bonnet, as in some parts of that country they do at the present time; and the english, before the invention of felt hats, covered the head with knit caps and cloth hoods, and sometimes with hats made of thrummed silk. . the chinese do not wear hats, but use a cap of peculiar structure, which the laws of civility will not allow them to put off in public. the form and material of this is varied with the change of the season. that used in summer is shaped like a cone, is made of a beautiful kind of mat, and lined with satin; to this is added, at the top, a large tuft of red silk, which falls all round to the lower part of the cap, and which fluctuates gracefully on all sides, while the wearer is in motion. the kind worn in winter is made of shaggy cloth, bordered with some kind of fur, and ornamented in a similar manner. . head-dresses, from their variety, simplicity, and mutability, were but little regulated by commercial or manufacturing interests, until the introduction of felt hats, which has occasioned a uniformity in this article of dress, unknown in former ages. . curiosity is naturally excited to become acquainted with the particulars of the invention of the hat, and the subsequent stages of improvement in the manufacture. but the operation of individual interest, so generally connected with the useful arts, seems to have concealed the whole in obscurity; and little information on the subject can now be obtained. . the hatters have a tradition, that the art of felting originated with st. clement, the fourth bishop of rome. under this impression, in catholic countries, they adopt him as their patron saint, and hold an annual festival in his honor. the principle of felting is said to have been suggested to his mind by the following circumstance; while fleeing from his persecutors, his feet became blistered, and, to obtain relief, he placed wool between them and his sandals. on continuing his journey, the wool, by the perspiration, motion, and pressure of the feet, assumed a compact form. . notwithstanding this tradition, it appears, that felt hats were invented at paris, by a swiss, about the commencement of the fifteenth century; but they were not generally known, until charles the seventh made his triumphal entry into rouen, in the year , when he astonished the people by wearing a hat, lined with red silk, and surmounted with a plume of feathers. . when some of the clergy first adopted this article of dress, it was considered an unwarrantable indulgence. councils were held, and regulations published, forbidding any priest or monk to appear abroad wearing a hat; and enjoining them to keep to the use of chaperons, or hoods, made of black cloth, with decent cornets; if they were poor, they were, at least to have cornets fastened to their hats, upon penalty of suspension and excommunication. . at length, however, the pope permitted even the cardinals to wear hats; but, enjoined them to wear those of a red color at public ceremonials, in token of their readiness to spill their blood for their religion. . in england, considerable opposition was made to the use of the hat. by a statute, enacted in the thirteenth year of the reign of elizabeth, every person between certain ages was obliged, on sundays and holidays, to wear a woollen cap, made by some of the cappers of that kingdom, under the penalty of three shillings and four-pence for every day's neglect. this law continued in force, for about twenty-five years. the manufacture of hats was commenced, in england, in the time of henry the eighth, by dutchmen and spaniards. . hats made of plaited straw, grass, or chip, are much used in the summer; and caps of cloth or fur are now frequently substituted for hats, in cold weather. silk hats have also been much worn, since the year . they are made of the common hat body, and a texture of silk with a long nap. the silk is fastened to the body with glue. [illustration: rope maker.] the rope-maker. . ropes may be made of any vegetable substance which has a fibre sufficiently flexible and tenacious. the chinese and other orientals, in making ropes, use the ligneous parts of certain bamboos and reeds, the fibrous covering of the cocoa-nut, the filaments of the cotton pod, and the leaves of certain grasses; but the bark of plants and trees, is the most productive of fibrous matter suitable to this manufacture. that of the linden-tree, the willow, and the bramble is frequently used. in europe and america, however, the fibres of hemp and flax are more frequently employed, for this purpose, than any other material. . the operations of rope-making are commonly performed in _rope-walks_, which are sometimes more than a quarter of a mile in length. these are usually covered with a slight shed, the nature and appearance of which are well exhibited in the preceding picture. . the first part of the process consists in spinning the material into yarn. the principle on which this is effected, is the same as that by which cotton or wool is drawn out and twisted into threads, although the machinery, and the mode of operating, are different. . the kind of wheel employed in spinning rope-yarn, is also exhibited in the cut. a band passes around the periphery, and over the semicircle above it, in which is placed a number of wheels, the pivots of which terminate, on the other side, in a small hook. . the spinner, having a quantity of the material properly disposed about the waist, attaches a number of fibres to one of the hooks, which, being put in motion by the band passing over the whirl, twists them rapidly into yarn. the part already twisted draws along with it more fibres from the bundle, and, as the spinner is regulating their uniform arrangement, he walks backward towards the other end of the walk. . when the thread has been spun to the proposed length, the spinner cries out to another, who immediately takes it off from the hook, gives it to a third person, and, in turn, attaches his own fibres to the same hook. in the meantime, the first spinner keeps fast hold of the end of his yarn, to prevent it from untwisting or doubling; and, as it is wound on the reel, proceeds up the walk, keeping the yarn of an equal tension throughout. . the second part of the process consists in forming the yarn into various kinds of ropes. the component parts of cordage are called strands; and the operation of uniting them with a permanent twist, is called _laying_, when applied to small ropes, and _closing_, when applied to cables or other large ropes. . the simplest twist is formed of two strands. the thread used by sail-makers, and pack-thread, furnish examples of this kind; but cordage with two strands is not much used; that with three is the most usual. lines and cords less than one and a half inches in circumference, are laid by means of the spinning-wheel. preparatory to this operation, the workman fastens the hither end of the yarns to separate whirl-hooks, and the remote ends to the hook of a swivel, called the _loper_. . the strands having been properly distended, the spinning-wheel is turned in the same direction as when twisting the yarns. a further twisting of the strands, during this part of the process, is prevented by the motion of the loper, which gives way to the strain, and, at the same time, causes the strands to entwine about each other, and form a cord. to prevent them from entwining too rapidly, an instrument is interposed, which, from its form, is called the _top_. it has two or more notches, which terminate at the apex, and a handle, called a _staff_. as the top is moved from the loper to the wheel, it regulates the degree of twist which the cord or rope is to receive. . the principle on which large cordage is laid, or closed, is the same, although some part of the machinery is different. the strands for large ropes and cables are formed of many yarns, and require considerable _hardening_. this cannot be done with whirls driven by a wheel-band; it requires the power of a crank, turned by hand, or by some other considerable force. the strands, also, when properly hardened, become very stiff, and, when bent round the top, cannot transmit force enough to close the unpliant rope: it is, therefore, necessary that the loper, also, be moved by a crank. . cordage, which is to be exposed to the alternate action of air and water, is usually tarred. the application of this substance is made, in most cases, while the material is in a state of yarn. in effecting this object, the threads are drawn through boiling tar, and then passed between rollers, or through holes surrounded with oakum, to remove the superfluous tar. in like manner, ropes and cables are superficially tarred. . various improvements have been made in the machinery, for performing the different operations of rope-making; but, these not having been generally adopted, it is unnecessary to notice them more particularly; especially, as they do not affect the general principles of the art. . within a few years, cotton-yarn has been employed in the manufacture of ropes; but this material has not yet been sufficiently tested, to determine its fitness for the purpose. a kind of vegetable fibre, brought from manilla, and hence called manilla hemp, is very extensively applied in making ropes, and, for some purposes, is preferred to other materials. . the intestines of animals are composed of very powerful fibres, and those of sheep and lambs are manufactured into what is called _cat-gut_, for the use of musical instrument-makers, hatters, watch-makers, and a variety of other artificers. animal hair, as that from the tail and mane of horses, is frequently employed as the material for ropes; and such are durable, elastic, and impervious to moisture. they, however, are not applicable in cases, where the rope is subject to considerable friction. . hemp is cultivated in various parts of the world, and especially in russia, whence it is exported to other countries in great quantities. it is also produced, to a considerable extent, in the state of kentucky, and in many other parts of the united states. flax is still more generally cultivated than hemp; but its chief application is to the manufacture of cloth, as it does not answer well for any cordage larger than a bed-cord. the formation of cloth from hemp is also very common; and, in this case, the yarn for the coarse cloths is spun on the rope-maker's wheel in the manner already described. the cloth is generally used for making bags, sacking-bottoms for beds, and sails for vessels. . rope-making is a manufacture of general utility, as cordage of some kind is used more or less in every family in all civilized communities; nor are there many trades capable of being carried on, with convenience, without it. but the great utility of cordage, in all its varieties, is most conspicuous in the rigging and equipment of vessels; and the extensive demand for it, in this application, renders rope-making one of the most important and extensive of the primitive trades. . nor does the utility of cordage end with its application to the purposes for which it was originally designed. old ropes are converted into oakum by untwisting and picking them to pieces. the oakum thus produced is driven into the seams of vessels, to render them water-tight. . as regards the invention of this art, nothing can be gathered from ancient records. we only know, in general, that cordage was in considerable use among the nations of antiquity, especially among the greeks and romans, who probably learned its application to rigging vessels from the phoenicians. [illustration: tailor.] the tailor. . the business of the tailor consists, principally, in cutting out and making clothes for men and boys, together with habits and cloaks for ladies. it is usual for persons who carry on this business in cities and large towns, to keep a stock of cloths and other stuffs adapted to the season, which they make up into garments to the order of customers. in such cases, they are termed _merchant tailors_. . the operation, preparatory to cutting out the cloth for a garment, is that of taking the measure of the person for whom it is designed. this is done with a narrow strip of paper or parchment, and the dimensions are either marked on the measure with the scissors, or entered in a _pattern-book_ kept for the purpose. . the cloth is cut to the proper shape, with a large pair of shears. this is performed either by the individual who carries on the business, or by a foreman. the parts are sewed together, and the trimmings applied, by means of thread and silk; this is commonly done by those who devote their attention to this branch of the trade. it sometimes happens, however, that the same person performs the whole of the work, particularly in country places, where the business is very limited in extent. . females often serve an apprenticeship to this business. many of them learn to cut out, and make with skill, certain kinds of garments, and are after wards employed in families, or by the tailors. most of the ready-made clothing, kept for sale in cities, is made up by females. . the instruments employed in performing the operations of the tailor, are few and simple; the principal of these are the shears, the scissors, the needle, the thimble, the bodkin, the goose, and the press-board. . the great art of a master tailor consists in fitting the dress to his customer, in such a manner as to conceal any defect of form, and display his person to the best advantage. he should, therefore, be a good judge of the human figure; as, from this knowledge, arises, chiefly, the superiority of one workman over another in this branch of the business. . the first hint on the art of clothing the human body, was given to man by the deity himself; for we read in the scriptures, that "unto adam and to his wife, the lord god made coats of skins, and clothed them." from that time to the present, the art of cutting out garments, and of sewing their different parts together, has been practised, more or less, in every place, where there has been any degree of civilization. . for a long time, it is probable, that thongs and the sinews of animals were used, for want of thread made of silk or vegetable fibre; and, doubtless, the same necessity caused the substitution of pointed bones and thorns, instead of needles. such rude materials and instruments are still employed for similar purposes by savage nations. the dresses of the people of greenland are sewed together with thongs made of the intestines of the seal, or of some fish, which they have the skill to cut fine, after having dried them in the air; and even the inhabitants of peru, although considerably advanced in civilization, when that country was first visited by the spaniards, made use of long thorns, in sewing and fixing their clothes. . we have no means of determining the period of the world, when this art was first practised, as a particular profession. we know, in general, that the dress of the ancients was usually more simple in its construction than that of the people of modern times; and, consequently, it required less skill to put the materials in the required form. it may, therefore, be inferred, that either the females or the slaves of each family usually made up the clothing of all its members. . the distinguishing dress of the romans was the _toga_, or gown; as that of the greeks was the _pallium_, or cloak. the toga was a loose, woollen robe, and covered nearly the whole person; it was round and close at the bottom, and open at the top, having no sleeves, but a large flap, or lappet, which was either thrown over the left shoulder, or over the head, to protect it from the heat or cold. . the romans, at an early period of their history, used no other dress, and it was also, at that time, worn by the women. afterwards, they wore, under the toga, a white woollen vest called _tunica_, which extended a little below the knee. at first it was without sleeves. tunics, reaching to the ancles, or having sleeves, were reckoned effeminate; but, under the emperors, they became fashionable. . the toga was usually assumed at the age of seventeen. until then, the youth wore a kind of gown, bordered with purple, denominated _toga prætexta_; and such a garment was also worn by females, until they were married. the youthful dress was laid aside, and the _toga virilis_, or manly toga, assumed with great solemnity; as, by this act, the individual assumed the responsibilities of a citizen. the toga was worn chiefly in the city, and only by roman citizens. [illustration: milliner.] the milliner, and the lady's dress-maker. the milliner. . the milliner is one who manufactures and repairs bonnets and hats for ladies and children. her business requires the use of pasteboard, wire, buckram, silks, satins, muslins, ribands, artificial flowers, spangles, and other materials too numerous to be mentioned. . the first part of the process of making a hat, or bonnet, consists in forming a crown of buckram; which operation is performed on a block of suitable size and shape; and to this is applied pasteboard, or buckram, edged with wire, to form the front part. the foundation having been thus laid, it is usually covered and lined with some of the materials just enumerated, and finished by applying to it the trimmings required by the fashion, or by the individual customer. . ladies' hats are also made of rye straw, and a kind of grass, which grows in italy; those made of the latter material are called _leghorns_, from the name of the city, in or near which they are principally made. a few years since, these had almost superseded those made of straw; but the latter, of late, have nearly regained their former ascendency. . in the united states, and likewise in various parts of europe, there are several establishments for making straw hats, in which the proprietors employ females to perform the whole labor. the straw is first cut into several pieces, so as to leave out the joints, and then whitened by smoking them with the fumes of brimstone. they are next split longitudinally into several pieces by a simple machine, and afterwards plaited with the fingers and thumbs. the braid, or plait, thus produced, is sewn together to form hats adapted to the prevailing fashion. . great quantities of straw are, also, plaited in families, especially in the new-england states, and sold to neighboring merchants, who, in turn, dispose of it to those who form it into hats. the milliners usually keep a supply of leghorn and straw hats, which they line and trim according to the fancy of their customers. . head-dresses were probably used nearly as early as any other part of dress; and their form and material have likewise been equally variable. in the early days of rome, the head-dress of the women of that city was very simple; and, when they went abroad, which was seldom, they covered their faces with a veil; but, when riches and luxury had increased, dress became, with many, the principal object of attention; hence, a woman's toilet and ornaments were called her _world_. . the head-dresses of the ladies, in various parts of europe, especially in the eighteenth century, were particularly extravagant, being sometimes so high, that the face seemed to be nearly in the centre of the body. in , this fashion was at its height in france; but two english ladies visiting the court of versailles, introduced the low head-dresses of their own country. . the high head-dresses had no sooner fallen into disuse in france, than they were adopted in england, and even carried to a greater degree of extravagance. to build one of these elevated structures in the fashionable style, both the barber and milliner were necessary. the head-dresses of the ladies of the present age, are characterized by great simplicity, when compared with those of several periods in preceding ages. the lady's dress-maker. . this business is nearly allied to the foregoing, and is, therefore, often carried on in conjunction with it. this is especially the case in villages and small towns, where sufficient business cannot be obtained in the exclusive pursuit of one branch. . the customers of the lady's dress-maker are not always easily pleased, as they frequently expect more from her skill than it is possible to accomplish. she, however, can do much towards concealing the defects of nature; and, by padding and other means, can sometimes render the person tolerably well proportioned, when, in its natural shape, it would be quite inelegant. it is to be regretted, however, that dress-makers are guided by fashion and whim in moulding the external form of females, rather than by the best specimens of the human figure, as exhibited by eminent painters and sculptors. . the dress-maker should have some acquaintance with the anatomy and functions of those parts to which pressure is usually applied; for, who that knows the structure, size, and office of the liver, and other internal organs of digestion and vitality, would venture to apply to them a compressive force calculated to interfere most seriously, if not dangerously, with their healthful action? . the fashions for ladies' dresses are chiefly procured from france, and the dress-makers from that country are, therefore, often preferred by fashionable ladies. sometimes, however, a dress-maker, having a name with a french termination, will answer the purpose. . corset-making is frequently a separate branch of business; but corsets have become less necessary; inasmuch as small waists are less admired by the gentlemen than formerly. on this account, also, the ladies have discovered that tight lacing is somewhat uncomfortable, especially in hot weather, and in crowded assemblies. [illustration: barber.] the barber. . it is the business of the barber to cut and dress the hair, to make wigs and false curls, and to shave the beards of other men. in ancient times, he used also to trim the nails; and even at the present day, in turkey, this is a part of his employment. . the period, when men began to shave their beards, is not certainly known. it appears that the practice was common among the israelites in the time of moses; as that legislator has left on record a prohibitory law concerning it. they probably borrowed the custom from the egyptians. it is stated by plutarch, that alexander the great ordered his men to be shaved, that their enemies might not lay hold of their beards in time of battle. before this time, however, many of the greeks shaved their beards. . the practice does not appear to have been introduced amongst the ancient romans, until about the year before the christian era, when paulus ticinius mænas brought to rome a number of barbers from sicily. scipio africanus was the first man who shaved his beard every day. . at first, the barbers had no shops, but shaved their customers at the corners of the streets. after a while, they followed their vocation in shops, or shades; and, at this period, it was customary for females to officiate in the various branches of the art. these places, however, were frequented only by the poorer class of the people, as opulent families generally kept slaves for the performance of these duties. the day on which a young roman first cut off his beard, was celebrated by him and his friends as one of peculiar interest; and this much-desired indication of manhood was consecrated to some one of the gods, generally to jupiter capitolinus. . the return of barbarism, in the fifth and sixth centuries, banished this custom from the western empire; nor was it again revived in europe, until the seventeenth century. during the reigns of louis xiii. and louis xiv. of france, both of whom ascended the throne in boyhood, the courtiers and fashionable people began to use the razor, that they might appear with smooth chins, and thus resemble, in this particular, the youthful monarchs. from france, the fashion, at length, spread all over europe. at one time, in the reign of the english queen elizabeth, the fellows of lincoln's inn were compelled by statute to shave their beards, at least, once in two weeks. omission was punished with fine, loss of commons, and finally with expulsion. . the custom of shaving was introduced into russia by peter the great, who compelled his subjects to pay a tax for the privilege of retaining their beards. this singular impost was exceedingly unpopular, and excited greater complaints amongst the people than any other measure of that emperor. the decree was rigidly enforced, and every one who would not, or could not, pay the tax, was forcibly deprived of this favorite ornament, if he would not remove it voluntarily. some of the people saved the sad trimmings of their chins; and, that they might never be entirely separated from these precious relics, ordered that they should be deposited with their bodies in their coffins. . among the european nations that have been curious in whiskers, the spaniards have been particularly distinguished; and the loss of honor among them used to be punished by depriving the individual of his whiskers. . the portuguese were but little, if at all, behind the spaniards in their estimate of these valuable ornaments. as an evidence of this, it is stated, that, in the reign of catharine, queen of portugal, the brave john de castro, having taken the castle of diu in india, and being afterwards in want of money, applied to the inhabitants of goa to loan him one thousand piastres, and, as security for that sum, sent them one of his whiskers, telling them that "all the gold in the world cannot equal the value of this natural ornament of my valor." the people, in admiration of his magnanimity, sent him the money, and, at the same time, returned his incomparable whisker. . in the reign of louis xiii. of france, whiskers attained the highest degree of favor. they also continued in fashion during the early part of the succeeding reign. louis xiv. and the great men of france, took a pride in wearing them. it was no uncommon thing, at that time, for the ladies to comb and dress the whiskers of their beaux; and the men of fashion were particular in providing whisker-wax, and every article necessary to this agreeable pastime. . the whiskers belonging to the image of the chinese philosopher confucius, which is preserved by his countrymen, are supposed to be capable of conferring upon those who might wear them, a portion of the wisdom and manly beauty of that illustrious sage. great care, however, is taken that none shall enjoy these great personal qualifications by such easy means; as decapitation is the penalty for plucking the whiskers from the position which they occupy. . when the practice of shaving off the beard was again revived in europe, instrumental music was employed in the barber's shop, to amuse customers waiting their turn; but, at the present time, newspapers are furnished for this purpose. in taking off the beard, soft water, good soap, a brush, and a sharp razor, are the usual requisites. the razor should be placed nearly flat on the face, and be moved from point to heel. barbers have usually some regular customers, many of whom have a box of soap and a brush appropriated to their individual use. . in ancient times, great attention was paid to dressing the hair. the hebrew women plaited, and afterwards confined it with gold and silver pins; they also adorned it with precious stones. the greeks, both male and female, at every period of their ancient history, wore long hair, which they usually permitted to hang gracefully upon the shoulders, back, and sometimes upon the breast. . adult males, among the romans, usually wore their hair short, and dressed with great care, especially in later ages, when attention to this part of the person was carried to such excess, that ointments and perfumes were used even in the army. the hair was cut for the first time, when the boy had attained his seventh year, and the second time, when he was fourteen years old. his locks, at each cutting, were commonly dedicated to apollo or bacchus. . both men and women, among the greeks and romans, sometimes permitted their hair to grow in honor of some divinity. the jews, also, when under the vow of a nazarite, were not permitted to trim their hair or beards. in grief and mourning, the romans suffered their hair and beards to grow. the greeks, on the contrary, when in grief, cut their hair and shaved their beards, as likewise did some of the barbarous nations of early time. . artificial hair began to be fashionable, at an early period, and was used by the greeks, carthaginians, and romans. in the time of ovid, blond hair was in great favour at rome; and those ladies who did not choose to wear wigs, powdered their hair with a kind of gold dust. they wore hanging curls all round the head, to which they were fastened with circular pins of silver. every wealthy roman lady of fashion kept at least one slave to frizzle and curl the hair. . the time, when wigs first came into use, cannot now be ascertained. it is certain, however, that they were worn by females a long time before they became fashionable among the men. . wigs, perukes, or periwigs, were revived in the seventeenth century. in the reign of louis xiii., or about the year , they became fashionable at paris; and, as that city was generally imitated by the rest of europe in things of this nature, they soon became common. the wigs were very large, as may be seen by examining ancient portraits, and were covered with a profusion of hair-powder. at first, it was disreputable for young people to wear them, as the loss of the hair at an early age was attributed to a disease, which was, of itself, discreditable. . when wigs were first introduced into england, some of the clergy opposed them violently, considering their use more culpable than wearing long hair; since, as they alleged, it was more unnatural. many preachers inveighed against wigs in their sermons, and cut their own hair shorter to manifest their abhorrence of the reigning mode. . the worldly-wise, however, observed that a periwig procured for the wearer a degree of respect and deference which otherwise might not have been accorded; and hence there was a strong tendency to the use of this appendage. the judges and physicians, especially, understood well this influence of the wig, and gave to it all the advantages of length and breadth. the fashion, at length, was adopted by the ecclesiastics themselves, not only in england, but in most of the european kingdoms, as well as in the british colonies of america. . the fashion, however, except in cases of baldness, wherein alone it is excusable, is now nearly banished from europe and america. this desirable change was effected principally by the example of republican america, and by the influence of the french revolution. the law passed in england in , imposing a tax of a guinea a head per annum on those who wore hair-powder, contributed to the same result, as well as to diminish the use of that article. . the manufacture of wigs and false curls is an important branch of the business of the barber. the first process in forming a wig is to produce, in the hair about to be used for this purpose, a disposition to curl. this is done by winding it on a cylinder of wood or earth, and afterwards boiling it in water. it is then dried, and baked in an oven. thus prepared, it is woven on a strong thread, and is subsequently sewn on a caul fitted to the head. false curls are made on the same principle. . wigs and false curls were not made in ancient times precisely in the same manner; although their appearance, when finished, was probably similar. the hair was then attached directly to a piece of thin leather, by means of some adhesive substance, or composition. . many barbers, especially those who have a reputation for making wigs and false curls in a fashionable style, keep for sale perfumery, as well as a variety of cosmetics. . from the eleventh to the eighteenth century, surgical operations were almost exclusively performed by the barbers and bath-keepers. as phlebotomy was one of the chief sources of profit to the barbers, they adopted a sign emblematical of this operation. it consisted of a pole, representing the staff which the individual held in his hand, while the blood was flowing from the arm. the white band wound spirally about the pole, represented the fillet of linen with which the arm was afterwards secured. . it is hardly necessary to remark, that the same sign is still employed by the barbers; although, with a few exceptions, they have ceased to perform the operation of which it was significant. [illustration: tanner & currier.] the tanner, and the currier. the tanner. . the art of tanning consists in converting hides and skins into leather, by impregnating them with astringent matter. . it is impossible to determine the period at which the art of tanning was discovered. it was doubtless known to the ancients, and probably to the antediluvians, in some degree of perfection; since skins were applied as means of clothing the human body, before the arts of spinning and weaving were practised. it is likely, however, that they were applied to this purpose, for a considerable time, in their natural state; and that accident, at length, suggested the means of rendering them more applicable, by saturating them with certain mineral or vegetable substances. . although the art of converting skins into leather was practised in remote ages, yet it was not until near the end of the eighteenth century, that the true principle of the process was understood. before this time, it was supposed, that the astringent principle of the agents employed, was a resinous substance, which adhered mechanically to the fibres, and thus rendered them firm and insoluble. the correct explanation was first given by deyeux, and afterwards more fully developed by m. seguin. these chemists clearly proved, that the formation of leather was the result of a chemical union between a substance called tannin, and the gelatinous part of the skin. . the subject, however, was not thoroughly understood, and reduced to scientific principles, until the year , when sir humphrey davy gave it a careful investigation, in a series of chemical experiments. these inquiries resulted in the conviction, that the method of tanning which had been in general use, may, with a few alterations, be considered preferable to that by which the process is carried on with more rapidity. . the skin which envelopes the bodies of animals, consists of three layers. that on the outside is a thin, white, elastic membrane, called the _cuticle_, or _scarf skin_; that on the inside is a strong membrane, denominated the _cutis_, or _true skin_; between these two is a very thin membrane, to which anatomists have given the name _rete mucosum_, and in which is situated the substance which gives color to the animal. the cutis is composed of fibres, which run in every direction, and, being by far the thickest layer, is the one that is converted into leather. . the skins of large animals, such as those of the ox and horse, are denominated hides; and those of smaller animals, as of the calf, goat, and sheep, are called skins. of the former description, is made thick, of the latter, thin leather. the process of tanning different skins varies in many particulars, according to the nature of the leather, and the uses to which it is to be applied. . the general process of changing thick hides into sole-leather, is as follows: they are first soaked in water, to free them from dirt and blood; and then, if rigid, they are beaten and rubbed, or rolled under a large stone, to render them pliable. they are next soaked in lime-water, or hung up in a warm room, and smoked, until a slight putrescency takes place. the hair, cuticle, rete mucosum, on one side, and the fleshy parts on the other, are then scraped off, on a _beam_, with a circular knife. . nothing now remains but the cutis, or true skin. several hides, in this state of preparation, are put together into a vat, for the purpose of impregnating them with tannin. this substance is found in astringent vegetables, and is obtained, in a proper state for application, by infusion in water. in that condition, it is called _ooze_, which is first applied in a weak state. . after the ooze, of different degrees of strength, has been renewed several times, they are put between layers of bark, and suffered to remain several months, fresh bark, from time to time, being supplied. the whole process generally occupies from twelve to sixteen months. when strong solutions of tannin are used, the leather is formed in a much shorter time; but, in that case, it is much more rigid, and more liable to crack. it is rendered smooth and compact, by beating it with a wooden beetle, or by passing it between rollers. . oak bark, on account of its cheapness, and the quantity of tannin which it contains, is more extensively employed by tanners than any other vegetable substance. in sections of country, where this kind cannot be conveniently obtained, the bark of the hemlock, spruce, and chestnut, the leaves of the sumach, and various other astringents, are substituted. . the process of tanning calf-skins is somewhat different in many of its details. they are first put into a solution of lime, where they remain during ten or fifteen days, and are then scraped on both sides on the beam, with a circular knife, as in the former case, and for the same purpose. they are then washed in water, and afterwards immersed in an infusion of hen or pigeon's dung. here they are left for a week or ten days, according to the state of the weather and other circumstances; during which time, they are frequently _handled_, and scraped on both sides. by these means, the lime, oil, and saponaceous matter, are discharged, and the skin is rendered pliable. . they are next put into a vat containing weak ooze, and afterwards removed to several others of regularly increasing strength. in the mean time, they are taken up and handled every day, that they may be equally acted upon by the tanning principle. the time occupied in the whole process, is from two to six months. the light and thin sorts of hides, designed for upper leather, harnesses, &c., are treated in a similar manner. . the tanner procures his hides and skins from various sources, but chiefly from the butcher, and from individuals who kill the animals for their own consumption. great quantities of dry hides are also obtained from south america, where cattle are killed in great numbers, principally for the sake of this valuable envelope of their bodies. the currier. . it is the business of the currier to dress the thinner kinds of leather. in most cases, in the united states, except in and near large cities, the business of tanning and currying are usually united in the same individual; or, at least, the two branches of business are carried on together, by the aid of workmen, skilled in their respective trades. . the mode of dressing the different kinds of skins, varies in some respects; but, as the general method of operating is the same in every sort, a description applicable in one case will convey a sufficiently accurate idea of the whole. we shall, therefore, select the calf-skin, since it is more frequently the subject of the currier's skill than any other. . the skin is first soaked in water, until it has become sufficiently soft, and then shaved with the _currier's knife_, on the inner side, over the _currier's beam_. it is then placed on a table, somewhat inclined from the workman, and scoured on both sides with the edge of a narrow, smooth stone, set in a handle, and again, with an iron _sleeker_ of a similar shape. the skin is next _stuffed_ with a composition of tallow and tanner's oil, on the flesh side, and then hung up to dry. afterwards it is rubbed on the hair side with a board, and again scraped on the flesh side with the knife. having been thus prepared, the skin is blacked on the flesh side with lampblack and tanner's oil, and subsequently rubbed with paste, applied with a brush. when it has been dried, the whole process is finished by rubbing both sides with a glass sleeker. . horse hides are blacked on the hair side, or, as the curriers term it, on the _grain_, with a solution of copperas water. leather designed for harnesses, for covering carriages, and for other similar purposes, is also blacked on that side in the same manner. . the trade of the currier is divided into two or three branches. some dress only calf-skins and other thick leather designed for shoes, harnesses, and carriages; others confine themselves to dressing skins, which are to be applied to binding books, and to other purposes requiring thin leather. it may be well to remark here, that the dressers of thin leather usually tan the skins themselves, using the leaves of sumach, instead of bark. [illustration: shoemaker.] the shoe and boot maker. . as the shoe is an article of primary utility, it was used, more or less, in the earliest ages. some writers suppose, that the deity, in clothing man with skins, did not leave him to go barefooted, but gave him shoes of the same material. . the shoes of the ancient egyptians were made of the papyrus. the chinese, as well as the inhabitants of india, and some other nations of antiquity, manufactured them from silk, rushes, linen, wood, the bark of trees, iron, brass, silver, and gold, and sometimes ornamented them with precious stones. . the romans had various coverings for the feet, the chief of which were the _calceus_ and the _solea_. the calceus somewhat resembled the shoe we wear at present, and was tied upon the instep with a latchet or lace. the solea, or sandal, was a thick cork sole, covered above and beneath with leather, and neatly stitched on the edge. it left the upper part of the foot bare, and was fastened to it by means of straps, which were crossed over the instep, and wound about the ankle. roman citizens wore the calceus with the toga, when they went abroad in the city, while the solea was worn at home and on journeys. the solea was also used at entertainments; but it was changed for the calceus, when the guests were about to surround the table. . the senators wore shoes, which came up to the middle of the leg, and which had a golden or silver crescent on the top of the foot. the shoes of the women were generally white, sometimes red, scarlet, or purple, and were adorned with embroidery and pearls; but those of the men were mostly black. on days of public ceremony, however, the magistrates wore red shoes. . boots were used in very ancient times, and were primarily worn, as a kind of armor, with a view of protecting the lower extremities in battle. they were, at first, made of leather, afterwards of brass or iron, and were proof against the thrusts and cuts of warlike weapons. the boot was called _ocrea_ by the romans, who, as well as the greeks, used it in the army, and in riding on horseback, and sometimes in pedestrian journeys. . the fashion of boots and shoes, like every other part of dress, has been subject to a number of changes, as regards both their form and material. in europe, about one thousand years ago, the greatest princes wore shoes with wooden soles. in the reign of william rufus, of england, the shoes of the great had long, sharp points, stuffed with tow, and twisted like a ram's horn. the clergy preached against this fashion; but the points continued to increase in length, until the reign of richard the second, when they were tied to the knees with chains of silver or gold. in the year , parliament interposed, and prohibited the manufacture or use of shoes or boots with _pikes_ exceeding two inches in length. . lasts adapted to each foot, commonly called _rights and lefts_, were not introduced into england, until about the year ; nor was cramping, or _crimping_, the front part of boots practised there for ten years after that period. these improvements did not become generally known, or, at least, were not much used, in the united states, for many years after their adoption in great britain. . many facts, besides the preceding, might be adduced to prove, that the art of making shoes and boots, although uninterruptedly practised from the earliest ages, has received many important improvements within the last fifty years. . in europe and america, boots and shoes are commonly made of leather. in shoes for females, however, it is not unusual to use prunello, which is a kind of twilled, worsted cloth. in all cases, thick leather is used for the soles. . the business of _making_ boots and shoes is carried on very systematically in large establishments. the materials are cut out and fitted by the foreman, or by the person who carries on the business, whilst the pieces are stitched together, and the work finished, by workmen who sit upon _the bench_. . as a matter of convenience, the trade have fixed upon certain sizes, which are designated by numbers; and, corresponding to these, the lasts are formed by the last-maker; but, to be still more exact, individuals sometimes procure lasts corresponding to their feet, on which they cause their boots and shoes to be made. . the following is a description of the process of making a leather shoe: after the materials have been cut out according to the measure, or size, and the parts of the _uppers_ have been stitched together, the sole-leather is hammered on the _lapstone_, tacked to the last, and trimmed with a knife. the upper leather is next stretched on the last with a pair of pincers, fastened to its proper place with tacks, and then sewed to the bottom of the sole with a waxed thread. a narrow strip of leather, called a _welt_, is also fastened to the sole by similar means, and to this is stitched another sole. a heel being added, the shoe is finished by trimming and polishing it with appropriate instruments. . the edges of fine leather shoes and boots, are trimmed with thin strips of the like material, whilst those of prunello, and other thin shoes for ladies, are bound with narrow tape. the binding is applied by females with thread, by means of a common needle. . shoe-thread is commonly spun from flax; that from hemp is much stronger, and was formerly preferred; but it is now used only for very strong work. the greater part of the shoe-thread used in the united states, is spun by machinery, at leeds, in england, from russian flax. the wax employed by shoemakers, was formerly composed of tar and rosin; but it is now most usually made of pitch. . the shoemaker, in sewing together different parts of his work, uses threads of various sizes, which are composed of several small threads of different lengths. a hog's bristle is fastened to each end of it, which enables the workman to pass it with facility through the holes made with the awl. . an expeditious way of fastening the soles of boots and shoes to the upper leathers, is found in the use of wooden pegs or brass nails. the old method, however, is generally preferred, on several accounts; but chiefly, because the work is more durable, and because it can be more easily repaired. . journeymen working at this trade most usually confine their labours to particular kinds of work; as few can follow every branch with advantage. some make shoes and boots for men; others confine their labours to those designed for ladies; but, by their aid, the master-shoemaker can, and usually does, supply every kind at his store. . it is no uncommon thing in the country, for the farmers to purchase leather, and employ the shoemaker to make it up; and this is done, in most cases, on their own premises. the shoemaker employed in this way, removes from house to house, changing his location, whenever he has completely served a whole family in his vocation. in such cases, he is said, by the trade, to be _whipping the cat_. the set of tools with which he operates, is called his _kit_. . the shoemaker usually buys his leather from the manufacturer; and procures his tools, tacks, and various other articles of a similar nature, at the _finding stores_. in some cases, the shoemaker with little or no capital, gets his materials from the _leather-cutter_, who makes it a business to supply them ready cut to the proper size and shape. there are, however, but few leather-cutters in our country; but, in england, this branch of trade is one of considerable importance, and is frequently connected with that of the leather-dresser. [illustration: harness maker &c.] the saddler and harness-maker, and the trunk-maker. the saddler and harness-maker. . the invention of the saddle has been attributed to the selians, a people of ancient franconia. under this impression, it has been supposed that the latins gave it the name of _sella_. the period at which it was first used, cannot be ascertained. it is certain, however, that the horse had been rendered subservient to man, several centuries before this convenient article was thought of. . at first, the rider sat upon the bare back of the animal, and guided him with a switch, but afterwards with a strap put round the nose. in the course of time, the rider came to use, upon the back of the horse, the skins of beasts, in order to render his seat more easy. the greeks, and many other refined nations of antiquity, sometimes used superb trappings, composed of cloth, leather, and skins dressed with the hair on; and, in addition to the gold, silver, and precious stones, with which these were ornamented, the horses were often otherwise decked with bells, collars, and devices of various kinds. . the romans, in the days of the republic, deemed it more manly to ride on the bare back of the animal than on coverings. at a later period, they used a kind of square pannel, without stirrups; and about the year of the christian era, they began to ride on saddles. it appears, that those first employed were very heavy, as the emperor theodosius, in the same century, forbade the use of any which weighed over sixty pounds. the use of saddles was established in england by henry the seventh, who enjoined on his nobility the practice of riding upon them. . the frame of a saddle is called a _tree_. it is not made by the saddlers, but by persons who confine their attention to this branch of business. the trees are constructed of wood, with a small quantity of iron, and covered with canvas. . in making a common saddle, the workman first extends two strips of _straining web_ from the pommel to the hinder part of the tree, and fastens them with tacks. the tree is then covered on the upper side with two thicknesses of linen cloth, between which a quantity of wool is afterwards interposed. a covering of thin leather, usually made of hog's-skin, is next tacked on, and the flaps added. under the whole are placed the pads and saddle-cloth; the former of which is made of thin cotton or linen cloth, and thin leather, stuffed with hair. the addition of four straps, two girths, two stirrup-leathers, and as many stirrups, completes the whole operation. . the roughness, or the little indentations in the flaps, are produced by passing the leather between rollers, in contact with a rough surface, or by beating it with a mallet, on the face of which has been fastened a piece of the skin from a species of shark, commonly called the dog-fish. . saddles are often covered with buckskin, curiously stitched into figures, and having the spaces between the seams stuffed with wool; this is particularly the case in side-saddles. the form of saddles, and the quality of the materials, together with the workmanship, are considerably varied, to suit the purposes to which they are to be applied, and to accommodate the fancy of customers. . the process of making bridles and harness for horses, is extremely simple. the leather is first cut out with a knife of some description, but usually with one of a crescent-like form, or with a blade set in a gauge, and then stitched together with the kind of thread used by shoemakers. the awl employed in punching the holes is straight; and needles are most commonly used, instead of the bristles which point the shoemaker's threads. the mode of manufacturing saddle-bags, portmanteaus, and valises, is too obvious to need description. the trunk-maker. . the manufacture of trunks is equally simple with that of making harness. in common cases, it consists chiefly in lining the inside of a wooden box with paper, or some kind of cloth, and covering the outside with a skin, or with leather, which is fastened to the wood by means of tacks. narrow strips of leather are fastened upon hair trunks with brass nails, by way of ornament, as well as to confine the work. . instead of a wooden box, oblong rims of iron, and very thick, solid pasteboard, fastened together by means of strong thread, are used in the best kinds of trunks. the frame or body, thus formed, is covered with some substantial leather, which is first stuck on with paste, and then secured by sewing it to the pasteboard with a waxed thread. over the whole, are applied strips of iron, fastened with brass or copper nails with large heads. the lines and figures on the leather, added by way of ornament, are produced by a _crease_, a tool made of wood, ivory, or whalebone. its form is much like that of the blade of a common paper-folder. . how long trunk-making has been a separate trade, cannot be exactly ascertained. the trunk-makers in france were incorporated into a company, in . in the united states, this branch of business is very commonly united with that of the saddler and harness-maker. [illustration: soap & candle maker.] the soap-boiler, and the candle-maker. the soap-boiler. . the business of the soap-boiler consists in manufacturing soap, by the combination of certain oily and alkaline substances. . the earliest notice of this useful article occurs in the works of pliny, in which it is stated, that soap was composed of tallow and ashes; that the mode of combining them was discovered by the gauls; but that the german soap was the best. . for many ages before the invention of soap, saponaceous plants, and several kinds of earth, together with animal matters and the ley from ashes, were employed for the purpose of cleansing the skin, and articles of clothing. the idea of combining some of these substances, with the view of forming soap, probably originated in accident. . the vegetable oils and animal fats, capable of saponification, are very numerous; but those most commonly employed in the manufacture of the soaps of commerce, are olive-oil, whale-oil, tallow, lard, palm-oil, and rosin; and the alkalies with which these are most frequently combined, are soda, the ley of ashes, or its residuum, potash. . soda is sometimes called the _mineral alkali_; because it is found, in some parts of the world, in the earth. it was known to the ancients, at a very early period, under the denomination of _natron_. it received this appellation from the lakes of natron, in egypt, from the waters of which it was produced by evaporation, during the summer season. . the soda of commerce is now chiefly obtained from the _salsola_, a genus of plants which grows on the sea-shore. in spain, the plant from which soda is obtained is denominated _barilla_; hence, the substance produced from it by incineration has received the same appellation. the ashes of a sea-weed which grows on the coasts of scotland and ireland, is called _kelp_. in europe, barilla and kelp are more extensively employed in the manufacture of soap than any other alkaline substances; but, in this country, where wood is so much used for fuel, common ashes are generally preferred. . the process of making the ordinary brown or yellow soap, from wood-ashes, is conducted in the following manner. the alkali is first obtained in a state of solution in water, by _leeching_ the ashes as described in page , and then poured, in a weak state, into a copper or iron caldron, having a large wooden tub carefully affixed to the top of it. . when the ley has been properly heated, the tallow, either in a _tried_ state or in the suet, is gradually added. more ley, of greater concentration, is poured in; and the ingredients are moderately boiled for several hours; while a person, as represented in the preceding cut, aids their chemical union by agitating them with a wooden spatula. . after a quantity of rosin has been added, and properly incorporated with the other materials, the fire is withdrawn until the next morning, when it is again raised; then, with the view of forming the _paste_ into hard soap, a quantity of muriate of soda (common salt) is added. the muriatic acid of this substance, uniting with the potash, forms with it muriate of potash, which dissolves in the water, while the soda combines with the tallow and rosin. hard soap, therefore, contains no potash; although this alkali is generally employed during the early part of the process of making it. . after the addition of the muriate of soda, the boiling and stirring are continued two or three hours, when the fire is withdrawn, and the contents of the caldron are suffered to be at rest. when the soap has completely separated from the watery part and extraneous matters, it is laded into another caldron, again diluted with strong ley, and heated. the _paste_ having been brought to a proper consistence, more common salt is added as before, and for the same purposes. . the chemical part of the process having been thus completed, the soap is laded into single wooden boxes, or into one or more composed of several distinct frames, which can be removed separately from the soap, after it has become solid enough to stand without such support. the soap is cut into bars, of nearly a uniform size, by means of a small brass wire. . manufacturers of soap have contrived various methods of adulterating this article, or of adding ingredients which increase its weight, without adding to its value. the most common means employed for this purpose is water, which may be added, in some cases, in considerable quantities, without greatly diminishing the consistence of the soap. . this fraud may be detected by letting the soap lie for some time exposed to the atmosphere. the water will thus be evaporated, and its quantity can be known by weighing the soap, after its loss of the superfluous liquid. to prevent evaporation, while the soap remains on hand, it is said, that some dealers keep it in saturated solutions of common salt. another method of adulteration is found in the use of pulverized lime, gypsum, or pipe-clay. these substances, however, can be easily detected by means of a solution in alcohol, which precipitates them. . the process of manufacturing soft soap, differs but little in its details from that described in the preceding paragraphs. the chief difference consists in omitting the use of salt. soft soap, therefore, is composed of a greater proportion of water, and more alkali than is necessary to saturate the unctuous matters. soft soap is made by almost every family in the country, from ashes, grease, and oily matters, reserved for the purpose. . the celebrated marseilles white soap, is composed of soda, . olive-oil, . water, . castile soap, of soda, . olive-oil, . . water, with a little coloring matter, . . fine toilet-soaps are made with oil of almonds, nut-oil, palm-oil, suet, or butter, combined with soda or potash, according to their preparation in a solid or pasty state. . in the manufacture of white soap, the tallow is more carefully purified, and no rosin is used. in other particulars, the process differs but little from that employed in the production of the common kind. two tons of tallow should yield three tons of white soap. in making the same quantity of common brown or yellow soap, twelve hundred weight less is required, on account of the substitution of that amount of yellow rosin. . the mottled appearance of some soaps is caused by dispersing the ley through it, towards the close of the operation, or by adding a quantity of sulphate of iron, indigo, or the oxide of manganese. castile soap, now manufactured in the greatest perfection at marseilles, in france, receives its beautifully marbled appearance from the sulphate of iron. the candle-maker. . the subject of the candle-maker's labors may be defined to be a wick, covered with tallow, wax, or spermaceti, in a cylindrical form, which serves, when lighted, for the illumination of objects in the absence of the sun. the business of candle-making is divided into two branches; the one is confined to the manufacturing of tallow candles, and the other, to making those composed of wax or spermaceti. . the process of making candles from tallow, as conducted by the tallow-chandler, needs only a brief description, since it differs but little from the method pursued by families in the country, with which most persons are familiar. the difference lies chiefly in the employment of a few conveniences, by which the candles are more rapidly multiplied. . the first part of the process consists in preparing a wick, to serve as a foundation. the coarse and slightly twisted yarn used for this purpose, is spun in the cotton-factories; and, being wound into balls, is, in that form, sold to the tallow-chandlers, as well as to individuals who make candles for their own consumption. . a sufficient number of threads is combined, to form a wick of a proper size; and, as they are wound from the balls, they are measured off, and cut to the proper length, by a simple contrivance, which consists of a narrow board, a wooden pin, and the blade of a razor. the pin and razor are placed perpendicular to the board, at a distance determined by the length of the proposed wick. the wicks are next put upon cylindrical rods, about three feet long; and a great number of these are arranged on a long frame. . to obtain the tallow in a proper state for use, it is separated from the membranous part of the suet, by boiling the latter in an iron or copper kettle, and then subjecting the _cracklings_ to the action of a press. the substance that remains, after the tallow has been expressed, is called _greaves_, which are sometimes applied to fattening ducks for market. this is especially the case in the city of london. . the _tried_ tallow is prepared for application to the wicks, by heating it to a proper temperature. it is then poured into a suitable receptacle, where it is kept in _order_ either by a moderate fire underneath, or by the occasional addition of hot tallow. . the _broaches_, as the sticks with their wicks are called, are taken up, several at a time, either between the fingers or by means of a simple instrument denominated a _rake_, and dipped into the tallow. they are then returned to the frame, and suffered to cool, while successive broaches are treated in the same way. the dipping is repeated, until the candles have been thickened to the proper size. . in the preceding plate, is represented a workman in the act of dipping several broaches of candles, suspended on a rake, which he holds in his hands. the mode of making dipped candles just described, is more generally practised than any other, and in this manner five or six hundred pounds can be made by one hand, in a single day. in some establishments, however, a more complicated apparatus is used, by which every part of the process is greatly expedited. . mould candles are made very differently. the moulds consist of a frame of wood, in which are arranged several hollow cylinders, generally made of pewter. at the lower extremity of each cylinder, is a small hole, for the passage of the wick, which is introduced by means of a hook on the end of a wire. the cotton is fastened at the other end, and placed in a perpendicular situation in the centre of the shafts, by means of a wire, which passes through the loops of the wicks. the melted tallow, having been poured on the top of the wooden frame, descends into each mould. after the candles have become sufficiently cold, they are extracted from the cylinders with a bodkin, which is inserted into the loop of the wick. one person can thus mould two or three hundred pounds in a day. . candles are also made of bees-wax and spermaceti; but the mode of their manufacture differs in no particular from that of common mould candles. the wicks for wax-candles are usually made of a peculiar kind of cotton, which grows in asiatic turkey. . before the wax is applied to this purpose, the coloring matter is discharged. this is effected by bleaching the wax, in the following manner. it is first divided into flakes, or thin laminæ, by pouring it, in a melted state, through a colander upon a cylindrical wheel, which, at the same time, is kept revolving, while partly immersed in cold water. the wax, having been removed from the water, is placed upon a table or floor covered with some kind of cloth. here it is occasionally sprinkled with water, until the bleaching has been completed. the process occupies several weeks, or even months, according to the state of the weather, that being best which is most favorable to a rapid evaporation. . spermaceti is a substance separated from sperm oil, which is obtained from a species of whale, called _physeter macrocephalus_, or _spermaceti cachalot_. this oil is obtained from both the head and body of the animal, but that procured from the former contains twice the quantity of spermaceti. . to separate the spermaceti from the oil yielded by the body, it is first heated, then put into casks, and suffered to stand two or three weeks, in order to _granulate_. the oily part is now filtrated through strainers; and the remainder, which is called _foots_, is again heated, and put into casks. after having stood several weeks, these are put into bags, and submitted to the action of a powerful press. the spermaceti thus obtained, is melted and moulded into cakes. the oil thus separated from the spermaceti, is called spring or fall strained; because it is filtered and expressed only during those seasons of the year. . the oil from the head of the whale is treated like that from the body, in almost every particular. the difference consists, principally, in omitting the use of the strainer, and in the employment of stronger bags and a more powerful press. the oil obtained from the _head-matter_, is called _pressed_, since it is separated by the action of the press only. it is also denominated _winter-strained_, because the operation is performed in the cold weather. . the spermaceti, having been melted and moulded into cakes, is reserved until the succeeding summer, when it is cut into thin shavings, by means of a large shave, similar to the _spoke-shave_ of the wheelwrights, and again pressed as before. the oil of this last pressing is called _taut pressed_, and is the least valuable kind, since a slight degree of cold causes it to become thick. the spermaceti obtained from the oil of the body, and that from the head-matter, are melted together, and purified by means of potash-ley. . the sperm-oil, thus freed from the spermaceti, is extensively used in lamps as a means of illumination; and, for many purposes, it is far more convenient than tallow. in the country, lard is frequently employed instead of oil, especially by the german population. in some european and asiatic countries, vegetable oils supply the place of animal fats, in this application. . the origin of the art of making candles is not known. it is evident, however, that the business is comparatively modern, since the greeks and romans, as well as other nations of antiquity, employed torches of pine and fir, and lamps supplied with oil, in the production of artificial light. the words in the scriptures translated _candle_, imply nothing more nor less than a light produced by some kind of oil consumed in a lamp. . the lamps in ancient times were suspended by a chain or cord from the ceiling, or supported on stands and moveable tables, which were called by the romans _lampadaria_, or _candelabra_. many specimens of this utensil are preserved in several museums of europe, and some have lately been found in the ruins of herculaneum. . the chinese make their candles from the tallow obtained from the seeds and capsules of the tallow-tree. this tree, which is produced in great abundance in china, is said to grow in various parts of south carolina and georgia. in appearance, it resembles the lombardy poplar. [illustration: comb-maker.] the comb-maker, and the brush-maker. the comb-maker. . the comb is a well-known instrument, employed in cleansing, dressing, and confining the hair. it is made of various materials, but most commonly of tortoise-shell, the horns and hoofs of cattle, ivory, bone, and several kinds of hard wood. . it is impossible to determine the period of the world at which it was introduced, since history and tradition, the sources from which we obtain information of this nature, are silent with regard to its origin. it is evident, however, that the comb is an instrument of primary necessity; and hence it must have been invented in the earliest ages. this opinion is confirmed by the fact, that the comb has been frequently found in use amongst savages, when first visited by civilized men. . combs employed in fixing the hair, are made of tortoise-shell, or of the horns of cattle. the genuine tortoise-shell is taken from the _testudo imbricata_, or _hawk's-bill turtle_; but a kind of shell, inferior in quality, is obtained from the _testudo caretta_, or _loggerhead turtle_. these turtles inhabit the seas of warm and temperate climates; but they are especially numerous in the west indian seas, where _shell_ is a valuable article of commerce. that from st. domingo is especially esteemed for its brilliancy of shade and color. . the shell of the hawk's-bill turtle was extensively employed for ornamental purposes by the refined nations of antiquity; although we have no account of its application to the manufacture of combs. the greeks and romans decorated with it the doors and pillars of their houses, as well as their beds and other furniture. the egyptians dealt largely with the romans in this elegant article. . the general length of the hawk's-bill turtle is about three feet from the bill to the end of the shell; but it has been known to measure five feet, and to weigh five or six hundred pounds. in the indian ocean, especially, specimens of prodigious magnitude are said to have occurred. . the shell employed in the arts, grows upon the back and feet of the animal. that on the back, consists of thirteen laminæ, or plates, which lap over each other, like tiles on the roof of a house. the plates vary in thickness from one-eighth to one-fourth of an inch, according to the age and size of the turtle. the quantity of merchantable shell obtained from a single subject of the usual size, is about eight pounds, which, at the usual price, is worth sixty or seventy dollars. . the process of making combs from the horns of cattle, is not difficult to be understood. the tips and buts are first cut off with a saw, and the remaining portion is also divided longitudinally on one side with the same instrument. the horns are then soaked for several days, and afterwards boiled in oil, to render them pliable. they are next spread out and pressed between hot iron plates. this operation clarifies the horn, and produces a plate of proper thickness. . after the plates thus produced, have been cut in pieces corresponding in size to the proposed combs, and when these have been shaved to a suitable thickness with instruments adapted to the purpose, the teeth are cut either with a _twinning saw_, as represented in the preceding cut, or with a _twinning machine_. . in the former case, the plate is fastened with a wooden _clamp_, by the part which is designed to be left for the back of the comb; and when twins, or two combs, are to be formed from one piece, the other end is bent down, so as to render the upper surface considerably convex. to this surface the _twinning saw_ is applied by the hand of the workman, who makes a number of incisions; which are completed both ways with two different kinds of saws, and the end of each tooth is cut from the back of the opposite comb with an instrument called a _plugging awl_. . the _twinning machine_ was invented, about twenty years ago, by a mr. thomas, of philadelphia; but it has been successfully improved by several individuals since that time. it is, altogether, an ingenious and useful contrivance. the cutting part consists of two chisels, which are made to act on the plate alternately, and in a perpendicular direction, each chisel cutting one side of two teeth, and severing one from the opposite back, at every stroke. it is impossible, however, to form a clear conception of the manner in which the machine operates, except by actual inspection. it performs the work with great rapidity; since from one to two hundred dozens of combs can be cut in twelve hours; whereas, not one-fourth of that number can be _twinned_ in the old method, during the same time. . after the teeth have been rounded, and in other respects brought to the proper form with suitable instruments, the combs are polished by rubbing them first with the dust of a peculiar kind of brick, then by applying them to a moving cylinder covered with buff leather, charged with rotten-stone, ashes, or brick-dust; and, finally, by rubbing them with the hand, charged with rotten-stone and vinegar. . the combs are next colored, or stained; and, as the tortoise-shell is by far the best and most expensive material for this kind of comb, the great object of the manufacturer is to produce colors as nearly resembling those of the real shell as practicable. this is done in considerable perfection, in the following manner: . the combs are first dipped in aqua-fortis, and then covered with a paste made of lime, pearlash, and red lead. to produce the requisite variety of shades, both taste and judgment are necessary in applying the composition, and in determining the time which it should remain upon the combs. to give the combs a still stronger resemblance to shell, they are also immersed for fifteen or twenty minutes in a dye of nicaragua. . the combs having been covered with oil, they are next heated upon iron plates, and brought to the desired shape by bending them upon wooden blocks with a woollen list. the whole process is finished by rubbing off the oil with a silk handkerchief. . the general process of making shell combs differs but little from that which has been just described, varying only in a few particulars, in compliance with the peculiar nature of the material. . on account of the great value of shell, the workmen are careful to make the most of every portion of it; accordingly, when a piece falls short of the desired size, it is enlarged by _welding_ to it another of smaller dimensions. the union is effected, by lapping the two pieces upon each other, and then pressing them together between two plates of hot iron. the heat of the iron is prevented from injuring the shell, by the interposition of a wet linen cloth, and by immersing the whole in hot water. in a similar manner, broken combs are often mended; and by the same method, two pieces of horn can also be joined together. . both horn and shell combs are often stamped with figures, and otherwise ornamented with carved work. in the latter case, the ornaments are produced, by removing a part of the material with a saw and graver. the saw employed is not more than the twelfth of an inch in width; and, being fastened to a frame, it is moved up and down, with great rapidity, by means of the foot, while the part of the comb to be cut away is applied to the teeth. the operator is guided in the work by a pattern, which has been struck on paper from an engraved plate. . combs for dressing and cleansing the hair, are made of horn, shell, bone, ivory, and wood; but it is unnecessary to be particular in describing the manner in which every kind of comb is manufactured. we will only add, that the teeth of fine ivory and bone combs are cut with a buzz, or circular saw, which, fastened to a mandrel, is moved in a lathe. the brush-maker. . there are few manufactured articles in more general use than brushes. this has arisen from their great utility, and the low prices at which they can be purchased. the productions of the brush-maker's labor are denominated variously, according to the purposes to which they are to be applied. . the operations connected with this business are very simple, as there is scarcely a tool employed which is not familiar to every other class of mechanics. the brush-maker, however, does not manufacture every part of the brush. he procures his wooden _stocks_ and handles from various sources, but chiefly from the turner, and bone handles, from the tooth-brush handle-maker. . the first part of the process which may be considered as belonging particularly to the brush-maker, consists in boring the holes for the reception of the bristles. this is done with a _bit_ of a proper size, which is kept in motion with a lathe, while the wood is brought against it with both hands. to enable the operator to make the holes in the right place and in the proper direction, a pattern is applied to the hither side of the stock. . the greater part of the bristles used by the brush-makers in the united states, are imported from russia and germany. large quantities, however are obtained from pennsylvania, and some parts of the western states. american bristles are worth from thirty to fifty cents per pound, a price sufficiently high, one would suppose, to induce the farmers to preserve them, when they butcher their swine. were this generally done, a tolerable supply of the shorter kinds of bristles might be obtained in our own country. . when the bristles come into the hands of the brush-maker, the long and short, and frequently those of different colors, are mixed together. these are first assorted, according to color; and those of a whitish hue are afterwards washed with potash-ley and soap, to free them from animal fat, and then whitened by bleaching them with the fumes of brimstone. . the bristles are next combed with a row of steel teeth, for the purpose of placing them in a parallel direction, and with a view of depriving them of the short hair which may be intermixed. the workman, immediately after combing a handful, assorts it into separate parcels of different lengths. this is very readily done, by pulling out the longest bristles from the top, until those which remain in the hand have been reduced to a certain length, which is determined by a gauge marked with numbers. at each pulling, the handful is reduced in height near half an inch. . the stocks and the bristles having been thus prepared, they are next fastened together. this is effected either with wire or by a composition of tar and rosin. the wire is used in all cases in which the fibre is doubled; but when the bristles are required in their full length, as in sweeping-brushes, the adhesive substance is employed. . it is superfluous to enter into detail, to show the manner in which the wire and composition are applied in fixing the bristles, as any person, with an ordinary degree of observation, can readily comprehend the whole, by examining the different kinds of brushes which are met with in every well-regulated household. the bristles, after having been fixed to the stock or handle, are trimmed with the shears or knife, according as they are required to be equal or unequal in length. . the brush is next handed over to the _finisher_, who applies to the back of the stock a thin veneer of wood, which secures the wire against the oxidizing influence of the atmosphere, and gives to the brush a finished appearance. the stock, together with the veneer, is then brought to the desired shape with suitable instruments, polished with sand-paper, and covered with varnish. . those brushes which the manufacturer designs to be ornamented, are sent in great quantities to the _ornamenter_, who applies to them various figures, in gold or dutch leaf, japan or bronze, and sometimes prints, which have been struck on paper from engraved plates. [illustration: inn-keeper.] the tavern-keeper. . a house in which travellers are entertained is denominated a tavern, inn, coffee-house, hotel, or house of public entertainment; and an individual who keeps a house of this description, is called an inn-keeper or tavern-keeper. of these establishments there are various grades, from the log cabin with a single room, to the splendid and commodious edifice with more than a hundred chambers. . this business is one of great public utility; since, by this means, travellers obtain necessary refreshments and a temporary home, with very little trouble on their part, and that, in most cases, for a reasonable compensation. this is especially the case in the united states, where the public houses, taking them together, are said to be superior to those of any other country. . travellers, in the early ages of the world, either carried with them the means of sustenance, and protection from the weather, or relied upon the hospitality of strangers; but, as the intercourse between different places for the purposes of trade, increased, houses of public entertainment were established, which at first were chiefly kept by women. . the people of antiquity, in every age and nation, whether barbarous or civilized, were, however, remarkable for their hospitality. we find this virtue enjoined in the mosaic writings, and scriptures generally, in the poems of homer, as well as in other distinguished writings, which have descended to our times. the heathen nations were rendered more observant of the rites of hospitality by the belief, that their fabulous gods sometimes appeared on earth in human shape; and the jews and ancient christians, by the circumstance, that abraham entertained angels unawares. . on account of the occasional acts of violence committed by both the guest, and the master of the house, it became necessary to take some precautions for their mutual safety. when, therefore, a stranger applied for lodgings, it was customary among the greeks for both to swear by jupiter, that they would do each other no harm. this ceremony took place, while each party stood with his foot placed on his own side of the threshold; and a violation of this oath by either party, excited against the offender the greatest horror. . the greeks and romans, in common with the people of many other nations, were in the habit of making arrangements with persons at a distance from their homes, for mutual accommodation, when either party might be in the vicinity of the other. in these agreements, the contracting parties included their posterity, and delivered to each other tokens, which might be afterwards exhibited in proof of ancient ties of hospitality between the families. they swore fidelity to each other by the name of jupiter, who was surnamed the hospitable; because he was supposed to be the protector of strangers, and the avenger of their wrongs. . this relation was considered a very intimate one, especially by the romans; and, in their language, it was called _hospitium_, or _jus hospitii_; hence, the guest and entertainer were both called _hostes_, a word from which _host_ is derived, which is employed to designate both the landlord and the guest. the roman nobility used to build, for the reception of strangers, apartments called _hospitalia_, on the right and left of the main building of their residence. . during the middle ages, also, hospitality was very commonly practised; and the virtue was not considered one of those which might be observed or neglected at pleasure; the practice of it was even enjoined by statute, in many countries, as a positive duty, which could not be neglected with impunity. in some cases, the moveable goods of the inhospitable person were confiscated, and his house burned. if an individual had not the means of entertaining his guest, he was permitted to steal, in order to obtain the requisite supply. . the nobles of europe, during this period, were generally distinguished for their cordial entertainment of strangers, and their immediate adherents. their extraordinary liberality arose, in part, from the general customs of the age, and partly from a desire to attach to their interests as great a number of retainers as possible, with a view to maintain or increase their political importance. strangers were also entertained at the monasteries, which were numerous in almost every kingdom of europe. several of these institutions were established in solitary places, with the express purpose of relieving travellers in distress. . it is evident, that the arrangements for mutual accommodation, and the hospitable character of the ancients, were unfavorable to the business of keeping tavern; but the free intercourse between different nations, which arose from the crusades, and the revival of commerce, contributed greatly to the habit of regularly entertaining strangers for a compensation, and led to the general establishment of inns. . these inns, however, were not, at first, well supported; inasmuch as travellers had been long accustomed to seek for lodgings in private houses. in scotland, inns were established by law, a.d. ; and, to compel travellers to resort to them, they were forbidden, under a penalty of forty shillings, to use private accommodations, where these public houses were to be found. . how far legislative enactments have been employed for the establishment of inns in other countries, we have not been able to learn, as the authorities to which we have referred for information on this point are silent with regard to it. we know, however, that laws have been made in almost every part of europe, as well as in the united states, with the view of compelling the landlord to preserve proper order, and to accommodate his customers at reasonable charges. . in the united states, and in all other commercial countries, this business has become one of great importance, not only to the individuals who have engaged in it, but also to the community in general. within the present century, the amount of travelling has greatly increased, and the excellence of the public houses has advanced in the same ratio. some of these establishments in the cities and large towns, are among the most extensive and splendid edifices of the country; and, in every place through which there is much travelling, they are usually equal or superior to the private dwellings of the neighborhood. . the business of keeping tavern, however, is not always confined to the proper object of entertaining travellers, or persons at some distance from home. a public house is frequently the resort of the people who live in the immediate vicinity, and is often the means of doing much injury, by increasing dissipation. . in all cases in which ardent spirits are proposed to be sold, a license must be obtained from the public authorities, for which must be paid the sum stipulated by law; but any person is permitted to lodge travellers, and to supply them with every necessary means of cheer and comfort for a compensation, without the formality of a legal permission; yet, a license to sell liquors is called a tavern-license; because most tavern-keepers regard the profits on the sale of ardent spirits as one of their chief objects. . a public house in which no strong drink is sold, is called a temperance tavern; and such establishments are becoming common; but they are not, at present, so well supported as those in which the popular appetite is more thoroughly complied with. the time, however, may not be far distant, when the public sentiment will undergo such a salutary change, that the tavern-keepers generally will find it their best policy to relinquish the sale of this poisonous article. . as travellers often apply to the bar for "something to drink," merely to remunerate the landlord for the use of his fire, or some little attention, the friends of temperance would essentially promote their cause, by encouraging the practice of paying for a glass of water, or some trifle of this kind. this would increase the number of temperance taverns, and, perhaps, be the means of preventing many generous people from forming those dissipated habits, which are so often attended with ruinous results. [illustration: the hunter.] the hunter. . hunting and fishing are usually considered the primary occupations of man; not because they were the first employments in which he engaged, but because they are the chief means of human sustenance among savage nations. . the great and rapid increase of the inferior animals, and, probably, the diminished fertility of the soil after the deluge, caused many branches of the family of noah to forsake the arts of civilized life, especially after the dispersion caused by the confusion of tongues. . many of these families, or tribes, continued in this barbarous state for several ages, or until their increase of numbers, and the diminished quantity of wild game, rendered a supply of food from the objects of the chase extremely precarious. necessity then compelled them to resort to the domestication of certain animals, and to the cultivation of the soil. but the practice of hunting wild animals is not confined to the savage state; as it is an amusement prompted by a propensity inherent in human nature. . the earliest historical notice of this sport is found in the tenth chapter of genesis, in which nimrod is styled, "a mighty hunter before the lord." so great was his prowess in this absorbing pursuit, that he was proverbially celebrated on this account even in the time of moses. nimrod is the first king of whom we read in history; and it is by no means improbable, that his skill and intrepidity in subduing the wild beasts of the forest, contributed largely towards elevating him to the regal station. . although the spoils of the chase are of little consequence to men, after they have united in regular communities, in which the arts of civilized life are cultivated; yet the propensity to hunt wild animals continues, and displays itself more or less among all classes of men. . the reader of english history will recollect, that william the conqueror, who began his reign in the year , signalized his passion for this amusement, by laying waste, and converting, into one vast hunting-ground, the entire county of hampshire, containing, at that time, no less than twenty-two populous parishes. severe laws were also enacted, prohibiting the destruction of certain kinds of game, except by a few persons having specified qualifications. with some modifications, these laws are still in force in great britain. . in other countries of europe, also, large tracts have been appropriated by the kings and nobles to the same object. this tyrannical monopoly is attempted to be justified by the unreasonable pretension, that all wild animals belong, of right, to the monarch of the country, where they roam. . the quadrupeds most hunted in europe, are the stag, the hare, the fox, the wolf, and the wild boar. these beasts are pursued either on account of their intrinsic value, or for sport, or to rid the country of their depredations. in some instances, all three of these objects may be united. the method of capturing or killing the animals is various, according to the character and objects of the persons engaged in it. . in asia, the wolf is sometimes hunted with the eagle; but, in europe, the strongest greyhounds are employed to run him down. this task, however, is one of extreme difficulty, as he can easily run twenty miles upon a stretch, and is besides very cunning in the means of eluding his pursuers. chasing the fox on horseback, with a pack of hounds, is considered an animating and manly sport, both in europe and in north america. . the most prominent victim of the hunter, in africa, is the lion. he is usually sought in small parties on horseback with dogs; but sometimes, when one of these formidable animals has been discovered, the people of the neighborhood assemble, and encircle him in a ring, three or four miles in circumference. the circle is gradually contracted, until the hunters have approached sufficiently near to the beast, when they dispatch him, usually with a musket-ball. . in the southern parts of asia, tiger-hunting is a favorite amusement. seated upon an elephant, trained especially for the purpose, the hunter is in comparative safety, while he pursues and fires upon the tiger, until his destruction is effected. . the white bear and the grisly bear are the most formidable animals in north america; yet they are industriously hunted by both indians and white men, on account of the value of their flesh and skins. bisons, or, as they are erroneously called, buffaloes, are found in great numbers in the vast prairies which occur between the mississippi and the rocky mountains. they are commonly met with in droves, which sometimes amount to several thousands. . when the indian hunters propose to destroy these animals, they ride into the midst of a herd, and dispatch them with repeated wounds; or, they get a drove between themselves and a precipice, and, by shouting and yelling, cause the animals to crowd each other off upon the rocks below. in this manner, great numbers are disabled and taken at once. the hunters, at other times, drive the bisons into inclosures, and then shoot them down at their leisure. the hide of this animal is dressed with the hair adhering to it; and skins, in this state, are used by the savages for beds, and by the white people, in wagons, sleighs, and stages. . north america, and the northern parts of asia, have been, and, in some parts, still are, well stocked with fur-clad animals; and these are the principal objects of pursuit, with those who make hunting their regular business. some of these animals were common in every part of north america, when this portion of the western continent was first visited by europeans; and a trade in peltries, more or less extensive, has been carried on with the natives, ever since the first settlement of the country. . for the purpose of conducting this trade with advantage, a company was formed in england, in , by prince rupert and others, to whom a charter was granted, securing to them the exclusive privilege of trading with the indians about hudson's bay. another company was formed in - , called the north-west fur company. between these companies, there soon arose dissensions and hostilities, and many injuries were mutually inflicted by the adherents of the parties. both associations, however, were at length united, under the title of the hudson's bay fur company. the indian trade, on the great lakes and the upper mississippi, has long been in possession of the north american fur company. most of the directors of this company reside in the city of new-york. . the companies just mentioned supply the indians with coarse blue, red, and fine scarlet cloths, coarse cottons, blankets, ribands, beads, kettles, firearms, hatchets, knives, ammunition, and other articles adapted to the wants of the hunters, receiving, in return, the skins of the muskrat, beaver, otter, martin, bear, deer, lynx, fox, &c. . the intercourse with the indians is managed by agents, called clerks, who receive from the company a salary, ranging from three to eight hundred dollars per annum. the merchandise is conveyed to the place of trade, in the autumn, by the aid of canadian boatmen and half-indians. the most considerable portion of the goods are sold to the indians on a credit, with the understanding of their making payment in the following spring; but, as many neglect this duty, a high price is affixed to the articles thus intrusted to savage honesty. the clerk furnishes the debtor with a trap, having his own name stamped upon it, to show that the hunter has pledged every thing which may be caught in it. . each clerk is supplied with four laborers and an interpreter. the latter attends to the store in the absence of the clerk, or watches the debtors in the indian camp, lest they again sell the produce of their winter's labors. the peltries, when obtained by the clerk, are sent to the general agent of the company. . the fur trade is also prosecuted, to some extent, by a class of men in missouri, who proceed from the city of st. louis, in bodies comprising from fifty to two hundred individuals. after having ascended the missouri river, or some of its branches, and, perhaps, after having passed the rocky mountains, they separate, and pursue the different animals on their own individual account, either alone or in small parties. the indians regard these men as intruders on their territories; and, when a favorable opportunity is presented, they frequently surprise and murder the wandering hunters, and retain possession of their property. . in consequence of the unremitted warfare which has, for a long time, been carried on against the wild animals of north america, their number has been greatly diminished; and, in many parts, almost every species of the larger quadrupeds, and the fur-clad animals, has been exterminated. even on the mississippi, and the great lakes, the latter description of animals has been so much reduced in number, that the trade in peltries, in those parts, has become of little value. another half century will, probably, nearly terminate the trade in every part of north america. . the fur trade was prosecuted with considerable success, during the latter part of the last century, principally by the english, on the north-west coast of america, and the adjacent islands. the peltries obtained by these enterprising traders, were carried directly to china. the trade was interrupted for a while by the spaniards, who laid claim to those regions, and seized the british traders engaged there, together with the property in their possession. this affair, however, was afterwards amicably adjusted by the spanish and english governments; and the whole trade, from california north and to china, was opened to the latter. . the fur trade, in those parts, is now chiefly in the hands of the russian company in america, which has a capital of a million of dollars invested in the business. most of the persons owning the stock, are merchants, residing at irkutsk, a town of siberia, which is the centre of the fur trade of that country. the skins obtained in russian america are chiefly procured from the sea-otter, and several species of seal, together with those from foxes, of a blue, black, and gray color, which are brought from the interior. parties of russian hunters have already passed the rocky mountains, and interfered with the trade of the hudson's bay company. the fur trade of siberia is chiefly carried on with china. . the chief objects of the hunters in siberia, are the black fox, the sable, the ermine, the squirrel, the beaver, and the lynx. in the region near the frozen ocean, are also caught blue and white foxes. siberia is the place of banishment for the russian empire; and the exiles were formerly required to pay to the government an annual tribute of a certain number of sable-skins. the conquered tribes in siberia, were also compelled to pay their taxes in the skins of the fox and sable; but now, those of less value, or money, are frequently substituted. . although the skins of beasts were the first means employed to clothe the human body, yet it does not appear that the greeks and romans, and the other refined nations of antiquity, ever made use of furs for this purpose. the custom of wearing them, originated in those regions, where the fur-clad animals were numerous, and where the severity of the climate required this species of clothing. the use of furs was introduced into the southern parts of europe by the goths, vandals, huns, and other barbarous nations, which overran the roman empire. [illustration: whaler.] the fisherman. . although permission was given by the deity, immediately after the flood, to employ for human sustenance "every moving thing that liveth," yet it is not probable, that fishes were used as food, to any considerable extent, for several centuries afterwards. it is stated by plutarch, that the syrians and greeks, in very ancient times, abstained from fish. menelaus, one of homer's heroes, complains, on a certain occasion, that his companions had been reduced by hunger to the necessity of eating fish; and there is no mention in homer, that the grecians, at any time, used this food at the siege of troy, although, for the ten years during which that contest was carried on, their camp was on the sea-shore. . moses, the jewish lawgiver, is very explicit in designating the land animals which might be used by the israelites as food; and he was equally so with regard to the animals which inhabit the waters. we learn, from the twelfth chapter of numbers, that the children of israel, while journeying to the land of canaan, "remembered the fish which they did eat," in egypt. . this is the earliest notice on record, of the actual use of that class of animals for food; although it is probable, that they had been applied to this purpose, in egypt, six or seven hundred years before that period, or soon after the settlement of this country by the descendants of ham. . for a long time before the advent of our saviour, fishing had been a regular business, even in judea; and from the class of men who followed this occupation, he chose several of his apostles. at the time just mentioned, fish had become a common article of diet, in all parts of the world subject to the roman power, and probably in almost all other countries. . the methods of catching fish, pursued in ancient times, were similar to those of the present day; for then, as now, they were caught with a hook, with a spear, and with a seine or net, according to the character of the animal, and the nature of the fishing station. but the great improvements in navigation, made since the twelfth century, have given modern fishermen the command of the atlantic and pacific oceans, and, consequently, a knowledge of many species of fish which were formerly unknown. . according to linnæus, the great naturalist, about four hundred species of fish have come to our knowledge; and he presumes, that those which remain unknown are still more numerous. notwithstanding this great variety, the chief attention of fishermen is confined to a few kinds, which are the most easily caught, and which are the most valuable when taken. . every place which contains many inhabitants, and which is located in the vicinity of waters well stored with fish, is supplied with these animals by men who make fishing a business; still, these fisheries may be considered local in their benefits, and perhaps do not require particular notice in this article. we will only remark, therefore, that, in large cities, fresh fish are sold either in a fish-market, or are _hawked_ about the streets. the wives of the fishermen are very often employed in selling the fish caught by their husbands. the fisheries which are of the greatest consequence, in general commerce, are those which relate to herring, mackerel, salmon, seal, and whale. . _herring fishery._--there are several species of herring; but, of these, four kinds only are of much importance, viz., the common herring, the shad, the hard head, and the alewife; of which, the first is the most valuable, being by far the most numerous, and being, also, better adapted than the others for preservation. . the winter residence of the common herring is within the arctic circle, whence it emigrates, in the spring, to more southern portions of the globe, for the purpose of depositing its spawn. the first body of these migratory animals, appears on the coasts of both europe and america, in april, or about the first of may; but these are only the precursors of the grand shoals which arrive in a few weeks afterwards. . their first approach is indicated by the great number of birds of prey, which follow them in their course; but, when the main body appears, the number is so great, that they alter the appearance of the ocean itself. in this last and principal migration, the shoals are five or six miles in length, and three or four in breadth; and, before each of these columns, the water is driven in a kind of ripple. sometimes, the fish sink together ten or fifteen minutes, and then rise again to the surface, when they reflect, in clear weather, the rays of the sun, in a variety of splendid colors. . these fish proceed as far south as france, on the coasts of europe, and as far as georgia, in america, supplying every bay, creek, and river, which opens into the atlantic. having deposited their spawn, generally in the inland waters, they return to their head-quarters in the arctic ocean, and recruit their emaciated bodies for another migration in the following spring. . in a few weeks, the young ones are hatched by the genial heat of the sun; and, as they are not found in southern waters in the winter, it is evident that they proceed northward in the fall, to their paternal haunts under the ice, and thus repair the vast destruction of their race, which had been caused by men, fowl, and fish, in the previous season. . these fish are caught in nearly every river, from maine to georgia, which has a free communication with the atlantic; but the most extensive fisheries are on the hudson and delaware rivers, and on those which flow into the chesapeake bay. . the instrument employed in catching these fish is called a _seine_, which is a species of net, sometimes in length several hundred fathoms, and of a width suiting the depth of the water in which it is to be used. the two edges of the net-work are fastened each to a rope; and, to cause the seine to spread laterally in the water, pieces of lead are fastened to one side, and pieces of cork to the other. . in spreading the seine in the water, one end is retained on land by a number of persons, while the rest of it is strung along from a boat, which is rowed in the direction from the shore. the seine having been thus extended, the further end is brought round, in a sweeping manner, to the shore; and the fish that may be included are taken into the boats with a scoop-net, or are hauled out upon the shore. in this way, two or three hundred thousands are sometimes taken at a single _haul_. this fish dies immediately after having been taken from the water; hence the common expression, "as dead as a herring." . the herrings are sold, as soon as caught, to people who come to the fishing stations to procure them; or, in case an immediate sale cannot be effected, they are cured with salt, and afterwards smoked, or continued in brine. in the southern states, the herring is generally thought to be superior to any other fish for the purpose of salting down; although the shad and some others are preferred while fresh. . the importance of this fishery is superior to that of any other; since the benefits resulting from it are more generally diffused. the ancients, however, do not appear to have had any knowledge of this valuable fish. it was first brought into notice by the dutch, who are said to have commenced the herring fishery on the coasts of scotland, in the year , and to have retained almost exclusive possession of it, until the beginning of the present century. . the shad is a species of herring, which inhabits the sea near the mouths of rivers, and which ascends them in the spring, to deposit its spawn. it is caught in all the rivers terminating on our atlantic coasts, as well as in some of the rivers of the north of europe. this fish is captured in the same manner and often at the same time with the common herring. it is highly esteemed in a fresh state; although it is not so good when salted, as the herring and some other kinds of fish. . _mackerel fishery._--the common mackerel is a migratory fish, like the herring, and ranks next to that tribe of fishes in regard to numbers, and perhaps in general utility. its place of retirement in the winter, is not positively known; but it is supposed by some, to be far north of the arctic circle; and by others, to be in some part of the atlantic farther south. shoals of this fish appear on the coasts of both europe and america, in the summer season. of this fish there are twenty-two species. . the mode of catching the mackerel, is either with a net or with hooks and lines. the latter method succeeds best, when the boat or vessel is driven forward by a gentle breeze; and, in this case, a bit of red cloth, or a painted feather, is usually employed as a bait. several hooks are fastened to a single line, and the fish bite so readily, that the fishermen occasionally take one on each hook at a haul. the mackerel is _cured_ in the usual manner, and packed in barrels, to be sold to dealers. . this fish was well known to the ancients, as one of its places of resort, in the summer, was the mediterranean sea. it was highly esteemed by the romans, for the reason, that it was the best fish for making their _sarum_, a kind of pickle or sauce much esteemed by this luxurious people. . _salmon fishery._--the salmon is a celebrated fish, belonging to the trout genus. it inhabits the seas on the european coasts, from spitzbergen to western france; and, on the western shore of the atlantic, it is found from greenland to the hudson river. it also abounds on both coasts of the north pacific ocean. the length of full-grown salmon is from three to four feet; and their weight, from ten to fifteen pounds. . as soon as the ice has left the rivers, the salmon begin to ascend them, for the purpose of depositing their spawn. it has been ascertained that these fish retain a remarkable attachment to the river which gave them birth; and, having once deposited their spawn, they ever afterwards choose the same spot for their annual deposits. this latter fact has been established by a curious frenchman, who, fastening a ring to the posterior fin of several salmon, and then setting them at liberty, found that some of them made their appearance at the same place three successive seasons, bearing with them this distinguishing mark. . in ascending the rivers, these fish usually proceed together in great numbers, mostly swimming in the middle of the stream; and, being very timid, a sudden noise, or even a floating piece of timber, will sometimes turn them from their course, and send them back to the sea; but having advanced a while, they assume a determined resolution, overcoming rapids and leaping over falls twelve or fifteen feet in perpendicular height. . salmon are caught chiefly with seines, and sometimes seven or eight hundred are captured at a single haul; but from fifty to one hundred is the most usual number, even in a favorable season. they are also taken in _weirs_, which are inclosures so constructed that they admit the ingress, but not the regress of the fish. . the salmon fisheries are numerous in great britain and ireland, as well as in most of the northern countries of europe. in the united states, the most valuable fisheries of this kind are on the rivers in maine, whence the towns and cities farther south are principally supplied with these fish, in a fresh condition. they are preserved in ice, while on their way to market. in the cured state, salmon is highly esteemed; although it is not easily digested. . _cod fishery._--there are several species of cod-fish, or gadus; but the most important and interesting of the class, is the common cod. these fish are found in great abundance on the south and west coasts of iceland, on the coasts of norway, off the orkney and western isles, and in the baltic sea. farther south, they gradually diminish in numbers, and entirely disappear, some distance from the straits of gibraltar. . but the great rendezvous of cod-fish is on the coasts of labrador, the banks of newfoundland, cape breton, and nova scotia. they are invited to these situations by the abundance of small fish, worms, and other marine animals of the crustaceous and testaceous kinds, on which they feed. the fishermen resort, in the greatest numbers, to the banks, which, stretch along the eastern coasts of newfoundland about four hundred and fifty miles. the water on these banks varies from twenty to fifty fathoms in depth. . by negociations with great britain, the french, dutch, spanish, and americans, have acquired the right to catch and cure fish, both on the _grand banks_, and several other places on the coasts of the english possessions in north america. the number of vessels employed on the several fishing stations, during each successive season, amounts to six or seven thousand, each measuring from forty to one hundred and twenty tons, and carrying eight or ten men. . the fishing on the grand banks commences in april, and continues until about the first of august. here, the fish are caught exclusively with hooks, which are usually baited with a small fish called the capelin, as well as with herring, clams, and the gills of the cod itself. but this fish is not very particular in its choice of bait, it biting greedily at almost any kind which may be presented. an expert fisherman will frequently catch from one hundred to three hundred cod in a single day. . as soon as the fish have been caught, their heads are cut off, and their entrails taken out. they are then salted away in bulk in the hold; and, after having lain three or four days to drain, they are taken to another part of the vessel, and again salted in the same manner. the fishermen from new-england, however, give them but one salting while on the fishing station; but, as soon as a cargo has been obtained, it is carried home, where conveniences have been prepared for curing the fish to greater advantage. by pursuing this plan, two or three trips are made during the season. some of the fish are injured before they are taken from the vessel; and these form an inferior quality, called _jamaica fish_, because such are generally sold in that island, for the use of the negroes. . the fish which are caught on the coasts of labrador, at the entrance of hudson's bay, in the straits of belleisle, and on fishing stations of similar advantages, are cured on the shore. they are first slightly salted, and then dried in the sun, either on the rocks, or on scaffolds erected for the purpose. in these coast fisheries, the operations commence in june, and continue until some time in august. the cod are caught in large seines, as well as with hook and line. . _seal fishery._--there are several species of the seal; but the kind which is most numerous, and most important in a commercial view, is the common seal. it is found on the sea-coasts throughout the world, but in the greatest numbers in very cold climates, where it furnishes the rude inhabitants with nearly all their necessaries and luxuries. . the animal is valuable to the civilized world, on account of its skin and oil. the oil is pure, and is adapted to all the purposes to which that from the whale is applied. in the spring of the year, the seals are very fat; and, at that time, even small ones will yield four or five gallons of oil. the leather manufactured from the skins, is employed in trunk-making, in saddlery, and in making boots and shoes. . since the whale fishery has declined in productiveness in the northern seas, _sealing_ has arisen in importance; and accordingly, vessels are now frequently fitted out for this purpose, in both europe and america; whereas, a few years since, it was regarded only as a part of the objects of a whaling voyage. . our countrymen of new-england have particularly distinguished themselves in this branch of business; and the part of the globe which they have found to be the most favorable to their objects, has been the islands in the antarctic ocean. a sealing voyage to that quarter often occupies three years, during which time the hunters are exposed to great hardships, being often left in small detachments on desolate islands, for the purpose of pursuing the animals to greater advantage. . the best time for sealing in the arctic ocean, is in march and april, when the seals are often met with in droves of several thousands on the ice, which is either fixed, or floating in large pieces. when the sealers meet with one of these droves, they attack the animals with clubs, and stun them by a single blow on the nose. after all that can be reached, have been disabled in this way, the skin and blubber are taken off together. . this operation is called _flenching_, and is sometimes a horrible business; since some of the seals, being merely stunned, occasionally recover, and, in their denuded state, often make battle, and even leap into the water, and swim off. the skins, with the blubber attached to them, are packed away in the hold; and, in case the vessel is to return home soon, they are suffered to remain there, until she arrives in port; but, when this is not expected, the skins, as soon as convenient, are separated from the blubber, and the latter is put into casks. there are other methods of capturing the seal; but it is, perhaps, not necessary to enter into further details. . _whale fishery._--there are five species of the whale, of which the _balæna physalis_, or razor-back, is the largest. when full grown, it is supposed to be about one hundred feet in length, and thirty or thirty-five feet in circumference. it is so powerful an animal, that it is extremely difficult to capture it; and, when captured, it yields but little oil and whalebone. the species to which whalers direct their attention is denominated the _mystecetus_, or the _right whale_. . the mystecetus is found, in the greatest numbers, in the greenland seas, about the island of spitzbergen, in davis' straits, in hudson's and baffin's bays, and in the northern parts of the pacific ocean. it is also found in the antarctic ocean, and along the coasts of africa and south america, and occasionally on the coasts of the united states. . each vessel engaged in this fishery, is generally fitted out by several individuals, who receive, of the return cargo of oil and whalebone, a portion corresponding to the amount which they have contributed to the common stock, after the men have received their proportion of it. should the voyage prove altogether unsuccessful, which seldom happens, the owners lose the amount of the outfit, and the captain and hands, their time. . the whalers commence operations in the northern latitudes, in the month of may; but the whales are most plentiful in june, when they are met with between the latitudes ° and °, in almost every variety of situation, sometimes in the open seas, at others in the loose ice, or at the edges of the _fields_ and _floes_, which are near the main, impervious body of ice. . on the fishing station, the boats are kept always ready for instant service, being suspended from davits, or cranes, by the sides of the ship, and being furnished with a lance and a harpoon, to the latter of which is attached about one hundred and twenty fathoms of strong but flexible rope. when the weather and situation are favorable, the _crow's nest_, which is a station at the mast-head, is occupied by some person with a telescope. . the moment a whale is discovered, notice is given to the watch below, who instantly man one or two boats, and row with swiftness to the place. sometimes, a boat is kept manned and afloat near the ship, that no time may be lost in making ready; or, two or three are sent out on _the look-out_, having every thing ready for an attack. . the whale being very timid and cautious, the men endeavor to approach him unperceived, and strike him with the harpoon, before he is aware of their presence. sometimes, however, he perceives their approach, and dives into the water, to avoid them; but, being compelled to come again to the surface to breathe, or, as it is termed, _to blow_, they make another effort to harpoon him. in this way, the whalers often pursue him for a considerable time, and frequently without final success. the animal, when unmolested, remains about two minutes on the surface, during which time he blows eight or nine times, and then descends for five or ten minutes, and often, while feeding, for fifteen or twenty. . when the whale has been struck, he generally dives towards the bottom of the sea either perpendicularly or obliquely, where he remains about thirty minutes, and sometimes nearly an hour. the harpoon has, near its point, two barbs, or withers, which cause it to remain fast in the integuments under the skin; and the rope attached to it, is coiled in the bow of the boat in such a way, that it runs out without interruption. when more line is wanted, it is made known to the other boats by the elevation of an oar. should the rope prove too short for the great descent of the whale, it becomes necessary to sever it from the boat, lest the latter be drawn under water; for this emergency, the harpooner stands ready with a knife. . when the whale reappears, the assisting boats make for the place with their greatest speed; and, if possible, each harpooner plunges his weapon into the back of the creature. on convenient occasions, he is also plied with lances, which are thrust into his vitals. at length, overcome with wounds, and exhausted by the loss of blood, his approaching dissolution is indicated by a discharge of blood from his blow-holes, and sometimes by a convulsive struggle, in which his tail, raised, whirled, and jerked in the air, resounds to the distance of several miles. the whale having been thus conquered, and deprived of life, the captors express their joy with loud huzzas, and communicate the information to the ship by striking their flag. . a position near a large field of solid ice is very advantageous; because a whale diving under it is obliged to return again to blow; and this circumstance gives opportunity to make upon him several attacks. close fields of drift ice present great difficulties; since the boats cannot always pass through them with sufficient celerity. in that case, the men sometimes travel over the ice, leaping from one piece to another, and carrying with them lances and harpoons, with which they pierce the animal as often as possible. if they succeed in thus killing him, they drag him back under the ice with the fast line. . the whale, having been towed to the ship, and secured alongside, is raised a little by means of powerful blocks, or tackle. the harpooners, with spurs fastened to the bottom of their feet to prevent them from slipping, descend upon the huge body, and, with spades and knives adapted to this particular purpose, cut the blubber into oblong pieces, which are peeled off, and hoisted upon deck with the _speck-tackle_. these long strips are then cut into chunks, which are immediately packed away in the hold. after the animal has been thus successively flenched, and the whale-bone taken out, the carcase is dismissed to the sharks, bears, and birds of prey. . the blubber is somewhat similar, in consistence, to the fat which surrounds the body of the hog, although not quite so solid. in young whales, its color is yellowish white; and, in old ones, yellow or red. its thickness varies in different parts and in different individuals, from eight to twenty inches. the weight of a whale sixty feet in length, is about seventy tons, of which the blubber weighs about thirty tons. . the whale-bone is situated in the mouth. about three hundred laminæ, or blades, grow parallel to each other on either side of the upper jaw, being about half an inch thick, and ten or twelve inches wide, where they are united by the gum. as the whale grows old, they increase in length, and approach from each side to the roof of the mouth. the whale, while feeding, swims with his mouth wide open, which admits a great quantity of water containing insects or small fish, on which he subsists. the whale-bone acts as a filter, or strainer, in retaining the little animals, while the water passes off at the corners of the mouth. . before the whalers leave the fishing station, they cut the blubber into small pieces, and put it into close casks. sometimes, however, when the ship has been very successful, there is a deficiency of casks. in that case, it is slightly salted, and packed away in the hold. but, as the ship must necessarily pass through a warmer climate, on her voyage homeward, the blubber, while packed in this manner, is liable to melt and be wasted, unless the weather should prove uncommonly cool. . when the vessel has arrived in port, the blubber is found to be melted. to separate the oil from the _fritters_, or _fenks_, as the integuments and other impurities are called, the contents of the casks are poured into copper boilers, and heated. the heat causes a part of the latter to sink to the bottom, and the former is drawn off into coolers, where other extraneous matters settle. the pure or fine oil is then drawn off for sale. an inferior quality of oil, called _brown oil_, is obtained from the dregs of the blubber. . the spermaceti cachalot, or _physeter macrocephalus_, is an animal belonging to the norwal genus; although it is generally denominated the spermaceti whale. it is found in the greatest abundance in the pacific ocean, where it is sought by american and other whalers, for the sake of the oil and spermaceti. this animal is gregarious, and is often met with in herds containing more than two hundred individuals. . whenever a number of the cachalot are seen, several boats, manned each with six men provided with harpoons and lances, proceed in pursuit; and, if possible, each boat strikes or fastens to a distinct animal, which, in most cases, is overcome without much difficulty. being towed to the ship, it is deprived of its blubber, and the matter contained in the head, which consists of spermaceti combined with a small proportion of oil. the oil is reduced from the blubber, soon after it has been taken on board, in "try works," with which every ship engaged in this fishery is provided. . about three tons of oil are commonly obtained from a large cachalot of this species, and from one to two tons from a small one, besides the head-matter. the manner in which these two products are treated, when brought into port, has been described in the article on candle-making. . the biscayans were the first people who prosecuted the whale fishery, as a commercial pursuit. in the twelfth, thirteenth, and fourteenth centuries, they carried on this business to a considerable extent; but the whales taken by them were not so large as those which have since been captured in the polar seas. at length, the whales ceased to visit the bay of biscay, and the fishery in that quarter was of course terminated. . the voyages of the english and dutch to the northern ocean, in search of a passage to india, led to the discovery of the principal haunts of the whale, and induced individuals in those nations to fit out vessels to pursue these animals in the northern latitudes, the harpooners and part of the crews being biscayans. the whales were found in the greatest abundance about the island of spitzbergen, and were, at first, so easily captured, that extra vessels were sent out in ballast, to assist in bringing home the oil and whalebone; but the whales, retiring to the centre of the ocean, and to the other side to the greenland seas, soon became scarce about that island. . the whale fishery was revived, as above stated, about the beginning of the seventeenth century; and, with the dutch, it was in the most flourishing condition in , when it employed about two hundred and sixty ships, and fourteen thousand men. the wars about the beginning of the nineteenth century, extending their baleful influence to almost every part of the ocean, annihilated this branch of business among the dutch; and, in , only a single whale-ship sailed from holland. . the english whale fishery was, at first, carried on by companies enjoying exclusive privileges; but the pursuit was attended with little success. in , parliament decreed a bounty of twenty shillings per ton, on every whaler measuring more than two hundred tons; and, although this bounty was increased in to forty shillings, yet the english whale fishery has never been very flourishing. . the whale fishery has been carried on with greater success from the united states than from any other country. it was begun by the colonists, on their own shores, at a very early period; but the whales having abandoned the coasts of north america, these hardy navigators pursued them into the northern and southern oceans. . the number of american vessels now employed in pursuit of the spermaceti cachalot and the mystecetus, amounts to about four hundred, and the number of men to about ten thousand. the inhabitants of the island of nantucket, and of the town of new-bedford, are more extensively engaged in these fisheries than the people of any other part of the united states. [illustration: shipwright.] the shipwright. . the earliest notice we have of the construction of a building to float on water, is that which relates to noah's ark. this was the largest vessel that has ever been built, and the circumstance proves that the arts, at that early period, had been brought to considerable perfection; yet, as several centuries had elapsed, after the flood, before the descendants of noah had much occasion for floating vessels, the art of constructing them seems to have been measurably lost. . early records, which perhaps are worthy of credit, state that the egyptians first traversed the river nile upon rafts, then in the canoe; and that, to these succeeded the boat, built with joist, fastened together with wooden pins, and rendered water-tight by interposing the leaves of the papyrus. to this boat was, at length, added a mast of acanthus, and a sail of papyrus; but, being prejudiced against the sea because it swallowed up their sacred river, which they worshipped as a god, they never attempted to construct vessels adapted to marine navigation. . the phoenicians, a nation nearly as ancient as the egyptian, being situated directly on the sea, without the advantages of a noble river, were compelled to provide means for sailing on a wider expanse of water. it is said, however, that they first traversed the mediterranean, and even visited distant islands, with no better means of conveyance than a raft of timber. this is rendered somewhat probable, from the fact, that the peruvians, even at the present time, venture upon the pacific ocean on their _balza_, a raft made from a spongy tree of that name. . the vessels first constructed by the phoenicians, were used for commercial purposes. they were flat-bottomed, broad, and of a small draught; and those of the carthaginians and greeks were similar in shape. the ships of war, in early times, were generally mere row-boats, in which the combatants rushed upon each other, and decided the combat by valor and physical strength. . by successive improvements, the ships of antiquity were, at length, brought to combine good proportion with considerable beauty. the prows were sometimes ornamented with the sculptured figures of heathen deities, and otherwise adorned with paint and gilding, while the sterns, which were usually in the form of a shield, were elaborately wrought in carved work. the approved length of a ship of war, was six or eight times its breadth; and that for mercantile purposes, four times the breadth; hence, the distinction of _long ships_, and _round ships_. . both the long and round ships had a single mast, which could be taken down or elevated at pleasure. these vessels were, however, propelled with oars on occasions that required it; and the former, in their improved state, were properly galleys with one, two, or three banks of oars, which extended from one end of the vessel to the other. the rowers were all placed under the deck; and, in time of battle, the combatants contended above, being in part defended from the missiles of opposing foes by shields carried on the arm, and by screens and towers placed on the deck. the bow of each vessel was armed with a brazen or iron beak, with which the contending parties often stove in the sides of each other's vessels. . the general size of vessels in the best days of antiquity, was not greater than that of our sloops and schooners; but there are instances on record, which prove that they occasionally equalled in capacity the largest of modern times. in the early ages, they were very small, and, for several centuries, were drawn upon the shore at the termination of every voyage. stranding, however, became impracticable, after the increase in size, and the addition of the keel. the anchor and cable were, therefore, invented, to confine the ship at a suitable distance from the shore. at first, the anchor was nothing more than a large stone. afterwards, it was wood and stone combined; and, finally, iron was the sole material. . the invasion of the roman empire by the northern barbarians, caused the operations of war to be almost exclusively conducted on the land. this, together with the destruction of commerce during the general desolation of those ruthless incursions, and the barbarism of the conquerors, occasioned a retrogression, and, in some parts of europe, nearly the total destruction of the art of building ships. . the active trade which arose in the mediterranean, during the middle ages, and the naval enterprises connected with the crusades, occasioned a revival of the art of constructing ships; yet, it did not advance beyond the condition in which the carthaginians had left it, until about the middle of the fourteenth century. at this era, the inconsiderable galleys of former times began to be superseded by larger vessels, in which, however, oars were not entirely dispensed with. . the great change in the general construction of vessels, arose from the discovery of the polarity of the magnet, and the application of astronomy to nautical pursuits; for, by these means, the mariner was released from his dependence on the sight of the land, in guiding his vessel on its course. larger ships were therefore constructed, capable of withstanding more violent storms and loftier waves. . to the italians, catalans, and portuguese, was ship-building most considerably indebted, in the early days of its revival. the spaniards followed up their discovery of the new world with a rapid improvement in both the form and size of their ships; some of which even rated at two thousand tons burden. in more modern times, it is said, that the spaniards and french are entitled to the credit of nearly all the improvements which have been made in the theory of the art, the english having never contributed essentially to advance it, although the greatest naval power of this or any other time. . in the united states, very great improvements have been made in the construction of vessels, since the commencement of the present century. our builders, however, are less guided by scientific rules than by experience and a practised eye; yet, it is generally conceded, that our ships of war and first-rate merchantmen, are superior in swiftness and beauty to those of any other country. . in europe, the first thing done towards building a vessel, is to exhibit it in three distinct views by as many separate drawings; but, in the united states, the builder commences by framing a complete wooden model of the proposed construction--the thing itself in miniature. from this practice of our naval architects, have arisen the superior beauty and excellence of our vessels. . the timber generally used in the construction of american vessels, is live-oak, pine, chestnut, locust, and cedar. the trees of mature growth are chosen, and girdled in the beginning of winter, at which time they contain but little sap. when sufficiently dry and hardened, the trees are felled; and, after the timber has been roughly hewn, it is carefully stored in some dry, airy place, not much exposed to wind or sun. . in collecting ship-timber, the greatest difficulty is found in procuring the crooked sticks, which form the sides or ribs of the skeleton of a vessel. in countries where ship-timber has become an object of careful cultivation, this difficulty is anticipated by bending the young trees to the desired form, and confining them there, until they have permanently received the proper inclination. the timber is brought to market in its rough state, and sold by the foot. . the timber having been selected, the workmen proceed to fashion the various parts of the proposed vessel with appropriate tools, being guided in their operations by patterns, which have been made after the exact form of the various parts of the model. much care is taken to avoid cutting the wood contrary to the grain, that its strength may not be impaired. . after all the parts of the frame have been made ready, they are put together. the several blocks of timber on which the vessel is raised, are called the _stocks_; and to these pieces, the foundation, called the _keel_, is temporarily fastened in an inclined position. the keel is inserted into the _stern-post_ at one end, and into the _stem_ at the other. the _floor-timbers_ are next fixed in the keel, every other one being there firmly bolted and riveted. each of these timbers is a branch and part of the body of a tree; and, when composing a part of a vessel, they bear the same relation to it as the ribs to the human body. with equal propriety, the keel has been compared to the vertebral column, or back-bone. . the next step is to apply and fasten the planks, which serve not only to exclude the water, but to bind all the parts firmly and harmoniously together. simple as this part of the operation may seem to be, it is the most difficult to be effected, and requires a pre-concerted plan as much as any other part of the fabric. when it is necessary to bend a plank at the bow or stern, it is heated by steam, and then forced into place with screws and levers. the planks are fastened with iron or copper bolts. . the planking having been finished, and several particulars attended to, which cannot be well understood from description, the vessel is ready for the work of the _caulker_, who carefully stops all the seams with oakum, and smears them with pitch. after the superfluous pitch has been cleared away with the _scraper_, water is pumped into the hold, to ascertain if there is any leak. . the bottom of the vessel is next sheathed either with sheets of copper or pine boards, to protect it from the worms. the latter materials are employed when the planks have been fastened with iron since the copper would cause the bolt-heads to corrode, if placed against them. in either case, sheets of paper, soaked in hot pitch, are interposed between the planks and the sheathing. . the vessel is now ready to be removed from the stocks to the water. this removal is called _launching_, which, in many cases, requires much skill in the preparation and successive management. if there is no permanent inclined plane in the slip, on which the vessel may glide into the water, a temporary one is prepared, consisting of two platforms of solid timber, erected one on each side of the keel, at a distance of a few feet from it, and extending from the stem into the water. upon this double platform which is called the _ways_, is erected another set of timbers, and the space between these and the vessel is filled all along with wedges. the whole of this superstructure is called the _cradle_, and the extremities of it are fastened to the keel, at the bow and stern, with chains and ropes. . every thing having been thus prepared, the wedges are simultaneously driven on both sides. by this means, the vessel is raised from the stocks, and made to rest entirely on the cradle. after the _shores_ have been all removed, the cradle, with its weighty burden, begins to move; and, in a moment, the vessel is launched upon its destined element. . among the ancients, a launch was ever an occasion of great festivity. the mariners were crowned with wreaths, and the ship was bedecked with streamers and garlands. safely afloat, she was purified with a lighted torch, an egg, and brimstone, and solemnly consecrated to the god whose image she bore. in our less poetic times, there is no lack of feasting and merriment; although the ceremony of consecration is different, the oldest sailor on board merely breaking a bottle of wine or rum over the figure-head--still, perchance, the image of father neptune or apollo. . the vessel, now brought to the wharf, is to be equipped. the mode of doing this, is varied according as it may be a ship, brig, hermaphrodite brig, schooner, or sloop. the masts are first erected, and these are supplied with the necessary apparatus of spars, rigging, and sails. the latter are furnished by the sail-maker, who is sometimes denominated the _ship's tailor_. [illustration: mariner.] the mariner. . the business of the mariner consists in navigating ships and other vessels from one port to another. this is an employment that requires much decisive resolution; and horace has well said, that "his breast must have been bound with oak and triple brass, who first committed his frail bark to the tempestuous sea." there is certainly nothing which speaks louder in praise of human ingenuity, than that art by which man is able to forsake the land, contend successfully with winds and waves, and reach, with unerring certainty, his destined port in some distant part of the world. . nor are the skill and intrepidity exhibited in this arduous employment, more worthy of our admiration, than the wonderful advantages resulting from it; for, we are indebted to the exercise of this art, for those improvements in our condition, which arise from the exchange of the superfluities of one country for those of another, and, above all, for the interchange of sentiments, which renders human knowledge coextensive with the world. . ship-building is so intimately connected with the art of navigation, that the historical part of the former subject is equally applicable to the latter. it is, therefore, unnecessary to be particular on this point. we shall merely supply some omissions in the preceding article. . the sailors of antiquity confined their navigation chiefly to the rivers, lakes, and inland seas, seldom venturing out of sight of land, unless, from their knowledge of the coasts ahead, they were certain to meet with it again in a short time. when they thus ventured from the land, or were driven from it by tempests, the stars and planets were their only guides. . the qualifications of a skilful pilot or master, even for the mediterranean seas, in those days, required more study and more practical information, than are necessary to render a mariner a complete general navigator, in the present improved state of the science of navigation; for then he must needs be acquainted, not only with the general management of the ship, but also with all the ports, land-marks, rocks, quicksands, and other dangers, which lay in the track of his course. besides this, he was required to be familiar with the course of the winds, and the indications that preceded them, together with the movements of the heavenly bodies, and the influence which they were supposed to exert on the weather. nor was the ability to read the various omens which were gathered from the sighing of the wind in the trees, the murmurs of the waters, and their dash upon the shore, the flight of birds, and the gambol of fishes, a qualification to be dispensed with. . a voyage, in ancient times, was a momentous undertaking, and was usually preceded by sacrifices to those gods who were supposed to preside over the winds and the waves. all omens were carefully regarded; and a very small matter, such as the perching of swallows on the ship, or an accidental sneeze to the left, was sufficient to delay departure. when, under proper auspices, a vessel or fleet had set sail, and had advanced some distance, it was customary to release a number of doves, which had been brought from home. the safe arrival of these birds at the houses of the voyagers, was considered an auspicious omen of the return of the fleet. . having escaped the multiplied dangers of the sea, the sailors, on their return, fulfilled the vows which they had made before their departure, or in seasons of peril, offering thanks to neptune, and sacrifices to jupiter, or some other of their gods, to whose protection they may have committed themselves. those who had suffered shipwreck, felt themselves under greater obligations of gratitude; and, in addition to the usual sacrifices, they commonly offered the garment in which they had been saved, together with a pictorial representation of the disaster. if the individual escaped only with life, his clothing having been totally lost, his hair was shorn from the head, and consecrated to the tutelar deity. . there is much that is beautiful in these simple acts of piety; and similar customs, with regard to shipwrecked mariners, are still in existence in the catholic countries of the mediterranean; but the worship of the heathen deities having been discontinued, a favourite saint, or perchance the true god, is substituted for them. although such acts of piety may not avail to avert impending danger, yet their natural tendency doubtless is to inspire courage to meet it, when it may arise. . the carthaginians, for several centuries, were more extensively engaged in commerce, than any other people of antiquity; and, as they carried on their lucrative trade with other nations and their own colonies, by means of ships, they exceeded all others in the art of navigation. not content with exploring every nook and corner of the mediterranean, they passed the pillars of hercules, as the promontories of the straits of gibraltar were then called, and visited the atlantic coasts of europe, as far north as the scilly islands, then denominated the cassorides. it is asserted by pliny, that hanno even circumnavigated africa. . the destruction of carthage by the romans, in the year before christ , interfered with improvements in the art of navigation; and the invasion of the northern barbarians, several centuries afterwards, extinguished nearly all the knowledge which had been previously acquired; nor was it again revived, and brought to the state in which it existed in the most flourishing era of antiquity, until about the middle of the fourteenth century. . after the period just mentioned, improvements in this art followed each other in close succession. the chief cause of this rapid advance was the discovery of the polarity of the magnet, and the consequent invention of the mariner's compass. the power of the loadstone to attract iron, was early known to the greeks and chinese; but its property of pointing in a particular direction, when suspended, and left to move freely, was not suspected until about the year of our era. . at first, mariners were accustomed to place the magnetic needle on a floating straw, whenever they needed its guidance; but, in , one flavio giaio, an obscure individual of the kingdom of naples, placed it on a permanent pivot, and added a circular card. still, it was nearly half a century after this, before navigators properly appreciated, and implicitly relied on this new guide. the compass did not reach its present improved state, until the middle of the sixteenth century. . as soon as the reputation of this instrument had become well established, navigation assumed a bolder character; and the capacity of vessels having been enlarged to meet this adventurous spirit, oars were laid aside as inapplicable, and sails alone were relied upon, as means of propulsion. . navigation, in the early days of its revival, was indebted to the portuguese for many valuable improvements. to them, also, is the world under obligation for many splendid discoveries, among which was that of a passage by sea to india. this long-desired discovery was made in , by vasco de gama, who had been sent out for the purpose by emanuel, king of portugal. . five years before vasco de gama had found his way to india, by the way of the cape of good hope, columbus made his discovery of the new world. this great man had conceived or adopted the idea, that the form of our earth was spherical, in opposition to the generally received opinion, that it was an extended plane; and learning that india stretched to an unknown distance eastward, he supposed, that, by sailing in an opposite direction, the navigator would meet with its eastern extremity. . pursuing this idea, he applied successively to the governments of several states and kingdoms for patronage to enable him to test its correctness; and having, at length, succeeded in obtaining three small vessels, with the necessary equipments, from ferdinand and isabella, sovereigns of arragon and castile, he proceeded on his proposed voyage, which resulted in the discovery of the american continent. . these two great discoveries gave another powerful impulse to navigation; and inventions and improvements multiplied in rapid succession. the learned and ingenious, who at different times have turned their attention to the subject of navigation, have supplied the mariner with various means, by which he can direct his course on the deep with accuracy and certainty. . the instruments now employed in navigation, are the mariner's compass, the azimuth compass, the quadrant, the sextant, the chronometer, the half minute-glass, the log, and the sounding-line. in addition to these, the general navigator needs accurate maps and charts, lists of the latitude and longitude of every part of the world, the time of high water at every port, and a book of navigation, containing tables, to aid him in performing various calculations with facility; and, with a view to calculate the longitude by observation, he should be furnished with the nautical almanac, containing the places and declinations of the fixed stars and planets, and especially the distances of the moon from the sun and other heavenly bodies. . the mariner's compass, as has been before observed, is employed to indicate the various points of the horizon; but the magnetic needle varying more or less from the exact northern and southern direction, the azimuth compass is used, to show the degree of that variation. the quadrant and sextant are employed to ascertain the altitude and relative position of the heavenly bodies, that the mariner may determine the latitude and longitude in which his vessel may be. the chronometer is nothing more than a watch, designed to measure time with great accuracy. this instrument is used to determine the longitude. . the log is used for ascertaining the velocity of the ship on the water. it consists of a quadrangular piece of wood, eight or nine inches long, to which is attached a small cord, having knots in it, at proper distances from each other. in the application, the log is thrown upon the water, where it will not be disturbed by the wake of the ship; and the cord, being wound upon a reel, passes from it as fast as the vessel moves in the water. the number of knots, which pass off every half minute, indicates the number of miles which the ship sails per hour; hence, in nautical language, _knots_ and _miles_ are synonymous terms. the sounding-line is a small cord, with several pounds of lead of a conical figure attached to it; and is employed in trying the depth of the water, and the quality of the bottom. . navigation is either _common_ or _proper_. the former is usually called coasting, as the vessel is either on the same or neighboring coast, and is seldom far from land, or out of sounding. the latter is applied to long voyages upon the main ocean, when considerable skill in mathematics and astronomy, together with an aptness in the use of instruments for celestial observations, are required in the captain or master. . the application of steam to the purposes of navigation, is one of the greatest achievements of modern science and art. the great utility of this agent is particularly conspicuous in our vast country, where large rivers and bays and mighty lakes are numerous, and where an energetic people and an active commerce require a rapid intercommunication. steamboats are but little used on the great oceans; as merchandise can there be more cheaply and safely transported in vessels propelled by sails. since the year , two lines of steam packets have been running regularly between this country and great britain. they commonly occupy, in crossing the atlantic, between twelve and fifteen days. . the chief obstacle to the employment of steam, in long voyages, arises from the difficulty of generating a sufficient quantity of this agent, with the fuel which could be carried without overburdening the vessel; but a remedy for this inconvenience will probably be found, in improvements in the construction of steam-generators. . the power of confined steam acting by its expansive force, was discovered by the celebrated marquis of worcester, about the middle of the seventeenth century; but the first working steam-engine was constructed in , by thomas newcomen, a blacksmith of dartmouth, devonshire, england. about the year , james watt, a native of glasgow, added a great number of improvements of his own invention. . steam navigation was first suggested in england, in , by jonathan hulls. it was first tried in practice in france, in , by the marquis de jouffroy, and nearly at the same time by james rumsey, of virginia, and john fitch, of philadelphia; but it was first rendered completely successful at new-york, in , by robert fulton. . the sailors employed by the captain, to aid him in navigating his ship, are called a _crew_; and the individuals composing it are responsible to the captain, the captain to the owners, and the owners to the merchants, for all damages to goods, arising from negligence or bad management. . in england, ample provisions are made at greenwich hospital or by pensions, for seamen disabled by age or otherwise. these benefits, however, are extended only to those who have been engaged in the national service. this noble and politic institution is supported partly by public bounty, and in part by private donations, and a tax of sixpence per month, deducted from the wages of all the seamen of the nation. marine hospitals, for the temporary accommodation of seamen, suffering from disease, have been established in several cities of the continent of europe, as well as of the united states. . mariners have ever been a distinct class of men, and, in their general characters, very similar in every age of the world. their superstitious regard of the many signs of good and bad luck, is nearly the same now, that it was two or three thousand years ago. in ancient times, they had their lucky and unlucky days; and now, very few sailors are willing to leave port on friday, lest the circumstance bring upon them some disaster, before the conclusion of the proposed voyage. . superstitions of this nature, however, are not confined to the navigators of the deep. even in this country, where the inhabitants enjoy superior intellectual advantages, and boast a high degree of intelligence, thousands of persons who have never been on board of a ship, are still under the influence of such heathen notions, notwithstanding their pretended belief in christianity, which, in all cases, when properly understood, would prevent the forebodings of evil, or expectations of good, from unimportant prognostics. [illustration: merchant.] the merchant. . the word _merchant_, in its most extended application, signifies, a person who deals in merchandise. this definition, with some exceptions, agrees very well with general usage in this country; although, in england, the term is principally restricted to those dealers who export and import goods on their own account, either in their own or in chartered vessels. in the united states, dealers of this class are denominated _importing_ and _exporting_ merchants; or simply, _importers_ and _exporters_. . such merchants, both here and in europe, are distinguished from each other by the kind of goods in which they traffic, or by the foreign country in which they have their chief correspondence; thus, one who deals in tobacco is called a tobacco-merchant; a wholesale dealer in wines is called a wine-merchant; a west india, east india, or turkey merchant, exports goods to, and imports goods from, those respective countries. . the business of merchants, in foreign countries, is usually transacted by agents, called factors, or commission merchants, to whom goods are consigned to be sold, and by whom other articles of merchandise are purchased and returned according to order. sometimes an agent, called a supercargo, accompanies the vessel; or the captain may act in this capacity. goods, however, are often obtained by order, without the intervention of an agency of any kind. . almost every sort of foreign merchandise is subject to the imposition of duties by the government of the country in which it is received. these duties are paid at the _custom-house_, to persons appointed by the constituted authorities to collect them. as soon as a vessel from abroad has entered the harbor, it is visited by a custom-house officer, called a _tide-waiter_, whose business it is to see that no part of the cargo is removed, until measures have been taken to secure the customs. . goods brought into the country by importers, are frequently sold, in succession, to several merchants of different grades, before they come to the hands of the consumers. cloths or stuffs of different kinds, for instance, may be first sold by the bale to one merchant, who, in turn, may dispose of them by the package to another, and this last may retail them in small quantities to a greater number of customers. . dealers in a small way, in cities and large towns, are frequently denominated shop-keepers; but those who do an extensive retail business, are usually called merchants or grocers, according as they deal in dry goods or groceries. in cities, the extensive demand for goods enables retailers to confine their attention to particular classes of articles; such as groceries, hardware, crockery, a few kinds of dry goods, or some articles of domestic manufacture; but in other places, where trade is more limited, the merchant is obliged to keep a more general assortment. . the general retail merchant is compelled to transact business with a great number of wholesale dealers, to whom he pays cash in hand, or agrees to pay it at some future period, say, in four, six, nine, or twelve months. the people in his vicinity, in turn, purchase his goods on similar conditions, with this difference, that they often substitute for cash agricultural and other productions, which the merchant, at length, turns into ready money. . barter, or the exchange of commodities, prevails to a great extent, in country places, in almost every part of the united states. in such exchanges, the currency of the country is made the standard of reference: for example; a merchant receiving from a customer twenty bushels of wheat, estimated at one dollar per bushel, gives in return twenty dollars' worth of goods, at his marked prices; or, in other words, he gives credit for the wheat, and charges the goods. on the same principle, merchants of the first class often exchange the productions of their own country for those of another. . merchants, or store-keepers, as they are indifferently called in some places, whose location is distant from the seaboard, visit the city in which they deal once or twice a year, for the purpose of laying in their stock of goods; but, in order to keep up their assortment, they sometimes order small lots in the interim. retailers more conveniently situated, purchase a smaller amount of goods at a time, and replenish their stores more frequently. . commerce, on the principles of barter, or a simple exchange of one commodity for another, must have been practised in the early days of adam himself; although we have no positive record of the fact; for it cannot be imagined that the arts, which are stated in the scripture to have flourished long before the flood, could have existed without commercial transactions. the period at which the precious metals began to be employed as a standard of value, or as a medium of commercial intercourse, is not known. they were used for this purpose in the time of abraham, and probably many centuries before his day. . the earliest hint respecting the existence of trade between different nations, is to be found in the book of genesis, where the transaction regarding the sale of joseph to the ishmaelites, or midianites, is mentioned. these merchants, it appears, were travelling in a caravan to egypt, then the most cultivated and refined part of the world. their camels were loaded with balm, myrrh, and spices. the first of these articles was the production of gilead; the second, of arabia; and the last was probably from india; as in that country the finer spices are produced. if this were really the case, commerce, in its widest sense, was carried on much earlier than is generally supposed. . the fertility of egypt, and its central position, made it an emporium of commerce; and there it flourished, in an eminent degree, long before it was cultivated in europe and in western asia. for several ages, however, the egyptians, on account of their superstitious prejudices against the sea, carried on no maritime commerce. . the phoenicians were the first people who used the mediterranean sea, as a highway for the transportation of merchandise. tyre and sidon were their chief cities; and the latter was called a _great_, and the former a _strong_ city, even in the time of joshua, fifteen hundred years before the advent of christ. these people, in their original association as a nation, possessed but a small territory; and, being surrounded by many powerful nations, they never attempted its enlargement on the land side. . the settlement of the israelites in the "promised land," circumscribed their limits to a very small territory, and compelled them to colonize a great number of their inhabitants. the colonies which they formed in the various countries bordering upon the mediterranean and on the islands, enlarged the boundaries of civilization, and greatly extended their trade. . the phoenicians continued their colonial system for many centuries after the period just mentioned, and even extended it to the atlantic coasts of europe. but the most distinguished of all their colonies was the one which founded the city of carthage, on the northern coast of africa, about the year before christ. elissa, or, as she is otherwise called, dido, the reputed leader of this colony, makes a conspicuous figure in one of the books of virgil's Ã�neid. . carthage, adopting the same system which had so long been pursued by the great cities of phoenicia, rose, in a few centuries, to wealth and splendor. but, changing, at length, her mercantile for a military character, she ruled her dependent colonies with a rod of despotism. this produced a spirit of resistance on the part of her distant subjects, who applied to rome for aid to resist her tyranny. the consequence of this application was the three "punic wars," so renowned in history, and which terminated in the destruction of carthage, in the year before the christian era. during the first punic war, carthage contained seven hundred thousand inhabitants; but at its destruction, scarcely five thousand were found within its walls. . the period of the greatest prosperity of tyre, may be placed years before christ, at which time the remarkable prophecies of ezekiel concerning it were delivered. soon after this, it was greatly injured by nebuchadnezzar; and was finally destroyed by alexander the great, about the year before christ. . a new channel was opened to commerce by the monarch just mentioned, he having founded a city in egypt, to which he gave the name of alexandria. his object seems to have been, to render this city the centre of the commercial world; and its commanding position, at the mouth of the nile, was well calculated to make it so; since it was easy of access from the west by the mediterranean, from the east by the red sea, and from the central countries of asia by the isthmus of suez. . the plans of alexander were carried out with vigor by ptolemy, who received egypt as his portion of the macedonian empire, after the death of his master; and, by his liberality, he induced great numbers of people to settle in the new metropolis for the purposes of trade. far south, on the red sea, he also founded a city, which he called berenice, and which he designed as a depôt for the precious commodities brought into his kingdom from india. from this city, goods were transported on camels across the country, to a port on the nile; and thence they were taken down the river to alexandria. . ptolemy also kept large fleets both on the mediterranean and on the red sea, for the protection of commerce, and the defence of his dominions; yet, the egyptians, even under the ptolemies, never attempted a direct trade to india. they, as the phoenicians and their own progenitors had done for ages, depended upon the arabian merchants for the productions of that country. . the greeks, before their subjugation to the roman power, had paid much attention to nautical affairs; but this had been chiefly for warlike dominion, rather than for commercial purposes. the city of corinth, however, had become wealthy by the attention of its inhabitants to manufactures and trade; but it was destroyed by the same barbarian people who, about this time, annihilated carthage. both of these cities were afterwards favored by julius cæsar; but they never regained anything like their former importance. . rome having, at length, obtained the complete dominion of the mediterranean sea, and the countries bordering upon it, as well as that of many others more distant, and less easy of access, became the great mart for the sale of merchandise of every description, from all parts of the known world. for the various commodities brought to the city, the romans paid gold and silver; as they had nothing else to export in return. the money which they had exacted as tribute, or which they had obtained by plunder, was thus returned to the nations from which it had been taken. . the subjected provinces continued to pour their choicest productions into rome, as long as she retained the control of the empire; and thus they contributed to enervate, by the many luxuries they afforded, the power by which they had been subdued. the _eternal city_, as she is sometimes called, in the days of her extensive dominion, contained about three millions of inhabitants; and, although this immense population was chiefly supplied by importations, the romans never esteemed the character of a merchant. they despised the peaceful pursuits of industry, whilst they regarded it honorable to attack without provocation, and plunder without remorse, the weaker nations of the earth. . in the year of the christian era, byzantium was made the seat of government of the roman empire by constantine, who, with a view of perpetuating his own name, called his new capital constantinople. however necessary this removal may have been, to keep in subjugation the eastern provinces, it was fatal to the security of the western division. the rivalry between the two cities produced frequent contests for dominion; and these, together with the general corruption and effeminacy of the people themselves, rendered it impossible to resist the repeated and fierce invasions of the barbarous people from the northern parts of europe. . these invasions commenced in the latter part of the fourth century; and, in less than two hundred years, a great portion of the inhabitants was destroyed, and the whole western empire was completely subverted. the conquerors were too barbarous to encourage or protect commerce; and, like the arts of peace and civilization generally, it sunk, with few exceptions, amid the general ruin. . the empire of constantinople, or, as it is usually called, the eastern empire, continued in existence several centuries after the western empire had been overrun; and commerce continued to flow, for a considerable time, through some of its former channels to the capital. at length, the indian trade, which had so long been carried on chiefly through egypt by the red sea, was changed to a more northern route, through persia. . soon after the commencement of the pretended mission of mohammed, or mahomet, in of the christian era, the power of the arabians, since called saracens, began to rise. the followers of the prophet, impelled by religious zeal, and allured by plunder, in less than years extended their dominion almost to the borders of china on the one side, and to the mediterranean and atlantic on the other. the trade of the east, of course, fell into their hands; and they continued to enjoy it, until they, in turn, were subdued by the turks. . so great was the prejudice of the christians against the followers of mohammed, that, for a long time, it was considered heretical for the former to trade with the latter; but the saracens having a vast extent of territory, and having control of the mediterranean and red seas, as well as of the persian gulf, carried on an extensive trade among themselves. . the first european power which rose to commercial eminence, after the destruction of the western empire, was the republic of venice. this important city owed its origin to some fugitives, who fled for their lives to a number of small islands in the adriatic sea, during the invasion of italy by the huns, under attila, in the year . . the houses first built by the refugees, were constructed of mud and seagrass; and, so insignificant were they in their appearance, that a writer of that period compares them to a collection of the nests of water-fowls. the number of these islands, on which so splendid a city was afterwards built, was, according to some, seventy-two; but, according to others, ninety, or even one hundred and fifty. for a considerable time, the distinction of rich and poor was not known; for all lived upon the same fish-diet, and in houses of similar form and materials. . in less than a century, the inhabitants of these islands had established a regular government; and, in the year , we find them venturing beyond the adriatic into the mediterranean, even as far as constantinople, trading in silks, purple draperies, and indian commodities. in , the french commenced trading to alexandria, and, in a few years, the venetians followed their example, in despite of the ecclesiastical prohibitions against intercourse with the followers of mohammed. in the tenth century, amalfi, pisa, genoa, and florence, began to rival venice in trade. . the crusades, which, for two centuries from the year , engaged so much of the attention of the christian nations of europe, greatly promoted the interests of the commercial cities of italy; as the armies in these expeditions were dependent on them for provisions, and for the means of crossing the sea, which lay between them and the _holy land_. they also gave a new and powerful impulse to commerce in general, by giving the people, in the unrefined parts of europe, a knowledge of the elegances and luxuries of the east. . in the thirteenth century, commerce and manufactures began to command considerable attention in germany and the adjacent states; but as the seas and rivers were infested with pirates, and the roads with banditti, it became necessary for those engaged in commerce to adopt measures to protect their commodities, while on the way from one place to another. the citizens of hamburg and lubeck first united for this purpose; and the advantages of such a union of strength becoming apparent, many other cities soon entered into the confederation. . this association was denominated the _hanse_, or league, and the cities thus united were called _hanse towns_. most of the commercial towns in the northern parts of the continent of europe, at length, became parties to the hanseatic league. the number of these cities varied, at different periods; but in the days of the greatest prosperity of the association, it amounted to eighty-five. . representatives from the different cities met triennially at lubeck, where their common treasury and archives were kept. by this assembly, which was called a diet, rules for the regulation of commercial intercourse were made, and other business transacted, which related to the general welfare of the confederation. . in the fourteenth century, the league, in all parts of europe, attained a high degree of political importance, and developed that commercial policy which it had originated, and which has since been adopted by all civilized nations. the objects of the allied cities were now declared to be--to protect their commerce against pillage, to guard and extend their foreign trade, and, as far as possible, to monopolize it, to maintain and extend the privileges obtained from the princes of different nations, and to make rules or laws for the regulation of trade, as well as to establish the necessary tribunals for their due execution. the decisions of their courts were respected by the civil authorities of the countries to which their trade extended. . the treasury was chiefly supplied by duties on merchandise; and the great wealth thus acquired enabled the allied cities to obtain commercial privileges from needy princes, for pecuniary accommodations. the league, in defending its commerce, even carried on wars against kingdoms; and, at length, by its wealth and naval power, became mistress of the northern seas, and rendered the different cities of the confederation in a great measure independent of the sovereigns of the countries in which they were situated. . the conduct of the hanse towns, at length, excited the jealousies of those sovereigns who had, for a long time, favored their union; and the princes of europe generally, becoming acquainted with the value of commerce, both as means of enriching their people, and of filling their own coffers, combined against the association. in , the governments of several states commanded all their cities to withdraw from the league, which soon after voluntarily excluded some others. after this the hanse gradually sunk in importance, and finally ceased to exist in . . the trade to the east indies continued to be carried on through persia and egypt, subject to the extortions of the saracens, and the still severer exactions of the merchants of the italian cities, until the route to those countries, by the cape of good hope, was discovered. . the use of this new pathway of commerce, combined with the discovery of america, caused an entire change in both the political and commercial state of europe. a strong desire of visiting the remote parts of the world, thus laid open to the people of europe, immediately arose, not only among the portuguese and spaniards, but also among other nations. colonies were soon planted in the east and in the west; and the whole world may be said to have been inspired with new energy. . the portuguese, being considerably in advance of the other atlantic nations in the art of navigation, soon gained the entire control of the east india trade, and were thus raised to great eminence, prosperity, and power. their dominions became extensive in africa and asia, and their navy superior to any that had been seen for several ages before. . in , or eighty-three years after vasco de gama found his way, by the cape, to calicut, portugal was subdued by philip ii., king of spain. the spaniards, however, were not enriched by the conquest; since their commercial energy and enterprise had been destroyed, by the vast quantities of the precious metals obtained from their american possessions. . in , the people of holland, with those of six neighboring provinces, being then subject to spain, united, under the prince of orange, for the purpose of regaining their liberties. this produced a sanguinary war, which continued for thirty years, during which time the dutch wrested from the spaniards most of their portuguese possessions in india, and, in addition to this, formed many other settlements in various places from the river tigris even to japan. batavia, on the island of java, was made the grand emporium of trade, and the seat of the government of their east india possessions. . the prosperity of the united provinces increased with great rapidity; and, as they were but little interfered with by other nations in their eastern dominions, they enjoyed, for half a century or more, almost the whole of the trade of the east. besides this, they shared largely with the rest of the world in almost every other branch of trade. after the year , other nations, by great exertions, succeeded in obtaining considerable shares of the commerce of the east; yet the dutch still retain valuable possessions there. . the chief articles exported from britain, in ancient times, were tin, lead, copper, iron, wool, and cattle; for which they received in return, gold, silver, and manufactured articles. but the commerce of the british islands was inconsiderable, when compared with that of many kingdoms on the continent, until the beginning of the eighteenth century. . when elizabeth ascended the throne of england, in , the circumstances of the nation required an extensive navy for its protection; and the great attention which the queen paid to this means of defence, gave animation to all maritime concerns. under her patronage, several companies for trading in foreign countries were formed, which, at that time, and for a long period afterwards, were very beneficial to trade in general. in her reign, also, the colonial system of england had its origin, which contributed eventually, more than any thing else, to the commercial prosperity of that nation. since the reign of this wise and judicious princess, the commerce and manufactures of great britain have been, with a few interruptions, steadily advancing; and, in these two particulars, she surpasses every other nation. . the united states possess superior local advantages for trade, and embrace a population unsurpassed for enterprise and energy. since the revolution, the resources of our country have been rapidly developing. our exports and imports are already next in amount to those of great britain and france and the extensive improvements which have been made by the different states, to facilitate internal intercourse, are increasing with great rapidity. . the banking system is very intimately interwoven with commercial affairs in general. banks are of three kinds, viz., of _discount_, of _deposit_, and of _circulation_. the term _bank_, in its original application, signified a place of common deposit for money, and where, in commercial transactions, individuals could have the amount, or any part of the amount, of their deposits transferred to each other's accounts. . the term _bank_ is derived from the italian word _banco_, which signified a kind of bench, or table, on which the jews were accustomed to place the money which they proposed to lend in the markets of the principal towns. the first bank was established in venice, about the middle of the twelfth century; the bank of genoa, in ; the bank of amsterdam, in ; the bank of hamburg, in ; the bank of rotterdam, in . these were all banks of mere deposit and transfer. . _lending-houses_ may be traced to a very ancient origin. they were, at first, supported by humane persons, with a view of lending money to the poor, on pledges, without interest. augustus cæsar appropriated a part of the confiscated effects of criminals to this purpose; and tiberias, also, advanced a large capital, to be lent for three years, without interest, to those who could give security in lands equal to twice the value of the sum borrowed. . in the early ages of christianity, free gifts were collected and preserved by ecclesiastics, partly to defray the expenses of divine service, and partly to relieve the poor of the church; and the funds thus provided came, at length, to be called _montes pietatis_--mountains of piety. this appellation was afterwards applied to the _loaning-houses_, established in modern italy in imitation of those of antiquity. . in course of time, the loaning-houses were permitted by the roman pontiff to charge a moderate interest on a part of their capital, and, finally, upon the whole of it; still, they retained, for a long period, the original denomination of _montes pietatis_. the receiving of interest on loans was declared lawful by the pope, about the middle of the fifteenth century. soon after this period, all the cities of italy hastened to establish these institutions; and their example was, at length, followed in other parts of europe. . but long before the pope had granted this privilege, individuals were in the habit of loaning money at an exorbitant usury. these were principally jews and merchants from lombardy; hence, all persons in those countries, who dealt in money, came to be called _lombard merchants_. the prohibitions of the church against receiving interest were eluded, when necessary, by causing it to be paid in advance, by way of present or premium. . in the twelfth century, many of the dealers in money were expelled from england, france, and the netherlands, for usurious practices; and, in order to regain possession of their effects, which they had, in their haste, left in the hands of confidential friends, they adopted the method of writing concise orders or drafts. hence originated bills of exchange, so convenient in commercial transactions. . the bank of england was established in the year . hitherto, the banks of deposit, and loaning-houses, were entirely distinct; but, in this institution, these two branches of pecuniary operations were united. it seems, also, that this was the first bank that issued notes, to serve as a medium of circulation, and to supply, in part, the place of gold and silver. . in the united states, banking institutions are very numerous. they are all established by companies, incorporated by the legislatures of the different states, or by the congress of the united states. the act which grants the privileges of banking, also fixes the amount of the capital stock, and divides it into equal shares. the holders of the stock choose the officers to transact the business of the corporation. . our banks receive deposits from individual customers, loan money on notes of hand, acceptances, and drafts, issue notes of circulation, and purchase and sell bills of exchange. they are usually authorized, by their charters, to loan three times the amount, and to issue bank-notes to twice the amount, of the capital stock paid in. few banking companies, however, exercise these privileges to the full extent, lest the bank be embarrassed by too great a demand for specie. as soon as a bank ceases to pay specie for its notes, it is said to be broken, and its operations must cease. . the bank of north america was the first institution of this kind, established in the united states. it was incorporated by congress, in , at the suggestion of robert morris. in , after the union of the states had been effected under the present constitution, the first bank of the united states was incorporated, with a capital of ten millions of dollars. most of the states soon followed this example; and, before the beginning of the present century, the whole banking capital amounted to near thirty millions of dollars. . the charter of the first bank of the united states expired, by its own limitation, in ; and a new one, with a capital of thirty-five millions of dollars, was established in , which also closed its concerns, as a national bank, in , president jackson having vetoed the bill for its recharter. in that year the number of banks was , and the bank capital $ , , . in the year , the number of banks had increased to , and their capital to $ , , . [illustration: auctioneer.] the auctioneer. . the auctioneer is one who disposes of property at public sale to the highest bidder. the sale of property in this manner is regulated, in some particulars, by legislative enactments, which have for their object the prevention of fraud, or the imposition of duties. . in pennsylvania, the present law provides for three classes of auctioneers, each of which is required to pay to the state a specified sum for a license. the first class pays two thousand dollars per annum; the second, one thousand; and the third, two hundred; and, besides this, one and a half per cent. on the amount of all their sales is required to be paid into the treasury of the state. to each class are granted privileges corresponding to the cost of the license. . in the state of new-york, the number of auctioneers for the cities, villages, and counties, is limited by law; and all persons who would follow the business are compelled to give security for the faithful execution of its duties. the state requires a duty of one per cent. on all merchandise imported from beyond the cape of good hope, one and a half per cent. on such as may be imported from other foreign countries, and two per cent. on wines and ardent spirits, whether foreign or domestic. the laws and usages regarding sales at auction, in most of the united states, are similar, in their general principles, to those of pennsylvania or new-york. . a great amount of merchandise, both foreign and domestic, in our principal cities, is sold by auction; and the price which staple commodities there command is generally considered a tolerable criterion of their value at the time. it very frequently happens, however, that articles which are not in steady demand, are sold at a great sacrifice. auctioneers seldom import goods, nor is it usual for them to own the property which they sell. . in all cases, before an auction is held, due notice is given to the public. this is usually done by the circulation of a printed hand-bill, by a crier, or by an advertisement in a newspaper; or all three of these modes may be employed to give publicity to one and the same sale. . persons desirous of becoming purchasers at the proposed auction, assemble at the time appointed; and, after the auctioneer has stated the terms of sale, as regards the payment of whatever may be purchased, he offers the property to the persons present, who make their respective bids, he, in the mean time, _crying_ the sum proposed. when no further advance is expected, he _knocks down_ the article to the last bidder. . a mode of sale was formerly, and, in some cases is still, practised, in various parts of europe, called _sale by inch of candle_. the things for sale are offered in the ordinary manner, as has been described in the preceding paragraph, and, at the same time, a wax-candle, an inch in length, is lighted. the purchasers bid upon each other, until the candle has been all consumed; and the last bidder, when the light goes out, is entitled to the articles or goods in question. . auctioneers, in large cities, hold their sales at regular periods; sometimes, every day or evening. on extensive sales of merchandise, credits of two, three, four, six, or nine months, are commonly given. in such cases, the auctioneer often gives his own obligations for the goods, and receives in return those of the purchasers. . this mode of sale is employed in the disposition of property taken by process of law for the payment of debts, in every part of the world, where the influence of european law has extended. it is used in preference to any other; because it is the most ready way of sale, and is moreover the most likely method to secure to the debtor something like the value of his property. . executors and administrators often employ this convenient method of sale, in settling the estates of deceased persons; and they, as well as sheriffs and constables, _ex-officio_, or by virtue of their office, have a lawful right to act in the capacity of auctioneer, in performing their respective duties; and no tax is required by the state, in such cases. . the sale by auction was in use among the romans, even in the early days of their city. it was first employed in the disposition of spoils taken in war; hence a spear was adopted as a signal of a public sale; and this continued to be the auctioneer's emblem, even after this mode of sale was extended to property in general. the red flag and spear, or rather the handle of that instrument, both emblematical of blood and war, are still employed for the same purpose. . several attempts have been made in the united states, to suppress sales of merchandise by auction; but these endeavors were unsuccessful, since experience had proved this mode of effecting exchanges to be prompt and convenient; and since some of the states had derived considerable revenue from the duties. so long as conflicting interests remain as they are, this mode of sale will be likely to continue. [illustration: the clergyman.] the clergyman. . the lord jesus christ, our saviour, during his visit of mercy to the world, chose from among his disciples twelve men, to be his especial agents in establishing his church. these men, in our translation of the new testament, are denominated apostles. the grand commission which they received was, "go ye into all the world, and preach my gospel to every creature." . the apostles commenced their noble enterprise on that memorable day of pentecost, which next occurred after the ascension of their master; and, in the city of his inveterate enemies, soon succeeded in establishing a church of several thousand members. the doctrines of christianity soon spread to other cities and countries; and, before the close of that century, they were known and embraced, more or less, in every province of the roman empire. . the apostles, however, were not the only agents engaged in spreading and maintaining the doctrines of christianity; for, in every church, persons were found capable of taking the supervision of the rest, and of exercising the office of the ministry. these were ordained either by the apostles themselves, or by persons authorized by them to perform the ceremony. . after the church had passed through a great variety of persecutions, during a period of nearly three centuries, the christians became superior in numbers to the pagans in the roman empire. in the early part of the fourth century, a free toleration in religious matters was declared by constantine the great, who took the church under his especial protection. . the christians of the first and second centuries usually worshipped god in private houses, or in the open air in retired places, chiefly on account of the persecutions to which they were often subjected. it was not until the third century, that they ventured to give greater publicity to their service, by building churches for general accommodation. when the cross had obtained the ascendency, in the subsequent age, many of the heathen temples were appropriated to christian purposes; and many splendid churches were erected, especially by constantine and his successors. . in the middle ages, a great number of edifices were erected for the performance of divine worship, which, in loftiness and grandeur, had never been surpassed; and the greater part of these remain to the present day. some of the most famous churches are, st. peter's, at rome; notre dame, at paris; st. stephen's, at vienna; the church of isaac, at st. petersburg; the minsters at strasburg and cologne and st. paul's, in london. . up to the time of the great change in favor of christianity, just mentioned, the whole church had often acted together in matters of common interest, through the medium of general councils; and this practice continued for several centuries afterwards. but the variance and dissensions between the pope of rome, and the patriarch of constantinople, combined with some other causes, produced, about the close of the ninth century, a total separation of the two great divisions of the church. . at the time of this schism, the whole christian world had become subject to these two prelates. the part of the church ruled by the patriarch, was called the _eastern_, or _greek church_; and that part which yielded obedience to the pope, was denominated the _western_, or _latin church_. many attempts have been since made to reunite these two branches of the church; but these endeavors have hitherto proved unsuccessful. . the conquest of the roman empire, so often mentioned in the preceding pages, was particularly injurious to the church, especially that part of it subject to the roman pontiff; since it nearly extinguished the arts and sciences, and since the barbarous conquerors were received into the church, before they had attained the proper moral qualifications. from these causes, chiefly, arose the conduct of the church, in the middle ages, which has been so much censured by all enlightened men, and which has been often unjustly attributed to christianity herself, rather than to the ignorance and barbarism of the times. . in the year , while leo x. occupied the papal chair, martin luther, of saxony, commenced his well-known opposition to many practices and doctrines in the church, which he conceived to be departures from the spirit of primitive christianity. he was soon joined in his opposition by philip melancthon, ulric zuingle, and finally by john calvin, as well as by many other distinguished divines of that century, in various parts of europe. . these men, with their followers and abettors, for reasons too obvious to need explanation, received or assumed the appellation of _reformers_; and, on account of a solemn protest which they entered against a certain decree which had been issued against them, they also became distinguished by the name of _protestants_. the latter term is now applied to all sects, of whatever denomination, in the western division of the church, that do not acknowledge the authority of the roman see. . the protestant division of the church is called by the roman catholics, the _western schism_, to distinguish it from that of the greek church, which is termed the _eastern schism_. the protestants are divided into a great number of sects, or parties; and, although they differ from each other in many of their religious sentiments, they agree in their steady opposition to the roman catholics. . the ostensible object of the founders of all the churches differing from the romish communion, has been, to bring back christianity to the state in which it existed on its first establishment; and to prove their positions in doctrine and church government, they appeal to the scriptures, and sometimes to the christian writers of the first four or five centuries. the advocates of the "mother church," on the contrary, contend that, being infallible, she can never have departed from primitive principles, on any point essential to salvation. . as to the government of the several churches it is, in most cases, either episcopal or presbyterian. in the former case, three orders of clergymen are recognized; viz., _bishops_, _presbyters_, and _deacons_; and these three orders are supposed, by the advocates of episcopacy, to have been ordained by the apostles. this opinion is supported by the circumstance, that these orders are mentioned in the scriptures; and also by the fact, supposed to be sustained by the primitive fathers, that they were uniformly established early in the second century. . it is believed by episcopalians, that these three orders of ministers were instituted in the christian church, in imitation of the jewish priesthood; the bishop representing the high-priest; the presbyters, the priests; and the deacons, the levites. . on the other hand, the advocates of the presbyterian form of government, assert, that in the first century of the church, bishop and presbyter were the same order of ministers, and that the former was nothing more than a presbyter, who presided in christian assemblies, when met to consult on church affairs. . the deacons in the churches that have renounced episcopacy, are not classed among the clergy, but are chosen from among the private members, to manage the temporalities of the congregation, or church, to which they belong, to assist the minister, on some occasions, in religious assemblies, or to take the lead in religious worship in his absence. under this form of government, therefore, there is recognized but one order of ministers, and every clergyman is denominated _presbyter_, _priest_, or _elder_. . the literary and religious qualifications required of candidates for orders have varied in different ages of the church, according to the existing state of literature and religion; and the requirements in these two particulars are now different, in the several denominations. nearly all, however, require the profession in the candidate, that he believes he is moved by the holy ghost to take upon him the office of the ministry. some churches require a collegiate education, with two or three years of the study of divinity; but others, only such as is usually obtained in common schools, combined with a tolerable capacity for public speaking. . the clergy in the roman catholic church, is of two kinds; the one _regular_, comprehending all the religious who have taken upon themselves monastic vows; the other _secular_, comprehending all the ecclesiastics who do not assume these obligations. the latter, however, in common with the former, take a vow of perpetual celibacy. . it is the especial duty of clergymen, to preach the gospel, to administer the ordinances, and to enforce the discipline of that branch of the church to which they belong. they are also expected to administer consolation to persons in distress of mind, arising from the complicated evils of this life, to unite persons by the bonds of matrimony, and, finally, in attending on the burial of the dead, to perform the last ceremony due from man to man. . ministers of the gospel occupy an elevated stand in all christian communities, both on account of the high tone of moral feeling which they generally possess, and on account of the interest which the people at large feel in the subject of religion. the work of the ministry is emphatically a work of benevolence; and no man can perform it with satisfaction to himself, or with acceptance to the people of his charge, if destitute of love to god and man. . in most of the kingdoms of europe, some one of the several denominations is supported by legal enactments; but, in the united states, every branch of the church enjoys equal favor, so far as legislation is concerned. in most cases, the institutions of religion are supported by voluntary contributions or subscriptions. . the salary received by ministers of the gospel, in the united states, is exceedingly various in the different denominations, and in the same denomination from different congregations. in some instances, they receive nothing for their services, in others, a liberal compensation. . it is but justice to this profession to remark, that, taking the ability of its members into account, there is no employment less productive of wealth; and this is so evidently the case, that some denominations distribute, annually, a considerable amount among the widows and orphans of those who have devoted their lives to the ministry. . the meagre support which the ministry usually receives, arises, in part, from the opinion too commonly entertained, that this profession ought to be one of benevolence exclusively, and that ministers should, therefore, be contented with a bare subsistence, and look for their reward in the consciousness of doing their duty, and in the prospect of future felicity. this is a very convenient way of paying for the services of faithful servants, and of relieving the consciences of those whose duty it is to give them a liberal support. [illustration: the lawyer.] attorney at law. . a lawyer is one who, by profession, transacts legal business for others, who, in this relation, are called _clients_. a lawyer is either an attorney or councillor, or both. the part of legal business, belonging peculiarly to the attorney, consists in preparing the details of the _pleadings_ and the _briefs_ for the use of the councillor, whose especial province it is to make the argument before the court. when the lawyer prepares his own case and makes the argument, as he generally does, he acts in the capacity of both attorney and councillor. in the court of chancery the lawyer is denominated _solicitor_, and in the admiralty court, _proctor_. before a person is permitted to practise law in our courts, he is required to pass through a regular course of study, and afterwards undergo an examination before persons learned in the law. . this profession has its foundation in the numerous and complicated laws which have been adopted by men, to govern their intercourse with each other. these laws, as they exist in our country, may be divided into _constitutional_ and _municipal_. constitutional law is that by which the government of the united states, and those of the different states, have been established, and by which they are governed in their action. the constitution of the united states is the supreme law of the land. . municipal law embraces those rules of civil conduct prescribed by the supreme power of the state, or of the united states; and is composed of _statute_ and _common_ law. statute law is the express will of the legislative part of the government, rendered authentic by certain forms and ceremonies prescribed by the constitution. . common law is a system of rules and usages, which have been applied in particular cases of litigation. it originated in the dictates of natural justice, and cultivated reason, and is found more particularly in the reports of the decisions of the courts of justice. the common law is employed in cases which positive enactments do not reach, and in construing and applying positive enactments. the common law of england has been adopted by every state in the union, except louisiana. . the constitution of the united states, and those of the several states, provides for three departments in their respective governments, viz., the legislative, the executive, and the judicial. it is the chief province of the first to enact laws, and of the second and third to see that they are duly executed. . the judicial power of the united states is vested in one _supreme court_ and two inferior courts. the supreme court is now composed of seven justices who commence their session in the capitol, at washington, on the second monday in january. the two inferior courts are the _district_ and _circuit courts_. in the first of these presides a single judge; in the second, one of the justices of the supreme court, and the district judge. . the judiciary of the united states takes cognisance of all cases which arise under the constitution, laws, and treaties, of the united states, and likewise of those cases arising under the law of nations. it also embraces all cases of admiralty and maritime jurisdiction, as well as those controversies to which the government of the united states is a party, the controversies between two states, between a state and citizens of another state, between citizens of different states, and between a state or citizens thereof, and foreign states, citizens, or subjects. . the judicial systems of all the states correspond, in many respects, with each other. in all, the office of justice of the peace is similar. to these magistrates, the general police of the counties is chiefly committed, as they have authority to cause criminals, and other disturbers of the peace, to be arrested; and, if the offence is small, to fix the penalty; but, if the offence is too great to be brought within their jurisdiction, they commit the offenders to prison, to be reserved for trial before a higher tribunal. . in many of the states, the common magistrates of the county, or a select number of them, form a court, called county sessions, which has a comprehensive jurisdiction in matters of police, and in regulating the affairs of the county; such as building courthouses, assessing county taxes, opening roads, and licensing taverns. . in virginia, the county sessions is an important court. its jurisdiction extends to many criminal cases, and to those of a civil nature involving the amount of $ . although a great amount of business passes through these courts, the justices discharge all their duties without compensation. in most of the states, the common magistrates, in their individual or collective capacity, have jurisdiction over civil cases, varying in their greatest amount from thirteen to one hundred dollars, a right of appeal being reserved to a higher court. . no definite qualifications are required by law or usage for practising in the magistrates' courts, accordingly, there are many persons who plead causes here, who do not properly belong to the profession of law; these are called _pettifoggers_, and the practice itself, by whomsoever performed, is called _pettifogging_. lawyers of inferior abilities and acquirements are, also, frequently termed pettifoggers. . in all the states, a class of county courts is established, denominated courts of common pleas, county courts, district or circuit courts, which have original jurisdiction of civil actions at law, or indictments for crimes. over these are established the superior or supreme courts, or courts of error and appeal, to which appeals are admitted from the inferior courts. . civil cases are frequently decided on principles of equity; and, in some states, courts of chancery are established for this purpose. but, in most of the states, there are no decisions of this kind; or the same courts act as courts of law and equity, as is the case with the courts of the united states. . there are several other courts that might be mentioned; but enough has been said of these institutions, to give an idea of the extensive range of the profession of the law. it may be well to remark here, that few lawyers aspire to the privilege of practising in the supreme courts; since, to be successful there it would require not only great abilities, but more extensive reading than the profession generally are willing to encounter. . when a client has stated his case in detail to his attorney, it is the province of the latter to decide upon the course most proper to be pursued in regard to it. if the client is the plaintiff, and litigation is determined upon, the attorney decides upon the court in which the case should be brought forward, and also upon the manner in which it should be conducted. . the suit having been brought, say into the county court, it is tried according to law. if it involves facts or damages, it is canvassed before a jury of twelve men, who are bound by oath or affirmation to bring in their verdict according to the evidence presented by both parties. it is the business of the lawyers, each for his own client, to sum up the evidence which may have been adduced, and to present the whole in a light as favorable to his own side of the question as possible. . when the case involves points of law which must needs be understood by the jury, to enable them to make a correct decision, the advocates of the parties present their views with regard to them; but, if these happen to be wrong, the judge, in his charge to the jury, rectifies the mistake or misrepresentation. the case having been decided, each party is bound to submit to the decision, or appeal, if permitted by law, to a higher tribunal. . causes to be determined on legal principles only, are brought before the judge or judges for adjudication. in such cases, the advocates present the statute or common law supposed to be applicable, and then reports of similar cases, which may have been formerly decided in the same or similar courts. these reports are the exponents of the common law of the case, and are supposed, in most instances, to furnish data for correct decisions. . besides the management of causes in public courts, the lawyer has a great mass of business of a private nature; such as drawing wills, indentures, deeds, and mortgages. he is consulted in a great variety of cases of a legal nature, where litigation is not immediately concerned, and especially in regard to the validity of titles to real estate; and the many impositions to which the community is liable from defective titles, render the information which he is able to afford on this subject, extremely valuable. . in the preceding account of this profession, it is easy to perceive that it is one of great utility and responsibility. it is to the attorney, that the oppressed repair for redress against the oppressor; and to him, the orphan and friendless look, to aid them in obtaining or maintaining their rights. to this profession, also, as much as to any other, the american people may confidently look for the maintenance of correct political principles. [illustration: the physician.] the physician. . among the various avocations of men, that of the physician deserves to be placed in the foremost rank. the profession is founded in the multiplicity of diseases to which humanity is liable, and in the medical qualities of certain substances, which have been found to supply a remedy. . it is implied, though not expressly declared, in the scriptures, that the diseases and other calamities pertaining to our earthly condition, originated in the fall of man from his pristine innocence; and the grecian fable of pandora's box appears to have originated in a similar tradition. it seems that jupiter, being angry at prometheus, ordered vulcan to make a woman endowed with every possible perfection. this workman having finished his task, and presented the workmanship of his hands to the gods, they loaded her with presents, and sent her to prometheus. . this prince, however, suspecting a trick, would have nothing to do with her; but epimetheus was so captivated with her charms, that he took her to be his wife. the curiosity of epimetheus led him to look into a box, given to her by jupiter, which he had no sooner opened, than there issued from it the complicated miseries and diseases, which have since afflicted the family of man. he instantly shut the box; but all had flown, save hope, which had not time to escape; and this is consequently the only blessing that permanently remains with wretched mortals. . since the introduction of moral evil into the world, it cannot be supposed that man has ever enjoyed the blessing of uninterrupted health; and, as it is an instinct of our nature to seek for means of relieving pain, we may safely infer that medicinal remedies were applied in the earliest ages of the human race. . among some of the ancient nations, the origin of diseases was attributed to the malignant influence of supernatural agents. this notion produced a corresponding absurdity, in the means of obtaining relief. accordingly, idolatrous priests, astrologers, and magicians, were resorted to, who employed religious ceremonies, astrological calculations, and cabalistic incantations. . the healing art was cultivated at a very early period in egypt; but it was crippled in its infancy by ordinances, enjoining, without discrimination, the remedies for every disease, and the precise time and mode of their application. the practice was confined to the priests, who connected with it the grossest superstitions. . we are informed by the most ancient historians, that the chaldeans and babylonians exposed their sick in places of public resort, and on the highways; and that strangers and others were required by law to give some advice in each case of disease. amid the variety of suggestions which must necessarily have been given under such circumstances, it was expected that some would prove efficacious. this custom was well calculated to enlarge the boundaries of medical knowledge. . the first records of medicine were kept in the temples dedicated by the greeks to esculapius, who, on account of his skill in medicine, was honored as the god of health. the name or description of the disease, and the method of cure, were engraved on durable tablets, which were suspended, where they could be readily seen by visitors. . but medicine did not assume the dignity of a distinct science, until the days of hippocrates, who reckons himself the seventeenth from esculapius in a lineal descent. this great man, who flourished about years before the christian era, is universally esteemed the "father of medicine." after his death, the science was cultivated by the philosophers of greece, to whom, however, it owes but few improvements. . after the dismemberment of the macedonian empire, learning retreated from contending factions to egypt, where it was liberally fostered by the ptolemies. under their patronage, a medical school at alexandria became eminent, and the healing art flourished beyond all former example. to the disciples of this school, is the world indebted for the first correct description of the human structure. their knowledge on this subject was obtained from the dissection of the bodies of criminals, which had been assigned to them by the government. . the acquisitions of the greeks in medical science at length became the inheritance of the romans; but rome had existed years before a professional physician was known in the city. this inattention to the subject of medicine arose, chiefly, from an opinion, common to the semi-barbarous nations of those times, that maladies were to be cured by the interposition of superior beings. the sick, therefore, applied to their idolatrous priests, who offered sacrifices to the gods in their behalf, and practised over the body of the patient a variety of magical ceremonies. . sacrifices were especially offered to the gods in cases of pestilence; and, on one occasion of this kind, a temple was erected to apollo, who was regarded as the god of physic; and, on another, esculapius, under the form of a serpent, was conducted from epidaurus, in greece, and introduced, with great pomp, upon an islet in the tiber, which was thenceforth devoted to his particular service. . archagathus, a greek, was the first who practised physic, as an art, at rome; and he was soon followed by many more of his professional brethren. these pioneers of medicine, however, were violently opposed by cato the censor, who publicly charged them with a conspiracy to poison the citizens. but the patients under their care generally recovering, he began to regard them as impious sorcerers, who counteracted the course of nature, and restored men to life by means of unholy charms. . cato having succeeded in producing a general conviction, that the practice of these physicians was calculated to enervate the constitutions, and corrupt the manners of the people, restrictions were laid upon the profession, and practitioners were even forbidden to settle at rome. but after the people had become more vicious and luxurious, diseases became more frequent and obstinate, and physicians more necessary. the restrictions were, therefore, at length removed. . among the roman writers on medicine, celsus was the first who is worthy of consideration. he has been denominated the roman hippocrates, because he imitated the close observation and practice of that physician. his work, as well as that of his great prototype, is read with advantage, even at the present day. he flourished at or near the time of our saviour. . in the second century of the christian era, galen, a greek physician from pergamus, and a disciple of the alexandrian school, settled in rome. he was learned in all branches of medicine, and wrote more copiously on the subject generally, than any other person amongst the ancients. for years, his opinions were received as oracular, wherever medicine was cultivated. . after the destruction of the western empire by the barbarous nations, the science of medicine was cultivated only in the greek empire, and chiefly at alexandria, until it began to arrest the attention of the arabians, in the seventh century. the works of several greek philosophers and physicians were translated into arabic, under the patronage of the caliphs, several of whom were zealous promoters of learning. . in the eighth century, the caliph almansur established, at bagdad, a hospital for the sick, and an academy, in which, among other branches of knowledge, was taught the medical art. but it was in spain, that arabian learning rose to the highest point, and produced the most successful results. the university of cordova became the most celebrated in the world, and continued to maintain its reputation for a long series of years. arabian medicine reached its greatest eminence, in the eleventh century, under avicenna. . in the tenth century, this science began to be taught in the schools of other parts of europe; but its professors derived their knowledge of the subject from the arabian school, or from arabic translations of the ancient authors; and this continued to be the case, until the conquest of constantinople by the turks, in . at this time, many erudite greeks fled into italy, and carried with them the ancient writings. . before the general revival of this science in europe, the cure of diseases was chiefly confided, in the western nations, to the priests and monks, who, however, generally relied more upon religious ceremonies, and the influence of sacred relics, than upon the application of medical remedies. the superstitions of those barbarous times, respecting the means of curing diseases, have not yet entirely disappeared, even from the most enlightened nations of christendom. . the science of chemistry began to attract much attention about the beginning of the sixteenth century; and the many powerful medical agents which it supplied, at length produced a great change in the theory and practice of medicine. many valuable medicines of the vegetable kind, were also obtained from america. the discovery of the circulation of the blood by william harvey, in , imparted a new impulse to medicine; but, like chemistry, it gave rise to many absurd and hurtful theories. . researches in different branches of medicine were continued with ardor in the seventeenth century, in various parts of europe; and numerous discoveries of importance were made, especially in anatomy. many theories regarding the origin of diseases, and their treatment, were proposed, advocated, and controverted; but all these were overthrown by stahl, boerhaave, and hoffman, three eminent theorists, in the early part of the eighteenth century. . these distinguished men were followed by others of equal celebrity, in the same century, who, in part at least, exploded the doctrines of their predecessors. the present century, above all other periods, is remarkable for men eminent in this profession; and, although all do not exactly agree in opinion, yet, guided in their conclusions by a careful observation of facts, they are less under the influence of visionary theories than physicians of former times. besides, many of the subjects of former controversy having been satisfactorily settled, there are now fewer causes of division and excitement among the medical profession. . medical science comprises several branches, of which the following are the principal; viz., anatomy, surgery, materia medica, chemistry, the theory and practice of physic. on these subjects, lectures are given in several colleges and universities in europe, and in the united states. in this country, an attendance on two regular courses of lectures entitles the student to the degree of doctor of medicine, provided he can sustain with sufficient ability, an examination before the professors, or, as they are usually termed, the medical faculty. . the degree of m. d. conferred by a college or university, is a passport to practice, in every state of the union; and, in some states, none are permitted to attend the sick, professionally, without having first obtained a diploma conferring such degree. in other states, however, no legal restrictions are imposed on the practitioners of the healing art; or, they are licensed by a board of physicians, constituted by law for the purpose. . the practice of this profession is generally attended with great labor, and, in many cases, with much perplexity. diseases are often stubborn or incurable, and effectually baffle the most skilful practitioner. in most cases, however, diseases are under the control of medical skill; and the high satisfaction which a benevolent physician feels, in relieving the sufferings of his fellow-creatures, may serve as a recompense for the many adverse circumstances which attend the profession. [illustration: the chemist.] the chemist. . this globe, and every thing appertaining to it, is composed of substances, which exist either in a compound or simple state. it is the object of the scientific chemist to investigate the properties of these substances, and to show their action upon each other. by this science, therefore, compound bodies are reduced to the simple elements of which they are composed, or new combinations formed. . according to the preceding definitions, chemistry comprehends an immense variety of objects. it is scarcely possible to name a thing or phenomenon in the natural world, to which it does not directly or indirectly apply; even the growth of vegetables, and the preparation and digestion of our food, depend upon chemical principles. . the word chemistry is supposed to be of egyptian origin, and, in its primary application, was the same with our phrase natural philosophy. its meaning was afterwards restricted to the art of working those metals which were most esteemed. in the third century, it came to be applied to the pretended art of transmuting baser metals into gold. the science, in the latter sense of the word, was eagerly cultivated by the greeks; and from them it passed to the arabians, who introduced it into europe under the name of alchemy. . the professors of the art were dignified with the appellation of alchemistic philosophers, and the leading doctrine of the sect was, that all metals are composed of the most simple substances; and that, consequently, base metals were capable of being changed into gold; hence, the chief object of their researches was the discovery of an agent, by which this great change was to be effected. the substance supposed to possess this wonderful property was called "the philosopher's stone;" the touch of which was to change every kind of metal into gold. . the greatest rage for alchemy prevailed between the tenth and sixteenth centuries. the writers on this subject who appeared during that period, are very numerous, most of whom are unintelligible, except to those initiated into the art. many of them, however, display great acuteness, and an extensive acquaintance with natural objects. they all boast, that they are in possession of the philosopher's stone, and profess the ability of communicating a knowledge of making it to others. . their writings and confident professions gained almost implicit credit, and many unwary persons were thus exposed to the tricks of impostors, who offered to communicate their secret for a pecuniary reward. having obtained the sum proposed, they either absconded, or wearied out their patrons with tedious and expensive processes. . chemists, for a long time, had supposed it possible to discover, by their art, a medicine which should not only cure, but prevent all diseases, and prolong life to an indefinite period, even to immortality. this notion gradually becoming prevalent, the word _chemistry_ acquired a more extensive application, and embraced not only the art of making gold, but also that of preparing "the universal medicine." some of these visionary men asserted, that the philosopher's stone was this wonderful panacea. . few readers need be informed, that the researches for the philosopher's stone, and the universal remedy, were, at length, abandoned, as fruitless and visionary; yet the numerous experiments which had been instituted on these accounts, were attended with the incidental advantage of a considerable dexterity in the performance of chemical operations, together with the discovery of many new substances and valuable facts, which, without these strong incentives, would have remained, at least, much longer in obscurity. . although none of the medicines, produced in the chemical laboratory, answered the chimerical expectations of the chemists, in curing all diseases, and in rendering the perishable body of man immortal, yet they proved sufficiently valuable in the healing art, to command the attention of the profession all over europe. the adoption of chemical medicines, however, was, at first, everywhere opposed, either as unsafe remedies, or as being inferior in efficacy to those which had been used for so many centuries. . these prejudices having given way to the light of experience, chemical medicines came, at length, to occupy a conspicuous place in the materia medica; and their value within the present century has become still more manifest. one of the most useful branches of chemistry, therefore, is to make the various preparations used in the medical art. . the most efficient agent in the introduction of chemical medicines, was theophilus paracelsus. this singular individual was born near zurich, in switzerland. having studied chemistry under two masters, he commenced a rambling life, in pursuit of chemical and medical knowledge; and, having visited italy, france, and germany, where he met with many whimsical adventures, which contributed greatly to advance his reputation, he was elected, in , to fill the chair of chemistry, in the university of basle. . one of the first acts of this arrogant professor was to burn, with the utmost solemnity, while seated in his chair, the works of galen and avicenna, declaring to his audience, that if god would not impart the secrets of physic, it was not only allowable, but even justifiable, to consult the devil. he also treated his contemporaries with the same insolence, telling them, in a preface to one of his books, that "the very down on his bald pate had more knowledge than all their writers; the buckle of his shoes more learning than galen and avicenna; and his beard more experience than all their universities." . it could not be expected, that a man with such a temper could long retain his situation; and, accordingly, he was driven from it, in , by a quarrel with those who had conferred the appointment. from this time, he rambled about the country, chiefly in germany, leading a life of extreme intemperance, in the lowest company. nevertheless, he still maintained his reputation as a physician, by the extraordinary cures occasionally effected by his powerful remedies; although his failures were equally conspicuous. . but the most signal failure of his remedies occurred in his own person; for, after having boasted for many years of possessing an elixir which would prolong life to an indefinite period, he died, in , at salzburg, with a bottle of his immortal catholicon in his pocket. the medicines on which paracelsus chiefly relied, were opium, antimony, and various preparations of mercury. he has the merit of applying the last, especially, to cases in which they had not been before used; and upon this circumstance, his great reputation depended. . we have been thus particular in noticing this individual, because he was the first who gave public lectures on chemistry in europe, and because he gave the first great impulse in favor of chemical medicines. he also carried his speculations concerning the philosopher's stone and the universal remedy, to the greatest height of absurdity; and, by exemplifying their inutility and fallacy in his own person, he contributed more than any one else to their disrepute, and subsequent banishment from the science. . researches for the philosopher's stone, and the universal remedy, having been, at length, relinquished, the chemical facts which had been collected became, in the general estimation, a heap of rubbish of little value. at this time, there arose an individual thoroughly acquainted with these facts, and capable of perceiving the important purposes to which they might be applied. . the name of this individual was john joachim becher. he published a work in , entitled "physica subterranica," by which he gave a new direction to chemistry, by applying it to analyzing and ascertaining the constituent parts of material bodies; and his system is the foundation of the science, as it now exists. . george ernest stahl, a medical professor in the university of halle, adopted the theory of becher, and, after his death, edited the work just mentioned; but he so simplified and improved it, that he made it entirely his own; and, accordingly, it has always been distinguished by the appellation of the stahlian theory. the principal work of stahl, on this subject, was published in ; and, since that time, chemistry has been cultivated with ardor in germany, and in other countries in the north of europe. . in france, chemistry became a fashionable study, about the middle of the eighteenth century. it had, however, been cultivated there by a few individuals, long before that period. men of eminence now appeared in all parts of the kingdom, and discoveries in the science were made in rapid succession. some attention was also paid to it in italy and spain. . in great britain, this subject attracted but little attention, except from a few individuals, until dr. cullen had become professor of the science, in the university of edinburgh, in . this accurate investigator of natural phenomena, succeeded in enkindling an enthusiasm for chemical investigations among the students; and the subsequent experiments of dr. black, mr. cavendish, dr. priestley, and lavoisier, which resulted in the discovery of the constituent parts of air and water, diffused the same ardor through every part of the kingdom. . lavoisier, the celebrated french chemist, having proved the stahlian theory to be incorrect, founded another on the chemical affinities and combinations of oxygen with the various substances in nature. this system has been generally adopted; since it explains a great number of phenomena more satisfactorily than any other ever proposed. the great chemical agent, in the stahlian system, was supposed to be an inflammable substance, which was denominated by the theorist _phlogiston_. to distinguish, therefore, the new theory from the one which it superseded, it was called the pneumatic, or anti-phlogistic system. . in , a new technical nomenclature was devised, by the aid of which all the chemical facts are easily retained in the memory. twelve or fifteen terms have been found sufficient for the foundation of a methodical language; and, by changing the terminations of these radicals, or by prefixing certain words or syllables, the changes that take place in bodies are clearly expressed. this valuable innovation originated with lavoisier and three other french chemists. . in the present century, many important discoveries have been made in this science; and, among those who have been distinguished for their researches into its mysteries, sir humphrey davy, of great britain, shines pre-eminent. in the united states, it has many able professors; among whom are professors hare and mitchell, of philadelphia, torrey, renwick, and draper, of new-york, henry, of princeton, beck, of albany, silliman, of new-haven, and johnson, of middletown. . chemistry is so extensive in its application, that we will not attempt to describe any of the operations of the laboratory. we, therefore, conclude this article by recommending this science to general attention; assuring the uninitiated, that it is beset with fewer difficulties than they are apt to suppose, and that every effort in the course will be attended with interesting facts and phenomena, which will abundantly reward the labor of investigation. [illustration: apothecary.] the druggist and apothecary. . the druggist is a wholesale dealer in drugs, which, in commerce, embrace not only articles used or recommended by the medical profession, but also spices, dye-stuffs, and paints. the commodities of his trade are obtained from almost every quarter of the globe; but especially from the countries bordering upon the mediterranean sea, and from the east indies and spanish america. . the chemist looks to the druggist for most of the materials employed in his laboratory; and from him the apothecary, physician, and country merchant, obtain their chief supply of medicines. there are, however, but few persons in the united states, who confine themselves exclusively to this branch of business; for most of the druggists are also apothecaries, and sometimes operative or manufacturing chemists. . medicinals, when they come into the warehouse of the druggist, are usually in a crude state; and many, or most of them, must necessarily undergo a variety of changes, of a chemical or mechanical nature, before they can be applied in practice. the art by which these changes are effected is called pharmacy, or pharmaceutics; and the books which treat of pharmaceutical operations are denominated pharmacopoeias, or dispensatories. . the operations of pharmacy, which depend upon chemical principles, are conducted chiefly by the operative chemist; but those which consist merely in mechanical reduction, or in mixing together different ingredients, to form compounds, belong properly to the vocation of the apothecary. . the apothecary sells medicines in small quantities, prepared for application. many of the standing compound preparations which have been authorized by the pharmacopoeias, and which are in regular demand, he keeps ready prepared; but a great proportion of his business consists in compounding and putting up the prescriptions of the physician, as they are needed by the patient. . in country places, where there are generally no apothecary-shops, the physicians compound and prepare their own prescriptions; but in cities, where these establishments are numerous, the medical profession prefer to rid themselves of this trouble. in most cases, however, they keep by them a few remedies, which can be applied in cases of emergency. . in great britain, the apothecary is permitted to attend sick persons, and administer medicines either according to his own judgment, or in conformity with the directions of the physician. he is, therefore, a physician of an inferior order; and, as his fees are more moderate than those of the regular profession, his practice is extensive among persons who, from necessity or inclination, are induced to study economy. . the apothecaries in england, scotland, and ireland, are obliged to make up their standing medicines according to the formulas of the dispensatories adopted in their respective countries; and their shops are subject to the visitation of censors, who have authority to destroy those medicines which they may consider unfit for use; so that unwholesome or inefficient remedies be not imposed upon the sick. the apothecaries' halls, in france, are also under the supervision of the medical faculty. . in the united states, there is no censorship of this kind established by the public authorities; yet the physicians are careful to recommend apothecaries, in whom they have confidence, to prepare their prescriptions. the professors in our medical schools are, also, particular in naming to their students those druggists whom they consider men of honor; and omit, at least, to name those who have been detected in selling adulterated medicines. . we have, also, an incorporated college of pharmacy both in new-york and philadelphia, and in each of these, chemical and pharmaceutical lectures are delivered by regular professors. these institutions, although of recent origin, have exerted an important influence in reforming and preventing abuses in the preparation of medicines; and public opinion, especially in the cities, is beginning to render it important for students in pharmacy to obtain a degree from one of these colleges. under the auspices of the institution at philadelphia, is published a quarterly journal, devoted to pharmaceutical science. . a pharmacopoeia for the united states was formed at washington, in , by a delegation of physicians from the principal medical societies of the union. a revision of this work is expected to be made every ten years. dispensatories, as they exist in this country, are founded upon the pharmacopoeias, and may be properly considered commentaries upon them, since the former contain the whole of the latter, together with more minute descriptions of the sensible and real properties of the medicines, as well as their history and exact mode of preparation. [illustration: the dentist.] the dentist. . the human family is subject to a variety of diseases in the teeth, which generally cause the final destruction or loss of these important instruments, unless judicious remedies are applied in proper season. these remedies are administered by the dentist. . there are few persons, in proportion to the great mass of the people, who seem to be aware of the utility of dentistry; for, taking the united states together, not more than one person in a hundred ever resorts to the professors of this art, with the view of obtaining a remedy for any dental disease with which he may be afflicted. the common sentiment seems to be, that diseases of the teeth, and their final loss, at different periods of life, are inevitable inconveniences, to which we must submit with the same philosophy with which we meet other misfortunes. . to enable readers who have never examined this subject, to comprehend its general nature, we will give a slight sketch of some of the irregularities and diseases to which the teeth are liable, and, as we proceed, speak of the remedies applied by the dentist. . two sets of teeth regularly appear, at different periods of life; one in infancy, and the other, at a later period. the first set consists of twenty, and the second of thirty-two teeth; the former are called _infant_, and the latter _adult_; and all these, at the age of six or seven, are upon the jaws at the same time. . at the age just mentioned, the infant teeth begin to give way to those which lie deeper in the sockets, and which are designed to supersede the former. as the new teeth advance, the roots of the first are absorbed; and, after having been thus deprived of their support, they are easily removed; sometimes, by a slight pressure of the tongue. . in a majority of cases, the whole process is carried on by nature with the utmost regularity; but, as she is not uniformly successful in this operation, there is no other period at which the teeth of children require so much attention and care. sometimes the second set rise in the socket without causing the absorption of the roots of the first. in such cases, the former approach in an improper direction; and, unless the latter are removed in season, deformity will be the consequence. . when, however, these precautions have been neglected, and the teeth stand in an irregular manner, they can sometimes be reduced to symmetry by the dentist, without occasioning much pain. when the front teeth are too much crowded by reason of the restricted dimensions of the jaw, the small teeth, situated next behind the eye, or canine teeth, are extracted, one on each side, to give room to the rest. . from the ages of six to fifteen years, the teeth of children should be examined, at least once in six months, by a dentist, who, if skilful, can seldom fail of rendering these ornaments of the human countenance regular, healthy, and beautiful. it is customary in england and france, for the proprietors of seminaries of learning to employ a dentist to visit their establishments regularly, for the purpose of performing such operations, and of administering such remedies, as their pupils may require. . the teeth are composed of very hard bone and enamel. the latter is a substance exceeding in density any other in the body. it covers the crown of the teeth, and is thickest in those parts which are most exposed to forcible contact in mastication; but, in no place, is it more than the twelfth of an inch in thickness. . the most common disease of the teeth is _caries_, or decay, and almost every part of them is liable to be affected by it, but especially the sides of those in front, and the crowns of those on other parts of the jaws. . the disease begins its attack either on the enamel or on the bony portion, and gradually extends itself over the tooth, until it reaches the nerves which supply its natural cavity. these having become exposed to the sudden changes of temperature, and to the contact of extraneous substances in mastication, pain and inflammation are produced, and the extraction of the tooth very commonly becomes the only means of relief. . all persons are more or less subject to this disease, but some much more than others; and caries of a peculiar character has been so often traced through whole families, from one generation to another, that it is considered hereditary, as much as any other disease to which the system is liable. in many cases, caries seems to be the effect of some serious disease which affected the constitution, while the teeth were in the early stages of formation. . although the teeth of some individuals possess but little durability, and, when caries attacks them, go on rapidly to decay, in spite of all the aid which science and skill can afford, yet, there are comparatively but few instances in which seasonable and judicious treatment will not arrest the progress of the disease. . when the teeth are but slightly affected with caries, especially on the sides, a cure may be accomplished by the removal of the decayed portion. this is effected, by the most approved dentists, chiefly with small cutting instruments. formerly, the file and the saw were employed for this purpose; and, by their indiscriminate and injudicious use, many teeth were ruined, and the art of dentistry itself brought into disrepute. . notwithstanding the injuries which have been inflicted by the improper application of the saw and file, in some instances they are indispensable; and, in the hands of the scientific operator, they need not be feared. they are especially useful in preparing the way for the employment of other instruments; for, in some cases, the affected part can with difficulty be reached by any other means. but filing the teeth for the purpose of improving their appearance, or for rendering the sides more accessible to the tooth-pick and brush, seems to be reprobated by the most intelligent part of the profession. . when the caries has penetrated far into the tooth, and, in its removal, a cavity of suitable form and dimensions can be produced, it is filled with some substance, with the view of protecting the bone from the action of extraneous agents. the dentist is careful to remove every particle of the decayed portion, and to render the cavity perfectly dry by repeated applications of lint or raw cotton, before he attempts to fill it. . gold is the only substance which possesses sufficient solidity to withstand the ordinary friction of mastication, and which, at the same time, is capable of resisting the chemical action of the substances that come in contact with it; yet lead and tin are frequently employed; and many have been made to believe that they answer as good, if not a better purpose, than gold itself. the durability of these metals, however, can never be depended upon, and they ought not to be employed, where the tooth is capable of resisting the mechanical force required to fill it properly with gold. . the metal is prepared for the use of the dentist by the gold-beater, in the manner described in the article which treats upon the business of the latter. the leaves, however, are not beaten so thin as those designed for the common purposes of the arts. the portion to be applied is cut from the leaf, and, after having been twisted a little, is forced into the cavity. the metal is rendered perfectly solid by means of instruments adapted to the purpose. . this operation, properly performed under favorable circumstances, generally renders the tooth as serviceable, to the end of life, as if it had never been diseased. the hopes of the patient, however, are sometimes disappointed by the unskilfulness of the operator, or by the general unhealthiness of the mouth, arising from tartar, other decayed teeth, or want of care in keeping them free from the lodgment of particles of food. . it is a common practice to have teeth extracted, when they are affected with pain; but this operation is not always necessary. in many cases, the nerve can be paralyzed, and the tooth plugged. by these means, teeth which, under the ordinary treatment, would be prematurely sacrificed, are often retained, for years, in a serviceable state. . the next most destructive affection to which the teeth are liable, is the accumulation of _tartar_. this is an earthy substance, deposited from the saliva, and is more or less abundant in different individuals. this deposit is extremely troublesome, and generally does much injury to the mouth, even before those who suffer from it are aware of the mischief. . the tartar on the teeth of some individuals, is of a black or greenish color, and very hard; on those of others, brown or yellow, and not so firm. when it is first deposited, it is soft, and can be easily removed with a tooth-brush; but, if suffered to remain, it soon becomes indurated, and gradually increases in thickness about the neck of the teeth. the gums become irritated and inflamed. the sockets are next absorbed, and the teeth, being left without their natural support, either fall out, or become so loose, that they can be easily removed. . from this cause, old people lose their teeth, when, in many cases, they are perfectly sound; but comparatively very few are aware of the origin of this deprivation, or suppose that these valuable instruments can be retained in old age. the loss is attributed to the deleterious effects of calomel, or is imagined to be an evil inseparable from advanced age. . the affection of the gums, arising from causes just mentioned, is frequently called scurvy, and, like caries, produces fetor of the breath; but, when these two diseases are combined, as is frequently the case, they render it extremely offensive. besides, the effluvia arising from these diseased parts give rise to many maladies which terminate fatally, if a remedy is not applied sufficiently early to save the patient. . the obvious remedy for diseases arising from tartar, is the removal of their cause. this is effected by the dentist, with small sharp cutting instruments of a suitable form. to prevent the tartar from accumulating again, and to restore the gums to a healthy state, nothing more is generally requisite than the daily use of a stiff, elastic brush, and the occasional application of some approved dentrifice or astringent wash. sometimes it may be necessary to scarify the gums, or to apply leeches to them. . the operations of dentistry, mentioned in the preceding part of this article, are those which relate to the preservation of the teeth; and, if performed in a proper manner, and under favorable circumstances, they will, in most instances, prove effectual. but, as few persons resort to the dentist, until the near approach of deformity, or until they are impelled by pain to seek relief, a great proportion of dental operations consists in inserting artificial teeth, and in extracting those which are past recovery. . when a tooth has gone so far to decay, that it cannot be cured by _stopping_, it should not be suffered to remain in the mouth, lest it infect the rest. front teeth, however, when the roots remain sound, and firmly based in the sockets, ought not to be extracted, as upon the latter artificial teeth can be placed with great advantage. in such cases, the removal of the crown only is necessary. . the instruments commonly employed in extracting teeth, are the key, or turnkey, the forceps, the hook, and the graver, or punch. these are supposed to be sufficient to perform all the operations of this kind which occur in practice; and, although many attempts have been made to invent others which might answer a better purpose, yet those we have mentioned, in their improved state, are likely to continue in general use. . it seems to be a common opinion, that any one can pull teeth, who has a turnkey, and sufficient physical strength to use it; accordingly, blacksmiths, barbers, and medical students, are the chief operators in this line of dental surgery. the many fatal accidents which must inevitably be the consequence, such as breaking the tooth or jaw-bone, are considered matters of course. these, however, seldom happen with skilful dentists; and it is to be regretted, that the latter are not always employed, where unskilfulness may produce such serious consequences. . in the cut, at the head of this article, is represented a dentist, about to extract a tooth for a lady, who may be supposed to be in a state of alarm at the sight of the instruments; but he, having thrown his right hand, which holds them, behind him, shows the other containing nothing, with the view of allaying her fears. the manner in which teeth are extracted, needs no description, since it is an every-day operation in all parts of the world. . one of the chief sources of income to this profession, is the insertion of artificial teeth; for, although few are willing to expend much to prevent the loss of their teeth, many will incur great expense in supplying the deficiencies, after they have occurred. so perfectly and neatly is this operation performed, by some dentists, that it is difficult to distinguish between teeth which are natural, and those which are artificial. . the materials for artificial teeth were formerly found chiefly in the teeth and tusks of the hippopotamus, and in the teeth of some domestic animals; but, within a few years, a mineral composition, called porcelain, has come into great repute, since it is very beautiful, and is entirely proof against the most powerful acids. . surgical operations upon the teeth were performed in ancient greece and rome, many of which were similar to those of the present day. the extraction of teeth must have been practised at a period of antiquity to which the records of medicine do not reach. the operation is recommended by hippocrates, who describes many of the diseases to which the teeth are liable. he also mentions the practice of fixing the teeth by means of gold wire, and gives several formulas for making dentrifices. . celsus, a roman writer on medicine, who flourished about the beginning of the christian era, seems to have been the first author who described the method of extracting teeth, and the first who notices the removal of tartar by means of cutting instruments, as well as filling carious teeth with lead and other substances, with the view of preventing further decay. soon after this period, false teeth, of bone and ivory, were introduced. actius, a writer of the fourth century, is the first who mentions the operation of filing the teeth. . the return of barbarism to europe, nearly extinguished the knowledge of dentistry. as a branch of surgery, however, it was revived by the arabian writer, albucasis, in the tenth century; but, for many hundred years after this period, it received but little attention from men of science, the operations of surgery being confined chiefly to the barbers. . the first modern work on the diseases of the teeth was published at lyons, in . this was followed by many other publications on the same subject, in the succeeding century. in the year , it began to be required in france, that all persons who intended to practise dentistry in that country, should undergo an examination, to test their qualifications. from this period is dated the establishment of the dental art as a distinct branch of medical practice. [illustration] the teacher. . education, in antiquity, was entirely a matter of domestic concern. in countries where priestly or royal despotism prevailed, schools for the benefit of the sons of the great, and for the priests, were established. moses, the jewish lawgiver, was educated in a priestly school in egypt, and cyrus, at a seminary belonging to the persian court. in palestine, the scriptures were taught in the schools of the prophets; and, at later periods, in the synagogues, and in the schools of the rabbis, reading, committing to memory the sacred books, and hearing explanations of their meaning, constituted the chief exercises. . in the grecian cities, boys and girls were taught reading, writing, and arithmetic in private schools; and, after having completed the primary course, those who aspired to higher degrees of knowledge, resorted to the instructions of the philosophers and sophists. this system was commenced as early as years before the advent of christ. . two hundred years after this period, the romans began to have primary schools for boys, in the cities; and, from the time of julius cæsar, who conferred on teachers the right of citizenship, they possessed the higher institutions of the grammarians and the rhetoricians. in the former of these, were taught the latin and greek languages; and in the latter, young men of talent were prepared, by exercises in declamation, for speaking in public. . children, among the greeks and romans, were accompanied to school by slaves, who, from the performance of this duty, were called _pedagogues_; but, after slaves and freedmen had made acquirements in literature and science, they were frequently employed as tutors; hence the term, at length, came to imply a teacher of children, and it is still used in reference to this employment, although we usually connect with it the idea of pedantry. . until the time of vespasian, who commenced his reign in the year of the christian era, the schools were sustained entirely by private enterprise. that emperor instituted public professorships of grammar and rhetoric with fixed salaries, for the purpose of educating young men for the public service; and, in a.d. , antoninus pius founded imperial schools in the larger cities of the roman empire. the most celebrated place for the cultivation of science, in the ancient world, was athens; and, to this city, students from all parts of europe resorted, even as late as the ninth century. . christianity, by degrees, gave a new turn to education; and, in the east, it came gradually under the influence of the clergy. schools were instituted in the cities and villages for catechumens, and, in some places, those of a higher grade, for the education of clergymen. of the latter kind, that in alexandria was the most flourishing, from the second to the fourth century. . from the fifth century, these higher institutions began to decline, and others, called cathedral or episcopal schools, seem to have taken their place. in these, besides theology, were taught _the seven liberal arts_--grammar, logic, rhetoric, arithmetic, geometry, astronomy, and music; of which the three first were called the _trivium_, and the four last the _quadrivium_. the text-book employed was the encyclopædia of marcianus capella, of africa. this compendium was published at rome, a.d. ; and, although a meagre production, it maintained its reputation in the schools of europe more than years. . the imperial schools established by antoninus pius, declined, and finally became extinct, in the confusion that followed the irruption of the barbarians; but their places were supplied by the parochial and cathedral schools just mentioned. these, however, were surpassed, in the sixth century, by the _conventual_ schools, which were originally designed to prepare persons for the monastic life, but which soon began to be resorted to by laymen. . these schools were connected with the convents belonging to the order of st. benedict, and served as the chief glimmering lights during the darkest period between ancient and modern civilization, in europe. they flourished in ireland, england, france, and germany, from the sixth to the eleventh century. the teachers of these seminaries were called _scholastici_, and from them the scholastic philosophy derived its origin and name. . in the year , charlemagne, king of the franks, issued a decree for the improvement of the schools of his empire, and for increasing their number. not only every bishop's see and every convent, but every parish, was to have its school; the two former for the education of clergymen and public officers, and the latter for the lower classes of people. this monarch instituted an academy of learned men, to whom he himself resorted for instruction, and whom he employed to educate his children, and a select number of the sons of the nobility and distinguished persons. . the encouragement which these schools had received from government was soon discontinued after the death of this monarch, and his school establishment declined like that of alfred the great, which was commenced in the ninth century, on a scale of equal liberality. the designs of the english monarch were frustrated by the invasions of the danes. . in the mean time, the jewish rabbis had schools in syria and in northern africa, as well as in europe, which contributed to the preservation of ancient learning. arabian schools were also established, in the ninth century, by the followers of mohammed, in their eastern and african caliphates, and in their moorish dominions in spain. through these institutions, the mathematical and medical sciences were again revived in europe. . the cathedral and conventual schools continued, for a long time, the principal institutions for education in europe; and from them proceeded many eminent men. by degrees the light of science began to shine more brightly; teachers of eminence appeared in different places, who collected around them a great number of scholars; and a new kind of schools arose, the heads of which assumed the name of _rectores_. . in paris, several of these teachers gave instructions in various branches, but chiefly in rhetoric, philosophy, and theology. the schools thus collected under different masters, were, in , united under one rector; and, on this account, the whole mass of teachers and scholars was denominated _universitas_. universities, in other parts of europe, arose in a similar manner, and some of them, about the same time. those of oxford and cambridge, according to some writers, were established about the year ; and the two first of these institutions in germany were founded at prague and vienna, the former in , and the latter in . . the division of the students into four _nations_ was an essential feature in the early universities. it arose from the circumstance that the pupils coming from different countries, spoke different languages. those whose language was the same or similar, would naturally associate together, and attend the instructions of the same teachers. this division into nations is supposed to have grown up at paris, previous to the formal union of the several schools under one rector. . the first teachers, from whose exertions the universities originated, commenced their public instructions without permission from established authority. subsequently, the state and university were careful to prevent all persons from giving lectures, who were not well qualified for the employment. examinations were therefore instituted to determine the capabilities of students. those who were found competent, received a formal permission to teach, accompanied with certain symbols in the spirit of the age. . the first academical degree was that of _baccalaureus_, the second, _licentiatus_; and the third _magister_. the last of these entitled the student to all the privileges of his former teachers, and constituted him one of the _facultas artium--the faculty of the seven liberal arts_, since called the philosophic faculty. the other faculties were those of theology, law, and medicine. the first of these was instituted at paris in , and the two last, in . the faculties elected _deans_ from among their number, who, with the _procuratores_, or heads of the four nations of students, represented the university. these representatives possessed the power of conferring degrees in the different departments of literature and science. . among the public institutions of the early universities were the colleges, (_collegia_,) buildings in which students, especially those who were poor, might live together, under superintendents, without paying for their lodging. in some cases, they received their board, and frequently other allowances, gratis. these institutions were commenced at paris; but here, as well as in other places, they did not continue the asylums of the necessitous only. in france and england, the buildings of universities are composed chiefly of these colleges, in which the students reside, and in which the business of instruction is mainly carried on. . the teachers in the universities were at first paid for their services by the students. at a later period, the magistrates of the town or city where the institution was located, made presents to eminent scholars, to induce them to remain. this practice finally led to the payment of regular salaries. from and after the fourteenth century, universities were not left to grow up of themselves as formerly, but were expressly established by public authorities or by the popes. . the inactivity and luxury of the clergy, had led to the neglect of the old seminaries of learning. the universities were therefore necessary, not only to revive the taste for science and literature, but also to form a new body of teachers. these institutions, however, at length became subject to undue clerical influence, since the monks obtained admission into them as teachers, and then labored to increase the importance of their several orders, as well as the power of the roman pontiff. . the monks, also, connected, with their convents, popular schools, and undertook the education of the children in the cities. but their method of instruction was exceedingly defective, since the intelligent investigation of the subjects studied was little encouraged, and since the memory of the pupils was brought into requisition to the almost entire exclusion of the other faculties of the mind. . in the lower parish schools, the children were not permitted to learn to write, the monks being desirous of confining to the clergy the practice of this art, which was very lucrative before the invention of printing. the art was called _ars clericalis_; and, for a long time, the privilege of establishing writing schools for the children of citizens, was a matter of negotiation between the magistrates and the clergy. . but the citizens becoming, at length, more independent, the magistrates themselves began to superintend the education of youth. _trivial_ schools were established, in which the _trivium_, and reading and writing, were taught; but for these, as well as for the cathedral and parish schools, which had been neglected for some time by the higher clergy, itinerant monks and students were employed as teachers. . the elder pupils of the highest class frequently wandered from one school to another, under the pretence of pursuing their studies, sometimes taking with them younger scholars, whom they compelled to beg or steal, in order to supply their wants. as late as the sixteenth century, luther complains that these _vacantivi_ (or idlers) were the persons chiefly employed as schoolmasters in germany. . a pious fraternity, called jeronymites, consisting of clergymen and laymen, who lived together, and occupied themselves partly in mechanic arts, and partly in the instruction of youth, exerted considerable influence on education in general. they first established themselves in italy, and afterwards in the netherlands, on the rhine, and in northern germany. . much was done during the last half of the fourteenth century, and in the one hundred years that followed, to encourage the study of the ancient classics. the attention of literary men was turned to these interesting remains of antiquity by the arrival of many learned greeks, who had fled from turkish oppression, and who had brought with them the ancient writings. . these treasures of former civilization were unfolded to the modern world by the art of printing, which was invented in ; and the reformation, which commenced in , also aided the advancement of education. the corporations of the german cities in which the reformed religion was received, founded seminaries, called _gymnasia_, and _lyceums_, with permanent professorships. a vast amount of property, belonging to the convents and the church, was confiscated by the governments, and appropriated chiefly to the promotion of education. . the schools in the countries which adhered to the roman catholic religion, however, continued in nearly the same state, until the jesuit schools arose, towards the end of the sixteenth century. these, on account of the ability with which they were conducted, soon gained the ascendency, and for a long time maintained their reputation; but they, at length, degenerated, and finally became extinct, on the suppression of the order of jesuits in . . italy, spain, and portugal, have, for a long time, been inactive in relation to education, it being left entirely to the clergy, and the efforts of the people in their individual capacity. much has been done in austria, within fifty years, to advance this important interest. under the late emperor, professorships were constituted, in the universities and cathedral seminaries, for the instruction of teachers; and gymnasia, common and sunday schools, were established in almost every part of the kingdom. . the general organization of schools in france, in the eighteenth century, was similar to that of most other catholic countries. the government did nothing for the education of the people at large; and the church, which possessed a large proportion of the property of the nation, left the people in total ignorance; whence may have arisen much of the atrocity which marked the early part of the revolution. . during the popular reign, the education of youth was declared to be under the care of the state, and many schools, called _polytechnic_, were established. napoleon, also, afterwards instituted several military schools, and contemplated the introduction of a system of general education. with this view, he instituted an imperial university, which was to have the supreme direction of instruction in france; but his designs were but partially carried into effect. . when the bourbons were again restored to the throne of france, they, with the clergy, labored to restore the old order of things; and, to keep the common people from becoming dangerous, the lancasterian schools, established in , were abolished. efficient measures, however, have been lately adopted by louis philip to establish schools of different grades throughout his kingdom. . in england and ireland, although the middling and higher classes are comparatively well educated, no system of general instruction has ever been established for the benefit of the common people. much, however, has been accomplished by charity and sunday schools; the former of which were commenced in , and the latter in . besides these, there are numerous charitable foundations on which many persons of limited means have been educated at the higher institutions. . in scotland, more liberal provisions have been made for general education. the system was commenced in the reign of william and mary, when, by an act of parliament, every parish was required to maintain a school. the people have so far improved their privileges, that nearly all of the inhabitants of that part of great britain can read and write. . the government of russia, during the last and present century, has directed some attention to the promotion of education. according to the decrees of the emperor alexander, schools of different grades were to be established throughout the empire; but these decrees have been yet only partially executed. . in no part of the world has the education of all classes of people been more encouraged than in the united states. this has arisen chiefly from the circumstance, that a remarkable proportion of the colonists were persons of education. this was particularly the case with those of new-england, where the instruction of youth, from the very beginning of the settlements, was made a matter of public concern. . the principle of making public provision for this purpose, thus early adopted, has never been deserted; on the contrary, it has become so deeply interwoven with the social condition of the people of new-england, that there are few families in that part of the union, which are not within reach of a public school; and, in every state where the influence of the people from that section of the country is predominant, public schools have been organized by legal provisions, and a fund has been provided, by which at least a part of the expense of supporting them is paid. . in all the states in which these primary institutions are established by legislative enactments, they are kept in operation, in country places, between six and nine months of the year. a _master_ is employed in the winter, and a _mistress_, in the summer: the former receives for his services from ten to fifteen dollars per month, and the latter, from seventy-five cents to two dollars per week, together with boarding. the teachers, however, during their engagement are compelled to reside in the different families of the _district_, their stay at each place being determined, with scrupulous exactness, by the number of children sent to the school. . from the low salaries received for these important services, and the short periods for which engagements are made, it is evident, that teaching a district school cannot be pursued as a regular employment. these schools are, therefore, supplied by persons who, during the rest of the year, follow some other business; or by students, who rely, in part or entirely, on their own exertions to defray the expenses of their academical, collegiate, or professional education. . these schools are, no doubt, institutions of great value; but, in the states where they have been established, they are evidently much overrated. they fail in accomplishing the ends for which they have been instituted, through the extreme tenacity with which the people adhere to ancient and defective methods of instruction, the frequent change of teachers, and the small compensation allowed for the services of competent instructors. . in the cities and populous towns or villages, the public schools are kept up during the whole of the year, and the system of instruction is generally better than that pursued in the country. in new-york, philadelphia, baltimore, and in some other cities, the lancasterian plan of mutual instruction, with many modifications, is preferred, principally on account of its cheapness. . select-schools and private academies are, also, very numerous. these are located chiefly in the cities and populous towns, and are supported entirely by fees for tuition received from the parents or guardians of the pupils. these institutions do not differ essentially from those of a private nature in similar situations in other parts of the united states, where common schools are not established by law. . in the southern states, wealthy families often employ private tutors. sometimes two, three, or more families, and even a whole neighborhood, unite for the purpose of forming a school; and, to induce a teacher to commence or continue his labors among them, an adequate amount is made up beforehand by subscription. south of pennsylvania, delaware, and the ohio river, such engagements are commonly made for a year, as, in that section of the union, the opinion prevails, that a teacher can do but little towards improving his pupils in a much shorter time. . the literary institutions which are next above the common schools, and which are established by legislative authority, are the academies, of which there are between five and six hundred in the united states. some of these have been founded by the funds of the state in which they are located, some, by the union of a few spirited individuals, or by private bequests. . the course of instruction pursued in these seminaries of learning varies considerably from each other. in some of them, it is confined chiefly to the common branches of education; in others, the course is pretty extensive, embracing natural and moral philosophy, chemistry, belles lettres, and a sound course of mathematics, together with latin, greek, and some of the modern languages. one great object in these institutions is to prepare students for college. the teacher who has charge of an academy is called the _principal_, while the teacher who may aid him in his labors is denominated the _assistant_ or _usher_. . the highest institutions of learning among us are the colleges and universities. between these, however, there seems to be but little difference, since the course of studies is nearly or quite the same in both, and since the charters obtained from the legislatures grant to both similar powers of conferring honorary degrees. the whole number of these establishments in the united states is about eighty. . the principal teachers in the colleges are denominated _professors_, who confine their labors to communicating instructions in particular branches of literature or science. these are aided by assistants called _tutors_. the latter are generally young men, who devote two or three years to this employment, before entering upon the practice of a profession. the number of professors and tutors in the several colleges varies according to their amount of funds, and number of students. end of vol. i. * * * * * transcriber's notes: obvious spelling and punctuation errors and inconsistencies were repaired, but period spellings retained (e.g. "grisly bear," "lama," "pistachoes," "hommony"). negociat- and negotiat-, whale-bone and whalebone, ancles and ankle, color- and colour-, endeavor- and endeavour-, favor- and favour-, labor- and labour-, neighbor- and neighbour-, were retained as in original. contents page, preface page number reads " " but actually appears on page "vii"; retained. contents page, "soapboiler" changed to more frequent "soap-boiler." p. ix, "removed from the ignorance," original reads "ignora ce." p. , "south-western parts," hyphen added for consistency within text. p. , "maltster checks," original reads "malster." p. , "render the wine palatable," original reads "palateable." p. , illustration at start of "manufacturer of cloth" chapter has no caption in original. p. , "sewn together to form hats," original reads "sown." p. , "released from his dependence," original reads "dependance." p. , "thomas newcomen," original reads "newcomer." p. , illustration at start of "teacher" chapter has no caption in original. p. and , "rabbis," original reads "rabbies." popular technology; or, professions and trades. [illustration: the author.] by edward hazen, a. m., author of "the symbolical spelling-book," "the speller and definer," and "a practical grammar." embellished with eighty-one engravings. in two volumes. vol. ii. new york: harper & brothers, publishers. . entered, according to act of congress, in the year , by harper & brothers, in the clerk's office of the southern district of new york. contents of the second volume. page the musician, and the musical instrument maker the sculptor the painter the engraver the copperplate printer the lithographer the author the printer the type-founder the stereotyper the paper-maker, and the bookbinder the bookseller the architect the carpenter the stone-mason, the brick-maker, &c. the painter, and the glazier the turner the cabinet-maker, and the upholsterer the chair-maker the carver, and the gilder the cooper the wheelwright the potter the glass-blower the optician the goldbeater, and the jeweller the silversmith, and the watchmaker the coppersmith, the button-maker, &c. the tin-plate worker, &c. the iron-founder the blacksmith, and the nailer the cutler the gunsmith the veterinary surgeon [illustration: musical instrument maker.] the musician, and the musical instrument maker. the musician. . the word _music_, in its modern application, has reference to the science which treats of the combination of sounds. it is founded upon the law of our nature, that every leading passion has its peculiar tone or note of expression understood by all human beings. music, therefore, may be supposed to have been practised in the earliest ages; although it must have been a long time before it arose to the importance of a science. . according to the mosaic records, jubal, one of the descendants of cain, played upon musical instruments, many hundred years before the flood. in the early period of the nations of antiquity, and in fact among all semi-barbarous people of later periods, the character of poet and singer were united in the same individual; and the voice was frequently accompanied by musical instruments. the oldest song which has descended to our times, and which is stated to have been exhibited in this manner, was that sung by miriam, the sister of moses, on the occasion of the passage of the red sea by the children of israel. . the hebrews employed music in their celebration of religious worship, which consisted, in part, in chanting solemn psalms with instrumental accompaniments. it was also used by them on the occasion of entertainments, as well as in the family circle. it reached its greatest perfection amongst the jews, in the days of david and solomon. it is supposed, that the priests of egypt were versed in music, before the settlement of the family of jacob in that country; but how far the israelites were indebted to them for a knowledge of this pleasing art, is altogether uncertain. . music was held in very high estimation among the greeks, who attributed to it incredible effects. they even assure us that it is the chief amusement of the gods, and the principal employment of the blessed in heaven. many of their laws, and the information relative to the gods and heroes, as well as exhortations to virtue, were written in verse, and sung publicly in chorus to the sound of instruments. . it was the opinion of the philosophers of greece, that music was necessary to mould the character of a nation to virtue; and plato asserts, that the music of his countrymen could not be altered, without affecting the constitution of the state itself. but in his time and afterwards, complaints were made of the degeneracy in this art, and a deterioration of national manners through its influence. the degeneracy probably consisted in its application to the expression of the tender passions; it having been previously applied, in most cases, to awaken patriotic and religious feeling. . the invention of music and of musical instruments, as in the cases of most of the arts and sciences among the greeks, was attributed by the poets to some of the gods, or else to individuals of their own nation. it appears, however, from their traditions, that they received this art, or at least great improvements in its execution, from phoenicia or asia minor. it began to be cultivated scientifically in greece about years before the advent of christ. . the romans seem to have derived the music which they employed in religious services from the etruscans, but that used in war and on the stage from the greeks. at an early period of their history, it was a great impediment to the progress of the art, that it was practised only by slaves. . the roman orators pitched their voice, and regulated the different intonations through their speech, by the sound of instruments; and on the stage, the song, as well as part of the play itself, was accompanied with flutes. wind-instruments of various kinds, comprised under the general name of _tibiæ_, and sometimes the cythera and harp, accompanied the chorus. in all these applications of music, the romans had been preceded by the greeks. . the hebrews employed accents to express musical tones, but most other nations of antiquity used letters of the alphabet for this purpose; and, as they had not yet conceived the idea of the octave or parallel lines, to express a variety of tones in a similar manner by the aid of a key, they required a number of notes that must have been exceedingly perplexing. . the greeks are said to have had about one thousand notes, half of which were for vocal, and the other half, for instrumental music. all these were expressed by placing the letters of their alphabet, or parts of them, in different positions. accents were also used, partly by themselves, and in connexion with the letters. . the lines of a poem, set to music, were placed under the letters expressing the tones. the letters for the instrumental part were placed first, and under them those for the voice. the notes of the greeks and romans were not required to indicate the time in which they were to be pronounced, since in general the syllables of their language had a natural and distinct quantity. in the cases in which there was a liability to mistake, the syllables were marked with a, if long, and with b, if short. . the romans expressed the fifteen chief tones of the greeks with the fifteen first letters of the latin alphabet; and these were reduced to seven, by pope gregory i., towards the end of the sixth century; so that the first seven capital letters were used for the first octave, the small letters for the higher octave, and the small letters doubled, for the highest octave. parallel lines were soon after invented, on which the letters were written. . musical sounds were expressed in this manner until the year , when, according to some authors, guido aretine, a monk of arezzo, invented points and rhombuses. he also introduced the use of five parallel lines, upon and between which his notes were written. the seven letters which had formerly been used as notes, now became clefs. . still, however, the means of determining the duration of sound belonging to each note, without consulting the quantity of syllables in the verses to be sung, were yet to be provided. this desideratum was supplied by one franco, a german of cologne, who lived towards the end of the eleventh century. some, however, attribute this improvement to john de murs. the division of one note into others of less value was invented, in the sixteenth century, by jean mouton, chapel-master to king francis i. of france. . the knowledge of music, as a science, was preserved in europe, after the overthrow of the western empire, through the influence of the church. the apostles, and hebrew converts generally, had been accustomed to the sacred music of the jews; and, on this account, it was easy to continue the use of the same psalms and hymns in the christian church. . many of the grecian and roman melodies were also set to words adapted to christian worship. in regard to the manner of singing, in the early days of the church, it was sometimes in _solo_, sometimes in _alternate strains_, and at other times in _chorus_; in which the whole assembly joined, repeating what had been before sung or read. in the fourth century, with the view of securing the proper execution of this part of divine worship, _precentors_ were instituted, who were considered regular officers of the church. . pope gregory i., surnamed the great, distinguished himself by establishing a new singing-school, which became a model for many others, in the western division of the church. in consequence of these schools, the singing became more artificial; and this, together with the circumstance that the hymns were in latin, which had become obsolete, at length excluded the people from any participation in this part of the public worship. . gregory also made a selection of the existing songs of the church, and introduced a _chant_, which, through his influence, and that of his successors, was at length extended throughout europe. it received the appellation of the _gregorian chant_ from his name. it was also called the _choral song_, because it was sung by a choir. this chant is said to be the foundation of our present church-music. . music, in distinct parts, was not known until after the introduction of the improved method of writing music, invented, as before stated, by guido aretine and franco. the development of harmony, in four parts, was assisted by the _choral_; but it was more particularly advanced by musical instruments, and especially by the organ. in the fifteenth century, music began again to be treated scientifically. . the reformation produced great changes in the character of sacred music. before that event took place, this part of religious worship was confined to a few fixed forms of texts, as in the mass, and this is still the case in the roman catholic church; but the protestants allow great variety both in the poetry and music. luther's agency in the production of these changes was very considerable. during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, church music became continually more brilliant, and always more corrupted, by the intermixture of profane music. . in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, there grew up, at the courts of the european monarchs, the free chamber style, from which arose that which was afterwards used in the theatre. the opera, which originated with three young noblemen at florence in , has contributed especially to the splendor and variety of modern vocal music, the advancement of which is claimed particularly by the italians, as that of the instrumental kind is claimed by the germans and french. . the composition of music, and its execution either vocally or instrumentally, as well as the business of imparting a knowledge of it to others, are embraced in the employment of the musician; although it is seldom, that all these branches are practised by one and the same individual. music is one of the fine arts, and, during the middle ages, was one of the branches of what was then considered a learned education. . since the scientific revival of music, the art has had so many distinguished professors, that we will not even attempt to give a list of their names. their number was increased, and the art greatly perfected, by the singing-schools, called _conservatories_, established especially in italy, either at the public expense, or by the liberality of individuals. musical instrument-maker. . this artist unites in his business some of the operations of the cabinet-maker, turner, and brazier. he also is dependent upon the wire-drawer, and the tanner and currier, for some of his materials. so great, however, is the number of musical instruments, and so different their nature and construction, that the business of making them is divided into several branches, all of which are never pursued, or carried on, by one person. but, without reference to the several divisions of this business, we will proceed to mention or describe the principal instruments which are now in most common use. . the _organ_ is the largest of all musical instruments, and, in its improved state, so complex that a mere description of it cannot be well understood. nevertheless, we will endeavor to give the reader some idea of the general principles on which it is constructed. . the most essential and prominent parts of this machine are the _wind-chest_, the _pipes_, and the _bellows_. the former of these is an oblong box, made perfectly air-tight, and placed in a horizontal position. the top of this chest is perforated with several rows of holes of different sizes, and into these are inserted the pipes. those for the higher notes are of a cylindrical form, and are made of a mixture of metals, chiefly of tin and lead; but those designed for the expression of the lowest notes of the base are made of wood, in a square form. the dimensions of these pipes are regulated by a _diapason_, or _scale_. . there are as many of these rows of pipes, which are called _stops_, as there are kinds of tones in the organ; and to every row or stop is a plug, attached to a slide, which is denominated a _register_, and which is designed to regulate the admission of wind into the pipes. the pipes are also furnished with valves, which can be opened at pleasure, by means of keys similar to those of the piano-forte. some organs have few, others have many stops; and, in order to regulate the force of sound, most church organs have two or three rows of keys, whereby a greater or less number of pipes may be filled, and the powers of the instrument may be controlled in what is called the _small organ_, or let loose, so as to become the _full organ_. . the fingering of an organ is similar to that of the piano-forte, so far as relates to the position of the keys; but, on account of the great number of holding notes in organ music, and the manner in which the sound is produced, the fingers are more kept down; whence it is considered injurious for performers on the piano-forte to practise on the organ, lest that lightness of touch, so necessary for the former instrument, be affected. it is hardly necessary to remark that, during the performance on the organ, the wind-chest is filled by means of the bellows. . the structure of the organ is lofty, elegant, and majestic; and its solemnity, grandeur, and volume of tone, have obtained for it a pre-eminence over every other instrument for the sacred purposes to which it has been applied. the largest organ known is in st. peter's church, at rome. it has one hundred stops. . the church organ was probably suggested by the _water organ_ of the greeks, which was invented five or six hundred years before our era. at what period, organs began to be employed in churches, cannot now be ascertained. by some, it is said that pope vitelianus caused them to be used in rome in the seventh century. others are of opinion, that they were not introduced until three hundred years later. but, be this as it may, the church organ was not in common use until the fourteenth century; and now it is very different in its construction from that of early times. it has received many additions and improvements since the beginning of the fifteenth century. . the _hand_ or _barrel organ_ consists of a moveable cylinder, on which, by means of wires, pins, and staples, are marked the tunes which it is intended to perform. these pins and staples, by the revolution of the barrel, act upon the keys within, and give admission to the wind from the bellows to the pipes. the hand organ is so contrived that the revolution of the barrel gives motion to the bellows. . there are several instruments belonging to the class of _horns_, all of which are made of brass or silver. those of the latter kind of metal are by far the softest in tone, but brass is the material most commonly employed. the chief instruments belonging to this class are the trumpet, the french horn, the bugle, the kent bugle, the trombone, and the bass-horn. the _serpent_ seems to be the connecting link between the trumpet and the flute. . the instruments classed with the flute, are the common flutes of various keys, german flutes, and several kinds of flageolets. nearly allied to these are the clarionet, the hautboy, and bassoon. the breath is applied to the flageolet through an ivory tube at the end; and, in the three last named instruments, a thin reed, capable of a free vibration, is a part of the mouth-piece. . of the instruments which produce musical sounds by the vibration of strings, there are a great number, of which the following are the principal;--the lyre, the harp, the guitar, the lute, the dulcimer, the harpsichord, the spinnet, the piano-forte, the violin, the violincello, and the base-viol. the strings of the three last are agitated with a bow; but those of this class first mentioned, are vibrated by the thumb and fingers, by some little instrument held in the hand, or by little hammers, moved by keys, as in the piano-forte. . the _piano-forte_ is said to be the invention of gottlieb schroder, of hohenstein, in saxony, born in dresden, about the year . before the introduction of this instrument, the clavichord, harpsichord, and spinnet, supplied its place. on all of these instruments complete harmony can be produced by a single performer, and the most difficult series of tones can be executed with rapidity, by means of a simple mechanism. . the _piano-forte_ has been gradually improved, until it has become one of the most elegant instruments in the whole compass of musical practice. in firmness and strength of tone, the english piano-fortes formerly surpassed all others; but, within a few years, they have been equalled, and in some respects excelled, by those of american workmanship. the manufacture of this instrument constitutes the most extensive branch of musical instrument-making. . the instruments of percussion are the military drum, base-drum, kettle-drum, tabor, tamborine, and the triangle. the kettle-drum has received its name from its conformation. it has but one head, and is used in orchestres, and by the cavalry of modern armies, especially in europe. the tabor has two heads, about three inches apart, and is beaten with one stick. the tamborine has one head, drawn over a hoop, to which are attached small bells and bits of tin, to make a jingling sound. the time is beaten on the head with the hand. . the _bag-pipe_ is a wind instrument of high antiquity among the northern nations of europe; but it has been so long a favorite with the natives of scotland, that it may be considered their national instrument. it consists of a leather bag and three pipes. the first of the pipes is that by which the droning noise is produced, the second emits wind from the bottom of the bag, and the third is that on which the music is made. . during the performance on the bag-pipes, the bag is placed under the arm, and worked like a bellows, while the notes are modulated as on a flute or hautboy, by stopping and opening the holes, nine in number, with the ends of the fingers and thumb. the bag is filled by means of the breath blown into it through a pipe. in rome, at the time of advent, the peasants of the mountains express their veneration for the virgin by playing on this instrument before her image. [illustration: the sculptor.] the sculptor. . sculpture is one of the fine arts. in its most extended sense, it includes not only modelling figures in clay, wax, and plaster of paris, and carving them in wood, stone, and marble, but also _casting_ them in bronze, lead, or iron, as well as enchasing and engraving. . the productions of this art are known under various denominations, but the principal are _statues_, _busts_, and _bas-reliefs_. the first of these are entire representations of men or animals in full relief; the second are upper parts of statues; and the last are figures more or less elevated from the body or ground on which they are formed. . the different degrees of elevation in reliefs, are expressed by various terms borrowed from the italian. a figure is said to be in _alto relievo_, or _high relief_, when but a small proportion of it is buried in the back-ground; in _mezzo relievo_, or _middle relief_, when one half of it is above the surface; and in _basso relievo_, or _low relief_, when but little elevated, like figures upon coin. bas-reliefs are usually applied as ornaments to buildings, and to the pediments of statues. . the subjects of sculpture, with a few exceptions, are the same as those of painting; and the course of study essential to proficiency in either, is very similar. they both require much taste and practice, and a thorough knowledge of the human form and other objects frequently represented. the young artist begins with imitating the most perfect models of grecian art; and, after having become well acquainted with their beauties, he proceeds to the imitation of nature. . when any considerable work in stone or marble is to be done, the sculptor forms a model of clay or wax, to guide him in the execution. the soft material is moulded to the proposed form with the hands and small instruments of ivory. the model is by far the most difficult part of the work, and it is here the genius of the artist is to be displayed. the process of copying the model in stone or in any other substance, is an operation merely mechanical, and can often be done by another person as well as by the scientific sculptor himself. . the model having been prepared, the block of marble or stone is marked at certain points corresponding to its chief elevation and concavities. the material is then wrought to the rough outline of the figure, by means of strong steel points, drills, and other perforating tools; and the asperities are afterwards removed with chisels, and with rasps and files of different shapes. when a high polish is required, it is produced by friction with pumice-stone, tripoli, and straw ashes. . marble and stone are carved in a similar manner; but the latter, being softer, can be wrought with less difficulty. the defects which may be met with in the stone are repaired with a composition of plaster of paris and the same stone, pulverized and mixed with water. . _casts_ in plaster of paris and bronze are taken from models, statues, busts, bas-reliefs, and living persons. to do this, it is necessary to form a mould from the subject to be copied. this is done by spreading over it some soft substance, which can be readily forced into all the cavities, and which will harden by drying or cooling. plaster of paris is the most usual material employed for this purpose. . when the subject is a bas-relief, or any other one-sided figure of a similar kind, the mould can be withdrawn without injury, in a single piece; but if it is a statue, or any other figure of like form, it is necessary to divide the mould into several pieces, in order to a safe removal. these pieces again united constitute a perfect mould. while the artist is forming the mould on the face of a living person, the latter breathes through tubes inserted into the nostrils. . in taking casts from such a mould, the internal surface is oiled to prevent adhesion, and then plaster mixed with water is poured into it through a small orifice. the mould is afterwards turned in every direction, that the plaster may cover every part of the surface; and when a sufficiency of it has been distributed to produce the requisite strength, and the plaster has acquired the proper solidity, the several pieces are removed from the cast, which, of course, is an exact resemblance of the subject on which the mould was formed. . superfluous portions of the material, produced by the seams in the mould, are removed with suitable instruments, and applications of fresh plaster are made, where necessary to repair blemishes. the cast is finished by dipping it in a varnish made of soap, white wax, and water, and afterwards rubbing it with soft linen. the polish produced in this manner, approaches that of marble. . the durability of plaster casts, exposed to the weather, is greatly increased by saturating them with linseed oil combined with wax or rosin. they are made to resemble bronze by the application of a soap composed of linseed oil and soda, and colored with the sulphate of copper and iron. . moulds are, also, formed of a warm solution of glue, which hardens upon cooling, and such are called _elastic_ moulds. this material is sometimes preferred on account of its more easy separation from irregular surfaces. for small and delicate impressions in bas-relief, melted sulphur is sometimes employed; also a strong solution of isinglass in proof spirits. all three of the substances last mentioned yield sharper impressions than plaster of paris. . statues designed to occupy situations in which they may be exposed to the weather and mechanical violence, are often made of bronze cast in moulds. the external portions of the mould are made on the pattern, out of plaster, brick-dust, and water. the mould is then covered on the inside with a coating of clay as thick as the bronze is intended to be, and the several pieces are afterwards put together, or _closed_. the internal cavity is next filled with a composition like that on the other side of the clay. . when this has been done, the several pieces forming the outside of the mould are separated, and the clay carefully removed. these having been again united, and the core or internal portion of the mould secured in its true position, the whole is bound with iron hoops, and thoroughly dried. the melted bronze is poured into the cavity formed by the removal of the clay, through an aperture made for the purpose. the cast is afterwards rendered smooth by mechanical means. . it is conjectured with much reason, that sculpture was one of the arts practised before the deluge, and that it was transmitted to posterity by the survivors of that catastrophe. the first images were probably made for the purpose of perpetuating the memory of the dead; but, in process of time, they became objects of adoration. as the chaldeans were unquestionably the first idolators after the flood, so are they supposed to have been the first who made progress in sculpture. . the first notice of this art in the mosaic writings, is found in the passage relative to the teraphim, or idols, which rachel, the wife of jacob, carried clandestinely from her father's house; and the first persons mentioned in the bible, as artists, are aholiab and bezaleel, who formed the cherubim which covered the mercy-seat, together with some other furniture of the tabernacle, and the sculptured ornaments of the garments of the high-priest. . from the same authority, we learn that the nations expelled from canaan, by the jewish people, were not ignorant of sculpture and painting; for moses repeatedly commands the latter to destroy the _pictures_ and molten images which might be discovered in their progress through the land. the israelites crossed the river jordan about years before the commencement of our era. . from this time to the end of the jewish polity, we often meet in the scriptures with indications of the fine arts; but the splendor of solomon's temple, clearly points out the days of that prince as the period in which they had attained their greatest perfection in judea. . the babylonians, assyrians, and phoenicians, became considerably skilful in sculpture, at a very early period, as we learn from early history, and some existing remains. the same remark is also applicable to the inhabitants of hindostan. but writers have been more particular in noticing the style of design among the egyptians, because the progress of the arts among that people is more easily traced, and because it is supposed to elucidate that of most other ancient nations. . the chief objects of sculpture, among the egyptians, were pillars, and other architectural ornaments, idols, the human figure, animals, and hieroglyphics, engraved in a kind of bas-relief on public edifices, and the forms of animals. most of the great works of this nation are supposed to have been executed during and after the reign of sesostris, who lived in the days of rehoboam, king of israel, or about years before the christian era. . but of all the nations of antiquity, the greeks were the most distinguished for sculpture. they derived the first rudiments of the art from the phoenicians, or egyptians, although they assert that they themselves were its inventors. its existence, in a rude state, among that people, preceded that of letters or scientific architecture. . dædalus, who lived about years after moses, was the first sculptor among the greeks, of any notoriety. the statues made before his time, were stiff, formal figures, having the arms attached to the body, and the legs united, like the mummy-shaped productions of egyptian art. he separated the legs of his statues, and placed them, and the upper extremities, in a natural position. he also was the first sculptor who made the eyes of his statues open. on account of these improvements, the greeks said, that his divine genius made statues walk, and see, and speak. . the disciples and imitators of dædalus were called his sons, and artists, generally, _dædalides_. soon after this period, schools of design were established in the island of Ægina, at corinth, at sicyon, and in etruria, in italy: but it seems that no good representations of the human form were effected until near the time of phidias, who was born years before christ. . this most distinguished of all the votaries of sculpture, flourished at or near the same time with the dramatic poets, Æschylus, euripides, and sophocles; the philosophers, socrates, plato, and anaxagoras; and the statesmen and commanders, pericles, miltiades, themistocles, cimon, and xenophon. this was the most refined period of grecian history, and of all others, the most favorable in its moral and political circumstances, for the development of genius. . phidias was the author of the _ideal style_, which, in the fine arts, may be defined, the union of the perfections of any class of figures. among the distinguished productions of this artist, the colossal statues of minerva and jupiter olympius, made of gold and ivory, have excited the greatest astonishment. the former, executed for the parthenon of athens, was twenty-six cubits in height; and the latter, for a splendid temple at elis, was about the same height, although seated upon a throne. . the favorite disciples of phidias, were alcamenes, of attica, and agoracritus, of paros; and at the same time with them, flourished polycletus, of argos, miron, of boeotia, and pythagoras, of rhegium. the _beautiful style_ soon succeeded to the ideal; the authors of which, were praxiteles and scopas, who brought the art to the highest perfection,--since, in their productions, they united beauty and grace. after the days of these two artists, sculpture began to decline; although it continued to be practised with considerable success, for some centuries after this period. . the great superiority of the greeks in the art of sculpture, is ascribed to various causes; among which are classed, their innate love of beauty, and their own elegance of form, combined with the frequent opportunities of studying the human figure, in places where youth were in the habit of performing athletic exercises in a state of nudity. to these may be added, the practice of awarding to citizens a statue of their own persons, for eminent services to the state, and for excelling in exercises at the public games. . the fine arts were nearly extinguished in greece, by the conquest of the romans; who, with ruthless rapacity, seized upon, and transferred to their metropolis and villas, the superb works of taste with which the country abounded. by these means, however, a taste for the arts was produced among the romans, who encouraged with great liberality the greek artists who resorted in great numbers to their city. . the arts at length declined at rome, and finally became nearly extinct in that city, soon after byzantium was made the capital of the roman empire, in of the christian era. the new capitol was enriched by the most valuable statuary of the old metropolis, and by a farther pillage of greece. artists were also encouraged with a munificence similar to that of former times; and many new subjects in painting and sculpture, in illustration of the christian scriptures, were executed as embellishments for the sacred buildings of the city. . the art of sculpture necessarily declined during the time of the unsettled state of europe, which followed the conquests by the barbarous nations. it, however, was not altogether lost, but was occasionally practised, although in a very rude manner, in several kingdoms of europe. in the eleventh century, after the terrors of the northern invasions had passed away, and the governments had become more established, the arts of design began a regular course of improvement, which has been denominated their revival. . this improvement was promoted by means of the frequent intercourse which had sprung up between the commercial cities of italy and the greek empire. in , the pisans founded their great church, called the dome of pisa; and, in its construction, they employed many noble pillars and other fragments of grecian edifices. they also engaged upon the work several grecian sculptors and painters, who exerted in their service the little skill which had come down from antiquity. . the specimens of ancient art thus introduced at pisa, and the works of these artists, at length incited several italians to emulation; among whom was nicolo pisano, who became the restorer of true taste in the arts, in the thirteenth century. at this period, the crusades had diffused such a zeal for the christian religion, that magnificent churches were built in every part of italy, in the designing of which, and in their decoration with sculpture, pisano and his scholars were universally employed. . john pisano, the son of nicolo, was also an architect and sculptor of eminence; and by him was built, for king charles, a castle, and several churches, at naples. he also executed several pieces of sculpture, and superintended the construction of some edifices in tuscany. this sculptor, who died in , had several pupils, of whom agostino and agnolo sanesi were the best sculptors of the time. . in , an academy of design was formed at florence by the union of several painters, sculptors, and architects. this institution was called after st. luke, whom tradition makes a painter by profession. the society was afterwards munificently patronised by the medici, a noble and wealthy family of that city. . from this school, there soon proceeded a great number of skilful artists, among whom were the sculptors lorenzo ghiberti, donatello, and brunileschi; and after these, others perhaps still more distinguished, until it produced michael angelo buonarotti, who, as a universal genius in the arts of design, has excelled every other artist, whether ancient or modern. . this great man was born in florence, in . his father, having discovered his talent for designing, made him a pupil of dominic ghirlandaio, who instructed him in the first principles of the art of drawing. he studied statuary under bartoldo; and, in his sixteenth year, copied the head of a satyr in marble, to the admiration of all connoisseurs. on account of his great promise, he was liberally patronised by lorenzo de medicis, who, besides allowing him a pension, gave him a lodging in the palace, and a place at his table. after the death of this prince, he enjoyed the same favors from his son, pietro de medicis. . his reputation as an artist having been established at florence, he was called to rome by julius ii. from this time, he remained chiefly in the service of the popes, for whom he executed many inimitable works, both of sculpture and painting. he was also an architect of the first order; and, as such, was employed on st. peter's church, as well as on several other public edifices. he died in , at an advanced age. . sculpture, having been brought to as high a state of perfection as it was ever likely to be carried, began to decline in italy, as it had done before, under similar circumstances, in ancient times; but as barbarism did not again occur to overwhelm it, it did not entirely disappear. it continued to be practised, although in a very inferior degree, until it was again revived by antonio canoya, near the close of the eighteenth century. . the french nation, from its vicinity and intercourse with italy, obtained from that country the means of improvement in every branch of the fine arts. accordingly, native artists of considerable merit occasionally appeared. the kings of france, also, often employed italian architects and sculptors on their great public works. in the reign of francis i., leonardo da vinci, and two other artists from italy, established a school of fine arts similar to that of st. luke, at florence; and the genius of the people, added to national munificence, have kept a respectable school of sculpture to the present time. . considerable ability in sculpture has likewise been exhibited by native artists of spain, germany, holland, england, and some other countries of europe; but whatever skill has been displayed in any of these countries has been derived, in an indirect manner, at least, from italy. in the united states, the fine arts have been cultivated with considerable spirit. an academy for this purpose has been established both in new york and philadelphia, and a picture gallery has been connected with the athenæum in boston, in which the annual exhibition of paintings is respectable. [illustration: the painter.] the painter. . painting is the art of representing visible objects, by means of lines and colors, on a plane surface, so as to produce the appearance of relief. it is justly ranked among the highest of that class of arts denominated fine, or liberal; and its tendencies and powers being similar to those of poetry, it is considered an employment worthy of men of the most exalted rank. . the theory and practice of this ingenious and delightful art, are divided by its professors into five distinct branches,----_invention_, _composition_, _design_, _chiaro-scuro_, and _coloring_. _invention_ relates to the choice of subjects to be introduced into a picture. it is this which gives the highest character to the artist, as it affords the greatest opportunity to display the powers of his mind. . _composition_ regards the general distribution and grouping of figures, the choice of attitudes, the disposal of draperies, the situation of the scene itself, as well as the arrangement and connexion of the various parts of the scenery. invention and composition are employed particularly in the first rough sketch of a picture. . _design_ refers to the expression of a proposed picture in simple contour, or outlines. it is applied in making the first rough sketch of the picture, whether in miniature or in its full size, as well as in the more accurate expression of the form of the figures, in its final finish. the artist, in making his design, is guided in drawing his lines by the rules of _perspective_, according to which he is able to _foreshorten_ objects, and thereby diminish the space which they occupy, without giving them the appearance of diminished magnitude. . _perspective_ has been defined the art of delineating the outlines of objects on any given surface, as they would appear to the eye, if that surface were transparent, and the objects themselves were seen through it, from a fixed position. for example; when we look through a window at a mass of buildings, and observe that part of the glass to which each object, line, or point appears opposite, we find that their apparent position is very different from their real. a delineation of these objects on the glass, as they appear, would be termed a representation in perspective. . correct perspective is the foundation of scientific painting; and, next in importance to this, is a proper distribution of light and shade. this branch of the art is called _chiaro obscuro_, or, when abridged, _chiaro-scuro_. the term is italian in its origin, and its literal meaning is _clear_ and _obscure_. to the skilful management of light and shade, we are indebted for the strength and liveliness of pictures, and their relief, or the elevation which certain parts appear to assume above the plane upon which the objects are represented. . by the aid of perspective and chiaro-scuro, very good representations in one color are attained. drawings in india-ink and crayons, as well as pictures taken from engraved plates and wood-cuts, are specimens of such productions. but a nearer approach to the appearance of nature, is made by the employment of colors analogous to those which are found to exist in the objects to be represented. . to produce various hues in painting, the artist employs coloring substances, which, either alone or by mixture, are analogous to them all; and, in their use, he is careful to apply them in such a manner, that the true colors remain distinct from the lights and shades necessary to produce the objects in relief. artificial colors are divided into _warm_ and _cold_. the former are those in which red and yellow predominate; the latter are blue, gray, and others allied to them. . before coloring substances can be applied in painting, they must be reduced to extreme fineness, and be mixed with some tenacious fluid, to cause them to adhere to the surface on which they are to be spread. the fluid employed for this purpose, and the mode of applying the colors, have given rise to the different kinds of painting, of which the following are the principal: _crayon_, _water-color_, _distemper_, _fresco_, and _oil-painting_. . the most simple mode of applying the colors is by means of crayons. they are made of black lead, a species of chalk, or of a mixture of coloring matter with gum, size, or clay. for painting in _water-colors_, the substances employed in communicating the tints are combined with gum, and formed into cakes or lozenges. when about to be used, they are dissolved in water, on glass or a glazed surface. the application in painting, is made by means of a camel's-hair pencil. . painting in _distemper_ is used for the execution of works on a large scale, such as stage scenery, and the walls of apartments. the coloring substances are mixed with water, rendered tenacious by size or solutions of glue, or by skimmed milk, increased in tenacity by a small quantity of thyme. linseed or poppy oil often serves as a vehicle for the colors, in this kind of painting. . paintings in _fresco_ are executed on walls of plaster. the coloring matter mixed with water, being applied to the plaster while the latter is in a fresh state, sinks in, and incorporates itself with it, so as to become very durable. during the execution of the work, the plaster is applied to the wall in successive portions, no more being added at a time, than can be conveniently painted before it becomes dry. works of this kind must be executed with great rapidity; and, on this account, patterns, called _cartoons_, are previously drawn on large paper, to guide the artist in his operations. . _oil painting_ derives its name from the mixture of the colors in oil. the oils used for this purpose are extracted from vegetables; and, on account of the rapidity with which they dry, are denominated drying oils. for most purposes, this mode of painting is decidedly superior to all others. it admits of a higher finish, as it allows the artist to retouch his works with greater precision. the colors also blend together more agreeably, and produce a more delicate effect. oil paintings are executed on canvas, wood, or copper. . paintings are imitated with surprising elegance, by cementing together colored pieces of glass and marble, as well as those of wood. representations by these means, are called _mosaics_, or _mosaic paintings_. the cause of their having received this appellation cannot be ascertained. some, without much reason, attribute the origin and name of this branch of the art to moses. others suppose that works of this kind have been thus denominated, because they were first employed in grottoes dedicated to the _muses_. . drawings and paintings are divided into classes, according to the nature of the objects represented, the principal of which are _historical_, _architectural_, _landscape_, _marine_, _portrait_, _still life_, _grotesque_, _botanical_, and _animal_. the subordinate divisions of these branches are very numerous. . the propensity to imitation, so deeply rooted in the human mind, is the foundation of the arts of design; and there can scarcely be indicated a lengthened period in the history of man, in which it was entirely inactive. it may have first been accidentally exhibited in tracing the form of some object in the sand; or resemblances in sticks and stones, may have originally suggested the idea of imitations by means of lines and colors. . although painting and sculpture may be supposed to have existed, at least in a rude state, at a very early period, and even before the deluge, yet the reign of semiramis, queen of assyria, years before christ, is the earliest to which authentic history extends. diodorus siculus relates that the queen, having thrown a bridge across the euphrates, at babylon, erected a castle at each end of it, and inclosed them with walls of considerable height, with towers upon them. the bricks of which they were constructed, were painted before they underwent the fire, and were so put together, that single figures, and even groups of them, were represented in colors. . this author supposes also, that the arts had attained nearly an equal degree of cultivation about the same time in egypt, sculpture, as best serving idolatrous purposes, being in both countries much in advance of the sister art of painting. but, in neither country, was painting or sculpture brought to a great degree of perfection. . in egypt, independent selection of objects, and variety of exhibition, never appear to have been much regarded. when a specific form of character had been once adopted, so it remained, and was repeated unchanged for ages. little action, and no expression, was given to figures. the chief employment of the egyptian artists, seems to have been the painting of the chests of mummies, and the ornaments on barges and earthenware. . painting, in the early days of its existence, was employed chiefly in the exhibition and preservation of historical facts; and, wherever it remained faithful to these objects, it was obliged to sacrifice the beautiful to the significant. only in those countries where alphabetical writing existed, could painting elevate itself to a fine art. . the pelasgi, who expelled or subdued the earlier inhabitants of greece, and colonized that country, probably brought with them the rudiments of this art; and it at length grew up with its sister arts. in some of the stages of its progress, this intelligent people, no doubt, received useful hints from other countries, and especially from egypt; yet they finally surpassed all the nations of antiquity in this branch of art. . the greeks, with singular care, have preserved the names of their artists from the earliest periods of their practice. ardens, of corinth, telephanes and crato, of sycion, and some others, are noticed as such, when painting had advanced no farther than the mere circumscription of shadows by single lines. . the different kinds of painting, as marked by the successive stages of the art among the greeks, are as follows; . the _skiagram_, or drawing in simple outlines, as in the circumscriptions of shadows. . the _monogram_, including both the outlines and others within them. . the _monochrom_, or picture in a single color. . the _polychrom_, or picture of many colors. . although the names of the grecian artists were carefully preserved, the time in which they lived was not distinctly marked until the th olympiad, or years before the commencement of our era. at this time, candaules, king of lydia, purchased a picture called the battle of the magnetes, for which he paid its weight in gold, although painted on boards. the name of the fortunate artist was bularchus. . notwithstanding the fame of this picture, aglaophon and polygnotus, of thasos, who flourished years after this period, were the first eminent painters. polygnotus is said to have been the first who gave a pleasing air to the draperies and head-dresses of females, and to have opened the mouth so far as to exhibit the beauty of the teeth. . still, painting is considered to have been in an inferior state, until the appearance of timanthes, parrhasius, and zeuxis, who flourished about years before christ. these again were surpassed by their successors, protogenes, pamphilus, melanthius, antiphilus, theon, euphranor, apelles, and aristides, who carried the art to the greatest perfection to which it attained in ancient times. . of the preceding list of artists, apelles was the most famous, especially as a portrait painter. he was the intimate friend of alexander the great, who would never permit any other person to paint his likeness. his most celebrated painting, was this prince holding the lightning with which the picture is chiefly illuminated. by a happy application of perspective and chiaro-scuro, the hand with the lightning seemed to project from the picture. . from the time of these great masters, painting gradually declined, although the art continued to be practised by a succession of eminent men, who contended against the blighting influence of the luxury and the internal broils of their countrymen. but soon after greece became subject to the roman power, the practice of the fine arts nearly ceased in that country. . before the foundation of rome, the arts were cultivated, to some extent, in etruria and calabria; but the first roman painter mentioned in history, was fabius, a noble patrician, who painted, in the year of the city , the temple of the goddess salus, and thereby obtained for himself and family the surname of _pictor_. yet the citizens do not seem to have profited by this example; for no other painter appeared among them until years after that period. at this time, pacuvius, the poet, amused himself, in the decline of life, with painting the temple of hercules. . they were thus inattentive to the cultivation of this, as well as of the other fine arts, because they considered warfare, and the arts which tended directly to support this interest, as alone worthy of the attention of a citizen of their republic; and painting, even after the time of pacuvius, was considered effeminate and disgraceful. rome, therefore, cannot be said, at any time, to have produced a single artist who could approach the excellences of those of its refined neighbors, the greeks. . they, however, having ornamented their metropolis and villas with specimens of the arts plundered from the cities of greece and sicily, began, at length, to appreciate their excellences; and finally, under the first emperors, they encouraged, with great munificence, the greeks who resorted to their city for employment. . but, both sculpture and painting, as well as architecture, declined with roman civilization. still, they continued to exist, especially in the byzantine or eastern empire, although in a very inferior state. the art under consideration was preserved chiefly by its application to the purposes of christianity. it was revived in italy, in the beginning of the twelfth century, by means of several grecian artists, who had been employed to ornament the churches, and other edifices at pisa, venice, and florence. . the works of apollonius, one of these greeks, excited in giovanni cimabue a spirit of emulation; and, having been initiated into the practice of the art, he executed a picture of the virgin mary, as large as life, for a church dedicated to her, at florence. this production excited enthusiastic delight in his fellow-citizens, who carried it in procession, with the sound of trumpets, to its place of destination, and celebrated the day as a public feast. . encouraged by this applause, cimabue pursued the art with ardor; and, although considered a prodigy in his time, his utmost efforts failed to produce tolerable specimens of the art. he, however, far excelled his immediate predecessors; and, by introducing more correct proportions, by giving more life and expression to his figures, and by some other improvements, he became the founder of the art as it exists in modern times. he was born at florence, in , and died at the age of sixty. . the favorite pupil of cimabue, was giotto, whom he raised from a shepherd to be a painter; and by him the art was still more relieved from the greek imperfections. he abandoned the use of labels as means of distinguishing the different figures of a picture, and aimed at, and attained to, real expression. he marked out to the italians the course in which the art should be pursued, as polygnotus had done to the greeks near years before; although, like him, he failed in fully exemplifying his principles. . his abilities procured him the patronage of pope boniface viii., who employed him at rome. from this time, the art of painting became attached to the papal dignity, and few succeeding pontiffs have neglected its use. the skill and celebrity of this ingenious artist excited great emulation, and the arts having obtained an earnest of profit and honor, no longer wanted skilful professors or illustrious patrons. . in , fourteen years after the death of giotto, his disciple, jacopo cassentino, and nine other artists, founded the academy of st. luke, at florence. this was a grand epoch of the arts; as from this institution arose a large display of talent, increasing in splendor until, within years, it gave to the world, masaccio, leonardo da vinci, michael angelo buonarotti, and raphael, besides others of great ability. . the art advanced but little after the time of giotto, until the appearance of masaccio. under the hand of this great master, painting is said to have been greatly improved; and it was to him, that the artists who succeeded were indebted for a more sure and full direction of the course in which they ought to proceed. he was born in , and died in . . leonardo da vinci, who was born about two years after the death of masaccio, brought the art to still greater perfection; and being endowed with uncommon genius, all the arts and sciences did not seem to afford a field sufficient for the exertion of his talents. he grasped at all, and succeeded far better than his predecessors in everything he undertook; but he wasted much of his time in experiments. had he confined his great powers to the art of painting, he would probably have never been exceeded. . about the year , oil came to be used as a vehicle for paints. it seems to have been first applied to this purpose in flanders, by john van eyck, of brussels; or it was, at least, first used by him successfully. the first hint of its utility in this application is thought, with reason, to have been obtained from its use as a varnish to pictures painted in water-colors. . the art of painting was introduced into flanders about the time of giotto, by several flemings, who had been to italy for the express purpose of learning it. it was also diffused in practice, about the same time, in germany; and a particular style of the art grew up in each of these countries. but it was in italy alone that the art may be said to have flourished in a high state of cultivation; and even there, the principal productions originated from artists of the florentine school. . the art of painting was perfected, perhaps, as far as human ability can carry it, in the first half of the sixteenth century, by michael angelo buonarotti, raphael, titian, and correggio; although it cannot be said that all its excellences were united in the productions of any one of these distinguished professors. such a union has never yet been displayed, nor can it hardly be expected. . the art was essentially aided in its progressive stages of advancement by the liberal patronage of the family of the medici, at florence, and by the pontiffs, at rome. angelo and raphael were both employed at rome by julius ii. and leo x., as well as by others who succeeded them in the papal chair, in ornamenting the palaces and sacred buildings. their productions have never been exceeded in any country, and they still remain the objects of careful study by artists of this profession. . titian was also liberally patronised at rome, and in other parts of italy, as well as in spain and germany, chiefly as a portrait and landscape painter. the unrivalled productions of these great masters, however, were fatal to the art in italy, since their superior excellence extinguished emulation, by destroying the prospect of equal or superior success. . the flourishing state of the art in italy, for so long a period, might be expected to have produced a taste for its cultivation in other parts of europe; but this was the case only to a limited extent. no other countries have yet been particularly distinguished for artists in this branch of the fine arts, except flanders and holland; and these were chiefly indebted for the distinction to peter paul rubens, of antwerp, who was born at cologne, in , and to paul van rhyn rembrandt, who was born in , in his father's mill, near leyden. some of the scholars of these masters were eminent painters. anthony vandyck, a pupil of the former, in particular, is said to have never yet been equalled as a portrait-painter. . very little is known of the art in spain, until about the year , although it is supposed to have been cultivated with some success before that time. the examples which were left there by titian produced a favorable impression, and several native artists of considerable eminence afterwards appeared; but the art became nearly extinct in the following age. . the proximity of france to italy, and the employment of leonardo da vinci and other eminent artists of italy by francis i., together with the establishment of a school of fine arts, as stated in the preceding article, might have been expected to lay the foundation of exalted taste in this kingdom. nevertheless, the only french painters whose names have come down to us with any pretensions to excellence for one hundred and fifty years, were jean cousin, jaques blanchard, nicholas poussin, and charles le brun. the last, although inferior to poussin, is at the head of the french school of painting. . the successors of le brun were not wanting in ability, yet, with a few exceptions, they failed in reaching an enviable eminence in the art, on account of their servile imitation of the false taste of their popular model. the fantastic style of le brun became unpopular in france some time previous to the revolution in that country; and another, of an opposite character, and by artists of other nations thought to be equally distant from true taste, has been since adopted. . very little is known of the state of the fine arts in england until the time of henry viii., who encouraged the abilities of hans holbein, an eminent painter from switzerland. but painting and sculpture, and particularly the former, having become intimately interwoven with the religion of the church of rome, fell into disrepute in england after the change of opinion on this subject in that country. they, however, began to revive in the eighteenth century, and england and english america have since produced some eminent painters, among whom are hogarth, reynolds, opie, west, copley, trumbull, and peale. [illustration: the engraver.] the engraver. engraving is the art of cutting letters or figures in wood, metals, or stone. it was practised in very ancient times, and in different countries, for the purposes of ornament and monumental inscription; but the idea of taking impressions on paper, or on any other substance, from engraved surfaces, is comparatively modern. the wood engraver. . the chinese are said to have been the first who engraved figures or letters on wood, for the purpose of printing. the precise time at which they commenced the practice, is totally unknown; but a book printed by them in the tenth century, is now extant. it is thought by some antiquarians, that the europeans derived the art from the chinese, through the venitians, who traded in that part of the world earlier than any other europeans. . this opinion is somewhat probable, from the circumstance that the tools employed by the early engravers in europe, are similar to those used in china; and also, like the chinese, they engraved on the side of the grain. however this may be, it is certain that the art was practised in various parts of europe in the fourteenth century. the earliest subjects executed, were figures of saints, rudely engraved in outline. the prints taken from them were gaily colored, and sold to the common people as original paintings. the principal persons engaged in this traffic were monks, to whom the art was confined for a considerable time. . at length, larger subjects, with inscriptions in imitation of manuscript, were executed. the success of these prints gave rise to a more extensive application of the art. scriptural subjects, of many figures, with texts of scripture, were engraved, and impressions were taken from them on one side of the paper, two sheets being pasted together to form a leaf. entire sets were bound up together, and thus were formed the first printed books, which, being produced entirely from wood-cuts, are known by the name of _block-books_. these books made their appearance about the year . . one of the earliest of these productions is denominated "the apocalypse of st. john;" another, "the poor man's bible." but one of the latest and most celebrated, is called "the mirror of salvation," published in . part of the text was printed from solid blocks, and part, from moveable wooden types. from this fact, it is easy to discover the origin of printing. after this, most, if not all, of the books, were printed from moveable types; but, as they were embellished with wood cuts, the demand for such engravings was very much increased, although they were, at first, by no means elegant. . near the close of the fifteenth century, the art began to assume a higher character, principally by the talents of michael wolgermuth and william pluydenwurf. albert durer made still greater improvements, and, in , published his celebrated apocalypse of st. john, printed from folio blocks. other celebrated engravers succeeded him in the sixteenth century, which may be considered the era when wood engraving was at its highest point of elevation. after this, the art declined, and was considered of little importance, until it was revived in , by the distinguished william bewick, of newcastle, england. it is still practised, especially in england and the united states, in a manner which reflects credit on the ingenuity of the age. . the earlier artists operated on various kinds of wood, such as the apple, pear, and beech; but these, being too soft, are now used only for calico-printing and other common purposes. box-wood, on account of its superior texture, is used for every subject that can be termed a work of art. that from turkey is the best. . the engravers, in the infancy of the art, prepared the wood as the common block-cutters now do. the tree was cut the way of the grain, in planks, and of course they engraved on the side of the grain, as upon a board. this mode of preparation enabled them to execute larger subjects. the engravers now prefer the end of the grain, and therefore cut the log transversely. . the end on which the engraver is to exert his skill, is planed and scraped, to render the surface smooth, and the block having been cut to the proper size, the drawing is made upon it in india ink, or with a lead-pencil. the block is now ready for the artist who, in executing the work, holds it with one hand, on a cushion made of sand and leather, while, with the other, he cuts away the superfluous wood. the part intended to make the impression in printing, is left standing. . wood engravings, well executed, are scarcely inferior to those of copper and steel, and, for many purposes, they are preferred. they are remarkably convenient, since they can be inserted into a page of types, where illustrations or embellishments may be required, and be printed without separate expense. they will also bear a great number of impressions--generally , . in this respect, they are decidedly superior to metallic plates. they can likewise be multiplied indefinitely by the process of stereotyping. the copperplate engraver. . the engravers on metallic surfaces are termed copperplate engravers, not because copper is the only metal on which they exert their skill, but because it is the one on which they usually operate. the plates are prepared for the artist by the coppersmith, by rubbing them with brickdust and charcoal, after having cut them of a proper size from sheets of copper. . the instruments employed by this artist are few and simple, the principal of which are, the _graver_, the _dry-point_, the _scraper_, and the _burnisher_. the _graver_ is a small bar of steel, of a square or lozenge form, and, with the short handle into which it is inserted, about five inches in length. one of the angles of the bar is always on the under side of the instrument, and the point is formed by bevelling the end from the upper side, or angle. the square form is used for broad strokes, and the lozenge for fine ones. . the _dry-point_, or needle, is a steel wire with a long cylindrical handle; or it is simply a wire of sufficient length and size to be used without a handle. the _scraper_ has nearly the form of a triangular pyramid; and the cutting part, which has three edges, is two or three inches long. the _burnisher_ has a form nearly conical, and, without the handle, is about three inches long. the last two instruments are frequently made of the same piece of steel, properly forged at each end. in such case, the middle part of the steel is the handle by which they are held. . of engraving on copper, the following are the principal varieties or styles: . line engraving; . stippling; . etching; . mezzotinto; . aquatinta. for the purpose of conveying some idea of these different branches, we will describe them under distinct heads. . _line engraving._ the first thing done, in this species of engraving, is to transfer to the plate an exact copy of the outlines of the design to be executed. in accomplishing this, the plate is moderately heated, and covered with a thin coating of white wax. a piece of transparent paper is then laid over the design to be copied, and traced in outline with a black-lead pencil. the outline thus sketched is turned down upon the coating of white wax, and the whole is subjected to the action of a rolling-press; or it is kept for a while under heavy weights. by the application of this pressure, the lines are transferred from the paper to the wax on the plate in a reversed position, which is necessary to make the impression of the finished plate resemble the original. . the pencil-marks on the wax having been lightly traced on the copper with the dry-point, and the wax having been melted off, a perfect outline is found on the plate. small subordinate parts of the design are transferred to the plate in the same manner, except that the transparent paper is brought in forcible contact with the waxed surface by means of the burnisher. . at this stage of the process, the artist commences the use of the graver. while operating with this instrument, he holds the handle in the palm of his hand, and pushes the point forward with a firm and steady motion, until a line is produced by a removal of a portion of the metal. by a succession of such strokes, judiciously applied, the work is completed. the _burrs_, or little elevations of the copper, left by the graver on each side of the lines, are removed by means of the scraper and burnisher. mistakes or blemishes are erased from the plate, either with the burnisher, or by friction with charcoal. . _stippling._ the second mode of engraving is called stippling. this resembles the last method in its process, except that the effect is produced by means of minute punctures or excavations, instead of lines. these are made either with the dry-point or graver. when produced by the former instrument, they are of a circular form; when by the latter, they are rhomboidal or triangular. this style of work is always more slow, and consequently more expensive, than engraving in lines. it has, however, some advantages in the softness and delicacy of its lights and shades, and the prints struck from it approach more nearly to paintings. . _etching._ this mode of engraving is far more easy than any other, being performed chiefly by chemical corrosion. in fact, any person who can draw, may _etch_ coarse designs tolerably well, after having learned the theory of the operation. to perform it, the plate is first covered with a thin coating of some resinous substance, upon which the acid employed can have no action. the design, and all the lines it requires, are next traced on the plate with steel points, called _etching needles_, which are instruments similar to the dry-point. . the second part of the process is the corrosion, or, as it is technically called, _biting in_. this is effected by pouring upon the design a quantity of diluted nitric acid, after having surrounded the edges of the plate with a wall of soft wax, to prevent the escape of the fluid. a chemical action immediately takes place in all the lines or points where the copper has been denuded by the needle. after the first biting has been continued long enough, in the judgment of the operator, the acid is poured off, and the plate examined. . the light shades, if found sufficiently deep, are then covered with varnish, to protect them from further corrosion. the biting is then continued for the second shades, in the same manner, and afterwards, for the third and succeeding shades, until the piece shall have been finished. the plate having been cleaned, and carefully examined by the aid of a proof impression, the deficiencies which may be discovered are supplied with the graver. . _mezzotinto._ in the production of this kind of engraving, the whole surface of the plate is first roughened, or covered with minute prominences and excavations too small to be obvious to the naked eye; so that an impression taken from it, in this state, would present a uniform velvety, black appearance. this roughness is produced mechanically by means of a small toothed instrument, called a _cradle_. . when the plate has been thus prepared, the rest of the process is comparatively easy. it consists in pressing down or rubbing out the roughness of certain parts of the plate, with the burnisher and scraper. where strong lights are required, the plate is restored to a smooth surface; for a medium light, it is moderately burnished, or partially erased; and, for the deepest shades, the ground is left entire, and sometimes etched, and corroded with nitric acid. impressions from mezzotinto plates approach more nearly to oil paintings than any other prints. this kind of engraving was invented by prince rupert, in . . _aqua-tinta._ there are several methods by which this kind of engraving can be executed; we, however, will describe the one which seems to be the most simple and obvious. the outline of the picture having been etched or engraved in the usual manner, the surface of the copper is sprinkled equally with minute particles of rosin. this dust is fixed to the surface by heating the plate until the rosin has melted. . the ground having been thus laid, the parts of the plates not intended to be occupied by the design are _stopped out_ by means of thick varnish. the plate is now surrounded with a wall of wax, as for etching, and diluted nitric acid is poured upon it. a chemical action immediately takes place, by which the surface exposed between the resinous particles is minutely excavated. . the lighter shades are stopped out at an early stage of the process, and the _biting in_ is continued for the darker ones. after the plate is judged to be sufficiently corroded, it is cleansed, and an impression is taken on paper. the process is finished by burnishing the shades, to give them greater softness, and by touching up the defective parts with the graver. . this mode of engraving is well adapted to light subjects, sketches, landscapes, &c.; but, owing to the fineness of the ground, the plates wear out rapidly, and seldom yield, when of ordinary strength, more than six hundred impressions. the prints taken from such plates bear a strong resemblance to paintings in indian ink, or to drawings in black-lead pencil. aqua-tinta is the most precarious kind of engraving, and requires much attention on the part of the artist. it was invented by a frenchman, named leprince, who, for a time, kept the process a secret, and sold his impressions for original drawings. . _steel engraving._ the process of engraving on steel plates differs but little in its details from that on copper plates; and the chief advantage derived from this method, arises from the hardness or toughness of the material, which renders it capable of yielding a greater number of impressions. . this mode of engraving was first practised, in england, by the calico-printers; but steel was first employed for bank-notes, and for common designs, by jacob perkins, of newburyport, massachusetts; and by him, in conjunction with asa spencer, of new-london, and gideon fairman, of philadelphia, the use of steel in this application was generally introduced, not only in the united states, but also in great britain, some time before the year . . the plates are prepared for the engraver from sheets of steel about one-sixth of an inch in thickness. a plate cut from a sheet of this kind is first softened by heating it with charcoal, and suffering it to cool gradually in the atmosphere. it is next _planished_, or hammered on a peculiar kind of anvil, to make it perfectly level, and afterwards ground on one side upon a grindstone. the operation is completed by polishing it with scotch stone and charcoal. when steel was first substituted for copper, it was hardened before it was used in printing; but it is now used in its soft state, as it comes from the hands of the artist. [illustration: copperplate printer.] the copperplate-printer. . the copperplate-printer takes impressions on paper from engraved plates by means of a rolling press. this machine, together with some of the operations in its application, are well exhibited in the above picture. . the period at which the practice of printing from engraved plates commenced, cannot be ascertained with any degree of certainty. the dutch, the germans, and the italians, contend for the honor of introducing it; but the weight of testimony seems to be in favor of the claims of the italian sculptor and goldsmith, tommaso finiguera, who flourished at florence, about the middle of the fifteenth century. . it is stated that this artist, accidentally spilling some melted brimstone on an engraved plate, found, on its removal, an exact impression of the engraving, marked with black, taken out of the strokes. this suggested to him the idea of taking an impression in ink on paper, by the aid of a roller. it is hardly necessary to state, that the experiment succeeded. copperplate-printing was not used in england until about years after its first employment at florence, when it was introduced from antwerp, by speed. . the ink used in this kind of printing is made of a carbonaceous substance, called frankfort black, and linseed or nut oil. oil is used, instead of water, that the ink may not dry during the process; and it is boiled till it has become thick and viscid, that it may not spread on the paper. the materials are incorporated and prepared with the stone and muller, as painters prepare their colors. . in taking impressions from an engraved plate, it is first placed on an iron frame over a heated stove, or over a charcoal fire in a furnace, and while in this position, the ink is spread over it with a roller covered with coarse cloth, or with a ball of rubber made of the same material, and faced with buckskin. the heat renders the ink so thin that it can penetrate the minute excavations of the engraving. the plate having been thus sufficiently charged, is wiped first with a rag, then with the hand, until the ink has been removed from every portion of it, except from the lines of the engraving. . the plate is next placed on the platform of the press, with its face upwards, and the paper, which has been previously dampened, is laid upon it. a turn of the cylinders, by means of the arms of the cross, carries the plate under a strong pressure, by which portions of the paper are forced into all the cavities of the engraving. the ink, or part of it, leaves the plate, and adheres to the paper, giving an exact representation of the whole work of the artist. the roller by which the pressure is applied is covered with several thicknesses of broadcloth. . the number of good impressions yielded by engraved copperplates, depends upon various circumstances, but chiefly on the fineness and depth of the work; and these qualities depend mainly upon the style in which it has been executed. line engravings will admit of four or five thousand, and, after having been retouched, a considerable number more. . plates of steel will yield near ten times as many good impressions as those of copper, and this too without being hardened. besides, an engraving on steel may be transferred to a softened steel cylinder, in such a manner that the lines may stand in relief; and this cylinder, after having been hardened, may be brought in forcible contact with another plate, and thus the design may be multiplied at pleasure. . the bank-note engravers have now a great variety of designs and figures on steel rollers, which they can easily transfer to new plates. this practice, as applied to plates for bank-notes, originated with jacob perkins. it is supposed that he must have been led to it by an english engraver in his employ, who may have explained to him the manner in which the british calico-printers produced engravings on copper cylinders. this is not altogether improbable, since the principle in both cases is substantially the same. . in consequence of the increased demand for maps and pictorial embellishments in books, as well as for single prints as ornaments for rooms, engraving and copperplate-printing have become employments of considerable importance; and these arts must doubtless continue to flourish to an indefinite extent, in a country where the taste for the fine arts is rapidly improving, and where wealth affords the means of liberal patronage. [illustration: lithographer.] the lithographer. . the word _lithography_ is derived from two greek words--_lithos_, a stone, and _grapho_, to write; and the art to which the term is applied has reference to the execution of letters, figures, and drawings, on stone, and taking from them fac-simile impressions. the art is founded on the property which stone possesses, of imbibing fluids by capillary attraction, and on the chemical repulsion which oil and water have for each other. . every kind of calcareous stone is capable of being used for lithography. those, however, which are of a compact, fine, and equal grain, are best adapted to the purpose. the quarries of solenhofen, near pappenheim, in bavaria, furnished the first plates, and none have yet been found in any other place, to equal them in quality; although some that answer the purpose tolerably well, have been taken from quarries in france and england. . in preparing the stones for use, they are first ground to a level surface, by rubbing two of them face to face, sand and water being interposed. then, if they are designed for _ink drawings_, they are polished with pumice-stone; but, if for _chalk drawings_, with fine sand, which produces a grained surface adapted to holding the chalk. . when stones of proper size and texture cannot be conveniently obtained, slabs are sometimes constructed of lime and sand, and united with the caseous part of milk. the first part of the process which may be considered as belonging peculiarly to the art, consists in making the drawing on the stone. this is done either in ink, with steel pens and camel's hair pencils, or with crayons made of lithographic chalk. the process of drawing on stone differs but little from that on paper, with similar means. . for lithographic ink, a great number of receipts have been given; but the most approved composition consists of equal parts of wax, tallow, shell-lac, and common soap, with a small proportion of lamp-black. lithographic chalk is usually composed of the same materials, combined in different proportions. . when the drawing has been finished, the lithographic printer prepares it for giving impressions, by using upon its surface a weak solution of acid and other ingredients, which corrode the surface of the stone, except where it is defended from its action by the grease of the chalk or ink. as soon as the stone has been sufficiently eaten away, the solution is removed by the application of spirits of turpentine and water. . the ink employed in this kind of printing, is similar in its composition to other kinds of printing ink. it is applied to the drawing by means of a small wooden cylinder covered with leather. the paper, which has been suitably dampened, is laid upon the stone, and after it has been covered, by turning down upon it a thick piece of leather stretched upon an iron frame, a crank is turned which brings the stone successively under the press. . an impression of the drawing having been thus communicated to the paper, the sheet is removed, and the process is repeated, until the proposed number of prints have been taken. before each application of the ink, the whole face of the stone is moderately wet with water by means of a sponge; and although the roller passes over the whole surface of the stone, yet the ink adheres to no part of it, except to that which is covered with the drawing. . the number of impressions which may be taken from chalk drawings, varies according to their fineness. a fine drawing will give fifteen hundred; a coarse one, twice that number. ink drawings and writings give considerably more than copperplates, the finest yielding six or eight thousand, and strong lines and writings many more. . impressions from engravings can be multiplied indefinitely, with very little trouble, in the following manner. a print is taken in the usual way from the engraved plate, and immediately laid with its face upon water. when sufficiently wet, it is carefully applied to the face of a stone, and pressed down upon it by the application of a roller, until the ink is transferred to the stone. impressions are then taken in the manner before described. . the invention of lithography is ascribed to aloys senifelder, the son of a performer at the theatre of munich. having become an author, and being too poor to publish his works in the usual way, he tried many plans, with copperplates and compositions, in order to be his own printer. a trial on stone, which had been accidentally suggested, succeeded. his first essays to print for publication, were some pieces of music, executed in . . the first productions of the art were rude, and of little promise; but, since , its progress has been so rapid, that it now gives employment to a great number of artists; and works are produced, which rival the finest engravings, and even surpass them in the expression of certain subjects. the earliest date of the art in the united states, is , when a press was established at boston, by william pendleton. [illustration: the author.] the author. . the word author, in a general sense, is used to express the originator or efficient cause of a thing; but, in the restricted sense in which it is applied in this article, it signifies the first writer of a book, or a writer in general. the indispensable qualifications to make a writer are--a talent for literary composition, an accurate knowledge of language, and an acquaintance with the subject to be treated. . very few persons are educated with the view to their becoming authors. they generally write on subjects pertaining to the profession or business in which they have been practically engaged: a clergyman writes on divinity; a physician, on medicine; a lawyer, on jurisprudence; a teacher, on education; and a mechanic, on his particular trade. there are subjects, however, which occupy common ground, on which individuals of various professions often write. . authorship is founded upon the invention of letters, and the art of combining them into words. in the earliest ages of the world, the increase of knowledge was opposed by many formidable obstacles. tradition was the first means of transmitting information to posterity; and this, depending upon the memory and will of individuals, was exceedingly precarious. . the chief adventitious aids in the perpetuation of the memory of facts by tradition, were the erection of monuments, the periodical celebration of days or years, the use of poetry, and, finally, symbolical drawings and hieroglyphical sketches. nevertheless, history must have remained uncertain and fabulous, and science in a state of perpetual infancy, had it not been for the invention of written characters. . the credit of the invention of letters was claimed by the egyptians, phoenicians, and jews, as well as by some other nations; but as their origin preceded all authentic history not inspired, and as the book of inspiration is silent in regard to it, no satisfactory conclusion can be formed on this point. some antiquarians are of opinion, that the strongest claims are presented by the phoenicians. . the pentateuch embraces the earliest specimen of phonetic or alphabetic writing now extant, and this was written about years before christ. many persons suppose that, as the deity himself inscribed the ten commandments on the two tables of stone, he taught moses the use of letters; and, on this supposition, is founded the claim of the jewish nation to the honor of the first human application of them. . if we may believe pliny, sixteen characters of the alphabet were introduced into greece by cadmus, the phoenician, in the days of moses; four more were added by palamedes during the trojan war, and four afterwards, by simonides. alphabetical writing evidently sprung from successive improvements in the hieroglyphical system, since a great part of the latter has been lately discovered to be syllabic or alphabetic. . a considerable number of very ancient alphabets still exist on the monumental remains of some of the first post-diluvian cities, and several of later date, in manuscripts which have descended to our times. the letters employed in different languages have ever been subject to great changes in their conformation. this was especially the case before the introduction of the art of printing, which has contributed greatly towards permanency in this respect. . the mode of arranging the letters in writing has, also, varied considerably. some nations have written in perpendicular lines, as the chinese and ancient egyptians; others from right to left, as the jews; and others, again, alternately from left to right, as was the method at one period among the greeks. the mode of writing from left to right now generally practised, is preferable to any other, since it leaves uncovered that portion of the page upon which writing has been made. . in ancient times, literary productions were considered public property; and, consequently, as soon as a work was published, transcribers assumed the right to multiply copies at pleasure, without making the authors the least remuneration. they, however, were sometimes rewarded with great liberality, by princes or wealthy patrons. this literary piracy continued, until a long time after the introduction of the art of printing. . in almost every kingdom of europe, and in the united states, the exclusive right of authors to publish their own productions, is now secured to them by law, at least for a specified number of years. the first legislative proceeding on this subject in england, took place in , when the publication of any book was prohibited, except through the permission of the lord-chamberlain. the title of the book, and the name of the proprietor, were, also, required to be entered in the record of the stationers' company. . this and some subsequent acts having been repealed in , literary property was left to the protection of the common law, by which the amount of damages which could be proved to have actually occurred in case of infringement, could be recovered, and no more. new applications were, therefore, made to parliament; and, in , a statute was passed, by which the property of copyright was guarded for fourteen years, with severe penalties. this privilege was connected with the condition, that a copy of the work be deposited in nine public libraries specified in the act. . in , the parliament decided that, at the end of fourteen years, the copyright might be renewed, in case the author were still living. the law continued on this footing until , when the contingency with regard to the last fourteen years was removed; and, if the author still survived, the privilege of publication was extended to the close of his life. . in the united states, the jurisdiction of this subject is vested by the constitution in the federal government; and, in , a law was passed by congress, securing to the authors of books, charts, maps, engravings, &c., being citizens of the united states or resident therein, privileges like those granted in england, in . in , the law was altered, and again made to conform to that of england in regard to the period of the privileges. the english and american laws differ in no essential provision. until the year , foreigners were permitted to hold copyrights in england. . in france, the first statute regarding literary property was passed in , when the right of authors to their works was secured to them during their lives, and to their heirs for ten years after their decease. the decree of extended the right of the heirs to twenty years. in russia, the period of copyright is the same as in france, and the property is not liable for the payment of the author's debts. . in some of the german states, the right is given for the lifetime of the author; in others, it is made perpetual, like any other property; but then the work may be printed with impunity in any of the other states in which a right has not been secured. in germany and italy, especially, authors are very poorly remunerated; and in spain, the book trade has been so much oppressed by a merciless censorship, that authors are compelled to publish their works on their own account. . from the preceding statement it appears, that few legislators have been willing to place the productions of intellectual labor on the same honorable footing with other kinds of property. no reason, however, can be assigned for the distinction, except the unjust and piratical usage of two or three thousand years. . authors seldom publish their own works. they generally find it expedient, and, in fact, necessary, to intrust this part of the business to booksellers and publishers, from whom they usually receive a specified amount for the entire copyright, or a certain sum for each and every copy which may be sold during the term of years which may be agreed upon. the compensation is commonly insufficient to pay them for preparing the works for the press; but they are as well paid in this country as in any other. in this particular, however, there has been a manifest improvement within the last ten years. [illustration] the printer. . from what has been said in a preceding article, it is manifest that the art of printing arose from the practice of engraving on wood. letters were cut on wood as inscriptions to pictures, and were printed at the same time with them, by means of a hand-roller. the impressions were taken on one side of the paper; and, in order to hide the nakedness of the blank side, two leaves were pasted together. these leaves were put up in pamphlet form, and are now known under the denomination of _block-books_, because they were printed from wooden blocks. . although the art of typographical printing can be clearly traced to wood engraving, yet so much uncertainty rests upon its history, that the honor of its invention is claimed by three cities--harlem, in holland, and strasburg and mentz, in germany; and, at the present time, it is difficult to determine satisfactorily the merits of their respective claims. the obscurity on this point has arisen from the desire of the first printers to conceal the process of the art, that their productions might pass for manuscripts, and that they might enjoy the full benefit of their invention. . the advocates of the claims of harlem state, that laurentius coster applied wooden types, and some say, even metal types, as early as , and that several persons were employed by him in the business up to the year , when his materials were stolen from him by one of his workmen or servants, named john, while the family were engaged in celebrating the festival of christmas eve. the thief is said to have fled first to amsterdam, then to cologne, and, finally, to have settled in mentz, where, within a twelvemonth, he published two small works, by means of the types which laurentius coster had used. . these claims in favor of harlem, however, were not set forth until years after the death of coster; and the whole story, as then stated by hadriamus junius, was founded altogether upon traditionary testimony. perhaps wood engravings, with inscriptions, may have been executed there; if so, the account may have originated from that circumstance. . the statements which seem to be the most worthy of credit, bestow the honor of this invention on a citizen of mentz. here, it appears, that john geinsfleisch, or guttemburg senior, published two small works for schools, in , on wooden types; but, not having the funds necessary to carry on the business, he applied to john faust, a rich goldsmith, who became a partner, in , and advanced the requisite means. soon afterwards, j. meidenbachius and some others were admitted as partners. . in the following year, john guttemburg, the brother of geinsfleisch, made an addition to the firm. for several years before this union, or from , guttemburg had been attempting to complete the invention at strasburg; but it is said that he had never been able to produce a clean printed sheet. the brothers may, or may not, have pursued their experiments without receiving any hints from each other, before their union at mentz. . soon after the formation of this partnership, the two brothers commenced cutting _metal types_, for the purpose of printing an edition of the bible, which was published in latin, about the year . before this great achievement of the art had been effected, geinsfleisch appears to have retired from the concern, some say, on account of blindness. . the partnership before mentioned, was dissolved, in , and faust and guttemburg entered into a new arrangement, the former supplying money, the latter, personal services, for their mutual benefit; but various difficulties having arisen, this partnership was also dissolved, in , after a lawsuit between them, which was decided against guttemburg. . faust, having obtained possession of the printing materials, entered into partnership with peter shoeffer, who had been for a long time a servant, or workman, in the printing establishment. in , they published an edition of the _psalter_, which was then considered uncommonly elegant. this book was, in a great measure, the work of guttemburg, since, during the four years in which it was in the press, he was, for two years and a half, the chief operator in the printing-office. . guttemburg, by the pecuniary aid of conrad humery and others, established another press in mentz, and, in , published the "_catholicon joannis januensis_." it was a very handsome work, but not equal in beauty to the psalter of faust and shoeffer. the latter was the first printed book known to have a genuine date. from this time, it has been the practice for printers to claim their own productions, by prefixing to them their names. . notwithstanding the great advancement which had been made in the art of printing, the invention cannot, by any means, be considered complete, until about the year , when peter shoeffer contrived a method of casting types in a matrix, or mould. the first book executed with cast metal types was called "_durandi ralionale divinorum officiorum_," published in . only the smaller letters, however, were of this description, all the larger characters which occur, being _cut types_. these continued to be used, more or less, as late as the year . . in , faust carried to paris a number of latin bibles, which he and shoeffer had printed, and disposed of many of them as manuscripts. at first, he sold them at five or six hundred crowns, the sums usually obtained by the scribes. he afterwards lowered the price to sixty. this created universal astonishment; but, when he produced them according to the demand, and when he had reduced the price to thirty, all paris became agitated. . the uniformity of the copies increased the wonder of the parisians, and information was finally given against him to the police as a magician. he was accordingly arrested, and a great number of his bibles were seized. the red ink with which they were embellished, was supposed to be his blood. it was seriously adjudged, that the prisoner was joined in league with the devil; and had he not disclosed the secret of his art, he would probably have shared the fate of those whom the magistrates of those superstitious times condemned for witchcraft. . it may be well to inform the reader, that, although the story of faust's arrest, as above detailed, is related as a fact by several authors, yet by others it is thought to be unworthy of credit. it is also generally supposed, that the celebrated romance of "doctor faustus and the devil" originated in the malice of the monks towards faust, whose employment of printing deprived them of their gain as copiers. it seems more probable, however, that it arose from the astonishing performances of doctor john faust, a dealer in the black art, who lived in germany in the beginning of the sixteenth century. . faust and shoeffer continued their printing operations together, at least, until , about which time it is conjectured, that the former died of the plague, at paris. geinsfleisch, or, as he is sometimes called, guttemburg senior, died in ; and his brother guttemburg junior, in , after having enjoyed, for three years, the privileges of nobility, which, together with a pension, had been conferred upon him by archbishop adolphus, in consideration of his great services to mankind. . more copies of the earliest printed books were impressed on vellum than on paper; but very soon paper was used for a principal part of the edition, while a few only were printed on vellum, as curiosities, to be ornamented by the illuminators, whose ingenious art, though in vogue before and at that time, did not long survive the rapid improvements in printing. . we are informed, that the mentz printers observed the utmost secrecy in their operations; and, that the art might not be divulged by the persons whom they employed, they administered to them an oath of fidelity. this appears to have been strictly adhered to, until the year , when the city was taken and plundered by archbishop adolphus. amid the consternation which had arisen from this event, the workmen spread themselves in different directions; and, considering their oath no longer obligatory, they soon divulged the secret, which was rapidly diffused throughout europe. . some idea may be formed of the celerity with which a knowledge of printing was extended, from the fact that the art was received in two hundred and three places, prior to the year . it was brought to england, in , by william caxton, a mercer of the city of london, who had spent many years in germany and holland. the place of the first location of his press was westminster abbey. the first press in north america was established at cambridge, massachusetts, in . . printed newspapers had their origin in germany. they first appeared in augsburg and vienna, in . they were originally without date or place of impression; nor were they published at regular periods. the first german paper with numbered sheets was printed, in ; and, from this time, must be dated periodical publications in that part of europe. . in england, the first newspaper appeared during the reign of elizabeth. it originated in a desire to communicate information in regard to the expected invasion by the spanish armada, and was entitled the "english mercury," which, by authority, was printed at london by christopher barker, her highness's printer, in . . these, however, were extraordinary gazettes, not regularly published. periodicals seem to have been first extensively used by the english, during the civil wars in the time of the commonwealth. the number of newspapers in great britain and ireland amounted, in , to , and the sums paid to the government for stamps and duties on advertisements, amounted to about £ , sterling. . no newspaper appeared in the british colonies of america until , when the "news letter" was issued at boston. the first paper published in philadelphia, was issued in ; the first in new-york, in . in , there were ; and in , there were, in the whole united states, ; in , ; at the present time, there are about , and the number is annually increasing. . the first periodical paper of france originated with renaudot, a physician in paris, who, for a long time, had been in the habit of collecting news, which he communicated verbally to his patients, with the view to their amusement. but, in , he commenced the publication of a weekly sheet, called the "gazette de france," which was continued with very little interruption, until . there are now, probably, in france, about periodical publications most of which have been established since the commencement of the revolution of . . periodicals devoted to different objects have been established in every other kingdom of europe; but, in many cases, they are trammelled by a strict censorship of the respective governments. this is especially the case with those devoted to politics or religion. but all europe, with its , , of inhabitants, does not support as many regular publications as the united states, with its , , . . the workmen employed in a printing-office are of two kinds: _compositors_, who arrange the types according to the copy delivered to them; and _pressmen_, who apply ink on the types, and take off impressions. in many cases, and especially where the business is carried on upon a small scale, the workmen often practise both branches. . before the types are applied to use, they are placed in the cells or compartments of a wooden receptacle called a _case_, each species of letter, character and space, by itself. the letters which are required most frequently, are lodged in the largest compartments, which are located nearest to the place where the compositor stands, while arranging the types. . the compositor is furnished with a _composing-stick_, which is commonly an iron instrument, surrounded on three sides with ledges about half an inch in height, one of which is moveable, so that it may be adjusted to any length of line. the compositor, in the performance of his work, selects the letters from their several compartments, and arranges them in an inverted order from that in which they are to appear in the printed page. . at the end of each word is placed a _quadrat_, to produce a space between that and the one which follows. the quadrats are of various widths, and being considerably shorter than types, they yield no impression in printing. a thin brass rule is placed in the stick, on which each successive line of types is arranged. when the composing-stick has been filled, it is _emptied_ into the _galley_, which is a flat board, partly surrounded with a rim. . on this galley, the lines are accumulated in long columns, which are afterwards divided into pages, and tied together with a string, to prevent the types from falling asunder, or into _pi_, as the printers term it. a sufficient number of pages having been completed to constitute a _form_, or, in other words, to fill one side of a sheet of printing-paper, they are arranged on an _imposing-stone_, and strongly locked up, or wedged together, in an iron _chase_. . the first impression taken from the types is called the _proof_. this is carefully read over by the author or proof-reader, or both, and the errors and corrections plainly marked in the margin. these corrections having been made by the compositor, the form is again locked up, and delivered to the pressman. . the pressman having dampened his paper with water, and put every part of his press in order, takes impressions in the following manner: he places the sheet upon the _tympan_, and confines it there by turning down upon it the _frisket_; he then brings them both, together with the paper, upon the form, which has been previously inked. he next turns a crank with his left hand, and thereby places the form directly under the _platen_, which is immediately brought, in a perpendicular direction, upon the types, by means of a lever pulled with his right hand. . after the impression has been thus communicated, the form is returned to its former position, and the printed sheet is removed. the operation just described, is repeated for each side of every sheet of the edition. in the cut at the head of this article, the pressman is represented as in the act of turning down the frisket upon the tympan. the business of the boy behind the press is to apply the ink to the types by means of the _rollers_ before him. in offices where much printing is executed, the roller-boy is now dispensed with, simple machinery, attached to the crank of the press, called a _patent roller-boy_, being substituted in his place. . within the present century, great improvements have been made in the printing business generally, especially in the presses, and in the means of applying the ink. in the old _ramage_ press, the power was derived from a screw which was moved by a lever; but, in those by several late inventors, from an accumulation of levers. . in , printing by machinery was commenced in london, and rollers became necessary for inking the forms. these were made of molasses, glue, and tar, in proportions to suit the temperature of the weather. from these originated composition balls in the following year, and in , hand rollers. formerly the ink was applied by means of pelt balls stuffed with wool. . the power-press first used in this country, was invented, in , by mr. treadwell, a scientific mechanic, of boston, who was originally a watch-maker by trade. it acts on the same principle with the hand press, and is equal to three of these of the best construction. daniel fanshaw, who first applied steam to printing in the united states, introduced several of these presses into new-york, in . messrs. adams and tufts, of boston, have each invented a power-press which act on the same principle with mr. treadwell's. . the presses noticed in the preceding paragraph, are used chiefly in printing books and periodicals requiring moderate speed in their production. but they do not answer the purposes of the daily press in large cities, where from twenty thousand to sixty thousand impressions of a single paper are required every day. to supply this immense demand of the public was the original aim of the inventors of power-presses in england. the first attempt to construct a printing machine was made, in , by william nicholson, of london; but his machine was never brought into use. the next attempt was made by mr. konig, an ingenious german, who but partially succeeded. the first really useful machine was constructed by messrs. applegate and cowper. . the machines used in this country are modifications of that originally invented by mr. napier, of england. the paper is brought in contact with the form of types by means of a cylinder, while the form is passing underneath it. the press is constructed with one or two cylinders. a double cylinder press will give from to impressions an hour. the improvements on this press were made by robert hoe & co., who have permitted mr. napier to introduce them into his press in england. [illustration] the type-founder. . the types cast by the type-founder are oblong square pieces of metal, each having, on one end of it, a letter or character, in relief. the metal of which these important instruments are composed, is commonly an alloy consisting principally of lead and antimony, in the proportion of about five parts of the former to one of the latter. this alloy melts at a low temperature, and receives and retains with accuracy the shape of the mould. several hundred pounds of type-metal are prepared at a time, and cast into bars filled with notches, that they may be easily broken into pieces, when about to be applied to use. . in making types, the letter or character is first formed, by means of gravers and other tools, on the end of a steel punch. with this instrument, a _matrix_ is formed, by driving it into a piece of copper of suitable size. a punch and matrix are required for every character used in printing. a metallic mould for the body of the type is also made; and, that the workman may handle it without burning his hands, it is surrounded with a portion of wood. the mould is composed of two parts, which can be closed and separated with the greatest facility. . the type-metal is prepared for immediate use by melting it, as fast as it may be needed, in a small crucible, over a coal fire. the caster having placed the matrix in the bottom of the mould, commences the operation of casting by pouring the metal into the mould with a small ladle. this he performs with his right hand, while with the other he throws up the mould with a sudden jerk; then, with both hands he opens it, and throws out the type. all these movements are performed with such rapidity, that an expert hand can cast about fifty types of a common size in a minute. some machines have been lately introduced, which operate with still greater rapidity. . each type, when thrown from the mould, has attached to it a superfluous portion of metal, called a _jet_, which is afterwards broken off by hand. the jets are again cast into the pot, or crucible, and the types are carried to another room, where the two broad sides are rubbed on a grindstone. they are next arranged on flat sticks about three feet long, and delivered to the _dresser_, who scrapes the two sides not before made smooth on the grindstone, cuts a groove on the end opposite the letter, and rejects from the row the types which may be defective. . the whole process is completed by setting up the types in a printer's composing-stick, and tying them up with packthread. much of the work in the type-foundry is performed by boys and females. in the preceding cut are represented a man casting types at a furnace, and a boy breaking off the jets; also two females rubbing types on a large grindstone. the fumes arising from melted lead in the casting-room are considered deleterious to health. . various sizes of the same kind of letter are extensively used, of which the following are most employed in printing books--pica, small pica, long primer, bourgeois, brevier, minion, nonpareil, pearl, and diamond. a full assortment of any particular size is called a _fount_, which may consist of any amount, from five pounds to five hundred, or more. the master type-founder usually supplies the printer with all the materials of his art, embracing not only types, leads, brass rules, and ordinary ornaments, but also cases, composing-sticks, galleys, printing-presses, and other articles too numerous to be mentioned. . the inventor of the art of casting types was peter shoeffer, first servant or workman employed by guttemburg and faust. he privately cut a matrix for each letter of the alphabet, and cast a quantity of the types. having shown the products of his ingenuity to faust, the latter was so much delighted with the contrivance, that he made him a partner in the printing business, and gave him his only daughter, christina, in marriage. . the character first employed was a rude old gothic, mixed with secretary, designed on purpose to imitate the hand-writing of those times, and the first used in england were of this kind. to these succeeded what is termed _old english_, or _black letter_, which is still occasionally applied to some purposes; but roman letter is now the national character not only of england, but of france, spain, portugal, and italy. in germany, and in the states surrounding the baltic, letters are used which owe their foundation to the gothic, although works are occasionally printed for the learned in roman. . the roman letter owes its origin to the nation whence it derives its name, although the faces of the present and ancient roman letters differ materially, on account of the improvements which they have undergone at various times. for the invention of the italic character, we are indebted to aldus manutius, who set up a printing-office in venice, in , where he also introduced roman types of a neater cut. . before the american revolution, type-founding was carried on at germantown, pennsylvania, by christopher sower, at boston by mr. michelson, and in connecticut by mr. buel; but there was too little demand for types, to afford these enterprising individuals much patronage. soon after the close of the revolution, john baine established a foundery in philadelphia. the printers, however, were not supplied with every necessary material and implement of the art from american founderies, until , when messrs. binny & ronaldson commenced the business in the same city. baine and ronaldson were both from edinburgh, scotland. the first type-foundery was established in new-york, in , by robert lothian, a scotch clergyman, and father of the ingenious type-founder, george b. lothian. . in the year , william m. johnson, of new-york, invented the machine for casting types now used by john t. white, and in , david bruce, junr., produced another, which was purchased by george bruce. george b. lothian has also lately invented a machine for the same purpose, and likewise one for reducing types to an equal thickness. both of these machines act with great accuracy. there are now in the united states sixteen type-founderies; viz., two in boston, six in new-york, three in philadelphia, one in baltimore, one in pittsburg, one in cincinnati, one in louisville, and one in st. louis. [illustration: stereotyper.] the stereotyper. . the word _stereotype_ is derived from two greek words--_stereos_, solid, and _tupos_, a type. it is applied to pages of types in a single piece, which have been cast in moulds formed on common printing types or wood-cuts. they are composed of lead and antimony, in the proportion of about six parts of the former to one of the latter. sometimes a little tin is added. . the types are _set up_ by _compositors_, as usual in printing, and _imposed_, or locked up, one or several pages together, in an iron _chase_ of a suitable size. having been sent to the _casting-room_, the types are slightly oiled, and surrounded with a frame of brass or type-metal. they are then covered with a thin mixture of finely pulverized plaster and water. in about ten minutes, the plaster becomes hard enough to be removed. . the mould, thus formed, having been baked in an oven, is placed in an iron pan of an oblong shape, and sunk into a kettle of the melted composition above mentioned, which is admitted at the four corners of the cover to the cavities of the mould beneath. the pan is then raised from the kettle, and placed over water. when the metal has become cool, the contents of the pan are removed, and the plaster is broken and washed from the plate. . as fast as the pages are cast, they are sent to the _finishing-room_. here they are first planed on the back with a machine, for the purpose of making them level and of an equal thickness. the letters are then examined, and, when deficient, are rendered perfect by little steel instruments called _picks_. corrections and alterations are made by cutting out original lines, and inserting common printing types, or lines stereotyped for the purpose. the types are cut off close to the back with pincers, and fastened to the place with solder. the plates, when they are finished, are about one-sixth of an inch in thickness. . when all the pages of a work have been completed, they are packed in boxes, which are marked with certain letters of the alphabet, to indicate the form or pages which they contain. while the pages are applied in printing, they are fastened to blocks of solid wood, which, with the plates, are intended to be the same in height with common types. . the first stereotype plates were cast by j. van der mey, a dutchman, who resided at leyden about the year . a quarto and folio bible, and two or three small works, were printed from pages of his casting; but at his death, the art appears to have been lost, although the plates of these two bibles are still extant, the former at leyden, and the latter at amsterdam. . in , william ged, of edinburgh, without knowing what had been done in holland by van der mey, began to make stereotype plates. but being unable to prosecute the business alone for want of funds, he united in partnership with three others. one of the partners being a type-founder, supposing that success in the enterprise would injure his business, employed men to compose and print the proposed works in a manner that he thought most likely to spoil them. . accordingly, the compositors, while correcting one error in the proof, made intentionally several more; and the pressmen battered the letter, while printing the books. by these dishonest and malicious proceedings, the useful enterprise of mr. ged was defeated. he, however, afterwards printed, in an accurate manner, two or three works. the first of these was a sallust, the pages of which were set up by his son, james ged, who was but an apprentice to the printing-business. this part of the work was performed in the night, when the workmen were absent from the office. . after the death of mr. ged, no attention was paid to the art, and a knowledge of it was lost at the decease of his son, which took place, about the year : but it was a third time invented by alexander tilloch, esq., who, in conjunction with mr. foulis, printer to the university of glasgow, made many experiments, until plates were produced yielding impressions which could not be distinguished from those of the types from which they had been cast. but owing to circumstances unconnected with the real utility of the art, the business was not prosecuted to a great extent. . about the year , the art was again revived by the late earl stanhope, assisted by mr. a. wilson, a printer, who turned his whole attention that way. in their efforts to complete the invention, they were assisted by messrs. tilloch and foulis; and, although they succeeded after many experiments, they were strenuously opposed in their efforts to introduce the practice, the printers supposing, perhaps with some reason, that it would prove injurious to their business. . this useful art was introduced into the united states by j. watts, an englishman from london, who had acquired a knowledge of the process from a. wilson. he entered into a partnership with joseph d. fay and pierre c. van wyck, esquires. they first stereotyped the westminster catechism, which was printed by j. watts & co., for messrs. whiting & watson, in . they also stereotyped a new testament. but the business proving to be unproductive, fay and van wyck retired from the concern. watts afterwards stereotyped about one third of an octavo bible. the moulding of all the plates produced in watts's foundery was executed by mrs. watts. on the st of march, , watts sold all his plates, together with his materials and knowledge of the process, to b. s. and j. b. collins, for $ . the messrs. collins afterwards carried on the business successfully. . in , david bruce went to england for the express purpose of obtaining a knowledge of the art, as it was kept a profound secret by watts; and having learned the method of one nicholson, of liverpool, and having also acquired some knowledge of earl stanhope's plan, he returned to new-york, and commenced stereotyping, in conjunction with his brother, george bruce, in the year . they soon completed two setts of mo plates for the new testament, one of which they sold to matthew carey, nov. , . soon afterwards, they finished the whole bible. david bruce invented the machine for planing the plates, in . [illustration] the paper-maker, and the bookbinder. the paper-maker. . the materials on which writing was executed, in the early days of the art, were the leaves and bark of trees and plants, stones, bricks, sheets of lead, copper, and brass, as well as plates of ivory, wooden tablets, and cotton and linen cloth. . the instruments with which writing was practised were adapted to the substance on which it was to be formed. the _stylus_, which the romans employed in writing on metallic tablets covered with wax, was made of iron, acute at one end, for forming the letters, and flat or round at the other, for erasing what may have been erroneously written. . for writing with ink, the _calamus_, a kind of reed, sharpened at the point, and split like our pens was used. some of the eastern nations still write with bamboos and canes. the chinese inscribe their characters with small brushes similar to camel's hair pencils. we have no certain evidence of the application of _quills_ to this purpose until the seventh century. . as the literature of antiquity advanced, a material adapted to works of magnitude became necessary, and this was found both in the skins of animals, and in the celebrated plant papyrus, of egypt; but the time when they were first applied to this purpose cannot be determined, although it is probable that the former has the preference as regards priority. . the papyrus was an aquatic plant, which grew upon the banks of the nile. in the manufacture of paper from this reed, it was divested of its outer covering, and the internal layers, or laminæ, were separated with the point of a needle or knife. these layers were spread parallel to each other on a table, in sufficient numbers to form a sheet; a second layer was then laid with the strips crossing those of the first at right angles; and the whole having been moistened with water, was subjected to pressure between metallic surfaces. the pressure, aided by a glutinous substance in the plant, caused the several pieces to become one uniform sheet. . parchment was manufactured from the skins of sheep and goats. in the preparation, these were first steeped in water impregnated with lime, and afterwards stretched upon frames, and reduced by scraping with sharp instruments. they were finished by the application of chalk, and by rubbing them with pumice-stone. the skins of very young calves, dressed in a similar manner, was called vellum. parchment and vellum are still used for deeds and other important documents. . when attalus, about years before christ, was about to found a library at pergamus, which should rival that of alexandria, one of the ptolemies, then king of egypt, jealous of his success, prohibited the exportation of papyrus; but the spirited inhabitants of pergamus manufactured parchment as a substitute, and formed their library principally of manuscripts on this material. from this fact, it received the name of _pergamena_ among the romans, who gave it also the appellation of _membrana_. . the greatest quantity of paper was manufactured at alexandria, and the commerce in this article greatly increased the wealth of that city. in the fifth century, paper was rendered very dear by taxation; and this probably was an inducement for an effort to produce a substitute. accordingly, in the eighth century, it began to be superseded by cotton paper, although it continued in use in some parts of europe, until three hundred years after the period last mentioned. . the manufacture of cotton paper was introduced into spain, in the eleventh century, by the arabians, who became acquainted with it in bucharia as early as a.d. . about the year , it was commenced in italy, france, and germany; and, in some of the paper-mills of these countries, paper was made from cotton rags. linen paper is thought to have originated in germany, about the year . . the first paper-mill in england was erected by a german, named spillman, in ; but no paper, except the coarse brown sorts, was made in that country, until about the year . the finer kinds, both for writing and printing, were, before that time, imported from the continent. but the paper of english manufacture will now compare with that of any other country. the french also make very fine paper. . in the united states, this manufacture has rapidly increased in amount within a few years. according to an estimate made in , it appears that the whole annual product of the mills is worth between five and seven millions of dollars, and that the rags collected in this country amount to about two millions. the number of hands employed in the business are ten or eleven thousand, of whom about one-half were females. the manufacture has since been considerably increased, although the number of operatives may have been diminished, on account of the introduction of improved machinery. . nature has supplied us with a great variety of substances from which paper may be fabricated, as flax, hemp, cotton, straw, grass, and the bark of several kinds of trees; but the fibres of the three first productions, in the form of rags, are the most usual materials. most of these are primarily purchased from the people at large, by retail booksellers, country merchants, and pedlers, who in turn dispose of them to persons called rag-merchants, or directly to the paper-makers. when the rags come from the original collectors, all kinds are mixed together; but they are assorted according to their color and the nature of their original fibre, either by the rag-merchants, or by the paper-makers themselves. . in our attempts to afford the reader an idea of this manufacture in general, letter-paper has been selected, as affording the best means of illustration; since for this kind of paper, the best stock is employed, and the greatest skill is exerted in every stage of the process. . the process of the manufacture is commenced by cutting the rags into small pieces, by the aid of a sharp instrument, commonly a piece of a scythe, which is placed in a position nearly perpendicular before the operator. in the reduction of very coarse rags, such as sail-cloth, a cutting machine is also employed. then, with the view of sifting out the loose particles of dirt, the rags are deposited in a large octagonal sieve made of coarse wire, and placed in a close box in a horizontal position. the sieve is moved by machinery, like the bolt of a flour-mill. . the second stage of the process consists chiefly in the reduction of the rags to a _pulp_. this is effected by the action of a cutting machine, the essential parts of which are two sets of blunt knives, the one stationary, and the other revolving. the machine is placed in a large elliptical tub, in which the rags are also deposited, with a suitable quantity of water. the liquid and fibrous contents of the tub are kept moving in a circle by the action of the machine, through which it passes at one point of its revolution. . the maceration occupies from ten to twenty hours, according as the material is more or less rigid; and, during part of this time, water is permitted to run in at one side of the tub, and out at the other, to render the pulp perfectly clean. towards the close of this process, the pulp, if necessary, is bleached by means of chloride of lime, and oil of vitriol. it is also sometimes colored by adding a quantity of dye-stuff. the bleaching and coloring are effected without interrupting the action of the machine. the rags having been thus reduced, the pulp, together with a suitable quantity of water, is let out into a reservoir, from which it is drawn off into a _vat_, as fast as it may be needed for the production of the paper. . with this vat is connected the paper-making machine; and the part of the latter which first comes in contact with the material is a hollow cylinder, surrounded with a fine web of wire-cloth. this cylinder being immersed in the contents of the vat more than one-half of its diameter, the water passes off with a uniform rapidity, and the fibrous particles which had been suspended in it, settle with a remarkable uniformity on the outside of the brazen web. as the cylinder revolves, a continued sheet is produced, which is taken up by an endless web of woollen cloth, and carried round another cylinder of equal diameter, and then between two more, by which it is partially pressed. . from between these rollers, the paper passes out, in a continued sheet, upon a large cylindrical reel, called the _lay-boy_; and when a certain quantity of it, which is determined by a gauge, has been accumulated, the lay-boy is removed to a low table. the paper is then cut, with a toothless handsaw, into sheets twice the size of letter-paper. this part of the operation is very quickly performed, as a workman can cut up and pile in heaps, to be pressed, twenty reams in half that number of minutes, and attend to the machine at the same time. . after the paper has been successively pressed, and handled by separating the sheets two or three times, it is hung up on small poles, in an airy room, to be dried; and having been again pressed, it is sized by holding a quantity of the sheets at a time in a thin solution of glue and alum, the former of which is prepared in the paper-mill for the purpose, from shreds and parings of raw hides. the paper is freed from superfluous portions of the size, by submitting it to the action of a press. it is again dried as before, and again pressed; after which, the several sheets are examined, and freed from lumps and other extraneous substances. . they are then severed in half with a cutting machine, and afterwards calendered, by passing the sheets successively between rollers; or they are pressed between smooth pasteboards. in the latter case, hot metallic plates are sometimes interposed between every few quires of the sheets. the paper, when treated in this way, is called hot-pressed. it is next counted off into half-quires, put up into reams, pressed, trimmed, and finally enveloped in two thick sheets of paper, which completes the whole process of the manufacture. . the manufacture of paper, as just described, seems to be a tedious process; yet with two machines and a suitable number of hands, say sixty or eighty, three hundred reams of letter-paper can be produced from the raw material in a single day. it is hardly necessary to remark, that paper is of various qualities, from the finest bank-note paper, down to the coarsest kinds employed in wrapping up merchandise, and that, for every quality, suitable materials are chosen. the process of the manufacture is varied, of course, to suit the materials. none but writing and drawing paper requires to be sized. . until after the beginning of the present century, paper was made exclusively _by hand_, and this method is still continued in a majority of the mills in the united states, although it is rapidly going out of use. it differs from that just described chiefly in the manner of collecting the pulp to form the paper, this being effected by means of a _mould_, a frame of wood with a fine wire bottom, of the size of the proposed sheet. in the use of this instrument, a quantity of the pulp is taken up, and while the _vatman_, or _dipper_, holds it in a horizontal position, and gives it a gentle shaking, the water runs out through the interstices of the wire, and leaves the fibrous particles upon the mould in the form of a sheet. the sheets thus produced are pressed between felts, and afterwards treated as if they had been formed by means of a machine. . the first idea of forming paper in a continued sheet originated in france; but a machine for this purpose is said to have been first made completely successful in england, by henry and sealy fourdrinier. many machines made after their model, as well as those of a different construction, are in use in the united states, to some of which is attached an apparatus for drying, sizing, and pressing the paper, as well as for cutting it to the proper size. very few machines, however, yield paper equal in firmness and tenacity to that produced by hand. the bookbinder. . bookbinding is the art of arranging the pages of a book in proper order, and confining them there by means of thread, glue, paste, pasteboard, and leather. . this art is probably as ancient as that of writing books; for, whatever may have been the substance on which the work was executed, some method of uniting the parts was absolutely necessary. the earliest method with which we are acquainted, is that of gluing the sheets together, and rolling them upon small cylinders. this mode is still practised in some countries. it is also everywhere used by the jews, so far as relates to one copy of their law deposited in each of their synagogues. . the name egyptian is applied to this kind of binding, and this would seem to indicate the place of its origin. each volume had two rollers, so that the continued sheet could be wound from one to the other at pleasure. the square, or present form of binding, is also of great antiquity, as it is supposed to have been invented at pergamus, about years before christ, by king attalus, who, with his son eumenes, established the famous library in that city. . the first process of binding books consists in folding the sheets according to the paging. this is done by the aid of an ivory knife, called a _folder_; and the operator is guided in the correct performance of the work by certain letters called _signatures_, placed at the bottom of the page, at regular intervals through the book. . piles of the folded sheets are then placed on a long table in the order of their signatures, and gathered, one from each pile, for every book. they are next beaten on a stone, or passed between steel rollers, to render them smooth and solid. the latter method has been introduced within a few years. this operation certainly increases the intrinsic value of the book; but it is not employed in every case, since it is attended with some additional expense, and since it diminishes the thickness of the book, and consequently its value in the estimation of the public at large. . the sheets, having been properly pressed, are next sewed together upon little cords, which, in this application, are called _bands_. during the operation these are stretched in a perpendicular direction, at suitable distances from each other, as exhibited in the foregoing cut. the folded sheets are usually notched on the back by means of a saw, and at these points they are brought in juxta-position with the bands. after the pages of several volumes have been accumulated, the bands are severed between each book. the folding, gathering, and sewing, are usually performed by females. . at this stage of the process, the books are received by the men or boys, who generally _take on_ one hundred at a time. the workman first spreads some glue on the backs of each book with a brush. he then places them, one after the other, between boards of solid wood, and beats them on the back with a hammer. by this means the back is rounded, and a groove formed on each side for the admission of one edge of the pasteboards. . these having been applied, and partially fastened by means of the bands, which had been left long for the purpose, the books are pressed, and the leaves of which they are composed are trimmed with an instrument called a _plough_. the pasteboards are also cut to the proper size by the same means, or with a huge pair of shears. in the preceding picture, a workman is represented at work with the plough. the edges are next sprinkled with some kind of coloring matter, or covered with gold leaf. a strip of paper is then glued on the back, and a _head-band_ put upon each end. . the book is now ready to be covered. this is done either with calf, sheep, or goat skin, or some kind of paper or muslin; but, whatever the material may be, it is cut into pieces to suit the size of the book; and, having been smeared on one side with paste, if paper or leather, or with glue, if muslin, it is drawn over the outsides of the pasteboards, and doubled in upon the inside. . the covers, if calf or sheep skin, are next sprinkled or marbled. the first operation is performed by dipping the brush in a kind of dye, made for the purpose, and beating it with one hand over a stick held in the other; the second is performed in the same manner, with the difference that they are sprinkled first with water, and then with the coloring matter. . after a small piece of morocco has been pasted on the back, on which the title is to be printed in gold leaf, and one of the waste leaves has been pasted down on the inside of each of the covers, the books are pressed for the last time. they are then glazed by applying the white of an egg with a sponge. . the books are now ready for the reception of the ornaments, which consist chiefly of letters and other figures in gold leaf. in executing this part of the process, the workman cuts the gold into suitable strips or squares on a cushion. . these are laid upon the books by means of a piece of raw cotton, and afterwards impressed with types moderately heated over a charcoal fire; or the strips of gold are taken up, and laid upon the proper place with instruments called _stamps_ and _rolls_, which have on them figures in relief. the portion of the leaf not impressed with the figures on the tools, is easily removed with a silk rag. the books are finished by applying to the covers the white of an egg, and rubbing them with a heated steel _polisher_. . the process of binding books, as just described, is varied, of course, in some particulars, to suit the different kinds of binding and finish. a book stitched together like a common almanac, is called a pamphlet. those which are covered on the back and sides with leather, are said to be _full-bound_; and those which have their backs covered with leather, and the sides with paper, _half-bound_. . the different sizes of books are expressed by terms indicative of the number of pages printed on one side of a sheet of paper; thus, when two pages are printed on one side, the book is termed a folio; four pages, a quarto; eight pages, an octavo; twelve pages, a duodecimo; eighteen pages, an octodecimo. all of these terms, except the first, are abridged by prefixing a figure or figures to the last syllable: thus, to for quarto, vo for octavo, mo for duodecimo, &c. . the manufacture of account-books, and other blank or _stationary_ work, constitutes an extensive branch of the bookbinder's business. it is not necessary, however, to be particular in noticing it, as the general process is similar to that of common bookbinding. those binders who devote much attention to this branch of the trade, have a machine by which paper is ruled to suit any method of keeping books, or any other pattern which may be desired. [illustration: bookseller.] the bookseller. . the book-trade has arisen from small beginnings to its present magnitude and importance. before the invention of typography, it was carried on by the aid of transcribers; and the booksellers of greece, rome, and alexandria, during the flourishing state of their literature, kept a large number of manuscript copyists in constant employ. among the romans, the transcribers or copyists were chiefly slaves, who were very valuable to their owners, on account of their capacity for this employment. . in the middle ages, when learning was chiefly confined to the precincts of monastic institutions, the monks employed much of their time in copying the ancient classics and other works; and this labor was often imposed upon them as a penance for the commission of sin. from this cause, and from an ignorance of the true meaning of the author, much of their copying was inaccurately performed, so that great pains have been since required in the correction of the manuscripts of those times. . this mode of multiplying copies of books was exceedingly slow, and, withal, so very expensive, that learning was confined almost exclusively to people of rank, and the lower orders were only rescued from total ignorance by the reflected light of their superiors. for a long time, during the reign of comparative barbarism in europe, books were so scarce, that a present of a single copy to a religious house was thought to be so valuable a gift, that it entitled the donor to the prayers of the community, which were considered efficacious in procuring for him eternal salvation. . after the establishment of the universities of paris and bologna, there were dealers in books, called _stationarii_, who loaned single manuscripts at high prices; and, in the former place, no person, after the year , could deal in books in any way, without permission from the university, by which officers were appointed to examine the manuscripts, and fix the price for which they might be sold or hired out. . for a long time after the invention of printing, the printers sold their own publications; and, in doing this, especially at some distance from their establishments, they were aided by those who had formerly been employed as copyists. some of these travelling agents, at length, became stationary, and procured the publication of works on their own account. . the first bookseller who purchased manuscripts from the authors, and caused them to be printed without owning a press himself, was john otto, of nuremburg. he commenced this mode of doing business, in . in , there were, for the first time, two such booksellers in leipsic. the great mart for the sale of their books was frankfort on the maine, where were held three extensive fairs every year. leipsic, however, soon became, and still continues, the centre of the german book-trade. . the first leipsic catalogue of books appeared as early as the year ; but the fairs at that place did not become important, as regards the book-trade, until , when it was attended by nineteen foreign booksellers. the booksellers of germany, as well as some from distant countries, meet at the semi-annual fairs held in that city, to dispose of books, and to settle their accounts with each other. every german publisher has also an agent there, who receives his publications, and sends them, according as they are ordered, to any part of germany. . in no other part of the world, has such a connexion of booksellers been formed, although almost every kingdom of europe has some city or cities in which this branch of trade is chiefly concentrated; as london, in england; edinburgh, in scotland; and amsterdam, utrecht, leyden, and haerlem, in the netherlands. in spain and portugal, the price of every book is regulated by the government. . a very convenient method of effecting the sale and exchange of books among booksellers, has been adopted in the united states; and this is by auction. a sale of this kind is held in boston once, and in new-york and philadelphia twice, every year; and none are invited to attend it but the _trade_; hence such sales are denominated _trade-sales_. . the sale is usually conducted by an auctioneer who has been selected by a committee of the trade in the city in which it is to be held. in order to obtain a sufficient amount of stock for the purpose, the agent issues proposals, in which he informs publishers and others concerned in this branch of business, of his intention, and solicits invoices of books, to be sold at the time specified. a catalogue of all the books thus sent for sale, is distributed among the booksellers. . the booksellers having assembled, the books which may have been accumulated from different parts of the union, are offered in convenient lots, and _struck off_ to the highest bidder. each purchaser holds in his hand the printed catalogue, on the broad margin of which he marks, if he sees fit, the prices at which the books have been sold; and the record thus kept affords a tolerable means of determining their value, for a considerable time afterwards. . a sale of this kind occupies from four to six days; and, at the close of it, a settlement takes place, in which the parties are governed by the terms previously published. the payments are made in cash, or by notes at four or six months, according to the amount which the purchaser may have bought out of one invoice. the conductors of the sale are allowed about five per cent. commission for their services. . a vast number of books is also sold, every year, at auction, to miscellaneous collections of people, not only in the cities and considerable towns, but likewise in the villages throughout the country. by many booksellers, this method of sale is thought to be injurious to the trade, since it has reduced the prices of books, and interfered with the regular method of doing business. these disadvantages, however, have been far overbalanced by the increased number of readers which has been thus created. . the circulation of books is likewise promoted by means of travelling agents, who either sell them at once, or obtain subscriptions for them with the view to their future delivery. these methods have been employed more or less from the very commencement of the printing business; and they have probably contributed more to the general extension of knowledge than the sale of books by stationary booksellers. in fact, they are among the most prominent causes of the vast trade in books, which is now carried on, especially in the united states. . nevertheless, publishers, who do not employ agents to vend their books, generally consider them interlopers upon their business; and the people themselves, who owe a great share of their intellectual cultivation to this useful class of men, are generally averse to afford them the necessary patronage, because they require a small advance on the city prices to pay travelling expenses. . a considerable amount of books is also sold by merchants who reside at some distance from the cities and large towns. they, however, seldom venture to purchase those which have not been well known and approved in their neighborhood; and, in a majority of cases, regard them as mere subjects of merchandise, without taking into consideration the effects most likely to be produced by these silent, but powerful agents, when circulated among their customers. . some booksellers in europe confine their trade chiefly to particular departments; such as law, theology, and medicine. others deal in toy-books, and books of education, or in rare and scarce books. this is the case, to a limited extent, in the united states, although our booksellers commonly keep an assortment of miscellaneous publications, as well as various articles in the stationary line; such as paper, quills, inkstands, and blank work. [illustration: the architect.] the architect. . architecture, in the general sense of the word, is the art of planning and erecting buildings of all kinds, whether of a public or private nature; and it embraces within its operations a variety of employments, at the head of which must be placed the architect. architecture is of several kinds, such as _civil_, _naval_, _military_, and _aquatic_; but it is the first only that we propose to notice in the present article. . the construction of buildings as means of shelter from the weather, appears to have been among the earliest inventions; and, from the skill exhibited in the construction of the ark, we have reason to believe that architecture had been brought to considerable perfection before the deluge. this opinion is also supported by the fact stated in holy writ, that the descendants of noah, not more than one hundred years after the great catastrophe just mentioned, attempted to build a city and a lofty tower with bricks burned in the fire. this project could never have been thought of, had they not been influenced by the knowledge of former centuries. . the confusion of the language of the people caused their dispersion into different parts of the earth; and, in their several locations, they adopted that method of constructing their dwellings, which the climate required, and the materials at hand admitted; but, whatever the primitive structure may have been, it was continued, in its general features, from age to age, by the more refined and opulent inhabitants; hence the different styles of building, which have been continued, with various modifications, to the present day. . the essential elementary parts of a building are those which contribute to its support, inclosure, and covering; and of these the most important are the foundation, the column, the wall, the lintel, the arch, the vault, the dome, and the roof. ornamental and refined architecture is one of the fine arts; nevertheless, every part of an edifice must appear to have utility for its object, and show the purpose for which it has been designed. . the _foundation_ is usually a stone wall, on which the superstructure of the building rests. the most solid basis on which it is placed is rock, or gravel which has never been disturbed; next to these are clay and sand. in loose or muddy situations, it is always unsafe to build, unless a solid basis can be artificially produced. this is often done by means of timber placed in a horizontal position, or by driving wooden piles perpendicularly into the earth; on a foundation of the latter description, the greater part of the city of amsterdam has been built. . the _column_, or _pillar_, is the simplest member of a building, although it is not essential to all. it is not employed for the purpose of inclosure, but as a support to some part of the superstructure, and the principal force which it has to resist is that of perpendicular pressure. the column is more frequently employed in public than in private buildings. . the _wall_ may be considered the lateral continuation of the column, answering the purposes both of support and inclosure. it is constructed of various materials, but chiefly of brick, stone, and marble, with a suitable proportion of mortar or cement. walls are also made of wood, by first erecting a frame of timber and then covering it with boards; but these are more perishable materials, which require to be defended from the decomposing influence of the atmosphere, by paint or some other substance. . the _lintel_ is a beam extending in a right line from one column or wall to another over a vacant space. the _floor_ is a lateral continuation or connexion of beams, by means of a covering of planks. the strength of the lintel, and, in fact, every other elementary part of a building used as a support, can be mathematically determined by the skilful architect. . the _arch_ answers the same purpose as the lintel, although it far exceeds it in strength. it is composed of several pieces of a wedge-like form, and the joints formed by the contact of flat surfaces point to a common centre. while the workmen are constructing the arch, the materials are supported by a _centring_ of the shape of its internal surface. the upper stone of an arch is called the _key-stone_. the supports of an arch are called _abutments_; and a continuation of arches, an _arcade_. . the _vault_ is the lateral continuation of an arch, and bears the same relation to it that a wall bears to a column. the construction of a simple vault is the same with that of an arch, and it distributes its pressure equally along the walls or abutments. a complex or groined vault is made by the intersection of two of the common kind. the groined vault is much used in gothic architecture. . the _dome_, or _cupola_, is a hemispherical or convex covering to a building or a part of it. when built of stone it is a very strong kind of structure, even more so than the arch, since the tendency of the parts to fall is counteracted by those above and below, as well as by those on each side. during the erection of the cupola, no centring is required, as in the case of the arch. . the _roof_ is the most common and cheap covering to buildings. it is sometimes flat, but most commonly oblique, in shape. a roof consisting of two oblique sides meeting at the top, is denominated a _pent_ roof; that with four oblique sides, a _hipped_ roof; and that with two sides, having each two inclinations of different obliquities, a _curb_ or _mansard_ roof. in modern times, roofs are constructed of wood, or of wood covered with some incombustible material, such as tiles, slate, and sheets of lead, tin, or copper. the elementary parts of buildings, as just described, are more or less applicable in almost every kind of architecture. . the architecture of different countries has been characterized by peculiarities of form and construction, which, among ancient nations, were so distinct, that their edifices may be identified at the present day even in a state of ruin; and, although nearly all the buildings of antiquity are in a dilapidated state, many of them have been restored, in drawings and models, by the aid of the fragments which remain. . the different styles of building which have been recognised by the architect of modern times, are, the egyptian, the chinese, the grecian, the roman, the greco-gothic, the saracenic, and the gothic. in all these, the pillar, with its accompaniments, makes a distinguished figure. the following picture has therefore been introduced by way of explanation. the columns are of the corinthian order of architecture. [illustration] . _the egyptian style._--the first inhabitants of egypt lived in mounds, caverns, and houses of mud; and, from these primitive structures, the egyptians, at a later period, derived their style of architecture. the walls of their buildings were very thick, and sloping on the outside; the roof was flat, and composed of blocks of stone, extending from one wall or pillar to another; and the columns were short and large, being sometimes ten or twelve feet in diameter. pyramids of prodigious magnitude, and obelisks composed of a single stone, sometimes often exceeding seventy feet in height, are structures peculiarly egyptian. the architecture of the hindoos seems to have been derived from primitive structures of a similar character. [illustration: an egyptian temple.] . _the chinese style._--the ancient tartars, and other wandering tribes of asia, appear to have lived in tents; and the chinese buildings, even at the present day, bear a strong resemblance to these original habitations, since their roofs are concave on the upper side, as if made of canvas instead of wood. their porticoes resemble the awnings spread out on our shop-windows in the summer. the chinese build chiefly of wood, although they sometimes use brick and stone. [illustration: a chinese pagoda.] . _the grecian style._--this style of building had its origin in the wooden hut or cabin, the frame of which primarily consisted of perpendicular posts, transverse beams, and rafters. this structure was at length imitated in stone, and by degrees it was so modified and decorated in certain parts, as to give rise to the several distinctions called orders of architecture. the greeks, in perfecting their system of architecture, were probably aided by egyptian examples, although they finally surpassed all other nations in this important art. . _orders of architecture._--by the architectural orders are understood certain modes of proportioning and decorating the column and entablature. they were in use during the best days of greece and rome, for a period of six or seven centuries. the greeks had three orders, called the _doric_, the _ionic_, and the _corinthian_. these were adopted and modified by the romans, who also added two others, called the _tuscan_ and the _composite_. . _doric order._--the doric is the oldest and most massive order of the greeks. the column, in the examples at athens, is about six of its diameters in height; in those of an earlier date, it is but four or five. the temple here adduced to illustrate this order was built by cimon, son of miltiades, about the year before christ. it is said to be in a state of better preservation than any other of the ancient greek edifices at athens. it will be seen that the shafts are _fluted_, that is, cut in semicircular channels, in a longitudinal direction. the united states' bank, at philadelphia, is a noble specimen of this order. [illustration: the temple of theseus.] . _ionic order._--this order is lighter than the doric, its column being eight or nine diameters in height. its shaft has twenty-four or more flutings, separated from each other by square edges; and its capital consists, in part, of two double scrolls, called _volutes_, usually occupying opposite sides. these volutes are supposed to have been copied from ringlets of hair, or from the horns of the god jupiter ammon. the following example of this order consists of three temples, each of which was dedicated to a different individual, viz., erectheus, minerva polias, and the nymph pandrosus. [illustration: the erectheum at athens.] . _corinthian order._--the corinthian is the lightest and most decorated of all the grecian orders. its column is usually ten diameters in height, and its shaft is fluted like that of the ionic. its capital is shaped like an inverted bell, and was covered on the outside with two rows of the leaves of the plant acanthus, above which are eight pairs of small volutes. it is said that this beautiful capital was suggested to the sculptor callimachus by the growth of an acanthus about a basket, which had been accidentally left in a garden. . the greeks sometimes departed so far from the strict use of their orders, as to employ the statues of slaves, heroes, and gods, in the place of columns. a specimen of this practice is exhibited in the cut illustrative of the ionic order. it belongs to the temple dedicated to pandrosus. . the most remarkable buildings of the greeks were their temples. the body of these edifices consisted of a walled cell, usually surrounded by one or more rows of pillars. sometimes they had a colonnade at one end only, and sometimes at both ends. their form was generally oblong, and as the cells were intended as places of resort for the priests rather than for assemblies of the people, they were but imperfectly lighted. windows were seldom employed; and light was admitted at the door at one end, or through an opening in the roof. . grecian architecture is supposed to have been at its greatest perfection in the days of pericles and phidias, when sculpture is admitted to have attained its highest excellence. it was distinguished, in general, by simplicity of structure, fewness of parts, absence of arches, and lowness of pediments and roofs. . _roman style._--the romans adopted the three grecian orders, with some modifications; and also added two others, called the tuscan and composite. the former of these they borrowed from the nation whose name it bears, and the latter they formed by uniting the embellishments of the doric and the corinthian. the favorite order in rome and its colonies was the corinthian. examples of single pillars of these orders may be seen at the end of this article. . the temples of the romans generally bore a strong resemblance to those of the greeks, although they often differed from the specimens of that nation in several particulars. the stylobate of the latter was usually a succession of platforms, which likewise served the purposes of steps, by which the building was approached on all sides. among the romans, it was usually an elevated structure, like a continued pedestal, on three sides, and accessible in front by means of steps. the dome was also very commonly employed rather than the pent roof. the following is an example of a temple at rome. [illustration: temple of antonius and faustina.] . _greco-gothic style._--after the dismemberment of the roman empire, the practice of erecting new buildings from the fragments of old ones became prevalent. this gave rise to an irregular style of building, which continued in use during the dark ages. it consisted of greek and roman details combined under new forms, and piled up into structures wholly unlike the original buildings from which the materials had been taken. hence the appellations _greco-gothic_ and _romanesque_ have been applied to it. the effect of this style of building was very imposing, especially when columns and arches were piled upon each other to a great height. . _saracenic style._--this appellation has been given to the style of building practised by the moors and saracens in spain, egypt, and turkey. it is distinguished, among other things, by an elliptical form of the arch. a similar peculiarity exists in the domes of the oriental mosques, which are sometimes large segments of a sphere, appearing as if inflated; and at other times, they are concavo-convex on the outside. several of these domes are commonly placed upon one building. the _minaret_ is a tall slender tower, peculiar to turkish architecture. . _gothic style._--the goths, who overran a great part of the western empire, were not the inventors of the style of architecture which bears their name. the term was first applied with the view to stigmatize the edifices of the middle ages, in the construction of which, the purity of the antique models had not been regarded. the term was at first very extensive in its application; but it is now confined chiefly to the style of building which was introduced into various parts of europe six or eight centuries ago, and which was used in the construction of cathedrals, churches, abbeys, and similar edifices. [illustration: gothic cathedral at york.] . the gothic style is peculiarly and strongly marked. its principles seem to have originated in the imitation of groves and bowers, under which the druid priests had been accustomed to perform their sacred rites. its characteristics are, pointed arches, pinnacles and spires, large buttresses, clustered pillars, vaulted roofs, and a general predominance of the perpendicular over the horizontal. . the ecclesiastical edifices of this style of building are commonly in form of a cross, having a tower, lantern, or spire, erected at the point of intersection. the part of the cross situated towards the west is called the _nave_; the eastern part, the _choir_; and the transverse portion, the _transept_. a glance at the following diagram will enable the reader to understand the form of the ground-work more fully. [illustration] . any high building erected above a roof is called a _steeple_, which is also distinguished by different appellations, according to its form: if it is square topped, it is a _tower_; if long and acute, a _spire_; or if short and light, a _lantern_. towers of great height in proportion to their diameter are denominated _turrets_. the walls of gothic churches are supported on the outside by lateral projections, called _buttresses_, which extend from the bottom to the top, at the corners and between the windows. on the top of these are slender pyramidal structures or spires, called _pinnacles_. the summit or upper edge of a wall, if straight, is called a _parapet_; if indented, a _battlement_. . gothic pillars or columns are usually clustered, appearing as if a number were bound together. they are confined chiefly to the inside of buildings, and are generally employed in sustaining the vaults which support the roof. the parts which are thrown out of a perpendicular to assist in forming these vaults, have received the appellation of _pendentives_. the gothic style of building is more imposing than the grecian; but architects of the present day find it difficult to accomplish what was achieved by the builders of the middle ages. . in the erection of edifices at the present day, the grecian and gothic styles are chiefly employed, to the exclusion of the others, especially in europe and america. modern dwelling-houses have necessarily a style of their own, so far as relates to stories, windows, and chimneys; and no more of the styles of former ages can be applied to them, than what relates to the unessential and decorative parts. [illustration: doric. ionic. corinthian. composite. tuscan. pillars and entablatures of the five orders.] [illustration: carpenter.] the carpenter. . it is the business of the carpenter to cut out and frame large pieces of timber, and then to join them together, or fit them to brick or stone walls, to constitute them the outlines or skeleton of buildings or parts of buildings. . the joiner executes the more minute parts of the wood-work of edifices, comprehending, among other things, the floors, window-frames, sashes, doors, mantels, &c. carpentry and joinery, however, are so nearly allied to each other, that they are commonly practised by the same individuals; and, in this article, they will be treated together. . carpentry and joinery, as well as all other trades connected with building, are subservient to the architect, when an individual of this particular profession has been employed; but it most commonly happens, that the master-carpenter acts in this capacity. this is especially the case in the erection of common dwellings, and, in fact, of other edifices where nothing very splendid is to be attempted. it is to be regretted, however, that the professional architect has not been oftener employed; for, had this been the case, a purer taste in building would have generally prevailed. . contracts for the erection of buildings are often made with the carpenter, as master-builder or architect. in such cases, it is his business to employ persons capable of executing every kind of work required on the proposed edifice, from the bricklayer and stone-mason to the painter and glazier. it not unfrequently happens, however, that the person himself, who proposes to erect a building, chooses to employ the workmen in the different branches. . the constituent parts of buildings having been explained in the article on architecture, it is unnecessary to enter here into minute details on this point; nor would a particular description of the various operations of the carpenter and joiner be useful to the general reader, since, in every place, means are at hand by which a general view of this business may be obtained by actual inspection. . the carpenter and joiner are guided, in the performance of their work, by well-defined rules, drawn chiefly from the science of geometry, and which they have learned from imitation and practice, as well as, in many cases, from the valuable works which have been published on these branches of the art of building. . the principal tools with which they operate are the axe, the adze, the saw, the auger, the gauge, the square, the compasses, the hammer, the mallet, the crow, the rule, the level, the maul, and the plane; and of many of these there are several kinds. . the timbers most employed in building in the united states are chiefly pine, oak, beech, black walnut, cypress, larch, white cedar, and hemlock; but of these pine is in the greatest use. oak and beech are much used in constructing frames, in which great strength is required. of the pine, there are several species, of which the white and yellow are the most valuable; the former of these grows in the greatest abundance in the northern, and the latter, in the southern states. . vast quantities of timber are annually cut into boards in saw-mills, and floated down the rivers from the interior, during the time of high water in the spring and fall, and sometimes at other seasons of the year. the boards, or, as they are frequently denominated, planks, are placed in the water, one tier above another, and fastened together with wooden pins. several of such _rafts_ are connected by means of withes to form one; and, at each end of this, are placed one or two huge oars, with which it may be guided down the stream. upon these rafts, shingles and laths are also brought to market. . logs and scantling to be employed in the frames of buildings are also conveyed down the rivers in the same manner. the business connected with the production of shingles, laths, boards or planks, and staves, is called lumbering; and it is carried on, more or less extensively, in the regions near the sources of all the large rivers in the united states, and in the british possessions in north america. . the trade in lumber has also given rise to another class of men, called lumber merchants; these purchase the lumber from the original proprietors, who bring it down the rivers, and, in their turn, sell it to builders and others. the lumbering business employs a large capital, and a numerous class of our citizens. [illustration: stone-mason.] the stone-mason, the brickmaker, &c. the mason. . the art of masonry includes the sawing and cutting of stones into the various shapes required in the multiplied purposes of building, and in placing them in a proper manner in the walls and other parts of edifices. it is divided into two branches, one of which consists in bringing the stones to the desired form and polish, and the other, in laying them in mortar or cement. . the rocks most used in building in the united states, are marble, granite, greenstone, scienite, soap-stone, limestone, gypsum, and slate. these are found in a great many localities, not only on this continent, but on the other side of the atlantic. of these stones, there are many varieties, which are frequently designated by their sensible qualities, or by the name of the place or country whence they are obtained; as _variegated_, _italian_, _egyptian_, or _stockbridge marble_, and _quincy stone_. . _the stone-cutter._--stone-cutters procure their materials from the _quarry-men_, whose business it is to _get out_ the stones from the quarries, in which they lie in beds, consisting either of strata piled upon each other, or of solid masses. stones of any desirable dimensions are detached from the great mass of rock, by first drilling holes at suitable points, and then driving into them wedges with a sledge. these blocks are usually removed from the quarries, and placed on vehicles of transportation, by means of huge cranes, with which is connected suitable machinery. . the blocks of stone, received in their rough state by the stone-cutter, are divided, if required, into pieces of smaller size, by means of a toothless saw, aided by the attrition of sand and water. the other rough sides of the blocks are reduced to the proper form by means of steel _points_ and _chisels_ driven with a mallet. a kind of hammer with a point or chisel-like edge, is also used to effect the same object, especially in the softer kinds of stone. . for some purposes, the stones are required to be polished. this is especially the case with those employed in the ornamental parts of buildings. in the execution of this part of the work, the surface is rubbed successively with sand, freestone, pumice-stone, scotch stone, crocus, and putty. when the face is a plane, the sand is applied by means of another stone, which is moved backwards and forwards upon it. in this way, two surfaces are affected at the same time. . in polishing irregular surfaces, the different kinds of stone are used in masses of convenient size; and the part applied to the surface to be polished is first brought to a form corresponding to it. the putty is an oxyde of tin, in form of powder. crocus is the peroxyde of iron. the building-stone capable of receiving the highest polish is marble; and it is on this material that the stone-cutter, and the architectural carver or sculptor, exert their utmost skill; but some of the other stones which have been mentioned, possess the same quality to a considerable extent. . carving architectural ornaments, such as pillars with their capitals, is a refined branch of this business; or it may rather be considered, of itself, a branch of sculpture. in the execution of this kind of work, the operator is guided by patterns, formed from the well-defined rules of the science of building. very few stone-cutters attempt the execution of work so very difficult. . from the manufacture of mantel-pieces and monuments for the dead, the stone-cutter derives a great proportion of his profits. this will be manifest even to the superficial observer who may visit a few of the many stone-cutters' yards, to be found in any of our large cities. in some of these, blocks of marble are cut into slabs by the aid of steam-power. . in districts of country, also, where valuable stone is abundant, water is extensively employed for the same purpose. this is especially the case in berkshire county, massachusetts, where marble of a good quality is abundant. a great proportion of the marble slabs used by the stone-cutter are obtained from such mills. some other operations of this business are also sometimes performed by the aid of machinery. the stone-mason. . in philadelphia, and in many other cities not only in this country, but also in europe, the stone-cutters _set their own work_; and this practice has led to the habit of applying the term stone-mason to both stone-cutters and those who lay stone in mortar and cement. in new-york, however, as well as in some of the cities farther east, these two employments are kept more distinct. the stone-cutters in philadelphia are sometimes denominated marble-masons. . but, in every city, there are persons called stone-masons, whose business consists exclusively in constructing the walls and some other parts of buildings with stone; and their operations are considerably enlarged in those places where there are no marble-masons. in many cases, the bricklayer is also so far a stone-mason, as to lay the foundation-walls of the buildings which he may erect. this is especially the case in the country, where the divisions of labor are not so minute as in cities. it may be well here to remark, also, that the bricklayers, in some places, perform the services of the marble-mason. . the marble-mason, in joining together several pieces in a monument, employs a kind of cement composed of about six parts of lime, one of pure sand, a little plaster, and as much water as may be necessary to form it to the proper consistency. no more of this cement is used than is required to hold the blocks or parts together, as one great object of the artist is to hide the joints as much as possible. the substance thus interposed, becomes as hard as the marble itself. . the cement employed in laying marble in common or large edifices, is somewhat different from that just described, as it consists of about three fourths of lime and one of sand. the latter substance is obtained, in an unmixed state, on the bays in every part of the world; hence it has received the appellation of _bay sand_. . when it cannot be conveniently had in a pure state, particles of the same kind can be separated in sufficient quantities from their admixture with other substances. this is effected by sifting the compound through a sieve, into a small stream of water, which carries off the lighter particles that are unfit for use, whilst the sand, by its superior specific gravity, sinks to the bottom. the part which may be too coarse, remains in the sieve. this, however, except the rubbish, can be used in the coarser kinds of masonry. . the mortar, used in laying bricks and common stone, has a greater proportion of sand, which is generally of an inferior quality. besides, the materials are incorporated with less care. lime for the purposes of building is procured chiefly by calcining limestone in a kiln, with wood, coal, or some other combustible substance. it is also obtained by burning chalk, marble, and marine shells. water poured upon newly-burnt or _quick_ lime, causes it to swell, and fall to pieces into a fine powder. in this state it is said to be _slacked_. . masonry is often required in situations under water, especially in the construction of bridges and locks of canals. common mortar resists the action of the water very well, when it has become perfectly dry; yet, if it is immersed before it has had time to harden, it dissolves, and crumbles away. . the ancient romans, who practised building in the water to a great extent, discovered a material, which, when incorporated with lime, either with or without sand, possessed the property of hardening in a few minutes even under water. this was a kind of earth found at puteoli, to which was given the name of _pulvis puteolanus_, and which is the same now called _puzzolana_. . a substance denominated _tarras_, _terras_, or _tras_, found near andernach, in the vicinity of the rhine, possesses the same quality with puzzolana. it is this material which has been principally employed by the dutch, whose aquatic structures are superior to those of any other nation in europe. various other substances, such as baked clay and calcined greenstone, reduced to powder, afford a tolerable material for water-cements. several quarries of water lime, which is similar in appearance to common limestone, has been lately discovered in the united states, which, being finely pulverized and mixed with sand, makes very good water-cement. . in buildings constructed with marble and other costly stones, the walls are not composed of these materials in their entire thickness; but, for the sake of cheapness, they are formed on the inside with bricks, commonly of a poor quality, so that in reality they can be considered only brick walls faced with stone. these two kinds of materials have no other connexion than what is produced by the mortar which may have been interposed, and the occasional use of clamps of iron. such walls are said to be liable to become convex outwardly from the difference in the shrinking of the cement employed in laying the two walls. . the principal tools employed in cutting and laying stone are the saw, various kinds of steel points, chisels and hammers, the mallet, the square, the compasses, the level, the plumb-rule, the trowel, and the hod, to which may be added, the spade and the hoe. the last three instruments, however, are handled almost exclusively by laborers. . besides these, contrivances are required to raise heavy materials to the various positions which they are to occupy. these consist, for the most part, of one or two shafts, commonly the mast of an old vessel, to which are attached tackle extending in various directions, and also those by which the blocks are to be raised. the rope belonging to the hoisting tackle is pulled by a machine worked with a crank. . masonry is one of the primitive arts, and was carried to great perfection in ancient times. the pyramids of egypt are supposed to have stood about three thousand years, and they will probably remain for centuries to come, monuments as well of the folly as of the power and industry of man. the temples and other magnificent structures of greece and rome, exhibit wonderful skill in masonry, and leave but little, if anything new, to be achieved in modern times. the brickmaker. . brick is a sort of artificial stone, made principally of argillaceous earths formed in moulds, dried in the sun, and burned with fire. . the earliest historical notice of bricks is found in the book of genesis, where it is stated that the posterity of noah undertook to build a city and a lofty tower of this material. whether the bricks were really exposed to the action of fire, as the passage referred to seems to imply, or only dried in the sun, is an unsettled point. but herodotus, who visited the spot many centuries afterwards, states that the bricks in the tower of babylon were baked in furnaces. . it is evident, however, that the earliest bricks were commonly hardened in the sun; and, to give them the requisite degree of tenacity, chopped straw was mixed with the clay. the manufacture of such bricks was one of the tasks imposed upon the israelites, during their servitude with the egyptians. . the extreme dryness and heat of the climate in some of the eastern countries, rendered the application of fire dispensable; and there are structures of unburnt bricks still remaining, which were built two or three thousand years ago. bricks both sun-dried and burned, were used by the greeks and the romans. . the walls of babylon, some of the ancient structures of egypt and persia, the walls of athens, the rotunda of the pantheon, the temple of peace, and the thermæ, or baths, at rome, were all built of brick. the most common bricks among the romans were seventeen inches long and eleven broad; a size, certainly, far preferable, as regards appearance, to those of modern manufacture. . in the united states, a great proportion of the edifices, particularly in the cities and towns, are constructed of bricks, which are usually manufactured in the vicinity of the place where they are to be used. the common clay, of which they are made, consists of a mixture of argillaceous earth and sand, with a little oxyde of iron, which causes them to turn red in burning. the material for bricks is dug up, and thrown into a large heap, late in the fall or in the winter, and exposed to the influence of the frost until spring. . the operation of making bricks is conducted very systematically; and, although every part of the work seems to be very simple, it requires considerable dexterity to perform it properly and to the best advantage. the workmen, in the yards about philadelphia, are divided into _gangs_ consisting of three men and a boy. the first is called the _temperer_, who tempers the material with water and mixes it with a spade; the second is called the _wheeler_, who conveys it on a barrow to a table, where it is formed in moulds by the _moulder_, whence it is carried to the _floor_ by the boy, who is denominated the _off-bearer_. . the bricks are suffered to remain on the floor a day or two, or until they have become dry enough to be handled with safety. they are then removed and piled into a _hack_, under cover, in such a manner that the air may circulate freely between them. it is the business of the whole gang to remove the bricks from the floor, and also to place them in the kiln to be burned. in both cases, each one has his due proportion of labor to perform. . the day's work of a gang, when the weather is favorable, is to make and pile in the hack a tale of bricks, which consists of , or an even . the former number is called a _long tale_, and the latter, a _short tale_. considerable skill and much care are required in burning the bricks in a proper manner; too much fire would cause them to vitrify, and too little would leave them soft, and unfit for atmospheric exposure. . in many places, the clay is mixed or prepared for the moulder by driving round upon it a yoke of oxen, or by means of a simple machine, consisting of a beam, into which has been driven a great number of spokes. one end of this beam is confined in a central position, while the other is moved round in a sweep by animal power. . machines have also been invented by the aid of which the clay may be both mixed and moulded; but these have been very little used. a machine, however, is often employed in pressing bricks which have been formed in the usual manner. the pressing is done after the bricks have become partially dry. such bricks are employed in facing the walls of the better kinds of structures. . _tiles._--tiles are plates used for covering roofs. they resemble bricks in their composition and mode of manufacture, and are shaped in such a manner that when placed upon a building, the edge of one tile receives that next to it, so that water cannot percolate between them. tiles, both of burnt clay and marble, were used by the ancients; and the former continue to be employed in various parts of europe. flat tiles are used for floors in many countries, and especially in italy. the bricklayer. . the particular business of the bricklayer is to lay bricks in mortar or some other cement, so as to form one solid body; but he frequently constructs the foundations of buildings in rough stones, and, in some cities, he sets hewn stone in the superstructure. in the country, plastering is likewise connected with this business. . bricklaying consists in placing one brick upon another in mortar, chiefly in the construction of walls, chimneys, and ovens. in connecting these materials, especially in walls, two methods are employed, one of which is called the _english bond_, and the other, the _flemish bond_. in the former method, the bricks are most commonly of one quality, and are laid crosswise and lengthwise in alternate rows. the bricks which are laid across the wall are called _headers_, and those which are laid in the other direction are called _stretchers_. the brick-work of the romans was of this kind, and so are the partition-walls of many modern brick edifices. . the bricks employed in the walls constructed according to the flemish method, are of two, and frequently of three, qualities. those placed in the front, or on the external surface, are manufactured with greater care, and, in some cases, are formed in a larger mould. a wall put up on this principle may be said to consist of two thin walls composed of stretchers, with occasional headers, to unite them together. the space between them, when the wall is thick, is filled in with the inferior bricks. . the inclosing walls of all brick edifices are erected on this plan, although they are thought to be more insecure than those constructed on the old english method. the reasons alleged for the preference, are its superior beauty, and a considerable saving in the most expensive kind of bricks. greater security might be attained by the use of larger bricks, say sixteen inches in length, and wide and thick in proportion. besides, an edifice constructed of well-made bricks of this size would be but little inferior in appearance to marble itself. . most of the instruments used by the bricklayer are also employed by the stone-mason; and they have, therefore, been already mentioned. the particular method of laying bricks, in their various applications, can be learned by actual inspection in almost every village, city, or neighborhood, in our country, a more particular description of the bricklayer's operations is hence unnecessary. . before closing this subject, however, it may be well to state that the chimney appears to be an invention comparatively modern, since the first certain notice we have of it is found in an inscription at venice, in which it is stated that, in , a great many chimneys were thrown down by an earthquake. it is conjectured that this valuable improvement originated in italy, inasmuch as it was here that chimney-sweeping was first followed as a business. . before the introduction of the chimney, it was customary to make the fire in a hole or pit in the centre or some other part of the floor, under an opening formed in the roof, which, in unfavorable weather, could be closed by a moveable covering. among the romans, the hearth or fire-place was located in the _atrium_ or hall, and around it the _lares_, or household gods, were placed. to avoid being infested with smoke, they burned dry wood soaked in the lees of oil. in warming other apartments of the house, they used portable furnaces, in which were placed embers and burning coals. . it is said by seneca, who flourished about the middle of the first century of the christian era, that in his time, a particular kind of pipes was invented, and affixed to the walls of buildings, through which heat from a subterranean furnace was made to circulate. by this means, the rooms were heated more equally. in the southern parts of italy and spain, there are still very few chimneys. the same may be said of many other countries, where the climate is pleasant or very warm. . hollinshead, who wrote during the reign of queen elizabeth, thus describes the rudeness of the preceding generation in the arts of life: "there were very few chimneys even in capital towns: the fire was laid to the wall, and the smoke issued out at the roof, or door, or window. the houses were wattled, and plastered over with clay; and all the furniture and utensils were of wood. the people slept on straw pallets, with a log of wood for a pillow." the plasterer. . in modern practice, plastering occurs in many departments of architecture. it is more particularly applied to the ceilings and interior walls of buildings, and also in rough-casting on their exterior. . in plastering the interior parts of buildings, three coatings of mortar are commonly applied in succession. the mortar for the _first coat_ is composed of about twelve parts of sand, six of lime, and three of hair, with a sufficient quantity of water to bring it to the proper consistence; that for the _second coat_ contains a less proportion of lime and hair; and that for the _third coat_ is composed exclusively of lime and water. . the mortar is applied directly to the solid wall, or to thin strips of wood called _laths_, which have been fastened with small nails to the joists, and other parts of the frame of the building. the tools with which the plasterer applies the mortar are _trowels_ of different sizes and shapes, and the _hawk_. the latter instrument is a board about a foot square, with a short handle projecting at right angles from the bottom. . in all well-finished rooms, cornices are run at the junction of the wall and ceiling. the materials of these cornices are lime, water, and plaster. the lime and water are first incorporated, and the plaster is added with an additional quantity of water, as it may be needed for immediate application. the composition is applied in a semifluid state, but the plaster causes it _to set_, or to become solid immediately. in the mean time, the workman applies to it, in a progressive manner, the edge of a solid piece of wood, in which an exact profile of the proposed cornice has been cut. . ornaments of irregular shape are cast in moulds of wax or plaster of paris, and these are formed on models of the proposed figures in clay. such ornaments were formerly the productions of manual operations performed by ingenious men called _ornamental plasterers_. the casts are all made of the purest plaster; and, after having been polished, they are fastened to the proper place with the same substance saturated with water. . the branch of this business called _rough-casting_, consists in applying mortar to the exterior walls of houses. the mode in which the work is performed varies but little from that adopted in plastering the walls of apartments. it, however, requires only two coats of the cement; and, when these have been applied, the surface is marked off in imitation of masonry. it is likewise sometimes colored, that it may resemble marble or some other stone. . the cement is commonly made of _sharp sand_ and lime; but sometimes a kind of argillaceous stone, calcined in kilns and afterwards reduced to powder by mechanical means, makes a part of the composition. the qualities of this material were first discovered by a mr. parker, who obtained letters patent for this application of it, in england, in ; hence it has been called _parker's cement_. the slater. . slate stone is valuable for the property of splitting in one direction, so as to afford fragments of a sufficient size and thinness to answer several purposes, but especially for covering houses and for writing slates. the best slates are those which are even and compact, and which absorb the least water. . the slates used in the united states, are obtained either from our own quarries, of which there are several, or from those of wales, in the county of caernarvonshire. the stone is quarried in masses, which are afterwards split into pieces of suitable thinness. these are trimmed to an oblong figure by means of a knife and a steel edge, which act upon the slate much in the manner of a large pair of shears. . as it is impossible to dress all the slates to the same size without much waste of material, those engaged in their manufacture have introduced several sizes, the smallest of which are made of the fragments of the larger kinds. these are designated by names known to the trade, and to those practically conversant with the art of building. . the slates, when brought to market, especially those from wales, require additional dressing to fit them for use. the manner of applying them to roofs differs but little from that employed in putting on shingles, as they are lapped over each other in the same way, and confined to their place by means of nails of a similar kind. the nails, however, have a broader head, and are somewhat larger, varying in size to suit the dimensions of the slate. the holes in the slate for the nails are made with a steel point attached to the slater's hammer, or to his knife, technically called a _saix_. . slates are preferable to shingles on account of their durability, and, in a majority of situations, for their fire-proof quality. they, however, are objectionable on account of their weight and expensiveness, and are therefore beginning to be superseded in this country by sheets of zinc, and by those of iron coated with tin. copper and lead are also used for roofs, but the metals just mentioned are beginning to exclude them altogether. . a serious objection to metal roofs has been their liability to crack, caused by the contraction and expansion of the material, in consequence of variations in the temperature of the weather; but a particular method of putting the sheets together has been lately devised, which appears to obviate the difficulty. tiles are not used in this country, although in europe they are very common. [illustration: painter & glazier.] the painter, and the glazier. the house and sign painter. . the painting which is the subject of this article relates to forming letters and sometimes ornamental and significant figures on signs, as well as to the application of paints to houses and other structures, for the purpose of improving their appearance, and of preserving them from the influence of the atmosphere and other destructive agents. . the substances capable of being employed by the house and sign painter, comprise a great variety of articles, derived from the mineral, vegetable, and animal kingdoms; but he ordinarily confines his selection to but few, among which are white lead, litharge, spanish brown, yellow ochre, chrome yellow, red ochre, terra di sienna, lampblack, verdigris, linseed-oil, spirits of turpentine, and gold-leaf. . white lead and litharge are manufactured in great quantities at chemical works, sometimes established for the express purpose of making these and some other preparations of lead. the substances of which we are now speaking, are produced in the following manner: the lead, in form of a continued sheet, about three feet long, six inches wide, and one line in thickness, is wound spirally up in such a manner, that the coils may stand about half an inch apart. . the metal in this form is placed vertically in earthen vessels, at the bottom of which is some strong vinegar. these vessels, being placed in sand, horse manure, or tan, are exposed to a gentle heat, which causes the gradual evaporation of the vinegar. the vapor thus produced, assisted by the oxygen which is present, converts the exposed surface into a carbonate of lead, the substance known as white lead, or ceruse. . the corrosion of one of these sheets occupies from three to six weeks, during which time it is repeatedly uncoiled and scraped. litharge, or flake white, is nothing more than the densest and thickest scales produced in the manner just described. it can be obtained in a pure state from the dealers in paints, whereas the white lead of commerce is most commonly adulterated with chalk. . spanish brown, yellow ochre, and terra di sienna, are earths impregnated with iron in different degrees of oxydation. red ochre is yellow ochre burned. chrome yellow is extensively manufactured in baltimore, from the chromate of iron, found near that city. in chemical phraseology, the manufactured article is the chromate of lead, since the chromate is separated from the iron by the aid of a solution of the nitrate or acetate of lead. . linseed-oil is obtained from flax-seed by pressure. it is afterwards filtered, and then suffered to remain at rest, to precipitate and clarify. this oil improves in quality by keeping, as it becomes, in a few years, as transparent as water. in this state, it is employed in the finest painting. . before the oil is used, it is commonly boiled with a small quantity of litharge and red lead, to cause it to dry rapidly, after the paint has been applied. during the boiling, the scum is removed as fast as it rises, and this is mixed with inferior paints of a dark color. linseed-oil, thus prepared, is vended by dealers in paints, under the name of boiled oil. . spirits of turpentine is produced by distilling with water the resinous juice or sap of several species of the pine. the residuum, after distillation, is the turpentine of commerce. spirits of turpentine is mixed with paints, to cause them to dry with rapidity. like oil, it improves with age, and it is sold in the same manner by the common wine measure. . white lead, and several other principal paints, are purchased in their crude condition, and reduced to a state of minute division in paint-mills. they are afterwards mixed with boiled oil, and put up in kegs of different sizes for sale. many articles, however, are pulverized, and sold in a dry state. the preparation of paints is commonly a distinct business, and very few painters seem to be acquainted with the mode in which it is performed. . in mixing colors for house and sign painting, white lead forms the basis of all the ingredients. this the color preparer, or the painter himself, modifies and changes by the addition of coloring materials, until it is tinged with the proposed hue. the pigments derived from vegetable bodies, produce, when first applied to surfaces, a brilliant effect; but they cannot long resist the combined influence of air and light, while the mineral colors, in the same exposure, remain unchanged. . painters, in the execution of their work, commonly lay on three coats of paint. in communicating a white, the two first coats are composed of white lead and oil; and in the last, spirits of turpentine is substituted for the oil, for the inside work. for the outside of buildings, especially in warm and dry climates, this liquid is inapplicable, since it causes the paint to crack and flake off. it is, however, frequently used, when the painter is compelled to do his work at too low a rate, or when he is regardless of his reputation. . for other colors, the composition for the different coats is the same, except for the two last, in which other coloring substances are added to the materials just mentioned, to give the proposed hue. the tools for painting houses are few in number, and consist chiefly of brushes of different sizes, made of hog's bristles. . _graining_ is understood, among painters, to be the imitation of the different species of scarce woods used for the best articles of furniture. but the manner in which this kind of work is executed can be hardly gathered from a concise description, although it may be easily learned from a practical exhibition of the process by a painter. . _ornamental painting_ embraces the execution of friezes and other decorative parts of architecture on walls and ceilings. the ornaments are drawn in outline with a black-lead pencil, and then painted and shaded, to give the proper effect. some embellishments of this kind are executed in gold-leaf, in the same manner with gold letters on signs. this kind of work is called _gilding in oil_. . painting in oil, as applied to the execution of designs, seems to have been invented, or at least to have been brought into notice, in the early part of the fifteenth century, by john van eyck, of flanders. before this time, house-painting, so far as the exterior was concerned, could have been but little, if at all, practised. . one profitable branch of common painting is that of painting and lettering signs. in performing this kind of work, the sign is first covered with two or three uniform coats of paint. the letters are next slightly sketched with chalk or a lead-pencil, and then formed in colors with a camels'-hair brush. when the letters are to be gilt, the process, so far, is precisely the same. the leaf is laid upon the letters, while the paint is in a tenacious state, and is suffered to remain untouched, until the oil has become dry, after which the superfluous gold is removed. the whole is then covered with an oil varnish, which, in plain lettering, completes the operation. the glazier. . glazing, as practised in this country, consists chiefly in setting panes of glass in window-sashes. in the performance of this operation, the glazier first fits the panes to the sash by cutting away, if necessary, a part of the latter with a chisel; he then fastens the glass slightly with little pieces of tin, which have been cut to a triangular shape; and, lastly, he applies _putty_ at their junction with the sash, and by this means confines them firmly and permanently to their place. the putty is made of linseed-oil and whiting. the latter of these materials is chalk cleared of its grosser impurities, and ground in a color-mill. . plain glazing is so simple, that no person need serve an apprenticeship to learn it; and there are but few who confine their attention to this business exclusively. it is commonly connected with some other of greater difficulty, such as that of the carpenter and joiner, or house and sign painter, but with the latter more frequently than any other. . when the glass, as received from the manufacturer, may not be of the size and shape required for a proposed application, the panes are cut by means of a diamond fixed in lead, and secured by a ferrule of brass, which is fastened to a small cylindrical handle of hard wood. this instrument is used, in conjunction with a straight edge, like a pencil in ruling lines on paper for writing. the glass is afterwards broken in the direction of the fracture, by a slight pressure downwards. . although glass windows seem to us to be indispensable to comfort, yet glass had been manufactured many centuries in considerable perfection, before it was applied to this purpose. the houses in oriental countries had commonly no windows in front, and those on the other sides were provided with curtains, or with a moveable trellis-work in summer, and in winter with oiled paper. . in rome and other cities of the empire, thin leaves of a certain kind of stone called _lapis specularis_ were used. windows of this material, however, were employed only in the principal apartments of great houses, in gardens, sedans, and the like. paper made of the egyptian papyrus, linen cloth, thin plates of marble, agate, and horn, seem likewise to have been used. . the first certain information we have of the employment of glass panes in windows, is found in the writings of gregory of tours, who flourished in the last quarter of the sixth century. this prelate states that the churches were furnished with windows of colored glass, in the fourth century after christ. the oldest glass windows now in existence were of the twelfth century, and are in the church of st. denis, the most ancient edifice of this description in france. . Æneas sylvius accounted it one of the most striking instances of splendor which he met with in vienna, in , that most of the houses had glass windows. in france, all the churches had these conveniences in the sixteenth century, although there were but few in private dwellings. talc, isinglass, plates of white horn, oiled paper, and thinly shaved leather, were used instead of glass. a similar state of things prevailed in england. . the glass used for the windows of churches and other public buildings, after the fourth century, was very commonly intrinsically colored or superficially painted. painting on glass had its origin in the third century, and at first it consisted in the mere arrangement of small pieces of glass of different colors in some sort of symmetry, and constituted a kind of mosaic-work. . afterwards, when more regular designs came to be attempted, such as the human figure, the whole address of the artist went no farther than drawing the outlines of the objects in black on glass resembling in color the subjects to be represented. the art, in this state of advancement, was spread over a great part of europe. . about the beginning of the fifteenth century, a method of fixing metallic colors in glass by means of heat was discovered, and from this the art derived great advantages. it flourished most during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries; but it declined in the following age, and in the eighteenth century it was very little practised in any country. it has, however, been partially revived, of late, in germany. a very good specimen of this kind of painting, as well as of colored glass, may be seen in st. john's church, in philadelphia. [illustration: turner.] the turner. . turning is a very useful art, by which a great variety of articles are almost exclusively manufactured. besides this, it constitutes a considerable part of the operations of several trades and occupations, such as the chairmaker, machinist, cabinet-maker, brass-founder, &c., since every substance of a solid nature can be submitted to the process. . turning is performed in a _lathe_, an apparatus constructed in various ways, according to the particular purposes to which it is to be applied, although, in all cases, the general principle of its operation is the same. the kind represented in the above picture, is used for plain or circular turning in wood. on examination, it will be perceived, that two wheels of different sizes make essential parts of it. on the extended axle of the smaller one, is fastened the piece to be turned; and immediately in front of this is the _rest_, on which the cutting instrument is supported during the performance of the operation. . when the material to be turned is wood, it is commonly cut to the proper length with a saw, and brought to a form approaching to the cylindrical by means of an axe or drawing-knife. it is next fastened in the lathe. this is done by different means, varying according to the particular form of the thing to be turned. in plain circular turning, as applied to bed-posts, legs of tables, and rounds for chairs, the piece is supported at each end. that at the left hand is driven upon a piece of steel, which has been screwed upon the extended axle of the small wheel; and the other end is fixed upon a steel point, placed in an upright moveable piece called a _puppet-head_. . in case the wood is to be turned on the inside, as in making a bowl, cup, or mortar, the piece is supported altogether at one end, by means of a hollow cylinder of wood, brass, or iron, called a _chuck_, which receives it on one side, and on the other is screwed upon the end of the axle. the axle is sometimes called the _mandril_, and any extension of it, by means of a piece added to it for a centre, on which anything may be turned which will admit of a hole through it, is denominated an _arbor_. . the tools used in turning wood and ivory, are _gouges_ and _chisels_ of different sizes and shapes. in using these, they are placed upon the _rest_, and brought in contact with the revolving material of the proposed figure. the gouge is employed in cutting away the rough exterior, and the chisel, in producing a still further reduction, and a greater smoothness of surface. . in working in very hard wood and in ivory, the _grooving tool_, a sharp pointed instrument somewhat similar to the graver, is used in the first part of the operation; and by this the grain of the substance is cut into contiguous grooves, and prepared for an easy reduction by the chisel. the instruments for turning metals are numerous, but they differ in some respects from those for cutting wood. . in almost every kind of turning, a tool called the _calipers_ is necessary for measuring the diameters of the work. in its form, it bears some resemblance to the compasses or dividers. one or both of the legs, however, are curved; and one kind of this instrument has four legs, two curved, or two straight, at each end, with a pivot in the centre, on which it is opened and shut. the former of these is employed in measuring the dimensions of outside work, and the latter, for that on the inside. this kind is called the _in-and-out_ calipers; and it is especially useful in turning a cylinder, or pin, which shall exactly fit an internal cylinder already made, and _vice versâ_. . there is but little difference in the management of turning different substances. the principal thing to be attended to is to adapt the velocity of the motion to the nature of the material; thus wood will work best with the greatest velocity that can be given to it. brass should have a motion about half as quick as wood, and iron and steel still less; for, in operating on metallic substances, the tool is liable to become hot, and lose its temper; besides which, a certain time is requisite for the act of cutting to take place. . when compared with many other mechanical operations, the art of turning may be considered as perfect in its accuracy and expedition. the lathe is, therefore, resorted to for the performance of every work of which it is capable; nor is its use confined to the production of forms perfectly cylindrical, for it can be easily made to produce figures of irregular shape, such as lasts, gunstocks, &c. . the lathe was well known to the greeks and romans, as well as to many other nations of antiquity. diodorus siculus, who wrote in the time of julius cæsar and augustus, says that it was invented by one talus, a nephew of dædalus. pliny ascribes it to theodore, of samos, and mentions one thericles, who had rendered himself very famous by his dexterity in managing the lathe. the greek and latin authors frequently mention this instrument; and, among the ancients, it was customary to express the accuracy and nicety of a thing by saying, it was formed in a lathe. [illustration: cabinet maker.] the cabinet-maker, and the upholsterer. the cabinet-maker. . it is the business of the cabinet-maker to manufacture particular kinds of household furniture, such as tables, stands, bureaus, sideboards, desks, book-cases, sofas, bedsteads, &c., as well as a certain description of chairs made of mahogany and maple. many of the operations of this business are similar to those of the carpenter and joiner, although they require to be conducted with greater nicety and exactness. . the qualifications of a finished cabinet-maker are numerous and of difficult acquisition; so that they are seldom concentrated in any single individual. he requires not only a correct taste, but also a knowledge of drawing, architecture, and mechanics, besides the abilities of a good practical workman. . a knowledge of drawing is especially useful in designing new articles of furniture, or in improving the form of those which have been already introduced. it also enables the artist to determine with accuracy what would be the general effect of furniture, were different pieces of it placed in any proposed apartment; and, combined with architectural knowledge, it enables him to adapt the style of his wares to that of the building for which they may be designed. . in general, the principles of this business are fixed, so far as relates to the mode of operating in the execution of the work; yet continual changes are made in the form and construction of its various articles, so as to keep pace with the advancement of correct taste, or with the caprices of fashion. in fact, the shapes of furniture are almost as changeable as those of female dress; and this causes many expensive pieces to fall into disuse, while others are introduced, which, for a time, are considered indispensable to comfort, and which in turn enjoy but a temporary favor. . the cabinet-maker uses various kinds of wood in the manufacture of his wares; but those which are most frequently employed in the united states are pine, maple, poplar, cherry, black walnut, white oak, beach, mahogany, and rose, all of which are abundant in this country, except the last two. mahogany is brought in great quantities from the west indies and south america; rose-wood is obtained chiefly from the west indies and brazil, although it was first introduced into notice from the island of cyprus. . the applicability of mahogany to the manufacture of cabinet-ware, was accidentally discovered in london, about the year . a physician, named gibbons, received a present of some of the planks from his brother, a sea-captain, who had brought them from the west indies, chiefly as ballast. the doctor was, at that time, erecting a house, and, supposing them to be adapted to the purposes of building, gave them to his workmen, who, on trial, rejected them as being too hard to be wrought with their tools. . a cabinet-maker was next employed to make a candle-box of some of it, and he also complained of the hardness of the timber; but, when the box was finished, it outshone in beauty all the doctor's other furniture. he then required a bureau to be made of the same kind of material; and this, having been finished, became the subject of exhibition to his friends, as a piece of remarkable beauty. the wood was immediately taken into general favor, and it soon became an article of merchandise of considerable importance. . in giving the reader a view of the operative part of this business, we have selected the bureau as affording the best means of illustration. the material which composes the frame and drawers of this piece of furniture, is commonly some kind of soft wood, such as pine or poplar; and this is faced with thin layers of mahogany in those parts which are to be exposed to view. . the materials for the frame and drawers are first marked out, and the several pieces reduced to the form and dimensions required, with planes and other instruments. thin pieces of mahogany are firmly fixed to the surfaces which require them. this part of the work is called _veneering_. the workman prepares the surface of the soft wood for the _veneer_, by cutting it into small contiguous grooves by means of a small plane, the cutting edge of which is full of little notches and teeth. . melted glue having been spread upon both surfaces with a brush, the parts are placed in contact, and firmly pressed together by means of _hand-screws_. before the screws are applied, the surface of the veneer is covered with a piece of heated board, termed, in this application, a _caul_. one piece of this kind commonly serves a veneer on each side of it at the same time. . the mahogany thus attached to the softer wood, is afterwards wrought with the _toothed-plane_, and others of the common kind. it is then scraped with a flat piece of steel, having edges which act upon the surface in the same manner as pieces of broken panes of glass. the polishing is finished, so far as it is carried at this stage of the process, by the use of sand-paper. . the several pieces which compose the frame of the bureau are put together with the joint called _mortice_ and _tenon_; and those which form the four sides of the drawers, with that called _dove-tail_. the bottom is united to the sides on the right and left, and sometimes in front, by the _groove-and-tongue_, and its rear edge is fastened with a few nails. the _bearers_ of the drawers are fastened on by means of nails. . the joints are made to fit not only by the accuracy of the work, but by the application of glue previous to the union of the parts; this is especially the case with the mortice and tenon. the back of the bureau is composed of some cheap wood, such as pine or poplar; but the panel at each end is most commonly plain mahogany through its entire thickness. . the parts which are to be exposed to view are next to be varnished and polished. the material for the former purpose is called _copal varnish_, because one of the principal ingredients in it is a kind of gum called copal, which is obtained from various parts of south america. this kind of varnish is made by melting the gum with an equal quantity of linseed-oil and spirits of turpentine or alcohol. . to give the work a complete finish, four coats of varnish are successively applied; in addition to these, a particular kind of treatment is used after laying on and drying each coat. after the application of the first coat, the surface is rubbed with a piece of wood of convenient form; after the second, with sand-paper and pulverized pumice-stone; after the third, with pumice-stone again; and after the fourth, with very finely powdered pumice-stone and rotten-stone. a little linseed-oil is next applied, and the whole process is finished by rubbing the surface with the hand charged with flour. . some parts of several pieces of furniture are turned in the lathe; and, in large cities, this part of the work is performed by professed turners. the veneering of certain kinds of work of a cylindrical form is, also, in some cases, a distinct business; but, in places distant from large cities, the whole work is commonly performed by the cabinet-maker himself. . mahogany is brought to market in logs hewn to a square form; and persons who deal in it, commonly purchase it in large quantities, and cause it to be sawn into pieces of suitable dimensions for sale. formerly, and in some cases at present, slabs were sawn into thin pieces for veneering by hand; but, within a few years, a more expeditious method, by the circular saw, has been adopted. in performing the operation by this means, the slab is placed upon its edge, and shoved along against the teeth of the rapidly-revolving saw. it is kept in the proper position by holding the right side of it firmly against an upright plank, called the _rest_. . mahogany is either _plain_, _mottled_, or _crotched_; nevertheless, the different kinds expressed by these terms are met with in the same tree. the variegated kinds are found at or near the joining of the limbs to the trunk; and these are used almost exclusively for veneering. the plain sort is employed for more common purposes, and in those parts of furniture required to be less splendid in appearance. it may be well to remark, also, that plain mahogany is often veneered, as well as the softer woods. black walnut, white oak, rose, and several other woods, are likewise used for veneering, although not so much as mahogany. our native woods will be hereafter more used in this way, since mahogany is becoming scarce. . in europe, particularly in england, the business of the cabinet-maker is commonly united with that of the upholsterer; and this is sometimes the case in the united states. all, however, who make sofas and chairs, intrude enough upon the latter business to cover and stuff them; or they employ a journeyman upholsterer to perform this part of the work. the upholsterer. . the upholsterer makes beds, sacking-bottoms, mattresses, cushions, curtains for windows and beds, and cuts out, sews together, and fastens down, carpets. one branch of his business, also, consists in covering or lining and stuffing sofas, and particular kinds of chairs, the frames of which are made by cabinet-makers and fancy chair-makers. . beds are stuffed with the feathers of geese and ducks. the sack which contains them, when in use, is called a _tick_, and the striped stuff of which it is composed, is called _ticking_. the feathers used by the upholsterer, are purchased from the feather-merchants, who in turn procure them from country merchants and pedlers. the dealer in feathers also employs travelling agents to collect them in different parts of the country. . beds and pillows are also made of down obtained from the nests of the eider-duck, which is found in the northern parts of europe and america, above latitude °. eider-down is worth about two dollars per pound, and five or six times that quantity is sufficient for a bed of common size. . mattresses are made of curled hair, moss, shavings of ratan, flock, straw, corn-husks, and cat-tail flag. the hair most employed for this purpose grows upon the tails of cattle, and upon the manes and tails of horses. it is purchased, in its natural state, from tanners, by persons who make it a business to prepare it for use. the last process of the preparation consists in twisting it into a kind of rope. these ropes are picked to pieces by the upholsterer, and the hair, in its curled and elastic state, is applied to stuffing mattresses, cushions, chairs, and sofas. . moss is obtained from the southern states of our union, where it is found in great abundance, and of a good quality. flock is made by reducing to a degree of fineness, by machinery, coarse tags of wool, pieces of woollen cloth, old stockings, and other woollen offals of little or no value in any other application. of all the materials for stuffing upholstery, hair is much the best, and, although it costs more in its original purchase, it is much cheaper in the end. . in making and putting up window and bed curtains, considerable taste is required to insure success. a knowledge of drawing is particularly useful here, in improving the taste, as well as in exhibiting to customers the prevailing fashions, or any changes which may be proposed. the trimmings consist chiefly of tassels, fringes, and gilded or brass fixtures. . we have not space for a particular description of the manner in which any of the operations of the upholsterer are performed; nor is this necessary, since the work itself, in almost every specimen of it, affords obvious indications of the manner of its execution. we will merely remark, that a great proportion of it is performed by females. . in the first ages of the world, it was the universal practice to sleep upon the skins of beasts, and this is still the custom among the savage nations of the present day. the greeks and the romans, in the early part of their history, slept in this manner, and so did the common people of some parts of germany, even until modern times. . the first advancement from the use of skins was the substitution of rushes, heath, or straw, which was primarily strewed loosely on the ground or floor, and finally confined with ticking; and these and similar materials are still used by the poor in various parts of the world. so late as the close of the thirteenth century, the royal family of england slept on beds made of straw. . during the civilized periods of antiquity, the wealthy commonly filled their beds with feathers. after the romans had become luxurious, they used several kinds of beds, among which were the _lectus cubicularis_, or chamber bed, whereon they slept; the _lectus discubitorius_, or table bed, whereon they ate; and the _lectus lucubratorius_, on which they studied. . the romans adopted the eastern fashion of reclining at their meals, at the close of the second punic war, about years before christ, when scipio africanus brought some little beds from carthage, which were thence called _punicani_. these beds were low, made of wood, covered with leather, and stuffed with hay or straw. before this time, they sat down to eat on plain wooden benches, in imitation of the heroes of homer, or after the manner of the cretans and lacedæmonians. . from the greatest simplicity, the romans at length carried their supping beds to the most surprising magnificence. the bedsteads were sometimes made of gold or silver, and very commonly of wood, adorned with plates of these metals or with tortoise shell. on the couch was laid a mattress or quilt, stuffed with feathers or wool. . three persons commonly occupied one couch. they lay with the upper part of the body reclined on the left arm, the head a little raised, the back supported by cushions, and the limbs stretched out at full length or a little bent. the feet of the first were placed behind the back of the second, and his feet behind the back of the third. reclining at meals was customary in asia, in the time of our savior, as is clearly shown in john, xiii., and , and this rendered it convenient for mary to anoint the feet of jesus, while at the table. . the romans, during the republic, made their tables of a square form, and on three sides of it was placed a couch; but, under the emperors, a long couch of a semicircular form having been introduced, the table was made of a similar shape to conform to it. in either case, one side was left empty, to admit of the approach of the servants. . we have no certain evidence that carpets were known in the civilized periods of antiquity. they appear to have originated in persia, at a time comparatively modern, and to have spread in a gradual manner towards the west. they were unknown in england in the reign of elizabeth; for it was then the fashion to strew the floor with hay and rushes. even the presence-chamber of this princess was covered in this manner. the manufacture of carpets was not commenced in england, until the year . they are now extensively manufactured in the united states. [illustration: chair maker.] the chair-maker. . the chair was invented at so early a period, that its origin cannot now be ascertained. it was used by all the civilized nations of antiquity; and some of their patterns for this species of furniture have been revived, with some modifications, in modern times; for example, a stool for sitting at the piano, now called the x, is the lower part of a chair used in the roman empire near two thousand years ago. the seat and back were stuffed with some soft elastic substance. . the seats used by the barbarous conquerors of the roman empire, hardly deserve the name of chairs, as they commonly consisted of little or nothing more than a stool with three or four legs. even the great alfred, who swayed the sceptre of england in the latter part of the ninth century, possessed nothing approaching nearer to a chair than a three-legged stool made of oak timber. this species of seat was at length improved into a chair by the addition of another leg and a back. . the next step in the art of chair-making was to cover the seats with cloth, and to stuff them with some kind of wadding. the material of which the frames were made was oak; and for a long period, they were exceedingly heavy and inconvenient. the armed-chair is said to have been contrived by an alderman of cripplegate. such chairs, however, were in use among the ancient greeks and romans. . our old-fashioned chair, with four upright posts, several horizontal rounds and slats, together with wooden splints or flags for the bottom, is comparatively modern, although it is impossible to state the period of its introduction. very few of any other kind were used in the united states, until near the beginning of the present century. . the windsor chair seems to have been first used for a rural seat in the grounds about windsor castle, england; whence its name. it was originally constructed of round wood, with the bark on; but the chair-makers soon began to make them of turned wood, for the common purposes of house-keeping. we cannot learn that any were made in this country before the close of the revolution, in . . a great proportion of the chair-maker's stuff is brought to the proper form by means of the lathe; and this machine is used for this purpose in every practicable case; but this part of the work is not performed in the cities, since it is found to be less expensive and more convenient, to purchase the timber turned in the country. slats for the back, bent to the proper shape, are also obtained from the same source. . the windsor chair is varied in its construction and finish, in some particulars; but, in all cases, it has a seat made of thick plank of cypress, bass, or some other soft wood. the slats, when employed, are also made of the same wood, or of soft maple. the parts which are turned, are commonly of the wood last mentioned. . in constructing chairs from these materials, the workman undertakes several at a time, say from one to two or three dozens. we may suppose, as is frequently the case, that he first cuts up a quantity of planks to the proper size for the seats, and reduces them to the proposed form and smoothness by means of the drawing-knife, adze, spoke-shaves, and sand-paper. he next cuts the various pieces which are to compose the frame, to the proper length, turns the ends of those which need it, to make the joint, and bores the requisite holes with a _bit_. in putting the parts together, the joints are made to fit very closely, and their union is rendered permanent by means of glue. . the chairs are next covered with three coats of paint, and with two coats of copal or some other kind of varnish; and this, for plain work, completes the whole process of the manufacture. but, when they are to be ornamented, gold or copper leaf or bronze is put on before the application of the last coat of varnish. the bronze used by painters, is finely pulverized copper, tin, or zinc. . the _ornamenter_ uses paper patterns, which he applies to the surface to be ornamented, to guide him in the execution of his work. the powder is laid on with a camel's-hair brush, or with a piece of raw cotton. light and shade are produced by a proper distribution of the powder, or by paint of a dark colour. the bronze is made to adhere by means of _size_, which has been previously laid on. . several other kinds of chairs are, also, made by the common chair-maker; and the frames, or some parts of them, are sawn out of planks with a narrow-bladed saw, which can be easily guided upon the line of any pattern. the principal parts of the frame are commonly put together with the mortice and tenon; and the bottoms are composed of cane, flags, or a peculiar kind of rush. the cane is likewise used in the backs of chairs, especially in those having rockers. . the manufacture of mahogany chairs with stuffed seats, sometimes constitutes a distinct branch of business; at other times, it is connected with that of making sofas; and again, with cabinet-making in general. it is generally supposed, that rockers were first applied to chairs in this country, but at what time or by whom, it cannot be determined. [illustration: carver & gilder.] the carver, and the gilder. the carver. . carving, in its widest sense, is the art of forming figures in various hard substances by means of some cutting instruments, such as a chisel or graver; but, in the restricted sense in which the term is generally applied, it has reference to the production of figures in wood. . carving in wood, in all countries where it has been practised, has ever preceded sculpture, or carving in stone. it is, therefore, an art of the highest antiquity; and, although the same with sculpture in some of its applications, yet it differs from it somewhat in the mode of execution, according with the nature of the material. . the art of carving is very extensive in its application, being used in the decorative parts of architecture, both civil and naval, and likewise in ornamenting cabinet-ware, as well as in forming patterns for casting in metals, particularly in iron and brass. the gothic style of architecture is peculiarly rich in carved work; and the productions of some ages are more so than those of others. . the style of louis the fourteenth, of france, so called because practised in his reign, was more overloaded with ornament than any other. a lighter and more beautiful style succeeded, which is still employed for some purposes; but generally the chaste and simple line of grecian ornament now prevails. . in executing any proposed work, a drawing is first made on paper, commonly with a lead-pencil. the part of the paper not embraced in the outline is then cut away, and the remaining portion is laid upon the surface of the wood. the outlines are next drawn on the wood, by moving the pencil around those on the paper. the design having been thus transferred, the superfluous portions of the wood are cut away with carving tools, of which there is a considerable variety of both size and form. the tools are driven with a mallet or with the palm of the hand, but in most cases with the latter. . a capacity for designing, and a knowledge of drawing and modelling, are particularly necessary to make a finished carver. without these qualifications, at least in some degree, one may be a mechanic, but not an artist. the subject most difficult of execution, is the human figure, and in producing it with accuracy, the same qualifications in the artist are required, and the same general process is pursued, as in producing it in marble. the gilder. . carving and gilding are, in most cases, ostensibly united as one business, although in fact they are branches of manufacture totally distinct. the gilder, therefore, who writes over his door, "carver and gilder," seldom has any practical knowledge of carving. for every thing in this line of work, he is dependent on the carver, who commonly pursues his business in a private way. . the operation of gilding, as performed by those whose business is now under consideration, is executed chiefly on wood. it is employed most frequently for picture and looking-glass frames, and for upholstery fixtures. it is a mechanical process, and consists in applying gold-leaf to surfaces, in such a manner as to adhere with tenacity. . before the application of the metal, a tedious process must be performed, by way of preparation. the surface to be gilded is successively covered with from five to seven coats of glutinous size, made by boiling scraps of parchment in water, with the addition of a little whiting. the average thickness of the coat thus produced, is about one-sixteenth of an inch. . the surface is next rubbed with freestone and pumice stone, of a shape corresponding with the pattern of the frame, while a small quantity of water is occasionally applied, to increase their effects. after this, the sizing is rendered still smoother, by friction with sand-paper. this surface is then covered with three coats of _burnished gold size_, which is composed of english pipe clay, venison suet, and french bole, or red chalk, mixed in a suitable quantity of weak parchment size. the preparation is completed by rubbing the surface with worn sand-paper, by washing it in water with a sponge, and by rubbing it with a piece of cloth. . the leaf is laid on with a broad, but thin brush, called a _tip_. before the gold is applied, however, the surface is well wet with alcohol and water. when dry, the parts designed to be bright, are burnished with a polished agate or flint. in the best kind of work, a second coat of the leaf is required. in gilding irregular surfaces, such as the ornaments at the corners of frames, a size made of linseed-oil, white lead, yellow ochre, and japan, is laid on a few hours before the application of the leaf. this is called _gilding in oil_. . the ornaments on the frames are cast in moulds, and are made of a composition of glue, whiting, rosin, turpentine, and burgundy pitch. the moulds are taken from patterns, originally executed by the carver. [illustration: cooper.] the cooper. . the cooper manufactures casks, tubs, pails, and various other articles for domestic use, as well as vessels for containing all kinds of liquids and merchandise of a dry nature. he also applies hoops to boxes which are to be transported, with their valuable contents, to a distance from the cities. . the productions of this art being of prime necessity, the trade must have been exercised at a very early period. roman writers on rural economy speak of the existence of its productions more than two thousand years ago; nevertheless they are still unknown in some countries, and there the inhabitants keep or carry liquids in skins daubed over with pitch. . bottles of this kind were used, more or less, in all parts of the roman empire, in the days of our savior; and to such he alluded, when speaking of putting new wine into old bottles. earthen vessels of various dimensions, were also in extensive use at the same time. the custom of keeping wine in such vessels, is still common in the southern parts of europe. pliny accords to the piedmontese the merit of introducing casks. in his time, they were daubed with pitch. . cedar and oak are the woods chiefly employed as materials in this business; and the persons who carry it on, as well as journeymen, confine their attention to the production of wares from one or the other of these woods; hence the division of the workmen into _cedar coopers_ and _oak coopers_. . it is not always the case, however, that every cooper executes all kinds of work belonging to either one of these divisions of the trade; but this is not because there is any peculiar difficulty attending any part of the business, but because some particular kind of coopering is required in preference to others; for example, in some places, flour barrels are the casks most needed; in others, those for sugar, tobacco, pearlash, or some kind of spirits. . in illustrating the general operations of this business, we will describe the process of making a tub. the timber is first cut to the proper length with the kind of saw used in the cities for cutting fire-wood. it is next split into pieces with a _frow_, the curvature of which corresponds, at least with some degree of exactness, to that of the proposed vessel. the several pieces are then shaved on the edges with a straight _drawing-knife_, on the inside with one of a concave form, and on the outside with one of corresponding convexity. . after this, they are jointed on a long plane, which is placed with its face upwards, in an inclined position. the workman is guided in giving the proper angle to the surface cut with the plane, by a wooden gauge of peculiar form. the staves, having been thus prepared, are set up in a _truss-hoop_; and after this has been driven down, one or two others which are to remain are put on. the outside is then made smooth with a convex drawing-knife, and the inside with a smoothing-plane, the edge of which is circular, to correspond with the form of the surface. the inside of small wooden vessels is generally made smooth with a crooked drawing-knife. . the staves are now sawn off to a uniform length at the bottom, and a groove is cut for the insertion of the bottom. the latter operation is performed by means of a cutting instrument fixed in a kind of gauge. the several pieces to compose the bottom are brought to the proper form and smoothness with a straight drawing-knife; and, having been slightly fastened together by wooden pins, the whole, as one piece, is inserted in its proper place by driving it down from the top on the inside. the whole process is finished by driving on the hoops, and making the holes in the handles. . the cedar employed in this business is a considerable tree, which grows in various parts of the world, but especially in the united states, where it occupies large tracts called _cedar_ or _cypress swamps_. the wood is soft, smooth, and of an aromatic smell. it is likewise much used for shingles. the dismal swamp, lying in virginia and north carolina, contains an abundance of this kind of timber. . the operations in oak vary from those in cedar so far as to conform to the nature of the material, and the form of the vessels manufactured. in bringing the staves to the proper form, the workman is guided altogether by the eye; and, if they must be bent, they require to be heated. the fire for this purpose is made of shavings and chips in a small furnace of sheet iron, called a _crusset_. the hoops, both for cedar and oak wares, are made of thin strips of iron, or of small oak, hickory, ash, or cedar saplings. within a few years, several machines have been invented, for getting out staves, and for bringing them to the proper form, as well as for performing several other parts of the cooper's operations. . the coopers in england derive a great deal of their employment from the west india trade. barrels, puncheons, and hogsheads, are carried out of the country filled with dry goods, and are returned filled with rum and sugar. in the united states, much work of this kind is done for the same market; but then the staves and heads are only fitted and marked here, to be afterwards put together in the west indies. [illustration: wheelwright.] the wheelwright. . the artisan who makes the wood-work of common wheel carriages, or the wheels of coaches, is denominated a wheelwright; but, under this head, we propose to include whatever we may say on constructing and finishing wheel carriages in general. . it must be evident, even to a superficial observer, that this business, in its different branches, occupies a large space in our domestic industry, since almost every farmer in the country owns a vehicle of some sort, and since the streets of our busy cities and towns exhibit, during a great part of the day, scenes of bustle occasioned, in a great measure, by the passing and repassing of carriages of different kinds. . the principal kinds of wheel carriages made in this country, are the cart, the wagon, the gig, and the coach; and of each of these there are various sorts, differing in strength and mode of construction, to suit the particular purposes to which they are to be applied. the business of making these vehicles is divided into a number of branches; but, as the manufacture of the coach embraces a greater variety of operations than any other species of carriage, we have selected it as affording the best means of explaining the operations of the whole business. . in large establishments for making coaches and other vehicles of the best workmanship, the operators confine their attention to the execution of particular parts of the work; for example, one man makes the wheels, another the carriage and body, another fashions and applies the iron, another does the painting and polishing, and another the trimming. in smaller establishments, a greater proportion of the work is executed by one person. . the wheels of the coach, as well as those of every other vehicle in which they are used, are composed of a _hub_, and several _spokes_, and _felloes_. the hubs are commonly made of a kind of tough wood, called _gum_, which is reduced to the desired form in the lathe. the hole through the centre is made with a common auger, and enlarged with one tapering towards the point, and having through its whole length two cutting edges. the mortices for the spokes are made with a chisel driven with a mallet. . the spokes are made of white oak, and the felloes, of ash or hickory; and both are brought to the required form and smoothness with the saw, axe, drawing-knife, spoke-shave, chisel, and sand-paper. the constituent parts of the _carriage_, or _running gears_, are the _axles_, _perch_, and _spring_-_beds_, or _bolsters_, to which are added the _tongue_, or _pole_, and some other parts connected with it. . the joints in this part of the vehicle are made perfectly tight by the application of putty; whereas, in the body, glue is used for this purpose. the latter substance will not answer in the former case, since it cannot bear exposure to water. the wood generally employed for the carriage part, as well as for the frame of the body, is ash; and the several parts are sawn from planks of suitable thickness. in this part of the work, the operator is guided by patterns made of thin pine boards. the panels of the body are made of thin boards of poplar or bass-wood. the manner in which the several parts are dressed and put together is too obvious to need description. . the wheels and the carriage, after having received one coat of paint, are sent to the blacksmith to be ironed. the hub is bound, at each end with hoops of iron, commonly plated with brass or silver, and the outside rim or felloes are bound with an iron _tire_, and fastened with strong nails or spikes. the tires are made red-hot before they are applied, that they may be made to fit in every part with accuracy. . bands, bolts, or strips of iron, are applied to those parts of the wood-work which may be exposed to friction, or which require additional strength. the axles are also made of wrought iron, either by the blacksmith who executes the other iron work, or by persons who manufacture them by the quantity for sale. the same remark is applicable to the _thorough-boxes_, which are inserted into the hub to prevent injury by friction, and to cause the wheel to revolve with freedom and accuracy. . the painting, varnishing, and polishing, of the body of the coach, when done in the best manner, comprise a tedious process. it is first covered with a coat of paint; the grain of the wood is then filled up with putty, and the surface is again covered with paint. five coats of _filling_, composed of ochre, japan varnish, and spirits of turpentine, are next successively applied. after the surface has been rubbed with a solid piece of pumice-stone, it is again painted, and rubbed with sand-paper. several coats of paint are next laid on, and the work is finished by the application of a few coats of copal-varnish, and by the use of pumice-stone. the painting and varnishing of the wheels and carriage part, is far less expensive and tedious. . the nature of the trimmings, and the manner in which they are put together and applied, need not be described, since a few moments' inspection of a finished vehicle of this kind, will give any one a clear conception of the whole of this branch of the business. so far as trimming the inside, and the manufacture of cushions are concerned, the operations are similar to those of the upholsterer. . wheel carriages may be classed among the primitive inventions, although the first authentic notice we have of their use, we find in the scripture history of joseph, the son of jacob, in which it is related, that this great and good man "was made to ride in the second chariot" of the king's, and that he sent wagons from egypt to convey thither his father and family from the land of canaan. . covered wagons were used in the days of moses; and the wandering scythians, in the time of the romans, had them covered with leather. the seat for the driver is said to have been invented by oxylus, an Ætolian, who took possession of the kingdom of elis, about years before christ. many of the nations of antiquity used chariots in the field of battle, and the axles were sometimes armed with scythes or some other sharp cutting instruments. two persons commonly occupied one vehicle, one of whom drove the horses, and the other fought the enemy. the inhabitants of the promised land fought in chariots, even before the settlement of the people of israel in that country; and the greeks likewise employed them, for warlike purposes, at the siege of troy. . the carriages used by the romans were of various kinds, some of which were carried on the shoulders of men, and others, having two or four wheels, were drawn by horses, asses, mules, or oxen. nevertheless, neither they, nor any other nation of antiquity, ever suspended the body of any carriage on leathers, or supported it on springs; and the use of almost every species of vehicle for the conveyance of persons, was banished by the policy of the barbarous nations that afterwards became masters of civilized europe, the feudal lords conceiving it important, that their military vassals should serve them on horseback. . even as late as the sixteenth century, ministers rode to court, and magistrates of imperial cities to council, on the back of this animal; and, in the same manner, kings and lords made their public entry on the most solemn occasions. in accounts of papal ceremonies which occurred during several centuries, we find no mention of a state-coach; but, instead of it, state-horses or state-mules. the horse for his holiness was required to be a gentle and tractable nag, of a gray color; and a stool with three steps was necessary to aid him in mounting. the emperor or kings, if present, held his stirrup, and led his beast. bishops also made their public entrance on horses or asses richly decorated. . covered carriages, however, were known in the principal states of europe in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries; but they were at first used only by women of rank, since the men thought it disgraceful to ride in them. at this period, when the electors of the german empire did not choose to be present at the meetings of the states, they excused themselves to the emperor by stating that their health would not permit them to ride on horseback, and it was not becoming for them to ride like women. . but, for a long time, the use of carriages was forbidden even to women; and, as late as the year , the wife of a certain duke obtained from him, with great difficulty, the privilege of using a covered carriage in a journey to the baths. the permission was granted on the condition that her attendants should not enjoy the same favor. nevertheless, it is certain that emperors, kings, and princes, began to employ covered carriages on journeys, in the fifteenth century; and a few instances occur of their use in public solemnities. ambassadors appeared, for the first time, in coaches, at a public solemnity, in , at erfurth. . in the history of france, we find many proofs, that, in the fourteenth, fifteenth, and sixteenth centuries, the french monarchs commonly rode on horses, the servants of the court on mules, and the princesses, together with the principal ladies, sometimes at least, on asses. carriages of some sort, however, appear to have been used at a very early period there. an ordinance of philip the fair, issued in , forbids their use by the wives of citizens. . in the year , three coaches were introduced into paris; one of which belonged to the queen, another to diana de poictiers, and the third to raimond de laval, a cavalier of the court of francis i., who was so large that no horse could carry him. it is not certain, however, that the body of these vehicles were suspended on leather straps. the inventor of this material improvement cannot be ascertained, nor is it positively determined, that it had been made, until about the middle of the seventeenth century. . coaches were introduced into spain and portugal, in the year , and into sweden near the close of the same century. in the capital of russia, there were elegant coaches as early as the beginning of the seventeenth century. in switzerland, they were rare, as late as . carriages began to be used at naples in the thirteenth century; from this place they spread all over italy; and here, also, glass panels originated. . carriages of some sort were used in england at a very early period, and those first employed by the ladies, were called _whirlicoats_. according to some authors, coaches were introduced in the year ; but, according to others, not until twenty-five years after this period. before the latter date, queen elizabeth, on public occasions, rode on the same horse with her chamberlain, seated behind him on a pillion; although, in the early part of her reign, she owned a chariot. . in , men were forbidden the use of the coach by act of parliament, the legislators supposing such indulgence to be too effeminate; but this law seems to have been little regarded, as this vehicle was in common use, about the year . twenty years after this time, hackney coaches began to ply in london; but these were prohibited, in , on the alleged ground that the support of so many horses increased the expense of keeping those belonging to the king. two years after this, however, fifty coaches were licensed, and, in , there were one thousand. . the stage-coach was first employed in france, and was introduced into england, near the middle of the eighteenth century, by jethro tull, the celebrated agriculturist. they were not employed, in any country, in the transportation of the mail, until the year . before this time, it was carried chiefly on horseback. . in the united states, the manufacture of carriages of every kind has greatly increased within a few years, and those lately made exhibit many improvements on those of former periods. the places which seem to be most distinguished for the manufacture of good carriages, in this country, are philadelphia, newark, and troy. [illustration: potter.] the potter. . the artisan called the potter converts plastic materials into hard and brittle vessels of various kinds, denominated, in general terms, _earthen ware_. . alumine is the basis of all clays, and is the only earth that possesses the degree of plasticity which renders the operations of the potter practicable. it is, however, never found or used in a pure state, but in combination with other substances, particularly with silex, lime, magnesia, and the oxyde of iron. . in the manufacture of vessels from argillaceous compounds, the different degrees of beauty and costliness depend upon the quality of the raw materials, and the labor and skill expended in the operation. the various productions of the pottery may be classed under the following denominations--common earthen ware, white earthen ware, stone ware, and porcelain; but of each of these there are many varieties. . _common earthen ware._--this ware is made of a kind of clay very generally diffused over the earth, and which is essentially the same with that employed in making bricks. the potters are often supplied with this material by the brickmakers, who select for them that which is too tenacious, or _fat_, for their own purpose. all common clays contain more or less of the oxyde of iron, which causes the wares made of them to turn red in burning. . in preparing the clay for use, the potter adds to it, when necessary, a portion of fine loam, in order to lessen its tenacity, and to prevent the vessels to be made of it from cracking, while undergoing the fire. when the materials have been mixed, and partially incorporated with water, the mass is thrown into a tub, fixed in the ground about one-half of its depth. in the centre of this tub, is placed a shaft, in a perpendicular position, from which radiate, in a horizontal direction, a number of knives or cutters. . this machine is put in motion by horse-power, and by it the clay is repeatedly cut, and properly kneaded. the workman then cuts it into thin slices with a small wire, and, having rejected all matters not fit for his purpose, he further kneads it with his hands, and forms it into lumps, corresponding in amount of matter with the different vessels which he proposes to make. . for the best kinds of this ware, the same species of clay is used; but then it is differently prepared. it is first dissolved in water; and, when the coarser particles have settled to the bottom of the vessel, the fluid suspending the rest is drawn off, and made to pass through a sieve into a reservoir. after the particles of the material have precipitated, the water is drawn off, and the residuum is thrown upon a large flat pan or reservoir made of bricks, where the mass is freed from its superfluous moisture by evaporation in the air, or by means of artificial heat applied beneath. it is then laid by in a damp place, for future use. . before the clay, thus purified from extraneous and coarser particles, is formed into vessels, it is beaten with a stout piece of wood, until the mass has become of an equal consistence throughout, and then repeatedly cut into two pieces with a wire, and slapped together to expel the air. the former of these operations is called _wedging_, and the latter, _slapping_. . _white and cream-colored wares_ are made of clays which contain so little oxyde of iron, that it does not turn red in burning, but, on the contrary, improves in whiteness in the furnace. there are several species of white clay, found in many different localities, most of which, however, are known under the denomination of _pipe-clay_; or they are distinguished by the names of the places where they are obtained. . in preparing these clays for use, they are reduced to a minute division by machinery, and afterwards dissolved in water, and otherwise treated in a manner similar to that used for the better kinds of common wares, as described in the seventh and eighth paragraphs. for the purpose of diminishing the shrinkage in the fire, and with the view of increasing the whiteness of the ware, pulverized flint-stone is added to the clay, in the proportion of about one part of the former to five of the latter. . in reducing the silex to the requisite fineness, it is first brought to a red heat; and, while in this state, it is thrown into cold water, to diminish the cohesion of its parts. it is then pounded by machinery, levigated with water in a mill, sifted, mashed, and otherwise treated like the clay. the materials are mixed while in a state of thin pulp. . the several operations performed by the potter, in converting the clay thus prepared into different kinds of vessels, and in completing the whole process of the manufacture of earthen ware, may be included under the following divisions, viz., throwing, turning, pressing, burning, painting and printing, and glazing. they are not, however, all used in producing and finishing vessels of every shape and quality. . _throwing._--this operation is performed on a potter's wheel, which consists of a round table, and some simple means to put it in motion. the clay having been placed on the centre of this machine, the workman communicates to the latter a rotary motion with his foot, and gives the proposed form to the material with his hands, which have been previously wet with water, to prevent them from sticking. this method is used for all vessels and parts of vessels of a circular form; and, in many cases, no other operation is necessary to give them the requisite finish, so far as their conformation is concerned. . _turning._--the vessels are cut from the thrower's wheel with a small wire; and when, by the evaporation of moisture, they have become firm enough to endure the operation, they are turned on a lathe. the objects of this operation are to communicate to them a more exact shape, and to render them more uniform in thickness. the potter's wheel, with the addition of some contrivance to hold the pieces in a proper position, is frequently used for turning. the coarser kinds of common wares are never turned. . _pressing._--vessels, or parts of vessels, which are of an irregular shape, and which cannot be formed on the wheel, are usually made by a process called _pressing_. this kind of work is executed in moulds made of plaster of paris, and these are formed on models of clay or wood, which have been made in the exact shape of the proposed vessel. sometimes individual specimens of the wares of one country or pottery are used as models in another; in such cases, the expense of the moulds is considerably diminished. . the moulds frequently consist of several parts, which fit accurately together; for example, the mould for a pitcher is composed of two pieces for the sides, and one for the bottom. in forming a pitcher in such a mould, the material, which has been spread out to a proper and uniform thickness, is laid upon the inside of each portion of it, and the superfluous clay is trimmed off with a knife. the mould is then closed, and thin strips of clay are laid over the seams; the removal of the several pieces of the mould, completes the operation. . handles, spouts, figures in relief, and other additions of this nature, are separately made in moulds, and stuck on the vessel with the same kind of materials, sometimes mingled with a small proportion of plaster of paris. these appendages are added after the vessels have become partially solid in the air. . _burning._--all vessels, even after they have been dried in the atmosphere, are in a very frangible state; and, to render them sufficiently firm for use, they are submitted to the process of burning in a kiln. to preserve the ware from injury while enduring the fire, the several pieces are enclosed in cylindrical boxes called _saggers_, which are made of baked clay. these boxes are placed one above another around the sides of the kiln, which is of a circular form, and gradually tapering to the top. . in burning the coarser wares, every piece is not thus inclosed; but, between every two saggers, a naked piece is placed. a moderate fire is first raised, which is gradually increased, until the contents of the kiln are brought to a red heat. the burning occupies between twenty-four and forty-eight hours. all wares, except the coarsest kinds, are twice, and sometimes thrice, burned; and, after having been once submitted to the process, they are said to be in a state of _biscuit_. . _painting and printing._--when the vessels are to be ornamented with colors, it is necessary, in most cases, that this part of the work be done after the first burning. in china, and at the porcelain manufactory in philadelphia, the drawings are executed by hand with a pencil. the same method is used in europe in elaborate pieces of workmanship. but, in the common figured wares, where but one color is used, the designs are first engraved on metallic plates, and impressions are taken from them on thin paper, by means of a copperplate printing-press. . in transferring to vessels designs thus produced, the paper, while in a damp state, is applied closely to the surface of the biscuit, and rubbed on with a piece of flannel. the porosity of the earthen material causes the immediate absorption of the coloring matter, which, in all cases, is some metallic oxyde. for a blue color, the oxyde of cobalt is used; and for a black, those of manganese and iron. the paper is washed from the ware with a sponge. . _glazing._--to prevent the penetration of fluids, and to improve the appearance of the ware, a superficial vitreous coating is necessary. this can be produced by the aid of various substances; but, in a majority of cases, red lead is the basis of the mixture employed for this purpose. equal parts of ground flints and red lead are used for the common cream-colored wares. these materials are mixed with, and suspended in, water, and each piece is dipped in the liquid. the moisture is soon absorbed by the clay, leaving the glazing particles on the surface, which, in the burning that follows, is converted into a uniform and durable vitreous coating. . _stone ware._--the materials of this ware, as well as the mode of preparing them, differ but little from those of the common and better kinds of earthen wares. the clays, however, which contain but little or no oxyde of iron are chosen, since this substance would cause the ware to melt and warp, before a sufficient degree of heat could be applied to give it the requisite hardness. . the glazing is formed by a vitrification of the surface of the vessels, caused by the action of common salt thrown into the kiln, when it has been raised to its greatest heat. this glazing is more perfect than that on ordinary earthen wares, being insoluble by most chemical agents. it is hardly necessary to remark that this method of glazing precludes the use of saggers. . _porcelain._--this ware exceeds every other kind in the delicacy of its texture, and is peculiarly distinguished by a beautiful semi-transparency, which is conspicuous when held against the light. in china, it is made chiefly of two kinds of earth; one of which is denominated _petuntze_, and the other _kaolin_; but both are varieties of feldspar, found in the mountains, in different localities. they are brought to the manufactories from a distance in the form of bricks; the materials, as taken from the mines, having been reduced to an impalpable powder in mortars, either by the labor of men or by water-power. . these materials are combined in different proportions in the manufacture, according to the quality of the proposed ware. in the best kind, equal quantities are used; but for those of inferior quality, a greater proportion of petuntze is employed. the translucency so much admired in porcelain, or _tseki_, as the chinese call it, is owing to the petuntze, which, in burning, partially melts, and envelops the infusible kaolin. . it is not known who was the inventor of porcelain, as the chinese annals are silent with regard to this point; nor do we know more of the date at which the manufacture was commenced. it is certain, however, that it must have been before the fifth century of the christian era. since this ware has been known to europeans, it has been manufactured chiefly, and in the greatest perfection, in the large and populous village of king-te-ching. . porcelain was first brought to europe from japan and china, and for a long time its materials and mode of manufacture remained a secret, in spite of the efforts of the jesuit missionaries, who resided in those countries. at length, in , father entrecolles sent home to france, specimens of petuntze and kaolin, together with a summary description of the process of the manufacture. . shortly after this important event had transpired, it was discovered that materials nearly of the same kind existed in abundance in various parts of europe. the manufacture of porcelain was, therefore, soon commenced in several places; and it has since been successfully carried on. . the porcelain wares of europe are superior to those of the chinese, in the variety and elegance of their forms, as well as in the beauty of the designs executed upon them; but, as some of the processes successfully practised in china, remain still to be learned by the europeans, the oriental porcelain has not yet been equalled in the hardness, strength, and durability of its body, and in the permanency of its glaze. the manufacturers of saxony are said to have been the most successful in their imitations in these respects. . the porcelain earths are found in various parts of the united states, but particularly at wilmington, in the state of delaware. nevertheless, there is now but one porcelain manufactory in our country, and this is yet in its infancy. the establishment is located in philadelphia, and it has been lately incorporated, with the privilege of one hundred thousand dollars capital. . the principle of induration by heat, is the same in the manufacture of earthen wares as in making bricks; and, as the latter can be more easily dispensed with than the former in a primitive state of society, it is but reasonable to suppose that earthen ware was first invented; but the art of making bricks must have been practised before the deluge, or the posterity of noah would not have attempted so soon as about one hundred years after that catastrophe, to build a city and a tower of these materials. it is, therefore, evident, that this art was of antediluvian origin; and it was probably one of the earliest brought to any degree of perfection. . the art of the potter was practised more or less by every nation of antiquity, and the degree of perfection to which it was carried in every country corresponded with the state of the arts generally. the greeks were consequently very celebrated for their earthen wares. the etruscans have also been particularly noted for their manufacture of the elegant vases which have been dug, in modern times, from the depositories of the dead, in lower italy. . until the commencement of the manufacture of porcelain in europe, this art continued in a very rude condition, although practised to a considerable extent in many places. it was much improved in england about the year , by the addition of flints to the usual material; and, between thirty and forty years after this, it was brought to great perfection, in all its branches, chiefly through the scientific exertions of the celebrated potter, josiah wedgewood. [illustration: glass blower.] the glass-blower. . glass is a substance produced from a combination of silicious earths with alkalies, and, in many cases, with metallic oxydes. the basis of every species of glass is silex, which is found in a state nearly pure in the sands of many situations. it is also found in the common flints and quartz pebbles. . when quartz pebbles or flints are employed, they must be first reduced to powder. this is done by grinding them in a mill, after they have been partially reduced, by heating them in the fire, and plunging them into cold water. sand has the advantage of being already in a state of division sufficiently minute for the purpose. to prepare it for application, it only requires to be washed and sifted, in order to free it from the argillaceous and other substances unfit for use. a great proportion of the sand employed in the manufacture of the better kinds of glass in the united states, is taken from the banks of the delaware river. . the alkaline substances used are potash and soda. for the finer kinds of glass, pearlash, or soda procured by decomposing sea-salt, is used; but, for the inferior sorts, impure alkalies, such as barilla, scotch and irish kelp, and even wood-ashes, as well as the refuse of the soap-boiler's kettle, are made to answer the purpose. lime, borax, and common salt, are also frequently used as a flux in aid of some of the other substances just mentioned. . of the metallic oxydes which make a part of the materials of some glass, the deutoxyde of lead, or, as it is usually denominated, red lead, is the most common. this substance is employed in making flint glass, which is rendered by it more fusible, heavy and tough, and more easy to be ground or cut, while, at the same time, it increases its brilliancy and refractive power. . black oxyde of manganese is also used in small quantities, with the view of rendering the glass more colorless and transparent. common nitre produces the same effect. white arsenic is also added to the materials of this kind of glass, to promote its clearness; but, if too much is used, it communicates a milky whiteness. the use of this substance in drinking vessels is not free from danger, when the glass contains so much alkali as to render any part of it soluble in acids. . the furnace in which the materials are melted is a large conical stack, such as is represented at the head of this article. in some cases, it is surrounded by a large chimney, which extends above the roof of the building. in the sides are several apertures, near which are placed the crucibles, or melting-pots, containing the materials. the fuel is applied in an arch, which is considerably lower than the surface of the ground on which the operators stand, while at work. . the melting-pots are made chiefly of the most refractory clays and sand. much of the clay used for this purpose, in many of the glass-houses in the united states, is imported from germany. the materials, having been sifted, and mixed with a suitable quantity of water, the homogeneous mass is formed into crucibles, by spreading it on the inside of vessels which are much in the shape of a common wash-tub. after the clay has become sufficiently solid to sustain itself, the hoops are removed from the vessel, and the several staves taken apart. . the crucibles are suffered to dry in the atmosphere for two or three months, after which they are applied to use as they may be needed. before they are placed in the main furnace, they are gradually raised to an intense heat in one of smaller dimensions, built for this express purpose. the fuel employed in fusing the _metal_ is chiefly pine wood, which, in all cases, is previously dried in a large oven. four of the five furnaces near philadelphia, which belonged to doctor dyott, were heated with rosin. . the materials having been mixed, in the proposed proportions, which are determined by weight, they are thrown into the melting-pots, and, by a gradually increasing heat, reduced to a paste, suitable for application by the blower. this part of the process is commonly performed at night, while the blowers are absent from the works. . the applications of glass are so exceedingly extensive, that it is inconvenient, if not impossible, to manufacture every species of it at one glass-house or at one establishment. some, therefore, confine their attention to the production of window glass, and such articles of hollow ware as may be made, with profit, from the same kind of paste. others make vials and other species of ware, employed by the druggist, apothecary, and chemist. and again, the efforts, at some factories, are confined entirely to the manufacture of flint glass, or to that of plate glass for mirrors. . the principal operations connected with the manufacture of different species of glass, after the paste has been prepared, may be included under the following heads; viz., blowing, casting, moulding, pressing and grinding; although all these are never performed in one and the same establishment. . _blowing._--the operation of blowing is nearly or quite the same in the production of every species of glass ware, in which it is employed. the manipulations, however, connected with making different articles, are considerably varied, to suit their particular conformation. this circumstance renders it impossible for us to give more than a general outline of the process of this manufacture. . in the formation of window glass, the workman gathers upon the end of an iron tube a sufficient amount of the metal, which he brings to a cylindrical form by rolling it upon a cast iron or stone table. he then blows through the tube with considerable force, and thus expands the glass to the form of an inflated bladder. the inflation is assisted by the heat, which causes the air and moisture of the breath to expand with great power. . whenever the glass has become too stiff, by cooling, for inflation, it is again softened by holding it in the blaze of the fuel, and the blowing is repeated, until the globe has been expanded to the requisite thinness. another workman next receives it at the other end, upon an iron rod, called a _punt_, or _punting iron_, when the blowing iron is detached. it is now opened, and spread into a smooth sheet, by the centrifugal force acquired by the rapid whirl given to it, in the manner exhibited in the preceding cut. the sheet thus produced is of a uniform thickness, except at the centre, where the iron rod had been attached. . an inferior kind of window glass, the materials of which are sand, kelp, and soap-boilers' waste, is made by blowing the _metal_ into cones, about a foot in diameter at their base; and these, while hot, are touched on one side with a cold iron dipped in water. this produces a crack, which runs through the whole length of the cone. the glass then expands into a sheet somewhat resembling a fan. this is supposed to be the oldest method of manufacturing window or plate glass. . the window glass produced in the manner first described, is called _crown glass_; and the other, _broad glass_. but by neither of these methods can the largest panes be produced. the blowing for these differs from the methods just described, in that the material is blown into an irregular cylinder, open at its further end. when a sufficient number of these cylinders have accumulated, the end to which the blowing iron had been attached, is _capped off_ by drawing round it a circle of melted glass, and the cylinder is divided longitudinally by touching it through its whole length with a hot iron. the cylinders, in this state, are put into the annealing oven, where, by aid of a heat which raises the glass to redness, it is expanded into sheets. these sheets are then broken into panes of several sizes by the aid of a diamond and a straight edge, as in the case of glass blown by other methods. . _casting._--plate glass formed by the method last mentioned, is denominated _cylinder glass_; and it is used not only for windows, but also for mirrors not exceeding four feet in length. plates of greater dimensions are produced by a process called _casting_. the casting is performed by pouring the material, in a high state of fusion, upon a table of polished copper of large size, and having a rim elevated above its general surface, as high as the proposed plate is to be thick. to spread the glass perfectly, and to render the two surfaces parallel, a heavy roller of polished copper, resting upon the rim at the edges, is passed over it. . plates thus cast are always dull and uneven. to render them good reflectors, it is necessary to grind and polish them. the plate to be polished is first cemented with plaster of paris to a table of wood or stone. a quantity of wet sand, emery, or pulverized flints, is spread upon it, and another glass plate, similarly cemented to a wooden or stone surface, is placed upon it. the two plates are then rubbed together, until their surfaces have become plane and smooth. the last polish is given by colcothar and putty. both sides are polished in the same manner. . _moulding._--ornamental forms and letters are produced on the external surface of vessels, by means of metallic moulds; and the process by which this kind of work is performed is called moulding. in the execution, the workman gathers upon the end of his iron tube, a proper amount of the material, which he extends, and brings to a cylindrical form, by rolling it upon his table. he then expands it a little by a slight blast, and afterwards lets it down into the mould, which is immediately filled by blowing still stronger through the tube. . the vessel is then taken from the mould, and disengaged from the tube. the same tube, or a punting iron having been attached to the bottom, the other end is softened in the fire, and brought to the proposed form with appropriate tools, while the iron is rolled up and down upon the long arms of the glass-blower's chair. the ornamental moulds are made of cast iron, brass, or copper, and are composed of two parts, which open and shut upon hinges. the moulds for plain vials, castor oil bottles, small demijohns, &c., are made of the kind of clay used for the crucibles. these consist merely of a mass of the clay, with a cylindrical hole in it of proper diameter and depth. . _pressing._--this process is applied in the production of vessels or articles which are very thick, and which are not contracted at the top. the operation is performed in iron moulds, which consist of two parts, and which have upon their internal surfaces the figures to be impressed upon the glass. the material, while in an elastic condition, is put into the lower part of the mould; and the other part, called the _follower_, is immediately brought upon it with considerable force. . every species of glass, before it can be used with safety, must be _annealed_, to diminish its brittleness. the annealing consists merely in letting down the temperature by degrees. small boys, therefore, convey the articles, whatever they may be, as fast as they are made, to a moderately heated oven, which, when filled, is suffered to cool by degrees. . _cutting._--the name of _cut glass_ is given to the kind which is ground and polished in figures, appearing as if cut with a sharp instrument. this operation is confined chiefly to flint glass, which, being more tough and soft than the other kinds, is more easily wrought. in addition to this, it is considerably more brilliant, producing specimens of greater lustre. . an establishment for grinding glass contains a great number of wheels of cast iron, stone, and wood, of different sizes; and the process consists entirely in holding the glass against these, while they are revolving with rapidity. when a considerable portion of the material is to be removed, the grinding is commonly commenced on the iron wheel, on which is constantly pouring water and sharp sand, from a vessel above, which, from its shape, is called a _hopper_. . the period of the invention of glass is quite unknown; but the following is the usual story of its origin. some merchants, driven by a storm upon the coasts of phoenicia, near the river belus, kindled a fire on the sand to cook their victuals, using as fuel some weeds which grew near. the ashes produced by the incineration of these plants, coming in contact with the sand, united with its particles, and, by the influence of the heat, produced glass. . this production was accidentally picked up by a tyrian merchant, who, from its beauty and probable utility, was led to investigate the causes of its formation, and who, after many attempts, succeeded in the manufacture of glass. the legend probably originated in the fact, that glass was very anciently made at tyre; and that the sand on the seashore in the immediate neighbourhood of the belus, was well adapted to glass-making. . it is certainly probable, that an accidental vitrification might have given rise to the discovery; but the circumstance would have been more likely to take place in some operation requiring greater heat than that necessary for dressing food in the open air. the invention of glass must have been effected as early as fifteen hundred years before our era. it was manufactured very anciently in egypt; but whether that country or phoenicia is entitled to the preference, as regards priority in the practice of this art, cannot be determined. . glass was made in considerable perfection at alexandria, and was thence supplied to the romans as late as the first quarter of the second century. before this time, however, rome had her glass manufactories, to which a particular street was assigned. the attention of the workmen was directed chiefly to the production of bottles and ornamental vases, specimens of which still remain, as monuments of their extraordinary skill. . in modern times, the manufacture of glass was confined principally to italy and germany. venice became particularly celebrated for the beauty of the material, and the skill of its workmen; and as early as the thirteenth century, it supplied the greatest part of the glass used in europe. the artists of bohemia, also, came to be held in considerable reputation. . the art was first practised in england, in the year , when a manufactory was erected at crutched friars, in the city of london, and shortly afterwards, another at the savoy, in the strand. in these establishments, however, were made little else than common window glass, and coarse bottles, all the finer articles being still imported from venice. in , the celebrated duke of buckingham brought workmen from italy, and established a manufactory for casting plate glass for mirrors and coach windows. the art, in all its branches, is now extensively practised in great perfection, not only in great britain, but in many of the other kingdoms of europe. . before the commencement of the late war with england, very little, if any, glass was manufactured in the united states, except the most common window glass, and the most ordinary kinds of hollow ware. apothecaries' vials and bottles, as well as every other variety of the better kinds of glass wares, had been imported from europe, and chiefly from england. . our necessities, created by the event just mentioned, produced several manufactories, which, however, did not soon become flourishing, owing, at first, to inexperience, and, after the peace, to excessive importations. but adequate protection having been extended to this branch of our national industry, by the tariff of , it is now in a highly prosperous condition--so much so, that importations of glass ware have nearly ceased. [illustration: optician.] the optician. . the word optician is applicable to persons who are particularly skilled in the science of vision, but especially to those who devote their attention to the manufacture of optical instruments, such as the spectacles, the camera obscura, the magic lantern, the telescope, the microscope, and the quadrant. . light is an emanation from the sun and other luminous bodies, and is that substance which renders opaque bodies visible to the eye. it diverges in a direct line, unless interrupted by some obstacle, and its motion has been estimated at _two hundred thousand miles_ in a second. . a _ray of light_ is the motion of a single particle: and a parcel of rays passing from a single point, is called _a pencil of rays_. _parallel rays_ are such as always move at the same distance from each other. rays which continually approach each other, are said to _converge_; and when they continually recede from each other, they are said to _diverge_. the point at which converging rays meet is called the _focus_. . any pellucid or transparent body, as air, water, and glass, which admits the free passage of light, is called a _medium_. when rays, after having passed through one medium, are bent out of their original course by entering another of different density, they are said to be _refracted_; and when they strike against a surface, and are sent back from it, they are said to be _reflected_. . a _lens_ is glass ground in such a form as to collect or disperse the rays of light which pass through it. these are of different shapes; and they have, therefore, received different appellations. a _plano-convex_ lens has one side flat, and the other convex; a _plano-concave_ lens is flat on one side, and concave on the other; a _double convex_ lens is convex on both sides; a _double concave_ lens is concave on both sides; a _meniscus_ is convex on one side, and concave on the other. by the following cut, the lenses are exhibited in the order in which they have been mentioned. [illustration] . an _incident ray_ is that which comes from any luminous body to a reflecting surface; and that which is sent back from a reflecting surface, is called a _reflected ray_. the _angle of incidence_ is the angle which is formed by the incident ray with a perpendicular to the reflecting surface; and the _angle of reflection_ is the angle formed by the same perpendicular and the reflected ray. . when the light proceeding from every point of an object placed before a lens is collected in corresponding points behind it, a perfect image of the object is there produced. the following cut is given by way of illustration. [illustration] . the lens, _a_, may be supposed to be placed in the hole of a window-shutter of a darkened room, and the arrow at the right to be standing at some distance without. all the light reflected from the latter object towards the lens, passes through it, and concentrates, within the room, in a focal point, at which, if a sheet of paper, or any other plane of a similar color, is placed, the image of the object will be seen upon it. . this phenomenon is called the _camera obscura_, or dark chamber, because it is necessary to darken the room to exhibit it. the image at the focal point within the room is in an inverted position. the reason why it is thrown in this manner will be readily understood by observing the direction of the reflected rays, as they pass from the object through the lens. in the camera obscura, it is customary to place a small mirror immediately behind the lens, so as to throw all the light which enters, downwards upon a whitened table, where the picture may be conveniently contemplated. . from the preceding explanation of the camera obscura, the theory of vision may be readily comprehended, since the eye itself is a perfect instrument of this kind. a careful examination of the following representation of the eye will render the similarity obvious. the eye is supposed to be cut through the middle, from above downwards. [illustration: _a a_, the _sclerotica_; _b b_, the _choroides_; _c c_, the _retina_; _d d_, the _cornea_; _e_, the _pupil_; _f f_, the _iris_; _g_, the _aqueous humor_; _h_, the _crystalline humor_; _i i_, the _vitreous humor_.] . the _sclerotica_ is a membranous coat, to which the muscles are attached which move the eye. the _cornea_ is united to the sclerotica around the circular opening of the latter, and is that convex part of the eye, which projects in advance of the rest of the organ. the space between this and the crystalline lens is occupied by the aqueous humor and the iris. the _iris_ is united to the choroides, and it possesses the power of expanding and contracting, to admit a greater or less number of rays. . the _crystalline lens_ is a small body of a crystalline appearance and lenticular shape, whence its name. it is situated between the aqueous and vitreous humors, and consists of a membranous sack filled with a humor of a crystalline appearance. the _vitreous humor_ has been thus denominated on account of its resemblance to glass in a state of fusion. the _retina_ is a membrane which lines the whole cavity of the eye, and is formed chiefly, if not entirely, by the expansion of the optic nerve. . the rays of light which proceed from objects pass through the cornea, aqueous humor, crystalline lens, and vitreous humor, and fall upon the retina in a focal point, to which it is brought, chiefly by the influence of the cornea and the crystalline lens. the image, in an inverted position, is painted or thrown on the cornea, which perceives its presence, and conveys an impression of it to the brain, by means of the optic nerve. . _optical instruments._--the art of constructing optical instruments is founded upon the anatomical structure, and physiological action of the eye, and on the laws of light. they are designed to increase the powers of the eye, or to remedy some defect in its structure. in the cursory view which we may give of a few of the many optical instruments which have been invented, we will begin with the _spectacles_, since they are the best known, and withal the most simple. . the _visual point_, or the distance at which small objects can be distinctly seen, varies in different individuals. as an average, it may be assumed at eight or nine inches from the eye. in some persons, it is much nearer, and in others, considerably more distant. the extreme, in the former case, constitutes _myopy_, or _short-sightedness_, and, in the latter case, _presbyopy_, or _long-sightedness_. . _myopy_ is chiefly caused by too great a convexity of the cornea and the crystalline lens, which causes the rays to converge to a focus, before they reach the retina. objects are, therefore, indistinctly seen by myoptic persons, unless held very near the eye to throw the focus farther back. this defect may be palliated by the use of concave glasses, which render the rays proceeding from objects more divergent. . _presbyopy_ is principally caused by too little convexity of the cornea and crystalline lens, which throws the focal point of rays reflected from near objects, beyond the retina. this defect is experienced by most people, to a greater or less degree, after they have advanced beyond the fortieth year, and occasionally even by youth. a remedy, or, at least, a palliation, is found in the use of convex glasses, which render the rays more convergent, and enable the eye to refract them to a focus farther forward, at the proper point. . the opticians have their spectacles numbered, to suit different periods of life; but, as the short-sighted and long-sighted conditions exist in a thousand different degrees, each person should select for himself such as will enable him to read without effort at the usual distance. . the great obstacle to viewing small objects at the usual distance, arises from too great a divergence of the light reflected from them, which causes the rays to reach the retina before they have converged to a focus. this defect is remedied by convex lenses, which bring the visual point nearer to the eye, and consequently cause the rays to concentrate in a large focus upon the retina. the most powerful microscopic lenses are small globules of glass, which permit the eye to be brought very near to the object. . _microscopes_ are either _single_ or _double_. in the former case, but one lens is used, and through this the object is viewed directly; but, in the latter case, two or more glasses are employed, through one of which a magnified image is thrown upon a reflecting surface, and this is viewed through the other glass, or glasses, as the real object is seen through a single microscope. . the _solar microscope_, on account of its great magnifying powers, is the most wonderful instrument of this kind. the principles of its construction are the same with those of the camera obscura. the difference consists chiefly in the minor circumstance of placing the object very near the lens, by which a magnified image is thrown at the focal point within the room. . in the case of the camera obscura, the objects are at a far greater distance from the glass on the outside than the images, at the focal point, on the inside. the comparatively great distance of the object, in this case, causes the image to be proportionably smaller. in the solar microscope, a small mirror is used to receive the rays, and to reflect them directly upon the object. . the _magic lantern_ is an instrument used for magnifying paintings on glass, and for throwing their images upon a white surface in a darkened room. its general construction is the same with that of the solar microscope; but, in the application, the light of a lamp is employed instead of that from the sun. . _telescopes_ are employed for viewing objects which from their distances appear small, or are invisible to the naked eye. they are of two kinds, _refracting_ and _reflecting_. the former kind is a compound of the camera obscura and the single microscope. it consists of a tube, having at the further end a double convex lens, which concentrates the rays at a focal point within, where the image is viewed through a microscopic lens, placed at the other end. . in the construction of reflecting telescopes, concave mirrors, or specula, are combined with a double convex lens. a large mirror of this kind is so placed in the tube, that it receives the rays of light from objects, and reflects them upon another of a smaller size. from this they are thrown to a focal point, where the image is viewed through a double convex lens. the specula are made of speculum metal, which is a composition of certain proportions of copper and tin. . many optical appearances are of such frequent recurrence, that they could not have escaped the earliest observers; nevertheless, ages appear to have elapsed, before any progress was made towards an explanation of them. empedocles, a greek philosopher, born at agrigentum in sicily, years before christ, is the first person on record who attempted to write systematically on light. . the subject was successively treated by several other philosophers; but the ancients never attained to a high degree of information upon it. we have reason to believe, however, that convex lenses were, in some cases, used as magnifiers, and as burning glasses, although the theory of their refractive power was not understood. . the magnifying power of glasses, and some other optical phenomena, were largely treated by al hazen, an arabian philosopher, who flourished about the year of our era; and, in , vitellio, a polander, published a treatise on optics, containing all that was valuable in al hazen's work, digested in a better manner, and with more lucid explanations of various phenomena. . roger bacon, an english monk, who was born in , and who lived to the age of seventy-eight, described very accurately the effects of convex and concave lenses, and demonstrated, by actual experiment, that a small segment of a glass globe would greatly assist the sight of old persons. concerning the actual inventor of spectacles, however, we have no certain information; we only know that these useful instruments were generally known in europe, about the beginning of the fourteenth century. . in the year , maurolicus, a teacher of mathematics, at messina, published a treatise on optics, in which he demonstrated that the crystalline humor of the eye is a lens, which collects the rays of light from external objects, and throws them upon the retina. having arrived at a knowledge of these facts, he was enabled to assign the reasons why some people were short-sighted, and others long-sighted. . john baptista porta, of naples, was contemporary with maurolicus. he invented the camera obscura, and his experiments with this instrument convinced him, that light was a substance, and that its reception into the eye produced vision. these discoveries corresponded very nearly with those by maurolicus, although neither of these philosophers had any knowledge of what the other had done. the importance of porta's discoveries will be evident, when it is observed, that, before his time, vision was supposed to be dependent on what were termed _visual rays_, proceeding from the eye. . the telescope was invented towards the latter end of the sixteenth century. of this, as of many other valuable inventions, accident furnished the first hint. it is said, that the children of zacharias jansen, a spectacle-maker, of middleburg in holland, while playing with spectacle-glasses in their father's shop, perceived that, when the glasses were held at a certain distance from each other, the dial of the clock appeared greatly magnified, but in an inverted position. . this incident suggested to their father the idea of adjusting two of these glasses on a board, so as to move them at pleasure. two such glasses inclosed in a tube completed the invention of the simplest kind of the refracting telescope. galileo greatly improved the telescope, and constructed one that magnified thirty-three times, and with this he made the astronomical discoveries which have immortalized his name. . john kepler, a great mathematician and astronomer, who was born at weir, in wurtemburg, in the year , paid great attention to the phenomena of light and vision. he was the first who demonstrated that the degree of refraction suffered by light in passing through lenses, corresponds with the diameter of the circle of which the concavity or convexity is the portion of an arch. he very successfully pursued the discoveries of maurolicus and porta, and asserted that the images of external objects were formed upon the optic nerve by the concentration of rays which proceed from them. . in , the curious discovery of scheiner was published, at rome, which placed beyond doubt the fact, that vision depends upon the formation of the image of objects upon the retina. the fact was demonstrated by cutting away, at the back part, the two outside coats of the eye of an animal, and by presenting different objects before it. the images were distinctly seen painted on the naked retina. . near the middle of the seventeenth century, the velocity of light was discovered by roemer; and, in , james gregory, a celebrated scotch mathematician, published the first proposal for a reflecting telescope. but, as he possessed no mechanical dexterity himself, and as he could find no workman capable of executing his designs, he never succeeded in carrying his conceptions into effect. this was reserved for sir isaac newton; who, being remarkable for manual skill, executed two instruments of this kind, in the year , on a plan, however, somewhat different from that proposed by gregory. . in the course of the year , the attention of sir isaac newton was drawn to the phenomena of the refraction of light through the prism; and, having observed a certain surprising fact, he instituted a variety of experiments, by which he was brought to the conclusion, that light was not a homogeneous substance, but that it is composed of particles, which are capable of different degrees of refrangibility. . by the same experiments, he also proved, that the rays or particles of light differ from each other in exhibiting different colors, some producing the color red, others that of yellow, blue, &c. he applied his principles to the explanation of most of the phenomena of nature, where light and color are concerned; and almost every thing which we know upon these subjects, was laid open by his experiments. . the splendor of sir isaac newton's discoveries obscures, in some measure, the merits of earlier and subsequent philosophers; yet several interesting discoveries in regard to light and color, as well as many important improvements of optical instruments, have been made since his time, although the light by which these have been achieved, was derived principally from his labors. [illustration: goldbeater.] the gold-beater, and the jeweller. gold. . the metals most extensively employed in the arts are gold, silver, copper, lead, tin, and iron. these are sometimes found uncombined with any other substance, or combined only with each other; in either of these cases, they are said to be in a _native state_. but they are more frequently found united with some substances which, in a great measure, disguise their metallic qualities, or, in other words, in a state of _ore_. the mode of separating the metals from their ores, will be noticed in connexion with some of the trades in which they are prepared for, or practically applied in, the arts. . gold is a metal of a yellow color, a characteristic by which it is distinguished from all other simple metallic bodies. as a representative of property, it has been used from time immemorial; and, before coinage was invented, it passed for money in its native state. in this form, gold is still current in some parts of africa; and even in the southern states of our own country, in the vicinity of the gold mines, the same practice, in a measure, prevails. . gold is rarely employed in a state of perfect purity, but is generally used in combination with some other metal, which renders it harder, and consequently more capable of enduring the friction to which it is exposed. the metal used for this purpose is called an _alloy_, and generally consists of silver or copper. . for convenience in commerce, this precious metal is supposed to be divided into twenty-four equal parts, called _carats_. if perfectly pure, it is denominated gold carats fine; if alloyed with one part of any other metal or mixture of metals, it is said to be carats fine. the standard gold coin of the united states and great britain is carats fine; or, in other words, it contains one-twelfth part of alloy. gold, made standard by equal parts of copper and silver, approaches in color more nearly to pure gold than when alloyed in any other manner. . gold is found in veins in mountains, most usually associated with ores of silver, sulphurets of iron, copper, lead, and other metals. it is often so minutely distributed, that its presence is detected only by pounding and washing the ores in which it exists. but the greatest part of the gold in the possession of mankind, has been found in the form of grains and small detached masses, amid the sands of rivers and in alluvial lands, where it had been deposited by means of water, which had detached it from its original position in the mountains. . to separate or extract gold from the foreign matters with which it may be combined, the whole is first pounded fine, and then washed by putting it in a stream of water, which carries off the stony particles, while the gold, by its specific gravity, sinks to the bottom. to render the separation still more perfect, this sediment is mixed with ten times its weight of quicksilver, and put into a leather bag, in which it is submitted to a pressure that forces the fluid part through its pores; while the more solid part of the amalgam, which contains most of the gold, remains. . to separate the quicksilver from the gold, the mass is subjected to the process of _sublimation_ in earthen retorts, which, as applied to metals, is similar in its effects to distillation, as applied to liquids. when gold is contained in the ores of other metals, they are roasted, in order to drive off the volatile parts, and to oxydize the other metals. the gold is then extracted by amalgamation, by liquefaction with lead, by the aid of nitric acid, or by other methods adapted to the nature of the ore. . gold obtained in any of these methods is always more or less alloyed with some other metal, especially with silver or copper; but a separation is produced, so far as it is required for the purposes of commerce, by two processes, one of which is called _cupellation_, and the other _parting_. the former of these operations consists in melting the gold with a quantity of lead, which readily oxydizes and vitrifies, and which causes the same changes to take place in the metal to be detached from the mass of gold. the operation is called cupellation, because it is usually performed on a _cupel_, a vessel formed of bone-ashes, or sometimes of wood-ashes. . cupellation is effectual in removing copper, but not so with regard to silver; the latter is separated by means of a process called _parting_. the metal is rolled out into thin sheets or strips, and cut into small pieces. these are put into diluted nitric acid, which, by the aid of a moderate heat, dissolves the silver, leaving the gold in a porous state. . another process, called _cementation_, is also sometimes used. it is performed by beating the alloyed metal into thin plates, and arranging them in alternate layers with a cement containing nitrate of potash, and sulphate of iron. the whole is then exposed to heat, until a great part of the baser metals has been removed by the action of the nitric acid liberated by the nitre. cementation is often employed by goldsmiths, to refine the surface of articles in which the gold has been combined, in too small a proportion, with metals of less value. . the average amount of gold annually obtained in every part of the globe cannot fall far short of twenty-millions of dollars in value, of which south america supplies about one half, and europe, about one twenty-fifth part. the amount yielded by the southern states of our union, cannot be accurately ascertained, but the whole sum coined at the united states' mint in , from gold obtained in this quarter, amounted to $ , , and since to that time, to $ , , . in , the sum was but $ . our southern mines will probably continue to increase in productiveness. the gold-beater. . gold, not being subject to intrinsic change by atmospheric action, or by that of common chemical agents, is extensively used in gilding various substances, either with the view of preserving them from decay, or for the purpose of embellishment. to prepare the gold for application in this manner is the business of the gold-beater. . the metal is first melted with some borax in a crucible, and formed into an _ingot_ by pouring it into an iron mould. the mass is next hammered a little on an anvil, to increase the cohesion of its parts, and afterwards repeatedly passed between steel rollers, until it has become a riband as thin as paper. . two ounces and a half of this riband are cut into pieces of equal dimensions. these are hammered a little to make them smooth, and then interlaid with pieces of fine vellum four inches square. the whole, with twenty other pieces of vellum on each side, is inclosed in two cases of parchment. the packet is then beaten on a marble anvil with a hammer weighing sixteen pounds, until the gold has been spread to near the size of the vellum leaves, it, in the mean time, being often turned over. . the gold leaves are next divided into four equal squares, with a steel knife on a leather cushion; and the leaves thus produced, are interlaid with a kind of leather or parchment made of the intestines of the ox, and beaten with a hammer weighing twelve pounds, until the leaves have been extended as before. they are again quartered and interlaid, and beaten with a hammer weighing six or eight pounds. . the gold having now been sufficiently extended, the packets are taken apart, and the leaves cut to a proper and uniform size, by means of a cane frame on a leather cushion. the leaves, as fast as they are trimmed, are placed in a book, the paper of which has been covered with red bole, to prevent the gold from sticking. of the two ounces and a half of gold thus treated, only about one ounce remains in perfect leaves, which, altogether, amount to three inches and three-eighths square. the books contain twenty-five leaves, so that one ounce of gold makes eighty books. . gold extended into leaves, is alloyed, in a greater or less degree, with silver or copper, or both, because, in a pure state, it would be too ductile. the newest skins will work the purest gold, and make the thinnest leaf, because they are the smoothest. the alloy varies from three to twenty-four grains to the ounce, but in general it is six, or one part of alloy to eighty of gold. . a kind of leaf called _party gold_, is formed by the union of a thin leaf of gold and a thicker one of silver. the two are laid together, and afterwards heated and pressed, until they have cohered. they are then beaten and otherwise treated, as in the process just described. silver, and likewise copper, are also beaten into leaves, although they will by no means bear so great a reduction as gold. considerable quantities of copper leaf are brought from holland, which in commerce is known by the denomination of "dutch leaf," or "dutch gold." . the ancient romans were not ignorant of the process of gold-beating, although they did not carry it so far as we do. pliny informs us that they sometimes made leaves four fingers square, from an ounce of gold. at præneste was a statue of fortune, gilt with leaves of a certain thickness; hence those beaten to the same degree of thickness were called _prænestines_. those of another and less degree of thickness, were called _quæstoriales_, for a similar reason. . the romans began to gild the interior of their houses immediately after the destruction of carthage. the wainscots of the capitol were first ornamented in this manner; and afterwards it became fashionable to gild the walls and ceilings of private dwellings, as well as articles of furniture. . _gold wire._--the ductility of gold is more conspicuous in wire than in leaves. the wire thus denominated, is in reality silver wire covered with gold. it is formed by covering a silver rod with thick leaves of gold, and then drawing it successively through conical holes of different sizes, made in plates of steel. the wire may be reduced, in this manner, to a degree of extreme fineness, the gold being drawn out with the silver, and constituting for it a perfect coating. . wire thus formed is often used in the manufacture of _gold thread_. before it is applied in this way, it is flattened between rollers of polished steel, and then wound on yellow silk by machinery. the coating of gold on the silver wire employed in this way, does not exceed the millionth part of an inch in thickness. the jeweller. . the jeweller makes rings, lockets, bracelets, brooches, ear-rings, necklaces, watch-chains, and trinkets of like nature. the materials of the best quality of these ornaments are gold, pearls, and precious stones, although those of an inferior kind are often used. . there are several stones to which is applied the epithet _precious_, of which the following are the principal: the diamond, the ruby, the sapphire, the topaz, the chrysolite, the beryl, the emerald, the hyacinth, the amethyst, the garnet, the tourmalin, and the opal. to these may be added rock crystal, the fine flints of pebbles, the cat's-eye, the oculis mundi or hydrophanes, the chalcedony, the moon-stone, the onyx, the carnelian, the sardonyx, agates, and the labrador-stone. these stones, together with different kinds of pearl, are also called gems or jewels. . the precious stones are valuable, as articles of merchandise, in proportion to their scarcity, weight, transparency, lustre, and hardness. in most of these particulars, the diamond is superior to any other; but those of the same size are not always of equal value, for all are not of the same color or brilliancy. the very best are said to be _diamonds of the first water_. the diamond was called adamant by the ancients, although this term was not confined exclusively to this stone. . the weight and consequent value of the most precious stones are estimated in _carats_, one of which is equal to four grains troy weight, and the value of each carat is increased in proportion to the size of the stone. in england, the cost of a cut diamond of the first water is thus estimated: carat is = _l._ do. is × × = do. is × × = do. is × × = by the foregoing examples, it will be seen that the weight is multiplied by itself, and the product by the price per carat, which may be some other sum, according to the general characteristics of the stone. . this rule, however, is not extended to diamonds of more than carats in weight; nor is this or any other rule of estimate strictly adhered to in every case; nevertheless, it probably comes pretty near to general usage. in the same country, a perfect ruby of - / carats is worth more than a diamond of equal weight. a ruby weighing one carat may be worth guineas; two carats, guineas; three carats, guineas; six carats guineas. a ruby of a deep red color, exceeding carats, is called a carbuncle; and of these, , weighing from to carats each, are said to have been in the throne of the great mogul. . some of the european sovereigns have, in their possession, diamonds of great value, several of which were originally brought to england from india. the _pitt_ or _regent diamond_ was purchased in india by robert pitt, grandfather of the right honorable william pitt, for £ , sterling. it was brought to england in a rough state, and £ were there expended in cutting it; but the cuttings themselves were worth £ or £ . it was sold to the duke of orleans, for the king of france, at the enormous price of £ , . its weight is carats; and, before it was cut, it was as large as a common pullet's egg. . a celebrated diamond, in the possession of the emperor of russia, is denominated the _effingham_ or _russian diamond_. it was brought to england by the earl of effingham, while governor-general of india, and sold to the empress catharine for £ , . it is inferior in shape to the last mentioned, but superior to it in magnitude, it weighing carats. the queen of england has a diamond which cost £ , . . the largest diamond hitherto known was found in the island of borneo, and it is now in the possession of the rajah of mattan. many years ago, the governor of batavia offered, in exchange for it, $ , , and two large brigs of war with their equipments and outfit; but the rajah refused to part with the jewel, to which the malays supposed miraculous power belonged, and which they believed to be connected with the fate of his family. the weight of this diamond is carats. . other jewels, belonging to different sovereigns, as well as to private persons, might be mentioned; but a sufficient number has been noticed to enable the reader to form some idea of the extravagant expenditures often made for articles of imaginary value. we will merely add that the royal family of portugal is in possession of a stone which was formerly supposed to be a diamond, but which has lately proved to be some kind of crystal of little value. the weight of this stone is carats; and, until its real character was discovered, it was valued at millions sterling. . the value of precious stones was much increased in ancient times, by the absurd notion commonly entertained, that they possessed miraculous powers in preventing or curing diseases, as well as in keeping off witches and evil spirits. these notions still prevail more or less in heathen nations; and many, even in countries called christian, wear them, or something else, as amulets for the same or similar purposes. . _the gem-sculptor._--figures and letters are often cut in precious stones by the gem-engraver, or gem-sculptor, whose art, according to the opinion of some writers, originated with the babylonians; but, according to others, it had its commencement in india or egypt. in the latter country, it was first employed in the production of hieroglyphical figures on basalt and granite rocks. this art, which is denominated lithoglyptics, or the glyptic art, was held in great estimation by the greeks in ancient times. it arose to eminence with the other fine arts; and, like them, it had its zenith of perfection, was buried with them in the ruins of the roman empire, and with them revived towards the end of the fifteenth century. . the productions of gem-sculpture are chiefly of two kinds. the first of these are _cameos_, which are little bas-reliefs, or figures raised above the surface. they are commonly made of stones, the strata of which are of different colors, so that the figure is different in color from the ground on which it has been raised. the other productions of this art are denominated _intaglios_. the work of these is the reverse of that first mentioned, since the figure is cut below the surface of the stone, so that they serve as seals to produce impressions in relief upon soft substances. . this artist performs his work by means of a lathe, with the aid of diamond dust. the instruments are made of soft iron, and are fixed in leaden chucks, which can be readily fastened to one end of the mandril. the diamond dust is made into thin paste with olive oil, and is applied to the point of the instrument. the small invisible particles insinuate themselves into the iron, where they remain permanently fixed. in producing figures and letters with a tool thus charged with the hardest substance in nature, the precious stone is brought in contact with it while in rapid motion. . the engraved gems of antiquity have been greatly esteemed, as works of art, by the curious, and various methods have, therefore, been devised to imitate them. this has been done in glass in such perfection, both as to form and color, that good judges can scarcely distinguish the imitations from the originals. the impression of the gem is first taken in some kind of fine earth; and, upon the mould thus formed, the proposed material is pressed, while in a plastic state. . the precious stones generally have likewise been imitated with great success. the basis of the different compositions is a _paste_ made of the finest flint glass, the materials of which have been selected and combined with great care. the desired color is produced with metallic oxydes. a great number of complex receipts are in use among manufacturers of these articles. . _the lapidary._--the precious stones and imitations of them in glass are brought to the desired form by the lapidary. the instrument with which this artist chiefly operates is a wheel which is made to revolve horizontally before him. it is put in motion by means of an endless rope extending from another wheel, which is moved with the left hand of the operator, while, with his right, he holds, in a proper position, the substance to be reduced. . the precious stones, being of small size, cannot be held with steadiness on the wheel with the hand, nor with any holding instrument; they are, therefore, first fastened, by means of sealing-wax, to the end of small sticks. by this simple means, and a small upright post, against which the hand or the other end of the stick is rested, the workman can hold a stone in any position he may desire. . the lapidary's wheel is made of different kinds of metals. the diamond is cut on a wheel of soft steel, by the aid of its own dust mixed with olive oil. the oriental ruby, sapphire, and topaz, are cut on a copper wheel in the same manner, and polished with tripoli and water. stones of a less degree of hardness are cut and polished on a leaden or tin wheel with emery and rotten stone. . the ancients were not acquainted with any method of cutting the diamond, although they applied its powder to polishing, cutting, and engraving other stones. gems of this kind, either rough, or polished by nature, were set as ornaments, and were valued according to the beauty and perfection of their crystallization and transparency. the value of any precious stone, or jewel, depends much upon the skill of the lapidary. . _the pearl-fisherman._--pearls are obtained from a testaceous fish of the oyster kind, found in the waters of the east and west indies, as well as in other seas of different latitudes. these oysters grow in some parts of the globe, in clusters, on rocks in the depths of the sea. such places are called _pearl-banks_, of which the most celebrated are near the islands of ceylon and japan, and in the persian gulf. the finest and most costly pearls are the oriental. . pearls are considered by some to be morbid concretions, or calculi, produced by the endeavor of the animal to fill up the holes which may have been made from without by small worms. others suppose them to be mere concretions of the animal juice about some extraneous matter which may have been intruded by some means into the shell. . to collect the shells containing these singular productions, is the business of _divers_, who have been brought up to this dangerous occupation. they must generally descend from eight to twelve fathoms, and must remain beneath the surface of the water for several minutes, during which time they are exposed to the attacks of the voracious shark. in addition to the danger from this cause, the employment is very destructive of health. . in preparing a diver for his descent, a rope is tied round the body, and a stone, weighing twenty or thirty pounds, is fastened to the foot to sink him. his ears and nostrils are filled with cotton, and a sponge dipped in oil is fastened to his arm, to which he may now and then apply his mouth, in order to breathe without inhaling water. in addition to these equipments, he is furnished with a knife, with which the shells may be detached from the rocks, and with a net or basket, in which they may be deposited. . thus equipped, he descends to the bottom, and having filled his depository, or having stayed below as long as he may be able, he unlooses the stone, gives the signal to his companions above, who quickly draw him into the boat. at some pearl-fisheries, the diving-bell is employed, which in some degree obviates some of the dangers before stated. . the shells thus obtained are laid by, until the body of the animal has putrified, when they commonly open of themselves. those which contain any pearls, generally have from eight to twelve. the pearls having been dried, are assorted according to their various magnitudes; and, to effect this separation, they are passed through nine sieves of different degrees of fineness. the largest pearls are about the size of a small walnut; but such are very rare. the smallest are called _seed pearls_. . pearls are of various colors, such as white, yellow, lead-color, blackish, and totally black. the "white water" is preferred in europe, and the "yellow water," in arabia and india. in regard to their form, they vary considerably, being round, pear-formed, onion-formed, and irregular. the inner part of the pearl muscle is called _nacre_ or _mother of pearl_, and this is manufactured into beads, snuff-boxes, spoons, and a variety of other articles. . pearls were objects of luxury among the ancients. a pearl valued by pliny at a certain sum, which, reduced to our currency, amounts to $ , , was dissolved by cleopatra, and drunk to the health of antony, at a banquet. these beautiful productions are not estimated so highly at present. the largest will sometimes command four or five hundred dollars, although very few, which are worth over forty or fifty dollars, are ever brought to this country. . the gem-engraver and the jeweller were both employed by moses, in preparing the ornaments in the ephod and breast-plate of the high-priest. in the former were set onyx stones, and in the latter, twelve different stones. on the gems of both ornaments, were engraved the names of the twelve tribes of israel. . we, however, have evidence of the practice of the arts, connected with the production of jewelry, long before the days of the jewish lawgiver. we learn from the twenty-fourth chapter of genesis, that the servant of abraham presented a golden ear-ring, and bracelets for the hands, to rebecca, who afterwards became the wife of isaac. perhaps these were brought from egypt by the patriarch, about seventy years before. . men have ever been fond of personal ornaments, and there have been but few nations since the flood, which have not encouraged the jeweller in some way or other. in modern times, the art has been greatly improved. the french, for lightness and elegance of design, have surpassed other nations; but the english, for excellence of workmanship, have been considered, for ages, unrivalled. . in the united states, the manufacture of jewelry is very extensive, there being large establishments for this purpose in philadelphia, and in newark, n. j., as well as in several other places. so extensive have been the operations in this branch of business, and to such advantage have they been carried on, that importations from other countries have ceased, and this, too, without the influence of custom-house duties. . the capital necessary in carrying on the business of the jeweller, is considerable, inasmuch as the materials are very expensive. the operations likewise require the exercise of much ingenuity. these, however, we shall not attempt to describe, since our article on this subject has already been extended beyond its proper limits, and since, also, they could be hardly understood without actual inspection. [illustration: watch maker.] the silversmith, and the watch-maker. silver. . silver is a metal of a fine white color, and, in brilliancy, inferior to none of the metals except steel. in malleability, it is next to gold, it being capable of reduction into leaves not more than the / of an inch in thickness, and of being drawn into wire much finer than a human hair. . the relative value of silver and gold has varied considerably in different ages. in the prosperous period of ancient civilization, one pound of gold was worth twelve of silver. in great britain, the relative value of the two metals is one to fifteen and one-fifth, and, on the continent of europe, it is about one to fifteen. in the united states, the relative value of these two metals has been recently established by congress at one to sixteen. in china and japan, it is said to be one to nine or ten. . there are two methods of separating silver from its various ores, and these are called _smelting_ and _amalgamation_. in the former method, the ore and a due proportion of lead are heated together; and the latter, from its great affinity for silver, unites with it, and separates it from other substances. the two metals are afterwards separated from each other, by melting them on a cupel, and then exposing them to a current of atmospheric air, by which the lead is converted into an oxyde, while the silver remains untouched. this process is called _cupellation_. . in the other method, the first thing done is to roast the ore, to expel the sulphur and other volatile parts. it is then reduced to an impalpable powder by machinery; and having been sifted, it is agitated sixteen or eighteen hours in barrels, with a quantity of quicksilver, water, and iron, combined in certain proportions. this agitation causes the several substances composing the _charge_, to unite according to their respective affinities. . the silver and mercury combine, forming an amalgam, which, having been put into a leather sack, a part of the latter is separated from the rest by filtration, still leaving six parts of this metal to one of the silver. the amalgam is next submitted to the action of heat in a distilling furnace, by which the mercury is sublimated. . the value of the silver annually taken from the mines in all parts of the world, is supposed to be about $ , , , of which mexico and south america yield the greater part. the several silver mines of europe and asia produce about two millions and a half. the silversmith. . the artisan who forms certain articles of gold and silver, is called indifferently a goldsmith or a silversmith. the former denomination is most commonly employed in england, and the latter, in the united states. . the most common subjects of manufacture by the silversmith are cups, goblets, chalices, tankards, spoons, knives, forks, waiters, bread-trays, tea-pots, coffee-pots, cream-pots, sugar-bowls, sugar-tongs, and pencil-cases. many of these articles he sometimes makes of gold; this is especially the case in europe, and some parts of asia. in the united states, the people are commonly satisfied with the less expensive metal. . a great proportion of the silver used by this mechanic, has been previously coined into dollars. in working these into different utensils or vessels, he first melts them in a crucible, and casts the silver into solid masses by pouring it into iron moulds; and having forged it on an anvil, he reduces it still further, and to a uniform thickness, by passing it several times between steel rollers. in giving additional explanations of the operations of the silversmith, we will describe the manner in which a plain tea-pot is manufactured. . in forming the body, or containing part, the plate, forged and rolled as just described, is cut into a circular form, and placed on a block of soft wood with a concave face, where it is beaten with a convex hammer, until it has been brought to a form much like that of a saucer. it is then placed upon an anvil, and beaten a while with a long-necked hammer with a round flattish face. . it is next _raised_ to the proposed form by forging it on a long slender anvil, called a _stake_, with a narrow-faced hammer, which spreads the metal perpendicularly from the bottom, or laterally, according to the position in which it may be held when brought in contact with the metal. . after the piece has been thus brought to the proposed form, it is _planished_ all over by beating it with a small hammer on the outside, while it rests on a small steel head on the inside. during the performance of these operations, the silver is occasionally _annealed_ by heating it in the fire; but it is worked while in a cold state, except in the first forging, when it is wrought while a little below red heat. . the several pieces which compose a tea-pot of ordinary construction, amount to about fifteen, nearly all of which are rolled and forged in the manner just described. the knob on the lid, the handle, and the spout, are sometimes cast, and at other times, the two pieces of which they are formed are cut from a plate, and brought to a proper figure by impressing them with steel dies. . the figures seen on the cheaper kinds of silver tea-pots, as well as on other vessels and utensils, are commonly made by passing the plates or strips between engraved steel rollers, or by stamping them with steel dies. the dies are commonly brought in sudden and violent contact with the metal by means of an iron _drop_, which is let fall from a height upon it. . after the several parts have been brought to the proper shape, and to the requisite finish, they are firmly united together by means of a solder composed of about three parts of silver and one of brass and copper. before the spout and handle are soldered on, the other parts, which have been thus united into one piece, are brought to a certain degree of polish. . this is effected chiefly in a lathe, by holding against the piece, while in rapid motion, first a file, then a scraper, and afterwards pumice stone and scotch stone. it is then held against a rapidly revolving brush, charged with fine brickdust and sweet oil. the handle and spout are next soldered on. after this, the vessel is annealed, and put in _pickle_, or, in other words, into a weak solution of oil of vitriol. it is then scoured with sand and water, and the whole operation is completed by burnishing the smooth parts with a steel instrument. . in the more expensive kinds of wares, the raised figures and the frosty appearance are produced by a process called _chasing_. in executing this kind of work, a drawing is first made on the silver with a lead pencil. the several parts are then raised from the other side, corresponding as nearly as possible to it. the vessel or piece is then filled with, or placed upon, melted cement, composed of pitch and brick-dust; and, after the cement has become hard by cooling, the chaser reduces the raised parts to the form indicated by the drawing, by means of small steel punches. the roughness of surface, and frosty appearance, are produced by punches indented on the end. . the operations of the silversmith are exceedingly various, many of which could be hardly understood from mere description. we would, therefore, recommend to the curious, actual inspection, assuring them that the ingenuity displayed in executing the work in the different branches of the business, is well worthy of their attention. we will merely add, that spoons, knives, and forks, are not cast, as is frequently supposed, but forged from strips of silver cut from rolled sheets. . the earliest historical notice of gold and silver is found in the thirteenth chapter of genesis, where it is stated that abraham returned to canaan from egypt, "rich in cattle, in silver, and in gold." this event took place about years before christ, it being but little more than years after the deluge. from the authority of the same book, we also learn, that during the life of this patriarch, those metals were employed as a medium of commercial intercourse, and as the materials for personal ornaments, vessels, and utensils. . from the preceding facts, we have reason to believe that gold and silver were known to the antediluvians; for, had not this been the case, they could hardly have been held in such estimation so early as the time of abraham. in short, they were probably wrought even in the days of the original progenitor of the human race, as was evidently the case with iron and copper. the clock and watch maker. . the great divisions of time, noted by uncivilized men, are those which are indicated by the changes of the moon, and the annual and diurnal revolutions of the earth; but the ingenuity of man was very early exercised in devising methods of measuring more minute periods of duration. . the earliest contrivance for effecting this object was the sun-dial. this instrument was known to the ancient egyptians, chaldeans, chinese, and bramins. it was likewise known to the hebrews, at least as early as years before christ, in the days of ahaz the king. the greeks and the romans borrowed it from their eastern neighbors. the first sun-dial at rome was set up by papirius cursor, about years before christ. before this period, the romans determined the time of day by the rude method of observing the length of shadows. . the sun-dial, as it is now constructed, consists of a plate, divided into twelve equal parts, like the face of a clock, on which the falling of a shadow indicates the time of day. the shadow is projected by the sun, through the intervention of a rod or the edge of a _plate stile_ erected on the plane of the dial. but, since the dial was useful only in the clear day, another instrument was invented, which could be used at all times, in every variety of situation; and to this was given the name of _clepsydra_. . this instrument is supposed to have been invented in egypt; but, at what period, or by whom, it is not stated. its construction was varied, in different ages and countries, according with the particular modes of reckoning time; but the constant dropping or running of water from one vessel into another, through a small aperture, is the basis in all the forms which it has assumed. the time was indicated by the regularly increasing height of the water in the receiving vessel. . the clepsydra was introduced into greece by plato, near years before christ, and, about years after this, into rome, by scipio africanus. it is said that pompey brought a valuable one from the east, and that julius cæsar met with one in england, by which he discovered that the summer nights were shorter there than in italy. . the use which pompey made of his instrument, was to limit the length of speeches in the senate. hence he is said, by a historian of those times, to have been the first roman who put bridles upon eloquence. a similar use was made of the clepsydra in the courts of justice, first in greece, and afterwards in rome. . a kind of water-clock, or clepsydra, adapted to the modern divisions of time, was invented near the middle of the seventeenth century; and these were extensively used, in various parts of europe, for a considerable time; but they are now entirely superseded by our common clocks and watches, which are far more perfect in their operation, and, in all respects, better adapted to the purposes to which they are applied. . the invention of the clock is concealed in the greatest obscurity. some writers attribute it to the monks, as this instrument was used in the twelfth century in the monasteries, to regulate the inmates in their attendance on prayers both by night and by day. others suppose that a knowledge of this valuable instrument was derived from the saracens, through the intercourse arising from the crusades. be this as it may, clocks were but little known in europe, until the beginning of the fourteenth century. . richard, abbot of st. alban's, england, made a clock in , such as had never been heard of until then. it not only indicated the course of the sun and moon, but also the ebbing and flowing of the tide. large clocks on steeples began to be used in this century. the first of this kind is supposed to have been made and put up in padua by jacobus dondi. . a steeple clock was set up in boulogne, in ; and, in , henry de wyck, a german artist, placed one in the palace of charles v., king of france. in , three dutchmen introduced clock-work into england, under the patronage of edward iii. clocks began to be common both in england and on the continent, about the end of the fifteenth century. . the clock of henry de wyck is the most ancient instrument of this kind of which we have a description. the wheels were made of wrought iron, and the teeth were cut by hand. in other respects, also, it was a rude piece of mechanism, and not at all capable of keeping time with accuracy. but, rude as it was, it is not likely that it was the invention of a single individual; but that, after the first rude machine was put in motion, it received several improvements from various persons. this has, at least, been the case with all the improvements made on the clock of henry de wyck, to the present day. . the application of the pendulum to clock-work appears to have been first made by vincenzo galileo, in ; but the improvement was rendered completely successful, in , by christian huygens, a dutch philosopher. the laws of the oscillation of the pendulum were first investigated by galileo, the great italian philosopher, and father of the galileo just mentioned. his attention was attracted to this subject by the swinging of a lamp suspended from the ceiling of the cathedral, at pisa, his native city. . the clocks first made were of a large size, and were placed only in public edifices. the works were, at length, reduced in their dimensions, and these useful machines were gradually introduced into private dwellings. they were finally made of a portable size, and were carried about the person. these portable clocks had, for their maintaining power, a main-spring of steel, instead of a weight, which was used in the larger time-keepers. . the original pocket-watches differed but little, if at all, in the general plan of their construction, from the portable clocks just mentioned. the transition from one kind of instrument to the other was, therefore, obvious and easy; but the time of the change cannot be certainly determined. it is commonly admitted, however, that peter hele constructed the first watch, in . . watches appear to have been extensively manufactured at nuremburg, in germany, soon after their invention, as one of the names by which they were designated, was _nuremburg eggs_. these instruments, as well as clocks, were in common use in france, in , when the company of clock and watch makers of paris was first incorporated. . in , the spring balance was invented by doctor nathaniel hooke, an english philosopher. at least the invention is attributed to him by his countrymen. on the continent it is claimed for christian huygens. before this improvement was made, the performance of watches was so defective, that the best of them could not be relied upon for accurate time an hour together. their owners were obliged to set them often to the proper time, and wind them up twice a day. . after the great improvements had been effected in the clock and watch by huygens and hooke, several others of minor importance were successively made by different persons; but our limits do not allow us to give them a particular notice; we will only state that the repeating apparatus of both clocks and watches was invented, about the year , by one barlow, an englishman; that the compensation or gridiron pendulum was invented by george graham, of london, in ; and that jewels were applied to watches, to prevent friction, by one facio, a german. . clocks and watches are constructed on the same general principles. the mechanism of both is composed of wheel-work, with contrivances to put it in motion, and to regulate its movements. the moving or maintaining power in large clocks is a weight suspended by a cord to a cylinder. in watches, and sometimes in small clocks, this office is performed by a steel spring. in the clock, the regulation of the machinery is effected by the pendulum, and in the watch, by the balance-wheel, or spring balance. in either case, the maintaining power is prevented from expending itself, except in measured portions. . the time is indicated by hands, or pointers, which move on the dial plate. the minute hand is attached to the axle of the wheel which makes its revolution in sixty minutes, and the hour hand to the one which makes the revolution in twelve hours. greater and smaller divisions of time are kept and indicated on the same principle. the part of a clock which keeps the time, is called the going part; and that which strikes the hour, the striking part. . the division of labor is particularly conspicuous in the manufacture of watches, as the production of almost every part is the labor of a distinct artisan. the workman who polishes the several parts, and puts them together, is called, among this class of tradesmen, the _finisher_ or _watch-maker_. those, therefore, who deal largely in watches in england, purchase the different parts from the several manufacturers, and cause them to be put together by the finisher. . watches are extensively manufactured in various parts of europe, but particularly in french switzerland, france, and england. the london watchmakers have been celebrated for good workmanship, for more than a century and a half. this manufacture has not yet been commenced in the united states, although the machinery, or _inside work_, is very often imported in tin boxes, and afterwards supplied with dial plates and cases. this is especially the case with the more valuable kinds of watches. . brass clocks are manufactured in most of our cities, and in many of our villages, and wooden clocks, in great numbers, in the state of connecticut. these last are carried by pedlers into the remotest parts of the country, so that almost every farmer in our land can divide the day by the oscillations of the pendulum. [illustration: coppersmith.] the coppersmith, the button-maker, and the pin-maker. copper. . copper is a ductile and malleable metal, of a pale yellowish red color. it is sometimes found in a native state, but not in great quantities. the copper of commerce is principally extracted from the ores called sulphurets. copper mines are wrought in many countries; but those of sweden are said to furnish the purest copper of commerce, although those of the island of anglesea are said to be the richest. . in working sulphureted ore, it is first broken into pieces, and roasted with a moderate heat in a kiln, to free it from sulphur. when the ore is also largely combined with arsenic, a greater degree of heat is necessary. in such a case, it is spread upon a large floor of a reverberatory furnace, and exposed to a greater heat. by this treatment, the sulphur and arsenic are soon driven off. . the ore is then transferred to the fusing furnace, and smelted in contact with fuel. the specific gravity of the copper, causes it to sink beneath the _scoria_ into a receptacle at the bottom of the furnace. to render the metal sufficiently pure, it requires repeated fusions, and, even after these, it usually contains a little lead, and a small portion of antimony. . _alloys of copper._--copper is combined by fusion with a great number of metals, and, in such combinations, it is of great importance in the arts. when added in small quantities to gold and silver, it increases their hardness, without materially injuring their color, or diminishing their malleability. an alloy, called white copper, imported from china, and denominated, in that country, _pakfong_, is composed of copper, zinc, nickel, and iron. it is very tough and malleable, and is easily cast, hammered, and polished. when well manufactured, it is very white, and as little liable to oxydation as silver. . copper, with about one-fourth of its weight of lead, forms _pot-metal_. _brass_ is an alloy of copper and zinc. the proportion of the latter metal varies from one-eighth to one-fourth. mixtures, chiefly of these two metals, are also employed to form a variety of gold-colored alloys, among which are _prince's metal_, _pinchbeck_, _tombac_, and _bath-metal_. . a series of alloys is formed by a combination of tin and copper. they are all more or less brittle, rigid, and sonorous, according to the relative proportions of the two metals; these qualities increasing with the amount of tin. the principal of these alloys are, _bronze_, employed in the casting of statues; _gun-metal_, of which pieces of artillery are made; _bell-metal_, of which bells are made; and _speculum-metal_, which is used for the mirrors of reflecting telescopes. . the alloys of copper were very prevalent among the nations of antiquity, and were used, in many cases where iron would have answered a much better purpose. the instruments of husbandry and of war, as well as those for domestic uses generally, were usually made of bronze, a composition which furnishes the best substitute for iron and steel. the corinthian brass, so celebrated in antiquity, was a mixture of copper, gold, and silver. . the earliest information of the use of this metal by mankind, is found in the fourth chapter of genesis, in which it is stated, that "tubal-cain was the instructer of every artificer in brass and iron." this individual was the seventh generation from adam, and was born about the year of the world . the coppersmith. . copper, being easily wrought, is applied to many useful purposes. it is formed into sheets by heating it in a furnace, and compressing it between steel rollers. the operation of rolling it constitutes a distinct business, and is performed in mills erected for the express purpose. . the rolled sheets are purchased according to weight by the coppersmith, who employs them in sheathing the bottoms of ships, in covering the roofs of houses, and in constructing steam-boilers and stills. he also fabricates them into a variety of household utensils, although the use of this metal in preparing and preserving food, is attended with some danger, on account of the poisonous quality of the verdigris which is produced on the surface. . an attempt has been made to obviate this difficulty, by lining the vessels with a thin coating of tin. this answers the purpose fully, so long as the covering of tin remains entire. but, in cases of exposure to heat, it is liable to be melted off, unless it is kept covered with water. . this metal can be reduced by forging to any shape; but, during the process, it will bear no heat greater than a red heat; and, as it does not admit of welding, like iron, different pieces are united with bolts, or rivets, of the same metal, as in the case of the larger kinds of vessels, or by means of solder made of brass and zinc, or zinc and lead, as in the case of those of smaller dimensions. . brass is applied to a greater variety of purposes in the arts than copper. this preference has arisen from its superior beauty, from the greater facility with which it can be formed into any required shape, and from its being less influenced by exposure to the ordinary chemical agents. . some of the articles manufactured of brass, are forged to the required form, and others are made of rolled sheets; but, in most cases, they pass through the hands of the brass-founder, who liquifies the metal, and pours it into moulds of sand. for the sake of lightness, and economy of material, many articles are made hollow; in such cases, they are cast in halves or pieces, and these are afterwards soldered together. . pieces which have been cast are generally reduced in size, and brought more exactly to the proposed form, either in a lathe, with tools adapted to turning, or in the vice, with files and other suitable instruments. the operators in brass form a class of mechanics distinct from those who work in copper. the button-maker. . trifling as the manufacture of buttons may appear, there are few which include a greater variety of operations. the number of substances of which they are made is very great, among which are gold, silver, various alloys of copper, steel, tin, glass, mother-of-pearl, bone, horn, and tortoise-shell, besides those which consist of moulds of wood or bone, covered with silk, mohair, or similar materials. . in making gilt buttons, the _blanks_, or bodies, are cut from rolled plates of brass, with a circular punch driven by means of a fly wheel. the blanks thus produced, are planished with a plain die, if they are intended for plain buttons; or with one having on it an engraved figure, if they are to be of the ornamental kind. in either case, the die is usually driven with a fly press. . the shanks are next placed on one side of the proposed button, and held there temporarily with a wire clasp. a small quantity of solder and rosin having been applied to each shank, the buttons are exposed to heat on an iron plate, until the solder shall have melted. the shanks having been thus firmly soldered on, the buttons are turned off smoothly on their edges in a lathe. . the buttons are next freed from oxyde, by immersing them in diluted nitric acid, and by friction in a lathe. they are then put into a vessel containing a quantity of nitric acid supersaturated with mercury. the superior attraction of the copper for the acid, causes a portion of it to be absorbed; and the mercury held in solution by it, is deposited on the buttons, which are next put into a vessel containing an amalgam of mercury and gold. . the amalgam is formed by melting the two metals together, and afterwards pouring them into cold water. the composition having been put into a bag of chamois leather, and a part of the mercury pressed through the pores, the remaining portion is left in a condition approaching the consistency of butter, and in a fit state for use. before the buttons are put into the amalgam, a small quantity of nitric acid is added. . the buttons having been covered with the amalgam, as before stated, the mercury is discharged, that the gold may adhere directly to the brass. this object is effected by heating the buttons in an iron pan, until the amalgam begins to melt, when they are thrown into a large felt cap, and stirred with a brush. this operation is repeated several times, until all the mercury has been volatilized. the whole process is finished by again burnishing them, and putting them on cards for sale. . white metal buttons are made of brass alloyed with different proportions of tin. they are cast, ten or twelve dozens at a time, in moulds formed in sand, by means of a pattern. the shanks are placed in the centre of the moulds, so that, when the metal is poured in, they become a part of the buttons. the buttons are next polished in a lathe, with grindstone dust and oil, rotten stone and crocus martis. they are then boiled with a quantity of grained tin, in a solution of crude red tartar or argol, and lastly, finished with finely-pulverized crocus, applied with buff leather. . glass buttons are made of various colors, in imitation of the opal and other precious stones. while manufacturing them, the glass is kept in a state of fusion, and a portion of it for each button is nipped off out of the crucible with a metallic mould, somewhat similar to that used for running bullets, the workman having previously inserted into it the shank. the pin-maker. . there is scarcely any commodity cheaper than pins, and none which passes through the hands of a greater number of workmen in the manufacture, twenty-five persons being successively employed upon the material, before it appears in these useful articles, ready for sale. . the wire having been reduced to the required size, is cut into pieces long enough to make six pins. these pieces are brought to a point at each end by holding them, a handful at a time, on a grindstone. this part of the operation is performed with great rapidity, as a boy twelve years of age can sharpen , in an hour. when the wires have been thus pointed, the length of a pin is taken off at each end, by another hand. the grinding and cutting off are repeated, until the whole length has been used up. . the next operation is that of forming the heads, or, as the pin-makers term it, _head-spinning_. this is done with a _spinning-wheel_, by which one piece of wire is wound upon another, the former, by this means, being formed into a spiral coil similar to that of the springs formerly used in elastic suspenders. the coiled wire is cut into suitable portions with the shears, every two turns of it being designed for one head. these heads are fastened to the _lengths_ by means of a hammer, which is put in motion with the foot, while the hands are employed in taking up, adjusting, and placing the parts upon the anvil. . the pins are now finished, as to their form; but still they are merely brass. to give them the requisite whiteness, they are thrown into a copper vessel, containing a solution of tin and the lees of wine. after a while, the tin leaves the liquid, and fastens on the pins, which, when taken out, assume a white appearance. they are next polished by agitating them with a quantity of bran in a vessel moved in a rotary manner. the bran is separated from them, as chaff is separated from wheat. . pins are also made of iron wire, and colored black by a varnish composed of linseed oil and lamp-black. this kind is designed for persons in mourning. pins are likewise made with a head at each end, to be used by females in adjusting the hair for the night, without the danger of pricking. several machines have been invented for this manufacture, one of which makes a solid head from the body of the pin itself; but the method just described still continues to be the prevailing one. . pins are made of various sizes. the smallest are called minikins, the next, short whites. the larger kinds are numbered from three to twenty, each size increasing one half from three to five, one from five to fourteen, and two from fourteen to twenty. they are put up in papers, according to their numbers, as we usually see them, or in papers containing all sizes. in the latter case, they are sold by weight. . it is difficult, or even impossible, to trace the origin of this useful little article. it is probable, however, that it was invented in france, in the fifteenth century. one of the prohibitions of a statute, relating to the pin-makers of paris of the sixteenth century, forbid any manufacturer to open more than one shop for the sale of his wares, except on new-year's day, and on the day previous. . hence we may infer, that it was customary to give pins as new-year's presents, or that it was the usual practice to make the chief purchases at this time. at length it became a practice, in many parts of europe, for the husband to allow to his wife a sum of money for this purpose. we see here the origin of the phrase, _pin-money_, which is now applied to designate the sum allowed to the wife for her personal expenses generally. . prior to the year , the art of making pins from brass wire was not known in england. until that period, they were made of bone, ivory, or box-wood. brass pins are first mentioned in the english statute book, in , when those of foreign manufacture were prohibited. . although these useful implements are made in london, and in several other places in england, yet gloucester is the principal seat of this manufacture in that kingdom. it was introduced into that place, in , by john silsby, and it now contains nine distinct manufactories, in which are employed about persons, chiefly women and children. pins are also manufactured extensively in the villages near paris, and in several other places in france, as well as in germany. . the business of making pins has been lately commenced in the city of new-york, and it is said that the experiment has been so successful, both in the perfection of the workmanship, and in the rapidity of the production, that pins of american manufacture bid fair to compete, at least, with those of foreign countries. [illustration: tinplate worker.] the tinplate worker, &c. tin. . tin is a whitish metal, less elastic, and less sonorous than any other metal, except lead. it is found in the mountains which separate gallicia from portugal, and in the mountains between saxony and bohemia. it also occurs in the peninsula of molucca, in india, mexico, and chili. but the mines of cornwall and devonshire, in england, are more productive than those of all other countries united. . there are two ores of tin, one of which is called _tin stone_, and the other _tin pyrites_; the former of these is the kind from which the metal is extracted. the ore is usually found in veins, which often penetrate the hardest rocks. when near the surface of the earth, or at their commencement, they are very small, but they increase in size, as they penetrate the earth. the direction of these veins, or, as the miners call them, _lodes_, is usually east and west. . the miners follow the lode, wheresoever it may lead; and, when they extend to such a depth, that the waters become troublesome in the mine, as is frequently the case, they are pumped up with machinery worked by steam, or drawn off by means of a drain, called an _adit_. the latter method is generally adopted, when practicable. . the ore is raised to the surface through shafts, which have been sunk in a perpendicular direction upon the vein. at the top of the shaft, is placed a windlass, to draw up the _kibbuts_, or baskets, containing the ore. near st. austle, in cornwall, is a mine which has not less than fifty shafts, half of which are now in use. some of the veins have been worked a full mile, and some of the shafts are nearly seven hundred feet deep. . at st. austle moor, there is a mine of _stream tin_, about three miles in length. the tin, together with other substances, has been deposited in a valley, by means of small streams from the hills. the deposite is about twenty feet deep, and the several materials of which it is composed, have settled in strata, according to their specific gravity. the ore, being the heaviest, is, of course, found at the bottom. . the ore, from whatever source it may be obtained, is first pulverized in a stamping mill, and then washed, to free it from the stony matter with which it may be united. the ore, thus partially freed from foreign matter, is put into a reverberatory furnace, with fuel and limestone, and heated intensely. the contents of the furnace having been brought to a state of fusion, the lime unites with the earthy matters, and flows with them into a liquid glass, while the carbon of the coal unites with the tin. the metal sinks, by its specific gravity, to the bottom of the furnace, and is let out, after having been exposed to the heat about ten hours. . the tin thus obtained, is very impure; it therefore requires a second fusion, to render it fit for use. after having been melted a second time, it is cast into blocks weighing about three hundred pounds. these blocks are taken to places designated by law, and there stamped, by inspectors appointed for the purpose by the duke of cornwall. in performing this operation, the inspector cuts off a corner, and stamps the block at that place, with the proper seal, and with the name of the smelter. these precautions give assurance, that the metal is pure, and that the duty has been paid. . the duty is four shillings sterling per hundred weight, which is paid to the duke of cornwall, who is also prince of wales. the revenue from this source amounts to about thirty thousand pounds a year. the owner of the soil also receives one sixth, or one eighth of the ore as his _dish_, as the miners call it. the miners and the smelters receive certain proportions of the metal for their services. . tin was procured from britain at a very early period. the phoenicians are said by strabo to have passed the pillars of hercules, now the straits of gibraltar, about years before christ. but the time at which they discovered the tin islands, which they denominated _cassorides_, cannot be ascertained from history, although it is evident from many circumstances, that the scilly islands, and the western ports of britain, were the places from which these early navigators procured the tin with which they supplied the parts of the world to which they traded. . for a long time, the phoenicians and the carthaginians enjoyed the tin trade, to the exclusion of all other nations. after the destruction of carthage by the romans, a colony of phocean greeks, established at marseilles, carried on this trade; but it came into the hands of the romans, after the conquest of britain by julius cæsar. . the cornish mines furnish incontestable proofs of having been worked many hundred years ago. in digging to the depth of forty or fifty fathoms, the miners frequently meet with large timbers imbedded in the ore. tools for mining have also been found in the same, or similar situations. the mines, therefore, which had been exhausted of the ore, have, in the course of time, been replenished by a process of nature. . to what purposes the ancients applied all the tin which they procured at so much labor and cost, is not precisely known. it is probable, that the tyrians consumed a portion of it, in dyeing their purple and scarlet. it formed then, as it now does, many important alloys with copper. the mirrors of antiquity were made of a composition of these metals. . the method of extracting tin from its ores was probably very defective in ancient times. at least, it was so for several centuries before the time of elizabeth, when sir francis godolphin introduced great improvements in the tin works. the use of the reverberatory furnace was commenced, about the beginning of the eighteenth century, and soon after pit-coal was substituted for charcoal. . this metal, in its solid state, is called _block-tin_. it is applied, without any admixture with any other metal, to the formation of vessels, which are not to be exposed to a temperature much above that of hot water. a kind of ware, called _biddery ware_, is made of tin alloyed with a little copper. the vessels made of this composition, are rendered black by the application of nitre, common salt, and sal ammoniac. _foil_ is also made by pressing it between steel rollers, or by hammering it, as in the case of gold by the gold-beaters. . but tin is most extensively applied as a coating to other metals, stronger than itself, and more subject to oxydation. the places which are usually denominated tin, are thin sheets of iron coated with this metal. the iron is reduced to thin plates in a rolling-mill, and these are prepared for being tinned, by first steeping them in water acidulated with muriatic acid, and then freeing them from oxyde by heating, scaling, and rolling them. . the tin is melted in deep oblong vessels, and kept in a state of fusion by a charcoal fire. to preserve its surface from oxydation, a quantity of fat or oil is kept floating upon it. the plates are dipped perpendicularly into the tin, and held there for some time. when withdrawn, they are found to have acquired a bright coating of the melted metal. the dipping is performed three times for _single tin plate_, and six times for _double tin plate_. the tin penetrates the iron, and forms an alloy. . various articles of iron, such as spoons, nails, bridle-bits, and small chains, are coated with tin, by immersing them in that metal, while in a state of fusion. the great affinity of tin and copper, renders it practicable to apply a thin layer of the former metal to the surface of the latter; and this is often done, as stated in the article on the coppersmith. . tin and quicksilver are applied to the polished surface of glass, for the purpose of forming mirrors. in silvering plain looking-glasses, a flat, horizontal slab is used as a table. this is first covered with paper, and then with a sheet of tin foil of the size of the glass. a quantity of quicksilver is next laid on the foil, and spread over it with a roll of cloth, or with a hare's foot. . after as much quicksilver as the surface will hold, has been spread on, and while it is yet in a fluid state, the glass is shoved on the sheet of foil from the edge of the table, driving a part of the liquid metal before it. the glass is then placed in an inclined position, that every unnecessary portion of the quicksilver may be drained off, after which it is again laid flat upon the slab, and pressed for a considerable time with heavy weights. the remaining quicksilver amalgamates with the tin, and forms a permanent, reflecting surface. the tin-plate worker. . the materials on which the tinner, or tin-plate worker, operates, are the rolled sheets of iron, coated with tin, as just described. he procures the sheets by the box, and applies them to the roofs and other parts of houses, or works them up into various utensils, such as pails, pans, bake-ovens, measures, cups, and ducts for conveying water from the roofs of houses. . in making the different articles, the sheets are cut into pieces of proper size, with a huge pair of shears, and these are brought to the proposed form by different tools, adapted to the purpose. the several parts are united by means of a solder made of a composition of tin and lead. the solder is melted, and made to run to any part, at the will of the workman, by means of a copper instrument, heated for the purpose in a small furnace with a charcoal fire. . on examining almost any vessel of tin ware, it will be perceived, that, where the parts are united, one of the edges, at least, and sometimes both, are turned, that the solder may be easily and advantageously applied. it will also be discovered that iron wire is applied to those parts requiring more strength than is possessed by the tin itself. the edges and handles are especially strengthened in this manner. . the edges of the tin were formerly turned on a steel edge, or a kind of anvil called a _stock_, with a mallet; and, in some cases, this method is still pursued; but this part of the work is now more expeditiously performed, by means of several machines invented by seth peck, of hartford co., connecticut. these machines greatly expedite the manufacture of tin wares, and have contributed much towards reducing their price. . this manufacture is an extensive branch of our domestic industry; and vast quantities of tin, in the shape of various utensils, are sold in different parts of the united states, by a class of itinerant merchants, called _tin-pedlers_, who receive in payment for their goods, rags, old pewter, brass, and copper, together with feathers, hogs' bristles, and sometimes ready money. lead. . next to iron, lead is the most extensively diffused, and the most abundant metal. it is found in various combinations in nature; but that mineralized by sulphur is the most abundant. this ore is denominated _galena_ by the mineralogists, and is the kind from which nearly all the lead of commerce is extracted. . the ore having been powdered, and freed, as far as possible, from stony matter, is fused either in a blast or reverberatory furnace. in the smelting, lime is used as a flux, and this combines with the sulphur and earthy matters, while the lead unites with the carbon of the fuel, and sinks to the bottom of the furnace, whence it is occasionally let out into a reservoir. . lead extracted from galena, often contains a sufficient proportion of silver to render it an object to extract it. this is done by oxydizing the lead by means of heat, and a current of air. at the end of this operation, the silver remains with a small quantity of lead, which is afterwards separated by the process of cupellation. the oxyde is applied to the purposes for which it is used, or it is reduced again to a metallic state. . the lead mines on the mississippi are very productive, and very extensive. the principal mines are in the neighborhood of galena, in the north-western part of illinois, and these are the richest on the globe. the lead mines in the vicinity of potosi, missouri, are also very productive. about , , pounds are annually smelted in the united states. . lead, on account of its easy fusibility and softness, can be readily applied to a variety of purposes. it is cast in moulds, to form weights, bullets, and other small articles. cisterns are lined, and roofs, &c., are covered with sheet lead; and also in the construction of pumps and aqueducts, leaden pipes are considerably used. the mechanic who applies this metal to these purposes, is called a plumber. . lead is cast into sheets in sand, on large tables having a high ledge on each side. the melted lead is poured out upon the surface from a box, which is made to move on rollers across the table, and is equalized, by passing over it a straight piece of wood called a _strike_. the sheets thus formed, are afterwards reduced in thickness, and spread to greater dimensions, by compressing them between steel rollers. . leaden pipes may be made in various ways. they were at first formed of sheet lead, bent round a cylindrical bar, or mandrel, and then soldered; but pipes formed in this manner, were liable to crack and break. the second method consists in casting successive portions of the tube in a cylindrical mould, having in it a core. as soon as the tube gets cold, it is drawn nearly out of the mould, and more lead is poured in, which unites with the tube previously formed. but pipes cast in this way are found to have imperfections, arising from flaws and air bubbles. . in the third method, which is the one most commonly practised, a thick tube of lead is cast upon one end of a long polished iron cylinder, or mandrel, of the size of the bore of the intended pipe. the lead is then reduced, and drawn out in length, either by drawing it on the mandrel through circular holes of different sizes, in a steel plate, or by rolling it between contiguous rollers, which have a semicircular groove cut round the circumference of each. . the fourth method consists in forcing melted lead, by means of a pump, into one end of a mould, while it is discharged in the form of a pipe, at the opposite end. care is taken so to regulate the temperature, that the lead is chilled just before it leaves the mould. . _shot_ is likewise made of lead. these instruments of death are usually cast in high towers constructed for the purpose. the lead is previously alloyed with a small portion of arsenic, to increase the cohesion of its particles, and to cause it to assume more readily the globular form. it is melted at the top of the tower, and poured into a vessel perforated at the bottom with a great number of holes. . the lead, after running through these perforations, immediately separates into drops, which cool in falling through the height of the tower. they are received below in a reservoir of water, which breaks the fall. the shot are then proved by rolling them down a board placed in an inclined position. those which are irregular in shape roll off at the sides, or stop, while the spherical ones continue on to the end. [illustration: iron-founder.] the iron-founder, &c. iron. . the properties which iron possesses in its various forms, render it the most useful of all the metals. the toughness of _malleable iron_ renders it applicable to purposes, where great strength is required, while its difficult fusibility, and property of softening by heat, so as to admit of forging and welding, cause it to be easily wrought. . cast iron, from its cheapness, and from the facility with which its form may be changed, is made the material of numerous structures. _steel_, which is the most important compound of iron, exceeds all other metals in hardness and tenacity; and hence it is particularly adapted to the fabrication of cutting instruments. . iron was discovered, and applied to the purposes of the arts, at a very early period. tubal-cain, who was the seventh generation from adam, "was an instructer of every artificer in brass and iron." noah must have used much of this metal in the construction of the ark, and, of course, he must have transmitted a knowledge of it to his posterity. . nevertheless, the mode of separating it from the various substances with which it is usually combined, was but imperfectly understood by the ancients; and their use of it was, most likely, confined chiefly to the limited quantity found in a state nearly pure. gold, silver, copper, and tin, are more easily reduced to a state in which they are available in the arts. they were, therefore, often used in ancient times, for purposes to which iron would have been more applicable. this was the case especially with copper and tin. . fifteen distinct kinds of iron ore, have been discovered by mineralogists; but of these, not more than four have been employed in making iron. there are, however, several varieties of the latter kind, all of which are classed by the smelters of iron under the general denomination of _bog_ and _mountain_ or _hard_ ores. . the former has much of the appearance of red, brown, or yellowish earth, and is found in beds from one to six feet thick, and in size from one fourth of a rood to twenty acres. the mountain, or hard ore, to a superficial observer, differs but little in its appearance from common rocks or stones. it is found in regular strata in hills and mountains, or in detached masses of various sizes, and in hilly land from two to eight feet below the surface. . the bog-ore is supposed to be a deposite from water which has passed over the hard ore. this is evidently the case in hilly countries, where both kinds occur. some _iron-masters_ use the bog; some, the hard; and others, both kinds together. in this particular, they are governed by the ore, or ores, which may exist in their vicinity. . the apparatus in which the ore is smelted, is called a _blast-furnace_, which is a large pyramidal stack, built of hewn stone or brick, from twenty to sixty feet in height, with a cavity of a proportionate size. in shape, this cavity is near that of an egg, with the largest end at the bottom. it is lined with fire-brick or stone, capable of resisting an intense heat. . below this cavity is placed the _hearth_, which is composed of four or five large coarse sandstones, split out of a solid rock, and chiselled so as to suit each other exactly. these form a cavity for the reception of the iron and dross, when melted above. the hearth requires to be removed at the end of every _blast_, which is usually continued from six to ten months in succession, unless accidentally interrupted. . the preparation for a blast, consists principally in providing charcoal and ore. the wood for the former is cut in the winter and spring, and charred and brought to the furnace during the spring, summer, and autumn. what is not used during the time of hauling, is stocked in coal-houses, provided for the purpose. . the wood is charred in the following manner. it is first piled in heaps of a spherical form, and covered with leaves and dirt. the fire is applied to the wood, at the top, and when it has been sufficiently ignited, the pit is covered in; but, to support combustion, several air-holes are left near the ground. the _colliers_ are obliged to watch the pit night and day, lest, by the caving in of the dirt, too much air be admitted, and the wood be thereby consumed to ashes. . when the wood has been reduced to charcoal, the fire is partially extinguished by closing the air-holes. the coals are _drawn_ from the pit with an iron-toothed rake, and, while this is performed, the dust mingles with them, and smothers the fire which may yet remain. wood is also charred in kilns made of brick. . the hard ore is dug by _miners_, or, as they are commonly denominated, _ore-diggers_. in the prosecution of their labor, they sometimes follow a vein into a hill or mountain. when the ore is found in strata or lumps near the surface, they dig down to it. this kind of ore commonly contains sulphur and arsenic, and to free it from those substances, and to render it less compact, it is roasted in kilns, with refuse charcoal, which is too fine to be used for any other purpose. it is then broken to a suitable fineness with a hammer, or in a crushing mill. the bog-ore seldom needs any reduction. . every preparation having been made, the furnace is gradually heated with charcoal, and by degrees filled to the top, when a small quantity of the ore is thrown on, and the blast is applied at the bottom near the hearth. the blast is supplied by means of one or two cylindrical bellows, the piston of which is moved by steam or water power. . the coal is measured in baskets, holding about one bushel and a half, and the ore, in boxes holding about one peck. six baskets of coal, and as many boxes of ore as the furnace can carry, is called a _half charge_, which is renewed as it may be necessary to keep the furnace full. with every charge is also thrown in one box of limestone. . the limestone is used as a flux, to aid in the fusion of the ore, and to separate its earthy portions from the iron. the iron sinks by its specific gravity, to the bottom of the hearth, and the earthy portions, now converted into glass by the action of the limestone and heat, also sink, and float upon the liquid iron. this scum, or, as it is usually called, scoria, slag, or cinder, is occasionally removed by instruments made for the purpose. . when the hearth has become full of iron, the metal is let out, at one corner of it, into a bed of sand, called a _pig-bed_, which is from twenty to thirty feet in length, and five or six in width. one concave channel, called _the sow_, extends the whole length of the bed, from which forty or fifty smaller ones, called _pig-moulds_, extend at right angles. the metal, when cast in these moulds, is called _pig-iron_, and the masses of iron, _pigs_. . _pig-iron_, or, as it is sometimes called, _crude iron_, being saturated with carbon and oxygen, and containing also a portion of scoria, is too brittle for any other purpose than castings. many of these, such as stoves, grates, mill-irons, plough-irons, and kitchen utensils, are commonly manufactured at blast furnaces, and in many cases nearly all the iron is used for these purposes. in such cases, the metal is taken in a liquid state, from the hearth, in ladles. . in great britain and ireland, and perhaps in some other parts of europe, iron-ore is smelted with _coke_, a fuel which bears the same relation to pit-coal, that charcoal does to wood. it is obtained by heating or baking the coal in a sort of oven or kiln, by which it becomes charred. during the process, a sort of bituminous tar is disengaged from it, which is carefully preserved, and applied to many useful purposes. the iron-founder. . the appellation of _founder_ is given to the superintendent of a blast-furnace, and likewise to those persons who make castings either of iron or any other metal. in every case, the term is qualified by a word prefixed, indicating the metal in which he operates, or the kind of castings which he may make; as _brass_-founder, _iron_-founder, or _bell_-founder. but whatsoever may be the material in which he operates, or the kind of castings which he may produce, his work is performed on the same general principle. . the sand most generally employed by the founder is _loam_, which possesses a sufficient proportion of argillaceous matter, to render it moderately cohesive, when damp. the moulds are formed by burying in the sand, wooden or metallic patterns, having the exact shape of the respective articles to be cast. to exemplify the general manner of forming moulds, we will explain the process of forming one for the _spider_, a very common kitchen utensil. . the pattern is laid upon a plain board, which in this application is called a _follow board_, and surrounded with a frame called a _flask_, three or four inches deep. this is filled with sand, and consolidated with rammers, and by treading it with the feet. three wooden patterns for the legs are next buried in the sand, and a hole is made for pouring in the metal. . one side of the mould having been thus formed, the flask, with its contents, is turned over, and, the follow board having been removed, another flask is applied to the first, and filled with sand in the same manner. the two flasks are then taken apart, and the main pattern, together with those for the legs, removed. the whole operation is finished by again closing the flasks. . the mode of proceeding in forming moulds for different articles, is varied, of course, to suit their conformation. the pattern is often composed of several pieces, and the number and form of the flasks are also varied accordingly. cannon-balls are sometimes cast in moulds of iron; and to prevent the melted metal from adhering to them, the inside is covered with pulverized black lead. . rollers for flattening iron are also cast in iron moulds. this method is called _chill-casting_, and has for its object the hardening of the surface of the metal, by the sudden reduction of the temperature, which takes place in consequence of the great power of the mould, as a conductor of heat. these rollers are afterwards turned in a powerful lathe. . several _moulders_ work together in one foundery, and, when they have completed a sufficient number of moulds, they fill them with the liquid metal. the metal for small articles is dipped from the hearth or crucible of the furnace with iron ladles defended on every side with a thin coating of clay mortar, and poured thence into the moulds. but in casting articles requiring a great amount of iron, such as cannon, and some parts of the machinery for steam engines, the iron is transferred to the moulds, in a continued stream, through a channel leading from the bottom of the crucible. in such cases, the moulds are constructed in a pit dug in the earth near the furnace. large ladles full of iron are, in some founderies, emptied into the moulds by the aid of huge cranes. . although the moulders have their distinct work to perform, yet they often assist each other in lifting heavy flasks, and in all cases, in filling the moulds. the latter operation is very laborious; but the exertion is continued but a short time, since the moulds, constructed during a whole day, can be filled in ten or fifteen minutes. . iron-founderies are usually located in or near large cities or towns, and are supplied with crude iron, or pig metal, from the blast furnaces in the interior. the metal is fused either with charcoal or with pit coal. in the former case, an artificial blast is necessary to ignite the fuel; but in the latter, this object is often effected in air furnaces, which are so constructed that a sufficient current of air is obtained directly from the atmosphere. . the practice of making castings of iron is comparatively modern; those of the ancients were made of brass, and other alloys of copper. until the beginning of the last century, iron was but little applied in this way. this use of it, however, has extended so rapidly, that cast iron is now the material of almost every kind of machinery, as well as that of innumerable implements of common application. even bridges and rail-roads have been constructed of cast iron. the bar iron maker. . bar-iron is manufactured from pig-iron, from _blooms_, and directly from the ore; the process is consequently varied in conformity with the state of the material on which it is commenced. . in producing bar-iron from pigs, the latter are melted in a furnace similar to a smith's forge, with a sloping cavity ten or twelve inches below, where the blast-pipe is admitted. this hearth is filled with charcoal and dross, or scoria; and upon these is laid the metal and more coal. after the coal has become well ignited, the blast is applied. the iron soon begins to melt, and as it liquefies, it runs into the cavity or hearth below. here, being out of the reach of the blast, it soon becomes solid. . it is then taken out, and fused again in the same manner, and afterwards a third time. after the third heat, when the iron has become solid enough to bear beating, it is slightly hammered with a sledge, to free it from the adhering scoria. it is then returned to the furnace; but, being placed out of the reach of the blast, it soon becomes sufficiently compact to bear the _tilt-hammer_. . with this instrument, the iron is beaten, until the mass has been considerably extended, when it is cut into several pieces, which, by repeated beating and forging, are extended into bars, as we see them for sale. the tilt-hammer weighs from six to twelve hundred pounds, and is most commonly moved by water power. . for manufacturing bar-iron directly from the ore, the furnace is similar in its construction to the one just described, and the operations throughout are very similar. a fire is first made upon the hearth with charcoal; and, when the fuel has become well ignited, a quantity of ore is thrown upon it, and the ore and the fuel are renewed as occasion may require. as the iron melts, and separates from the earthy portions of the ore, it sinks to the bottom of the hearth. the scoria is let off occasionally, through holes made for the purpose. when iron enough has accumulated to make a _loop_, as the mass is called, it is taken out, and forged into bars under the tilt-hammer. . this way of making bar-iron is denominated the _method of the catalan forge_, and is by far the cheapest and most expeditious. it is in general use in all the southern countries of europe, and it is beginning to be extensively practised in the united states. when a catalan forge is employed in making _blooms_, it is called a _bloomery_. . the blooms are about eighteen inches long, and four in diameter. they are formed under the tilt-hammer, and differ in substance from bar-iron in nothing, except that, having been imperfectly forged, the fibres of the metal are not fully extended, nor firmly united. the blooms are manufactured in the interior of the country, where wood is abundant, and sold by the ton, frequently, in the cities, to be converted into bar or sheet iron. . these blooms are converted into bar-iron, by first heating them in an air-furnace, by means of stone coal, and then passing them between chill cast iron rollers. the rollers are filled with grooves, which gradually decrease in size from one side to the other. when the iron has passed through these, the bloom of eighteen inches in length, has become extended to nearly as many feet. the bar thus formed, having been cut into four pieces, the process is finished by welding them together laterally, and again passing them between another set of rollers, by which they are brought to the form in which they are to remain. . blooms are also laminated into two sheets, on the same principle, between smooth rollers, which are screwed nearer to each other every time the bloom is passed between them. very thin plates, like those which are tinned for the tin-plate workers, are repeatedly doubled, and passed between the rollers, so that in the thinnest plates, sixteen thicknesses are rolled together, oil being interposed to prevent their cohesion. the last rollings are performed while the metal is cold. . rolled plates of iron are frequently cut into rods and narrow strips. this operation is performed by means of elevated angular rings upon rollers, which are so situated that they act reciprocally upon each other, and cut like shears. these rings are separately made, so that they can be removed for the purpose of sharpening them, when necessary. the mills in which the operations of rolling and slitting iron are performed, are called rolling and slitting mills. the wire drawer. . iron is reduced to the form of wire by drawing rods of it through conical holes in a steel plate. to prepare the metal for the operation of drawing, it is subjected to the action of the hammer, or to that of rollers, until it has been reduced to a rod sufficiently small to be forced through the largest hole. the best wire is produced from rods formed by the method first mentioned. . various machines are employed to overcome the resistance of the plate to the passage of the wire. in general, the wire is held by pinchers, near the end, and as fast as it is drawn through the plate, it is wound upon a roller, by the action of a wheel and axle, or other power. sometimes, a rack and pinion are employed for this purpose, and sometimes a lever, which acts at intervals, and which takes fresh hold of the wire every time the force is applied. . the finer kinds of wire are made from the larger by repeated drawings, each of which is performed through a smaller hole than the preceding. as the metal becomes stiff and hard, by the repetition of this process, it is occasionally annealed, to restore its ductility. wire is formed of other metals by the same general method. the steel manufacturer. . steel is a compound of iron and carbon; and, as there are several methods by which the combination is produced, there are likewise several kinds of steel. the best steel is said to be made of swedish or russian bar-iron. . the most common method of forming steel is by the process of _cementation_. the operation is performed in a conical furnace, in which are two large cases or troughs, made of fire-brick, or good fire stone; and beneath these is a long grate. on the bottom of the cases is placed a layer of charcoal dust, and over this a layer of bar-iron. alternate strata of these materials are continued to a considerable height, ten or twelve tons of iron being put in at once. . the whole is covered with clay or sand, to exclude the air, and flues are carried through the pile from the furnace below, so as to heat the contents equally and completely. the fire is kindled in the grate, and continued for eight or ten days, during which time, the troughs, with their contents, are kept red hot. the progress of the cementation is discovered by drawing a _test_ bar from an aperture in the side. . when the conversion of the iron into steel appears to be complete, the fire is extinguished; and, after having been suffered to cool for six or eight days, it is removed. iron combined with charcoal in this manner, is denominated _blistered steel_, from the blisters which appear on its surface, and in this state, it is much used for common purposes. . to render this kind of steel more perfect, the bars are heated to redness, and then drawn out into bars of much smaller dimensions, by means of a hammer moved by water or steam power. this instrument is called a tilting hammer, and the bars formed by it, are called _tilted steel_. when the bars have been exposed to heat, and afterwards doubled, drawn out, and welded, the product is called _shear steel_. . but steel of cementation, however carefully made, is never quite equable in its texture. steel possessing this latter quality is made, by fusing bars of blistered steel, in a crucible placed in a wind furnace. when the fusion has been completed, the liquid metal is cast into small bars or ingots, which are known in commerce by the name of _cast steel_. cast steel is harder, more elastic, closer in texture, and capable of receiving a higher polish than common steel. . steel is also made directly from cast iron, or at once from the ore. this kind is called _natural_ or _german_ steel, and is much inferior to that obtained by cementation. the best steel, produced directly from the ore, comes from germany, and is made in stiria. it is usually imported in barrels, or in chests about three feet long. . steel is sometimes alloyed with other metals. a celebrated indian steel, called _wootz_, is supposed to be carbonated iron, combined with small quantities of silicium and aluminum. steel alloyed with a very small proportion of silver, is superior to wootz, or to the best cast steel. some other metals are also used with advantage in the same application. . steel was discovered at a very early period of the world, for aught we know, long before the flood. pliny informs us, that, in his time, the best steel came from china, and that the next best came from parthia. a manufactory of steel existed in sweden as early as of the christian era: but it is generally thought, that the process of converting iron into steel by cementation originated in england, at a later period. the method of making cast steel was invented at sheffield, in the latter country, in , and, for a long time, it was kept secret. . it has been but a few years, since this manufacture was commenced in the united sates. in , we had fourteen steel furnaces, viz.; at boston, one; new-york, three; troy, one; new-jersey, two; philadelphia, three; york co., pa., one; baltimore, one; and pittsburg, two. these furnaces together are said to be capable of yielding more than tons of steel in a year. the american steel is employed in the fabrication of agricultural utensils, and it has entirely excluded the common english blistered steel. [illustration: blacksmith.] the blacksmith, and the nailer. the blacksmith. . the blacksmith operates in wrought iron and steel, and, from these materials, he fabricates a great variety of articles, essential to domestic convenience, and to the arts generally. . this business is one of those trades essential in the rudest state of society. even the american indians are so sensible of its importance, that they cause to be inserted in the treaties which they make with the united states, an article stipulating for a blacksmith to be settled among them, and for a supply of iron. . the utility of this trade will be further manifest by the consideration, that almost every other business is carried on by its aid. the agriculturist is dependent on it for forming utensils, and mechanics and artists of every description, for the tools with which they operate; in short, we can scarcely fix upon a single utensil, vehicle, or instrument, which does not owe its origin, either directly or indirectly, to the blacksmith. . this business being thus extensive in its application, it cannot be presumed that any one person can be capable of executing every species of work. this, however, is not necessary, since the demand for particular articles is frequently so great, that the whole attention may be directed to the multiplication of individuals of the same kind. some smiths make only anchors, axes, scythes, hoes, or shovels. . in such cases, the workmen acquire great skill and expedition in the manufacture. a tilt hammer is often used in forging large masses of iron, and even in making utensils as small as the hoe, the axe, and the sword; but the hammer which may be employed bears a due proportion in its weight to the mass of iron to be wrought. in all cases in which a tilt hammer is used, the bellows from which the blast proceeds is moved by water or steam power. . in the shop represented at the head of this article, sledges and hammers are used as forging instruments, and these are wielded by the workmen themselves. the head workman has hold of a piece of iron with a pair of tongs, and he, with a hammer, and two others, with each a sledge, are forging it upon an anvil. the two men are guided in their disposition of the strokes chiefly by the hammer of the master-workman. . in ordinary blacksmith shops, two persons commonly work at one forge, one of whom takes the lead in the operations, and the other works the bellows, and uses the sledge. from the part which the latter takes in the labor, he is called the _blower_ and _striker_. a man or youth, who understands but little of the business, can, in many cases, act in this capacity tolerably well. . the iron is rendered malleable by heating it with charcoal or with stone coal, which is ignited intensely by means of a blast from a bellows. the iron is heated more or less, according to the particular object of the workman. when he wishes to reduce it into form, he raises it to a _white heat_. the _welding heat_ is less intense, and is used when two pieces are to be united by _welding_. at a red heat, and at lower temperatures, the iron is rendered more compact in its internal texture, and more smooth upon its surface. . the joint action of the heat and air, while the temperature is rising, tends to produce a rapid oxydation of the surface. this result is measurably prevented by immersing the iron in sand and common salt, which, uniting, form a vitreous coating for its protection. this coating is no inconvenience in the forging, as its fluidity causes it to escape immediately under the action of the hammer. . steel is combined with iron in the manufacture of cutting instruments, and other implements, as well as articles requiring, at certain parts, a great degree of hardness. this substance possesses the remarkable property of changing its degree of hardness by the influence of certain degrees of temperature. no other substance is known to possess this property; but it is the peculiar treatment which it receives from the workman that renders it available. . if steel is heated to redness, and suddenly plunged into cold water, it is rendered extremely hard, but, at the same time, too brittle for use. on the other hand, if it is suffered to cool gradually, it becomes too soft and ductile. the great object of the operator is to give to the steel a quality equally distant from brittleness and ductility. the treatment by which this is effected is called _tempering_, which will be more particularly treated in the article on the cutler, whose employment is a refined branch of this business. the nailer. . nail-making constitutes an extensive branch of the iron business, as vast quantities of nails are annually required by all civilized communities. they are divided into two classes, the names of which indicate the particular manner in which they are manufactured; viz., _wrought nails_ and _cut nails_. . the former are usually forged on the anvil, and when a finished head is required, as is commonly the case, it is hammered on the larger end, after it has been inserted into a hole of an instrument formed for the purpose. workmen by practice acquire surprising dispatch in this business; and this circumstance has prevented the general introduction of the machines which have been invented for making nails of this description. wrought nails can be easily distinguished from cut nails, by the indentations of the hammer which have been left upon them. . in making cut nails, the iron is first brought into bars between grooved rollers. the size of the bars is varied in conformity with that of the proposed nails. these bars are again heated, and passed between smooth rollers, which soon spread them into thin strips of suitable width and thickness. these strips, having been cut into pieces two or three feet in length, are heated to a red heat in a furnace, to be immediately converted into nails, when designed for those of a large size. for small nails, the iron does not require heating. . the end of the plate is presented to the machine by the workman, who turns the material over, first one way and then the other; and at each turn a nail is produced. the machine has a rapid reciprocating motion, and cuts off, at every stroke, a wedge-like piece of iron, constituting a nail without a head. this is immediately caught near the head, and compressed between _gripes_; and, at the same time, a force is applied to a die at the end, which spreads the iron sufficiently to form the head. from one to two hundred can be thus formed in a minute. this fact accounts for the low rate at which cut nails are now sold, which, on an average, is not more than two cents per pound above that of bar iron. . on account of the greater expense of manufacturing wrought nails, they are sold much higher. it is said that nine-tenths of all the nails of this kind, used in the united states, are imported from europe. we thus depend upon foreign countries for these and many other articles, because they can be imported cheaper than we can make them; and this circumstance arises chiefly from the difference in the price of labor. . the first machine for making cut nails was invented in massachusetts about the year , by a mr. odion, and soon afterwards another was contrived, by a mr. reed, of the same state. other machines, for the same purpose, have likewise been constructed by different persons, but those by odion and reed are most commonly used. before these machines were introduced, the strips of iron just described, were cut into wedgelike pieces by an instrument which acted on the principle of the shears; and these were afterwards headed, one by one, with a hammer in a vice. the fact, that the manufacture of this kind of nails originated in our country, is worthy of recollection. . in , walter hunt, of new-york, invented a double reciprocating nail engine, which is owned by the new-york patent nail company. this machine works with surprising rapidity, it being capable of cutting five or six hundred ten-penny nails in a minute. one hand can tend three engines, as he has nothing more to do than to place the heated plate in a perpendicular position in the machine. . this manufacture includes, also, that of tacks and spikes; but since, in the production of these, the same general methods are pursued, they need no particular notice. the different sizes of tacks are distinguished by a method which indicates the number per ounce; as two, three, or four hundred per ounce. spikes are designated by their length in inches, and nails by the terms, two-penny, three-penny, four-penny, ten-penny, and so on up to sixty-penny. [illustration: cutler.] the cutler. . under the head of cutlery, is comprehended a great variety of instruments designed for cutting and penetration, and the business of fabricating them is divided into a great number of branches. some manufacture nothing but axes; others make plane-irons and chisels, augers, saws, or carvers' tools. others, again, make smaller instruments, such as table-knives, forks, pen-knives, scissors, and razors. there are also cutlers who manufacture nothing but surgical instruments. . the coarser kinds of cutlery are made of blistered steel welded to iron. tools of a better quality are made of shear steel, while the sharpest and most delicate instruments are formed of cast steel. the several processes constituting this business may be comprised in forging, tempering, and polishing; and these are performed in the order in which they are here mentioned. . the general method of _forging_ iron and steel, in every branch of this business, is the same with that used in the common blacksmith's shop, for more ordinary purposes. the process, however, is somewhat varied, to suit the particular form of the object to be fashioned; for example, the blades and some other parts of the scissors are formed by hammering the steel upon indented surfaces called _bosses_. the bows, which receive the finger and thumb, are made by first punching a hole in the metal, and then enlarging it by the aid of a tool called a _beak-iron_. . the steel, after having been forged, is soft, like iron, and to give it the requisite degree of strength under the uses to which the tools or instruments are to be exposed, it is hardened. the process by which this is effected is called _tempering_, and the degree of hardness or strength to which the steel is brought is called its _temper_, which is required to be _higher_ or _lower_, according to the use which is to be made of the particular instrument. . in giving to the different kinds of instruments the requisite temper, they are first heated to redness, and then plunged into cold water. this, however, raises the temper too high, and, if left in this condition, they would be too brittle for use. to bring them to a proper state, they are heated to a less degree of temperature, and again plunged into cold water. the degree to which they are heated, the second time, is varied according to the hardness required. that this particular point may be perfectly understood, a few examples will be given. . lancets are raised to degrees fahrenheit. the temperature is indicated by a pale color, slightly inclined to yellow. at degrees, a pale straw-color appears, which is found suitable for the best razors and surgical instruments. at degrees, a full color is produced, which is suitable for pen-knives, common razors, &c. at , a brown color appears, which is the indication of a temper proper for shears, scissors, garden hoes, and chisels intended for cutting cold iron. . at degrees, the brown becomes dappled with purple spots, which shows the proper heat for tempering axes, common chisels, plane-irons, &c. at degrees, a purple color is established, and this temperature is proper for table-knives and large shears. at degrees, a bright blue appears, which is proper for swords and watch springs. at degrees, the color is full blue, and this is used for fine saws, augers, &c. at degrees, a dark blue approaching to black settles upon the metal, and this produces the softest of all the grades of temper, which is used only for the larger kinds of saws. . other methods of determining the degree of temperature at which the different kinds of cutlery are to be immersed, a second time, in cold water, are also practised. by one method, the pieces of steel are covered with tallow or oil, or put into a vessel containing one of these substances, and heated over a moderate fire. the appearance of the smoke indicates the degree of heat to which it may have been raised. a more accurate method is found in the employment of a fluid medium, the temperature of which can be regulated by a thermometer. thus oil, which boils at degrees, may be employed for this purpose, at any degree of heat which is below that number. . the _grinding_ of cutlery is effected on cylindrical stones of various kinds, among which freestone is the most common. these are made to revolve with prodigious velocity, by means of machinery. the operation is therefore quickly performed. the _polishing_ is commonly effected by using, first, a wheel of wood; then, one of pewter; and, lastly, one covered with buff leather sprinkled with an impure oxyde of iron, called _colcothar_ or _crocus_. the edges are set either with hones or whetstones, or with both, according to the degree of keenness required. . almost every description of cutlery requires a handle of some sort; but the nature of the materials, as well as the form and mode of application, will be readily understood by a little attention to the various articles of this kind which daily fall in our way. . a process has been invented, by which edge tools, nails, &c., made of cast iron, may be converted into good steel. it consists in stratifying the articles with the oxyde of iron, in a metallic cylinder, and then submitting the whole to a regular heat, in a furnace built for the purpose. this kind of cutlery, however, will not bear a very fine edge. . the sword and the knife were probably the first instruments fabricated from iron, and they still continue to be leading subjects of demand, in all parts of the world. the most celebrated swords of antiquity were made at damascus, in syria. these weapons never broke in the hardest conflicts, and were capable of cutting through steel armor without sustaining injury. . the fork, as applied in eating, is an invention comparatively modern. it appears to have had its origin in italy, probably in the fourteenth century; but it was not introduced into england, until the reign of james the first, in the first quarter of the seventeenth. its use was, at first, the subject of much ridicule and opposition. . before the introduction of the fork, a piece of paper, or something in place of it, was commonly wrapped round some convenient projection of the piece to be carved; and, at this place, the operator placed one hand, while he used the knife with the other. the carver cut the mass of meat into slices or suitable portions, and laid them upon the large slices of bread which had been piled up near the platter, or carving dish, and which, after having been thus served, were handed about the table, as we now distribute the plates. . the knives used at table were pointed, that the food might be taken upon them, as upon a fork; and knives of the same shape are still common on the continent of europe. round-topped knives were not adopted in paris, until after the banishment of napoleon bonaparte to elba, in , when every thing english became fashionable in that city. . in france, before the revolution of , it was customary for every gentleman, when invited to dinner, to send his knife and fork before him by a servant; or, if he had no servant, he carried them himself in his breeches pocket. a few of the ancient regime still continue the old custom. the peasantry of the tyrol, and of some parts of germany and switzerland, generally carry about them a case, containing a knife and fork, and a spoon. . the use of the fork, for a long time, was considered so great a luxury, that the members of many of the monastic orders were forbidden to indulge in it. the turks and asiatics use no forks, even to this day. the chinese employ, instead of this instrument, two small sticks, which they hold in the same hand, between different fingers. . the manufacture of cutlery is carried on most extensively in england, at birmingham, sheffield, walsall, wolverhampton, and london. london cutlery has the reputation of being the best, and this circumstance induces the dealers in that city, to affix the london mark to articles made at other places. in the united states, there are many establishments for the fabrication of the coarser kinds of cutlery, such as axes, plane-irons, saws, hoes, scythes, &c., but for the finer descriptions of cutting instruments, we are chiefly dependent on europe. [illustration: gun-smith.] the gun-smith. . it is the business of the gun-smith to manufacture fire-arms of the smaller sorts; such as muskets, fowling-pieces, rifles, and pistols. . the principal parts of the instruments fabricated by this artificer, are the barrel, the stock, and the lock. in performing the operations connected with this business, great attention is paid to the division of labor, especially in large establishments, such as those belonging to the united states, at springfield and harper's ferry; for example, one set of workmen forge the barrels, ramrods, or some part of the lock; others reduce some part of the forged material to the exact form required, by means of files; and again another class of operators perform some part of the work relating to the stock. . the barrel is formed by forging a bar of iron into a flat piece of proper length and thickness, and by turning the plate round a cylindrical rod of tempered steel, called a _mandril_, the diameter of which is considerably less than the intended bore of the barrel. the edges of the plate are made to overlap each other about half an inch, and are welded together by heating the tube in lengths of two or three inches at a time, and by hammering them with very brisk, but moderate strokes, upon an anvil which has a number of semicircular furrows upon it. . in constructing barrels of better workmanship, the iron is forged in smaller pieces, eight or nine inches long, and welded together laterally, as well as lengthwise. the barrel is now finished in the usual way; or it is first made to undergo the additional operation of _twisting_, a process employed upon those intended to be of superior quality. the operation is performed by heating small portions of it at a time, and twisting them successively, while one end is held fast. . the barrel is next bored with several bits, each a little larger than the preceding one. the last bit is precisely the size of the intended calibre. after the barrel has been polished, and the breech closed with a screw, its strength and soundness are tested by means of a ball of the proper size, and a charge of powder equal in weight to the ball. pistol-barrels, which are to go in pairs, are forged in one piece, which is cut asunder, after it has been bored. . barrels for rifles are much thicker than those for other small arms; and, in addition to the boring in common barrels, they are furrowed with a number of grooves or _rifles_, which extend from one end of the cavity to the other, either in a straight or spiral direction. these rifles are supposed to prevent the rolling of the ball in its passage out, and to direct it more unerringly to the object of aim. . the stocks are commonly manufactured from the wood of the walnut-tree. these are first dressed in a rough manner, usually in the country. after the wood has been properly seasoned, they are finished by workmen, who commonly confine their attention to this particular branch of the business. in each of the united states' armories, is employed a machine with which the stocks are turned, and also one, with which the place for the lock is made. . the several pieces composing the lock are forged on anvils, some of which have indented surfaces, the more readily to give the proposed form. they are reduced somewhat with the file, and polished with substances usually employed for such purposes. the several pieces of the lock having been put together, it is fastened to the stock with screws. other particulars in regard to the manufacture of small-arms will be readily suggested by a careful inspection of the different kinds, which are frequently met with. . the period at which, and the country where, gunpowder and fire-arms were first invented, cannot be certainly determined. some attribute their invention to the chinese; and, in confirmation of this opinion, assert that there are now cannon in china, which were made in the eightieth year of the christian era. on this supposition, their use was gradually extended to the west, until they were finally adopted in europe, in the fourteenth century. . others, however, attribute the invention of gunpowder to berthold schwartz, a monk, who lived at mentz, between the years and . it is said, that in some of his alchemistic experiments, he put some saltpetre, sulphur, and charcoal, into a mortar, and having accidentally dropped into it a spark of fire, the contents exploded, and threw the pestle into the air. this circumstance suggested to his mind the employment of the mixture for throwing projectiles. some traditions, however, attribute the invention to constantine antlitz, of cologne. . the fire-arms first used in europe were cannon, and these were originally made of wood, wrapped in numerous folds of linen, and well secured with iron hoops. they were conical in shape, being widest at the muzzle; but this form was soon changed for the cylindrical. at length they were made of bars of iron, firmly bound together with hoops of the same metal. in the second half of the fourteenth century, a composition of copper and tin, which was brought to form by casting in sand, came into use. . cannon were formerly dignified with great names. charles v. of spain had twelve, which he called after the _twelve apostles_. one at bois-le-duc is called the _devil_; a sixty-pounder, at dover castle, is called _queen elizabeth's pocket-pistol_; an eighty-pounder, at berlin, is called the _thunderer_; two sixty-pounders, at bremen, the _messengers of bad news_. but cannon are, at present, denominated from the weight of the balls which they carry; as six-pounders, eight-pounders, &c. . fire-arms of a portable size were invented, about the beginning of the sixteenth century. the musket was the first of this class of instruments that appeared, and the spanish nation, the first that adopted its use as a military weapon. it was originally very heavy, and could not be well supported in a horizontal position without a _rest_. the soldiers, on their march, carried only the rest and ammunition, while each was followed by a youth who bore the musket. . the powder was not ignited with a spark from a flint, but with a match. afterwards, a lighter match-lock musket was introduced, which was carried by the soldiers themselves. the rest, however, maintained its ground, until about the middle of the seventeenth century. the troops throughout europe were furnished with fire-locks, such as are now used, a little before the beginning of the eighteenth century. . the bayonet was invented, about the year , at bayonne; but it was not generally introduced, until the pike was entirely discontinued, about sixty years afterwards. it was first carried by the side, and was used as a dagger in close fight; but, in , the custom of fastening it to the muzzle of the fire-lock was commenced in france, and the example was soon followed throughout europe. . gunpowder, on which the use of fire-arms depends, is a composition of salt-petre, sulphur, and charcoal. the proportion of the ingredients is varied considerably in different countries, and by different manufacturers in the same country. but good gunpowder may be made of seventy-six parts of salt-petre, fifteen of charcoal, and nine of sulphur. these materials are first reduced to a fine powder separately, and then formed into a homogeneous mass by moistening the mixture with water, and pounding it for a considerable time in wooden mortars. . after the paste has been suffered to dry a little, it is forced through a kind of sieve. by this process it is divided into grains, the size of which depends upon that of the holes through which they have been passed. the powder is then dried in ovens, and afterwards put into barrels, which are made to revolve on their axis. the friction produced by this motion destroys the asperities of the grains, and renders their surfaces smooth and capable of easy ignition. [illustration: farrier.] the veterinary surgeon. . the horse, as well as the other domestic animals, is subject to a great variety of diseases, which, like those affecting the human system, are frequently under the control of medicinal remedies; and the same general means which are efficacious in healing the disorders of our race, are equally so in controlling those of the inferior part of the animal creation. . the great value of the domestic animals has rendered them, from the earliest periods, the objects of study and attention, not only while in health, but also when laboring under disease. for the latter state, a peculiar system was early formed, including a _materia medica_, and a general mode of treatment considerably different from those for human patients. . of the authors of this system, whether greek or roman, nothing worthy of notice has been transmitted to us, beyond an occasional citation of names, in the works of columella, a roman writer, who flourished in the reign of tiberius cæsar, and in vegetius renatus, who lived two centuries afterwards. the former treated at large on the general management of domestic animals, and the latter more professedly on the diseases to which they are liable. . both of these writers treated their subject in elegant classical latin; but neither they nor any other ancient author whose works have reached us, had any professional acquaintance with medicine or surgery. celsus is the only physician of those times who is said to have written on animal medicine; but this part of his works is not extant. . xenophon is the oldest veterinary writer whose work remains; but his treatise is confined to the training and management of the horse for war and the chase. the chief merit of the ancient writers on this subject consists in the dietetic rules and domestic management which they propose. their medical prescriptions are said to be an inconsistent and often discordant jumble of many articles, devoid of rational aim or probable efficacy. . on the revival of learning in europe, when the anatomy and physiology of the human body had become grand objects of research in the italian schools, veterinary anatomy attracted the attention of ruini and others, whose descriptive labors on the body of the horse have since served for the ground-work and model to all the schools in europe. . the works of the veterinary writers of antiquity were eagerly sought and translated in italy and france, and the art was extensively cultivated, sometimes under regular medical professors. every branch of the equine economy was pursued with assiduity and success, whether it related to harness and trappings, equitation and military menage, or the methodical treatment of the hoof, and the invention of various kinds of iron shoes. evangelista of milan distinguished himself in the education or breaking of the horse; and to him is attributed the invention of the martingale. . the new science having been extended over a great proportion of the continent of europe, could scarcely fail of occasional communication with england; nevertheless, the medical treatment of horses and other domestic animals continued exclusively in the hands of farriers and cow-doctors, until some time in the first quarter of the eighteenth century. . at this period, that branch of this art which relates to the medical and surgical treatment of the horse, attracted the attention of william gibson, who had acted in the capacity of army surgeon in the wars of queen anne. he was the first author of the regular medical profession, in england, who attempted to improve veterinary science; and the publication of his work forms an era in its annals, since his work became, and has continued to the present day, the basis of the superior practice of the english. . the eighteenth century was abundantly fruitful in veterinary pursuits and publications. france took the lead; but a zeal for this branch of science pervaded germany and the states north of that part of europe, and colleges were established in various countries, with the express view of cultivating this branch of the medical art. it is said that the french have improved the anatomical and surgical branches of the art, and the english, those which relate to the application of medicines. . the first veterinary school was instituted at lyons, in . another was established at alfort, in . a similar institution was opened at berlin, in , and in the same year, one at st. pancras, near london. in these colleges, lectures are given, and degrees conferred. in the diplomas, the graduate is denominated _veterinary surgeon_. a great number of these surgeons have been dispersed in the armies of europe, as well as through the different countries, where they have been employed in the medical and surgical treatment of diseased animals, to the great advantage of their owners. . from the preceding account, it is evident, that the light of science has shone conspicuously, in europe, on the domestic animals, in relation to their treatment, both while in health, and when laboring under disease. in the united states, we have no institution for the cultivation of this branch of knowledge. the press, however, has been prolific in the production of works treating on the various branches of the veterinary art; and many persons, by their aid, have rendered themselves competent to administer to animals in cases of disease, in a rational manner. . nevertheless, the practice of animal medicine is confined chiefly to illiterate men, who, from their laborious habits, or from other causes, have not attained to that degree of information on animal diseases, and the general effects of medicine, that might enable them to prescribe their remedies on scientific principles. but this state of things is not peculiar to our country; for, notwithstanding the laudable efforts of enlightened men in europe, the blacksmiths form a vast majority of the horse-surgeons and physicians in every part of it; and the medical treatment of the other domestic animals is commonly intrusted to persons who are still more incompetent. . the attention of blacksmiths was very early turned to the diseases of the horse, from the practice of supplying him with shoes. the morbid affections of the foot were probably the first which attracted their notice; and descanting upon these induced the general belief, that they understood every other disease which might affect the animal. . these men, as artificers in iron, were originally termed ferrers or ferriers, from the latin word _ferrum_, iron; and their craft, ferriery. these terms, by a usual corruption or improvement in language, have been changed to farrier and farriery, both of which still remain in general use, the former as applied to persons who shoe horses and administer to them medicines and surgical remedies, and the latter to the art itself, by which they are, or ought to be, guided. . the appellation of veterinary surgeon is applicable to persons who have received a diploma from some veterinary college, or who have, at least, studied animal medicine scientifically. there are a few such individuals in the united states; and the great value of the domestic animals, and the general increase of knowledge, certainly justify the expectation, that their number will increase. the end. * * * * * transcriber's notes: obvious spelling and punctuation errors were repaired. period spellings were retained (for example: orchestres, etc.), along with valid alternate spellings of the same word. "stationary" is used for "stationery" consistently in this text. retained. there were several words that the original included in both hyphenated and non-hyphenated forms; these were retained. heading punctuation and formatting, which varied in the original, has been standardized. illustrations on p. (printer), (type-founder), and (paper-maker) have no captions in the original. p. , "durandi ralionale divinorum officiorum" in the original is the official title in several sources. retained "ralionale" spelling. changes not covered by notes above were: p. , "now became clefs"; original reads "clifs." p. , "convex drawing-knife"; original reads "onvex." work for women by george j. manson new york g. p. putnam's sons & west d street copyright by g. p. putnam's sons preface. when a woman, either from choice or through necessity, makes up her mind to work for a living, and has selected the employment that seems most suited to her, she probably asks herself such questions as these: "is there a good chance to get work? how long will it take me to make myself competent? are there many in the business? how much do they earn? how hard will i have to work? are there any objections against entering this employment; if so, what are they?" to answer, as far as it is possible, these and similar questions is the object of this little book. some of the most important avocations, professions, trades, businesses, in which women are now engaged, have been selected, and the effort made to enlighten the would-be woman-worker as to the practical points of interest connected with each occupation. the information thus given has, in each case, been gained from the most reliable sources. in the winter of - i contributed to the columns of the new york _christian union_ a series of articles under the title of "work for women." they were written with the aim of furnishing to women useful information in regard to various industries in which the gentler sex are successfully seeking employment, and met with considerable favor from the readers of that excellent journal. through the courtesy of rev. lyman abbott and hamilton w. mabie, editors of the _christian union_, the publishers of this book are allowed to use the title of that series. it should be stated, however, that the chapters in the present book are made up from new investigations, and that none of them are reproductions of any of the articles in the series alluded to. g. j. m. contents. page industrial designing short-hand writing telegraphy feather curling photography professional nursing proof-readers, compositors, and bookbinders the drama.--lecturers and readers book-agents dress-making--millinery teaching brief notes: market gardening, poultry-raising, bee-keeping, house-keepers, cashiers, button-hole making, floriculture, authorship, type-writing, and working in brass work for women. industrial designing. a great many women have, or think they have, a taste for art. they can make a pretty sketch, or draw a landscape quite fairly, and so they think they will "take up" art as a profession. and nearly all of them fail of success. the trouble seems to be that they lack originality; they are mere copyists, and too often very poor reproducers of the things they copy. one branch of art--that of industrial designing--offers golden opportunities to make an excellent living in a pleasant way, but, before deciding to enter it, a woman should be very sure indeed that she has the necessary qualifications to pursue the study successfully; otherwise her time will be wasted, and probably her heart will be so discouraged that she will be sadly unfitted for any kind of work for a long time to come. it is _industrial_ art of which i am speaking. a few introductory words may be necessary, for the benefit of some persons ignorant in the matter, to show what women are doing, or rather successfully attempting to do, in that line at the present time. industrial or technical designing means designing for wall-paper, lace, silk, chintz, calico, oil-cloth, linoleum, book-covers, embroidery, wood-carving, silver-ware, jewelry, silks, handkerchiefs, upholstery goods, and carpets of all grades, from ingrains to moquettes. up to within a very short period all this work has been done by men, principally foreigners; but talented and enterprising women saw that they were able to do the work equally well, and it is only a question of time when women will entirely monopolize this field of industry. it will be seen at once that the woman who is ambitious to become an industrial designer must have, first of all, originality. she must have good taste and an eye for color. drawing must come natural to her. the mere ability to copy pictures, or make sketches from nature is not enough. she must be full of ideas, and for some of the work mentioned (notably carpet designing) she must have what might be called a combining mind--that is, the ability to get ideas from several designs, and by combining them together, make something new. it must be confessed that this kind of ability is rare. very few men possess it, and fewer women. manufacturers of carpets and wall-papers say that they have to import nearly all their help of this kind from europe; they cannot find in this country the right kind of men to do the work. but because a woman has not this talent for originating largely developed, she should not be discouraged from becoming an industrial designer. if she has even a little talent in that direction she may find, after taking a few lessons, that the study is very congenial to her, and that she has more ability than she imagined. the kind of designing of which i am particularly speaking in this chapter is designing for carpets, oil-cloths, and wall-paper. that seems to be the most popular at the present time, though there is a good chance for skilled workers in the other branches to which allusion was made. it is surprising what a demand there is for new designs in carpets, wall-paper, and oil-cloths. one would suppose that a single design would last for a long time; but such is not the fact. the demand of the public is continually for novelty; the fashion changes in these matters, just the same as it does in bonnets and dresses, and each manufacturer is competing with his neighbor to get something pretty and original. a good design can always be sold at a good price; an ordinary or a poor design has no chance at all. there are two schools in new york where industrial designing is taught to women. they are both carried on by women, and both present their claims to the public under very favorable auspices. some of the instruction, however, is given by men--practical workers in the various branches of art--who lecture on the special subject with which they are familiar. here are some of the subjects of these lectures: "conventionalization in design," "practical design as applied to wall-paper," "principles of botany" (delivered by a lady), "historical ornament in design," "harmony in color in design," "design as applied to carpets," "geometry in design," "the influence of color in design," "purity of design," "oriental influence in design," "plant forms: their use and abuse." this last lecture was delivered by a lady. but the pupil gets most of her learning in the class-room, the lectures being considered simply as adjunct to the regular system of instruction. in one school the first term begins october d, and closes december d. the second term begins january th and closes march th. the post-graduate course commences april d, and ends may th. those pupils who have no knowledge of drawing are obliged to enter the elementary class. those who enter the advanced classes are obliged to present specimens of free-hand drawing, such as flowers from nature, ornamental figures or scrolls. during the year each pupil in the elementary class must complete nine certificate sheets, of uniform size ( x inches), one each of geometrical problems, blackboard and dictation exercise, enlarged copy in outline, conventionalized flowers in a geometrical figure, applied designs, outline drawing from objects, outline drawing from flowers, historical ornament, botanical analysis. in the flower painting class, three outline drawings, and four paintings of flowers from nature. in the carpet class, one each of a two-ply ingrain on the lines, three-ply ingrain on the lines, tapestry sketch, body-brussels sketch, moquette sketch, optional sketch (for either stair-carpet, rug, chair back and seats, hall carpet, or borders, body-brussels working design on the lines, tapestry working design on the lines.) the terms of tuition in this school per term are: for the elementary class, $ ; the advanced class, $ ; the teachers' class, $ . ten lessons in wood-carving and designing for book-covers cost $ . six lessons in embroidery cost $ , and for a course of instruction in flower-painting the charge is $ . the materials used in the elementary class cost from $ to $ , and for the advanced classes from $ to $ . the elementary class studies an hour and a half a day three times a week; the advanced class the same length of time twice a week. according to the prospectus of this school, it takes three years to become thoroughly proficient. one year is spent in the elementary class, and in obtaining a knowledge of flower-painting and making simple designs for calico, muslin, stained glass, inlaid woods, jewelry, etc. the second year is devoted to making advanced designs for oil-cloth, linoleum, silk, and carpets. the third year is spent in doing practical work under the supervision of the principal and her assistants. it would not seem to be necessary for a pupil to return to the school the third year for this purpose. after her first two years' instruction she ought to be able to put her knowledge to business use, and seek to sell her work among the various manufacturers. in the other school to which i have referred the terms for tuition in drawing are $ for a term of three months--thirty-six lessons. in the design class the fee is $ . the method of instruction is substantially the same as in the school first mentioned. and now comes the interesting question, how much can a woman make in this profession, after she has become thoroughly qualified? i do not think she can hope to get a permanent salaried position, at least just at present. for this profession, albeit a good one, is a new one for women; it is less than two years since the first school was started. men still hold the best positions, and they receive large salaries, from $ , to $ , a year. in the present condition of affairs, hedged in as the female industrial designer is by the masculine doubt of the employer as to her ability, and the masculine jealousy of the employé whose work she seeks to do, it would be the best plan for her to do piece-work at her own home, or office. her earnings, under this plan, cannot even be stated approximately. the pay for a good carpet design would be $ to $ , and the design can be made in two and a half days. wall-paper designs bring $ to $ ; an oil-cloth sketch, $ or $ --the technicalities to be mastered in this latter branch are not so great as in the others. short-hand writing. the custom of employing women as amanuenses has grown very largely of late years. it is said on good authority that, fifteen years ago, there were but five females in the city of new york who made their living by writing short-hand; at the present time there are, as nearly as can be estimated, between one hundred and fifty and two hundred. "which is the best system of short-hand?" is generally the first question asked by the person desirous of entering this profession. and that is a very difficult question to answer, and many of the answers that have been given to it have been very far from honest. in the first place, it must be stated that there are about a score of "systems" of short-hand before the public, each of which has its defenders and advocates. each is highly recommended in commendatory letters from this or that distinguished court or newspaper reporter. each can show, and does show, first-class notices from prominent daily and weekly papers, and each has a circle of followers who loudly proclaim that the particular system they follow is not only the best in existence, but really the only one worth learning. in the search after short-hand truth, it is but natural that the would-be learner gets bewildered, and asks, "what shall i do?" the system of short-hand practised by the vast majority of writers, both in this country and in england, is phonography, invented by isaac pitman, of bath, england, in . that system is based on an alphabet representing the sounds of the language, instead of the ordinary alphabet we use in spelling words. since there have been many phonographic text-books written by as many different authors, and each author has added a hook here or a circle there, lengthened this stroke, or made that one heavier; and that accounts for the variety of "systems." the fact is, they are all based on the original phonography of isaac pitman, who himself, by the way, was the first to set the example of making changes and "improvements." for all _practical_ purposes phonography is no better now than it was thirty years ago. i dwell upon this point, for i know "the best system" has been a sad stumbling-block to many young people who were naturally anxious to start on the right road. which system, then, is the best? answer: any system will answer the purpose of the woman who desires to become simply a phonographic amanuensis. and it is only of that branch of work of which i write, for though there are a few female court reporters in the country, the number is so small and the positions so exceptional in many respects that it is not worth while to speak of woman's employment in that direction. let not the student, then, waste any time in listening to or reading arguments in favor of the various systems, but go to a bookstore and get some one of the various manuals on the subject, and begin to study. these books cost from fifty cents to a dollar and a quarter each. a teacher is not really necessary, but will prove a help, provided he has a practical knowledge of the art. the trouble is, however, that many of the so-called teachers of phonography have never done any actual reporting in their lives, and their advice and suggestions are not of much value. the best way for the pupil would be to get the assistance of some man engaged in actual reporting. one lesson from such a person would be worth a dozen from some of the teachers who advertise to teach short-hand, or who are connected with the various colleges. the price for such service cannot be accurately stated. short-hand schools and colleges have "courses" of one hundred and twenty lessons, charging $ for the same. students can and do learn at these schools, but the cheaper and more sensible way for the student learner to do would be to get the help of a teacher, as i have suggested, and then only as it was needed. the text-books i have mentioned are very plain, and a teacher really cannot do much to make them plainer. in six months' time, if the pupil is diligent, she should be able to write eighty words a minute, and enter upon actual work, when, with practice, her speed will gradually increase. if she can reach a speed of one hundred and twenty words a minute, she will be as good as the average; if she can reach one hundred and fifty words a minute, she will do what few women ever accomplish. she need have no fear about getting a position, if she has made herself competent. the demand for good workers in this profession is constant and increasing. out of several large classes taught by a lady teacher in new york not one pupil failed, when qualified, to secure a position. a gentleman connected with a large corporation, who employs two lady amanuenses, and obtains positions for others, says that he could secure situations for two or three a week. it should be added, however, that a knowledge of working on the type-writer should accompany the ability to write phonography. this instrument has come into such general use that no detailed description of it is here required. briefly, it may be said that it is an instrument to print letters and documents with despatch, and it is worked with keys like a piano. to learn this art of type-writing requires but a very short time, and there are schools or offices in most of the large cities where it is taught. a lady can learn phonography as young as sixteen, or at the mature age of thirty-five; but it is almost needless to say that the art can be mastered much easier at the former than the latter age. at one of the schools in new york where it is taught free to women no pupils are received under the age of eighteen. it is a study that requires considerable application, a good memory, nimble fingers, and quick apprehension. there are some people (and this remark applies to both sexes) who would never be able to learn enough short-hand to be of any practical service. but the study is nothing like as difficult as it has often been represented to be. every thing depends on the student. if she makes haste slowly, and learns even a little thoroughly every day, she will soon find herself mastering the theoretical part of the art, and if she practises constantly, in season and out of season, what she has properly learned, the secret of short-hand success is hers. the necessity of practice cannot be overrated. hence it is that a teacher is ordinarily of little use. the exercises in the latest manuals on this subject are very well arranged, and it would seem that the art could not be presented in a plainer way than it is at present. the pay of a lady amanuensis at the start is seldom more than $ a week. it is not to be supposed that she is fully competent when she starts at that rate; that is to say, she will not be able to write very rapidly, and she will be liable to make mistakes in transcribing her notes. the actual practical experience which she will get in her first situation will very soon serve to correct these faults. it might, at first thought, be supposed that few persons would desire to employ inferior help of this kind; but such is not the fact. editors, lawyers, occasionally doctors, and some classes of business men who are obliged to make rough drafts of papers which go at once to the printer, are often glad of such help. their short-hand writer can write fast enough to save some of their time, at a moderate charge, and it is immaterial as to the appearance of the "copy" sent to the printer, so long as it can be plainly read by him. but of course the lady will soar higher than a salary of $ a week, and just so soon as she has become more expert, she will be able to obtain a position requiring greater speed in taking notes and more accuracy in writing them out. her salary will then be $ or $ a week, and finally $ a week. it is not likely she will earn more than $ a week, though mention is made of some ladies who are making $ or $ a week, but the situations are exceptional, and, it may be added, the ladies are exceptional ladies. they have some peculiar business ability aside from being able to write short-hand. the employer of one, for instance, can merely indicate by two or three words the kind of letter he wants written to a certain correspondent, and the lady clerk, having simply received the idea, will write a satisfactory letter. if a woman could possess herself of a thorough knowledge of phonography, be able to work rapidly on the type-writer, and have a fair knowledge of bookkeeping, she could be certain of obtaining a good position at an extra large salary, say $ , a year; but there is no doubt that she would have to work hard for the money. the hours of work in most all offices are from nine in the morning until five in the afternoon. the employment is not more arduous than any other sedentary occupation. in large offices an amanuensis will receive from thirty to sixty full-page letters in a day and transcribe them on the type-writer. she could not do so much work without the aid of that instrument. it is sometimes the case that a woman can take dictation work for professional people who only occasionally need such assistance, and be paid for it by the "job." in such a case the rate of pay for taking and transcribing the notes will range from six to twenty cents per hundred words, depending partly on the class of work, but more particularly on the liberality of the employer. telegraphy. there is one thing favorable to young women who want to become telegraph operators: the qualifications required for success in this line of business are very simple. an ordinary common school education, with a special ability to spell well, and to write plainly and more or less rapidly, is all that is required in a pupil before commencing to learn this art. this may account for the large number of young ladies who, of late years, have sought employment in this field of labor. another thing, it is office work, with just enough bustle and activity about it to keep it from being dull, with the occasional chance, in times of public excitement, of its being exceptionally interesting. in the city of new york there are, at the present time, about two hundred ladies engaged in this occupation. they are nearly all employed by the western union telegraph company, three fourths of the number being employed at the main office of the company. here and there a lady may be found employed in a broker's office, a position, by the way, which is considered exceptionally good, the pay being generous, with the sure chance of the employé receiving a present at the christmas holiday-time. but the great majority of women are employed by the companies, in hotels, in the smaller stations situated throughout the city, and throughout the country in the offices located in various villages and towns. instruction in telegraphy has become a special feature in about forty colleges in different parts of the union, and in several special schools, among which the new york cooper union school of telegraphy is preëminent. instruction in this last institution is free, and the western union telegraph company is so far interested in the success of the school, that when operators are needed, graduates of the cooper union are preferred over anybody else. the school is always crowded; it is difficult to gain admission, and situations are not provided by the company alluded to for all the graduates. last year ( ) one hundred and sixty applied at the regular examination of the school and passed, but they could not be admitted to the class for want of room. the school admitted sixty pupils during the year. the number receiving certificates was twenty-eight. some time since the kansas state agricultural college added telegraphy as a branch of industrial education, using pope's "hand-book of the telegraph" as a text-book. women can learn to become telegraph operators at almost any age. young girls of fifteen have successfully studied the art, and women as old as forty have also learned it. but the age which is recommended by good judges as being the best, is not younger than eighteen, nor older than twenty-five. the time it takes to learn to become an operator depends, of course, on the aptness of the pupil, her general intelligence, and previous education. some learn very readily, others after months of study never become sufficiently proficient to take positions. the course of instruction, in most of the institutions where telegraphy is taught, covers a period of six months. it is said, on good authority, that practising four or five hours a day for a period of six months, will enable a young woman to master the art. probably telegraphy is, in this respect, very much like phonography--a person may learn the principles of the latter science in a comparatively short space of time, but to avail himself really of its advantages, a great deal of practice is required. the principles of telegraphy are far simpler than those of phonography, but the necessity for practice is equally important. young girls learn easier than women over the age of thirty, and yet there are several instances of women past the age of forty, who have quickly qualified themselves to become operators. the salary of lady telegraphers ranges from $ to $ per month. in the office of the western union telegraph company they commence with a salary of $ per month; the highest wages paid being $ a month, unless in some special cases, where they take full charge of important offices, when they are given $ a month. what is called a "good" position may be either in the city or the country. in fact, the term good, used in this connection, is a purely relative term. for instance, the salary may be larger in a city, but the expense of living will be greater, and the work more arduous than it will be in some small country town, where the wages will be lower. but, as a rule, the positions in the city seem to be preferred, probably on the general principle that most young people prefer the excitement and gayety of metropolitan life to the more quiet and healthful enjoyments of country towns. during the summer months positions at the various watering-places are particularly sought after, the pay of the operator being $ a month and her board. in the large city hotels, where business is quite brisk and important, the salary is from $ to $ a month. operators in the country towns and villages receive from $ to $ a month. but, as was stated above, the brokers' offices supply the positions most sought after by telegraph operators. there are very few of these positions. the salary paid an operator in such a situation is from $ to $ a month. the hours of work are light, being from . a.m. to p.m. a woman, however, to hold a position of this kind must be thoroughly competent, and not only rapid, but accurate in her work. she must, too, be a woman in whom the utmost confidence can be placed, and possessed of that rare womanly gift--the ability to keep a secret; for she is, in reality, a sort of confidential clerk. a gentleman occupying a high position in one of the leading telegraph companies in new york says, that telegraphy is a good occupation for a young woman, and, provided she has no talent to do any thing better, it will furnish her a reasonably pleasant, profitable, and sure means of employment. but the opportunities of eventually getting a large salary, or of obtaining an enviable position, do not exist in this field of work. women, he says, do not make good managers. they do not seem to possess the ability, so common even with many ordinary men, of grasping the varied details of a large business, and conducting it with system and regularity. in the company alluded to, there are ladies who have been employed for the last twenty years, but they are receiving no more pay now than they received ten years ago, and ten years from now their salary will be no higher than it is at the present time, if, indeed, it is as much. it might be thought by some, that from the comparative ease with which this art is acquired, many might take it up as a temporary means of subsistence, and leave it, either for some better employment, or to assume matrimonial relations. but this is not the fact. the occupation seems to be one in which few die, and none resign. it should be added, however, that with the growing use of the telegraph by private individuals, and the starting of new telegraph companies, good operators may be reasonably sure of obtaining positions. telegraphy is generally learned at some business college, or some school which makes a specialty of teaching it. the lady who desires to become an operator should be very careful in making her selection among institutions of this kind. the cooper institute school is not included in this remark, but attention is called to the many firms throughout the country, who advertise largely in the weekly papers, to teach telegraphy in an astonishingly short space of time, and, it may be added, at astonishingly high rates of tuition. some of these schools are good, but many of them cannot be recommended. before entering any one of them, the would-be pupil should get the honest advice of some man or woman who is engaged in the business, and who knows something of the character of the institution she proposes to enter. feather curling. fashion has, of late years, made feather curling a good trade for women, and fashion, at almost any moment, may make it a very poor business. for the last thirty years feathers have been used every year, but, until within a very short time, their use has been confined to the fall and winter season. during the past four or five years they have been in great demand during the spring and early summer, taking the place of flowers for ornamental purposes. as a consequence, the occupation of feather curling has offered unusual good opportunities for girls and women to earn a living,--that is to say, as female workers are paid in the trades. there are several processes used in preparing the feathers before they are ready for sale. some of this work is done by men, but the larger part of it is done by girls and women. when the feathers arrive from abroad, they are of a dull brown color, and the first process consists in washing them thoroughly with a peculiar kind of chemical soap. then they are wrung through an ordinary clothes-wringer, and tied on to lines and hung out in the hot sun to dry, or put in a drying room if the weather is not favorable. the work of washing and wringing is done by men; the tying on to the lines by little girls. after this men put them in big vats where they are dyed, black, blue, red, yellow, or any other color that may be desired, and again dried. then comes the work of the women, who first scrape the rib of the feather to make it soft and pliant. this is done with a piece of glass. then they are curled with a blunt knife. after this they are packed in boxes and are ready to go from the wholesaler to the jobber, from the jobber to the retailer, and from the retailer pass to the purchasers whose hats they are meant to adorn. except in rare cases, the people employed at this business are paid by the piece, and all ages are represented in the different branches of the industry. there are girls as young as fourteen, and women as old as forty. the little girls tie the feathers on to the lines, and make from $ to $ a week. the work of preparing and curling the feathers pays the best, and women who devote themselves to this branch make from $ to $ a week. this last sum is large pay; but it must be stated that those who make it do so in the busiest season, and they work hard, not only during the day, but at night, or, may be, they have some one at their homes to whom a portion of the work is sent from the shop, and in that way they are assisted to receive such large pay. nevertheless, if a woman thoroughly understands the trade, she can always be sure of making good wages. some exceptionally proficient women will average $ a week the year round. take a hundred expert workers, and each of them will average $ to $ a week during the twelve months. the little girls never earn very much, because the work they can do is limited to "stringing" the feathers, which is the technical term for tying the feathers on a line. when a girl enters the establishment, she generally works the first two weeks for nothing, then the superintendent is able to see what she can do, and she makes $ , $ , or $ a week, as the case may be; in six or eight months she ought to be quite expert at the business. to be successful she must have good taste. she should be able to "lay" the feather out nicely, so that it will have a graceful appearance when it is finished. and then she must have good judgment in putting the feathers together, for it may not be known, but it is the fact, that the plume which appears on the hat to be a single feather is made up of a number of small pieces; this good judgment, then, consists, as one manufacturer frankly stated, in not being wasteful in selecting,--in short, in being careful not to pick out too many good pieces. though there are a great number of girls in this business, there are very few who possess all these qualifications. that class of help is of course a great saving to the employer, and consequently is always sure of employment. one man said that on account of high rent alone he wanted to hire all such women. "we have to economize our room," he remarked, "and one such woman would be worth to us half a dozen poor workers, who would take up just six times as much space and waste a lot of material in the bargain. such expert workers will make three or four times as much as other women, doing the same kind of work." the trade is a healthy one, or, to speak more accurately, there are no special features about it to make it unhealthy. probably the worst feature about it is the crowding together of so many girls and women in one large room. they sit on benches, or stools, without backs, working at a long, low table that runs the length of the apartment. on damp days the windows have to be shut, making the atmosphere of the place close and unwholesome. but the rooms are generally large, with high ceilings. five hundred girls are employed in the largest establishment of the kind in new york. the nominal hours of work are from eight in the morning until six in the evening, though very often, in the busy season, the girls are required to work at night as late as half-past seven or eight o'clock. there are a few women in new york who profess to teach feather curling; i say "profess," for i have it on good authority that some of them have no practical knowledge of the business, and aim only at securing a generous tuition-fee from the pupil. now and then, however, a teacher can be found who is able to impart the necessary knowledge. it has been charged by women that those who learn privately in this way are not able to secure good positions in any of the feather curling establishments, the allegation being that the proprietors of the same have formed a "ring" to exclude such help. from such investigation as i have made in regard to this matter, i do not believe that this statement is correct. doubtless many such pupils, after working for a short time in such establishments, have been discharged, but i think the real reason has been that they were not competent to do the work. and it can readily be imagined that the facilities for learning a trade like this would be far better in a large house, where several hundred girls were employed, or even fifty or seventy-five girls, than they would be in a class of half a dozen pupils, who had probably between them about as many feathers upon which to work. it would be much pleasanter to learn the trade from a teacher; but there are many practical objections against the feasibility of so doing. if the girl has not worked herself up from the very foot of the business, and does not have a knowledge of its preparatory stages, she will be likely to find that if a feather has been misplaced, or is out of order in any way, she could not put it in proper shape as well as one who had commenced at the beginning of the business. rather than have any girl or woman hastily decide to learn this trade, i will, at the risk of repetition, briefly recapitulate: the earnings are good if you are thoroughly competent; and this may be said to be true of the future, although there is a prospect, probably a very strong prospect, that feathers may not be in such demand as they have been, and as they are now. you will have to work hard to make good pay. the work is tolerably cleanly, but your associates, if you are particularly nice in your ideas of companionship, may not always please you. if you are competent you may be able to take work home, but the facilities for doing it, and the want of that spirit of competition which prevails, to a great extent, in a large work-room, may not enable you to do so much work. photography. it is a little singular that in a great city like new york, there should be but one lady photographer, while in the western part of our country there are quite a number. the photographers i speak of do all the work of making a picture,--posing the sitter, preparing the chemicals, and operating the camera. one reason why there are so few ladies in this business is the fact, that up to within a short time it has been a very disagreeable occupation on account of the nature of some of the chemicals that were used--they would soil the hands very easily, and the stains could not be removed. but recent improvements in the art have removed this objection, and prominent male photographers predict that it will not be long before their business will be largely carried on by women. a contributor to a london magazine, writing some years ago, on the subject of the employment of women in photography, said: "i have pleasure in bearing testimony to the fact, that in photography there is room for a larger amount of female labor; that it is a field exactly suited to even the conventional notions of woman's capacity; and further, that it is a field unsurrounded with traditional rules, with apprenticeship, and with vested rights, and it is one in which there is no sexual hostility to their employment." these remarks may, with perfect safety and propriety, be applied to photography in this country. there are several branches of the art in which women and girls have always been engaged, viz., the mounting of photographs, the retouching of negatives, and the coloring of photographs. the mounting of photographs is apparently a very simple kind of work, consisting simply in trimming the photograph and pasting it upon the card-board. but, simple though it seems, it requires great neatness and considerable skill, if the work is to be done fast, and rapidity of execution is a prerequisite to employment in nearly all the large galleries. as an illustration that it is not a very simple accomplishment, it may be mentioned that out of forty young ladies who came to work on trial for a prominent photographer, he could find only nine who were suitable to fill positions. the pay for this work is not very munificent, ranging from $ to $ per week. the retouching, or taking out the marks or spots on negatives, is a much more difficult branch of work. the pay, however, does not seem to be as large as it should be, considering the amount of skill required. young women receive from $ to $ a week. a man doing the same kind of work, and working the same number of hours, would be paid $ a week. there have been cases where ladies have received larger salaries than the sums just mentioned, but such instances are rare. the coloring of photographs is the most important, or rather the highest paid, of the three branches of work that have been mentioned. it is said that to be successful at this calling one must have some taste for drawing, and what is commonly called a good eye for color. very few photographers employ colorists on a salary, for the reason that they do not have enough work to keep them constantly employed. there are probably but eight or ten galleries in new york where colorists are employed all the year round. the truth is, that it is not alone necessary to be a good colorist--one must be very good; and if very good, she can have her studio and take work from the galleries as well as from private parties. photograph coloring has come to be considered as important as portraiture. another qualification for success in the work, therefore, should be the rare ability not only to preserve, but sometimes to make, a likeness. there is one branch of the picture-making business that has grown to large proportions within the past fifteen years; it is what is called the "copying" business. there are many establishments in various cities of the union that constantly advertise for agents to collect pictures. the agent goes through the rural districts, visiting each dwelling, and inquiring of the inmates if there are any old pictures of living or deceased friends that they would like to have copied, enlarged, and colored. in nearly every farm-house there are such pictures--old daguerreotypes of long-lost aunts, uncles, and grandfathers, "old-fashioned photographs" of mother, together with newer photographs of the living taken by the perambulating picture-taker, and taken so badly with the use of bad chemicals that they are fast fading away. out of this motley group the family will be pretty sure to select one or two pictures which they will deem it worth their while to have copied and enlarged. when the agent has collected a sufficient number of pictures in this way, he sends them by express to the home office, where the work is done. some years ago i chanced to know a gentleman who was in this business; in fact, he claimed to have originated it, and, as he was a shrewd, smart yankee, born and brought up in the state of new hampshire, i never had the temerity to question his statement. he had a good-sized brick building in a pleasant little new england city, and employed a countless number of agents, who travelled in all parts of the country, and, if i remember right, he had nearly a score of ladies, whose business it was to color the pictures and to touch some of them up into something resembling life, after they had been copied and enlarged. i use these statements with due deliberation, and say that the effort was made to give them the appearance of something resembling life, for often they looked like mere blurs. here and there a nose would be gone, or an eye would be missing, the lower part of the face would be entirely absent, but would be counterbalanced, or, rather, overbalanced, by a heavy head of straight, black hair. these, of course, were very bad specimens, but they came to the office in the regular course of business, and had, to use the yankee expression of the proprietor, to be "fixed up." these worst specimens were given to a middle-aged single lady, who really had a genius for making something out of nothing,--at least in the matter of pictures. it should be mentioned, however, that the worst of them were generally accompanied with some written description of the subject. but we may well believe that such crude data were of but little service to the artist. the salaries of these colorists were from $ to $ per week. the lady i have just mentioned received the latter sum, and often made a few more dollars weekly by doing extra work. at present, she and another lady from the same establishment, conduct an art school in a city near new york, and are very prosperous. there are now opportunities for doing this same kind of work, but there is not so much of it to do,--thousands of "active" agents having very thoroughly worked in the best districts of the country. still, there is something to do, and the salaries paid, though not so high as i have mentioned, are fair. as i have written above, few photographers in new york employ a colorist on a regular salary. the largest sum paid to a woman is $ a week, and that is given by probably the most prominent photographer in the city. others receive from $ down to $ a week. but there are quite a number of ladies who have studios, and who work on their own account, among them a firm of two sisters, who employ a dozen young women as assistants. without a doubt, this plan, provided the woman is competent in the art, and has good business qualifications, is the best and most lucrative course to pursue. there has been lately introduced a new process of coloring pictures for which very strong claims are made. it is said that the "secret" can be learned in one lesson; the cost of the instruction is but $ . the method consists in the application of water colors to any kind of picture on paper. some photographers say there is nothing new in the method, and that the pictures will not stand the light of the sun; others claim that it is a good process, and say that the pictures are both brilliant and effective. the teacher of the art asserts that he can, in half a day, paint a picture, and give all the necessary effects. with the usual method, he says, a colorist would require two days and a half. the process has not yet been introduced among photographers, but several ladies are soliciting work at private houses, receiving, it is said, $ and $ for painting a panel picture, and making a good living at the work. for obvious reasons i do not enter into the particulars of this method, or even mention the name by which it is known. that, however, can easily be learned from almost any photographer, and the searcher for information can then satisfy herself as to whether the business is worth a trial. professional nursing. it may not be known to many that, of late years, nursing has come to be a regular profession. women are trained to become nurses by going through a regular course of study in what are called training schools, and they receive on their graduation a diploma signed by an examining board and a committee of a board of managers. for some women this is an excellent occupation. the work is rather hard, but the pay is exceptionally good. at the present time there are seventeen of these training schools in the united states. there is one in each of the following cities: new haven (conn.), chicago, new orleans, st. louis, syracuse (n. y.), washington (d. c.), burlington (vt.), and there are three in boston, two in brooklyn (n. y.), three in new york city, and two in philadelphia. in order to gain admission to any of these institutions certain conditions of admission have to be complied with. first of all, the woman must have good health, she must be unmarried or a widow, she must furnish satisfactory references as to moral character, and have a fair common-school education. all these are essential prerequisites. her age must not be under twenty or over forty-five. in the boston schools the rule is between twenty-one and thirty-five; in brooklyn, twenty-one to forty; in new york city, twenty-five to thirty-five; in philadelphia, twenty-one to forty-five, and in washington city, the same as it is in brooklyn. aside from these qualifications, the woman who would enter upon this employment must have considerable "nerve," for she will be obliged to witness some very painful sights, and often be called upon to render assistance in some very dangerous surgical operations. and yet, at the same time, while possessing the necessary amount of self-control to go through her duties properly, she must be possessed of that gentleness, forbearance, and good temper, without which the most scientific nursing will be of little avail. she may shudder at the first operation in the hospital, even faint, but that is no sign that she will not be able to overcome her want of self-control. some of the best surgeons have confessed to the same weakness at the beginning of their professional experience. the nurse will soon get used to seeing such unpleasant sights, and, as it was the case with the grave-digger in hamlet, custom will make her business "a property of easiness." she, too, will learn that "the hand of little employment hath the daintier sense." the pupil, having made her application to the superintendent of the school, is required to answer, in writing, certain questions; to give her name; to state whether she is single or married; to give her present occupation; her age last birthday, and date and place of birth; her height and weight; to state where educated; to tell whether she is strong and healthy, and has always been so; whether her sight and hearing are good; whether she has any physical defects, or any tendency to pulmonary complaint; if she is a widow, to state if she has any children, their number, ages, and how they are provided for; to tell where she was last employed, and how long she was employed, and to give the names of two persons as references, one of whom must be her last employer, if she has been engaged in any occupation. and then she signs her name to the statement, declaring it to be correct. if the answers are satisfactory, and there is a vacancy in the school, she goes on trial for a month, and if, at the end of that time, she decides that she likes the position, and the superintendent finds she is able to fulfil the duties properly, she is engaged. for this "trial" month she receives no pay, but gets her board and lodging free of expense. having been accepted as a pupil, she signs articles of agreement to remain two years and obey the rules of the school and hospital. all the schools are connected with some hospital; they are not always in the same building, but in the immediate vicinity. the pupils reside in the home, or school, and in the large schools--the one connected with bellevue hospital, for instance--there are two sets of nurses, one set doing day duty, and the other going on at night. the day nurses are on duty from a.m. to p.m., with an hour off for dinner, and some additional time for exercise or rest. they have one afternoon during the week, half of sunday, and a two weeks' vacation during the summer. if sick, they are cared for gratuitously. the course of instruction covers two years, when the pupil, after passing a satisfactory examination, graduates and receives a diploma. then she chooses her own field of labor. in one of the large new york schools the course of instruction includes: . the dressing of blisters, burns, sores, and wounds; the application of fomentations, poultices, cups, and leeches. . the administration of enemas, and use of catheter. . the management of appliances for uterine complaints. . the best method of friction to the body and extremities. . the management of helpless patients; making beds; moving, changing, giving baths in bed; preventing and dressing bed-sores; and managing positions. . bandaging, making bandages and rollers, lining of splints. . the preparing, cooking, and serving of delicacies for the sick. they are also given instruction in the best practical methods of supplying fresh air, warming and ventilating sick-rooms in a proper manner, and are taught to take care of rooms and wards; to keep all utensils perfectly clean and disinfected; to make accurate observations and reports to the physician of the state of the secretions, expectoration, pulse, skin, appetite, temperature of the body, intelligence--as delirium or stupor,--breathing, sleep, condition of wounds, eruptions, formation of matter, effect of diet, or of stimulants, or of medicines; and to learn the management of convalescents. this teaching is given by physicians, some of whom are connected with the hospital, while others, often prominent men, occasionally give lectures. the superintendent, assistant superintendent, and head nurses also give practical directions to the pupils as to the management of the sick. each school has its favorite text-book on nursing. one of the most popular works is the "new haven hand-book of nursing," which is used in the east and west, and in new york. in the new york schools the "bellevue manual" is also used. among the other text-books studied in the different schools throughout the country are "anatomy and physiology," "domville's manual," "woolsey's hand-book for hospital visitors," "williams and fisher's hints to hospital nurses," "lee's hand-book for hospital sisters," "cutter's anatomy and physiology," "putnam's manual," "huxley's physiology," "smith on nursing," "frankel's manual," "west on children," "notes on nursing," by florence nightingale, "draper's anatomy, physiology, and hygiene," "bartholow's materia medica," and "miss veitch's hand-book for nursing." the boston and new york schools use the largest number of text-books, averaging six. at one of the schools in philadelphia, but one book is used; in connecticut, chicago, and washington two text-books are studied. while the nurse is receiving her training she is boarded free of expense, and receives a stated salary per month during the time she is in the school. the amount varies throughout the country. in new haven it is $ for the term of eighteen months. in chicago, $ a month for the first year, $ a month for the second year. in boston, at two of the schools it is $ a month for the first year, and $ a month for the second year. at the third school it is $ a week for the first six months, $ dollars a week for the second six months, and $ a week for the last four months. brooklyn, $ a month for the first year, $ a month for the second year. in new york, at the charity hospital on blackwell's island, it is $ a month for the first year, and $ a month for the second year; at bellevue hospital, $ a month for the first year, $ a month for the second year; at the new york hospital, it is $ , $ , and $ a month for the first, second, and third six months, respectively. in syracuse $ a month. in philadelphia, $ a month for the first six months, $ a month for the second six months, and $ a month for the second year. it will be seen at a glance that this is merely nominal pay, but it must also be borne in mind that the nurse is receiving instruction in what is to be to her a profession. then, again, she is under little or no expense; she is boarded, lodged, has her washing done in the institution, and the dress or uniform which she is obliged to wear costs but a trifle, the material of which it is made being generally what is called "seersucker." after the nurse has received a certain amount of training, she is deemed competent to go out to private service. she receives no extra pay for this, her salary being paid into the institution, which, in that way, is enabled partly to maintain itself. when she goes to a private house, she carries with her a certificate of recommendation signed by the lady superintendent of the school. when she returns to the school, she brings with her a report of her conduct and efficiency, either from one of the family or the medical attendant. while engaged in this service, the people employing her must allow her reasonable time for rest in every twenty-four hours, and when her services are needed for several consecutive nights, she is to have at least six hours in the day out of the sick-room. except in cases of extreme illness, she is to be allowed opportunity to attend church once every sunday. appended to the rules of the bellevue hospital training school, in regard to this subject, are the following remarks: "it is expected that nurses will bear in mind the importance of the situation they have undertaken, and will evince, at all times, the self-denial, forbearance, gentleness, and good temper so essential in their attendance on the sick, and also to their character as christian nurses. they are to take the whole charge of the sick-room, doing everything that is requisite in it, when called upon to do so. when nursing in families where there are no servants, if their attention be not of necessity wholly devoted to their patient, they are expected to make themselves generally useful. they are to be careful not to increase the expense of the family in any way. they are also most earnestly charged to hold sacred the knowledge which, to a certain extent, they must obtain of the private affairs of such households or individuals as they may attend." the field of employment which has just been described, offers great opportunities for the proper kind of women to make an independent livelihood. the work is hard and confining, but the pay, as women are paid, is very good. a trained nurse never receives less than $ a week, her board being, of course, included, and more often she will get $ , or even $ , a week; in fact, she can command her own price, and that price will depend upon the wealth and liberality of her patrons, and the ability which she brings to bear on the case in hand. good nursing is very often more important than good doctoring, and thousands of people are willing to pay liberally for such exceptional help. the demand for trained nurses far exceeds the supply, and, provided a woman has made herself fully competent in this peculiarly appropriate branch of women's work, the extent of her employment will only be limited by her physical strength to render the services required. proof-readers, compositors, and bookbinders. men who employ women in trades and businesses where they have to work for some length of time before they become skilled laborers have one very strong objection against female help. "no sooner," they say, "do we really begin to get some benefit from the woman's work, after having borne long and patiently with her sins of omission and commission, than along comes a good-looking young fellow and marries her." for this reason women sometimes find it difficult to obtain entrance into the most desirable establishments where trades can be learned. and yet these same employers are not hostile to female labor; on the contrary, they are strongly in favor of it, but they say that they are not willing to encourage it to the extent of sacrificing the necessary time and trouble in making a woman perfect in a trade, and then seeing her leave them to enter upon the presumably more congenial duties of matrimony. the woman, therefore, who desires to learn a trade may find this difficulty meeting her at the threshold. all employers, however, are not alike, and some establishment can generally be found where a woman can learn the first principles of the occupation she wishes to follow; as soon as she has attained a reasonable degree of proficiency in it, she can get a position in a larger and better establishment, where the pay will probably be higher and the surroundings more agreeable. of the three employments mentioned at the head of this chapter proof-reading is probably the most pleasant. a woman to be properly qualified must have a good education, and must have graduated from the printer's case. a great many young women who know nothing about the compositor's trade think they can be good proof-readers, but they may have a good collegiate education, and if they are not familiar with the practical details of printing, as they can be learned in a printing establishment, they will never amount to much as proof-readers. this is the class of proof-readers who "get interested" in what they are reading; they are on the look-out for bad sentences which, having found, they promptly proceed to correct, a self-imposed duty for which they receive no thanks from either their employer or the author whose language or style they seek to improve. a good proof-reader reads mechanically. the moment she takes a personal interest in what she is reading, or becomes critical on the matter in hand, she is apt to overlook typographical errors of the most common sort. of course, she must be a first-class speller and have a good knowledge of punctuation, though how far she will have to apply the latter knowledge will depend very much on what kind of proof she is reading. if she is engaged in an establishment where books are printed exclusively, she will find that authors, as a rule, have their own systems of punctuation, with which (supposing the authors to be men and women of ability) she will not be expected to interfere. but if she is engaged on newspaper or general work, she will have ample opportunity to display her knowledge and exercise her judgment in the matter of punctuation. in all important work female proof-readers seldom read the second or revised proof. that is generally given to a male proof-reader of large experience, who gives the matter a critical reading. the pay of good women proof-readers is from $ to $ a week. those who receive the latter sum are capable of reading "revises." now and then a woman receives exceptionally good pay for this kind of service. a prominent american historian paid a lady proof-reader $ a week; but she was unusually well educated, and capable of often making valuable suggestions to the author. no encouragement can be given to the woman desirous of becoming a proof-reader who will not learn the practical details of the calling in a printing establishment. in connection with proof-reading it may be mentioned that young girls or young women find employment as "copy-holders." their duty is to read aloud to the proof-reader the copy of the author. if they can read rapidly and correctly they can earn about $ a week. * * * * * female compositors are now largely employed in job and newspaper offices, but it is only fair to state the objections to their following this trade. in some establishments they are obliged, like the men, to stand at their work. physicians state, and the experience of the women themselves proves, that this is very detrimental to health. it has been urged by women, also, that in printing-offices they are forced to hear profane and improper language from their male companions, who sometimes, doubtless, in this way, harass the women, sometimes with the purpose of expressing their dissatisfaction at the employment of female labor. but too much weight should not be given to this complaint. in all the large, well-regulated establishments such conduct would not be tolerated, provided the men and women worked in the same room, which, however, is rarely the case; as a rule, the female help are set off in an apartment by themselves. employers who have employed female compositors say that they cause a great deal of trouble. they have to have a separate room, and require to be waited upon a great deal, especially if they are learning the trade, while men readily get along by themselves. they are sure to lose more or less time through sickness, and that, too, very often in the busiest season, when there is great pressure of work, and their services are in especial demand. of late, the female compositors in one of the largest establishments in new york demanded to be paid the same rate as the men. the demand was not acceded to, and the proprietors came very near discharging all their female compositors, urging the objections which have just been stated, together with the general objection to the employment of female help stated in the beginning of this chapter. notwithstanding all these objections, however, which a woman can weigh and take for what they are worth, the trade of a compositor is a very good one. among men, a type-setter has always been considered the most independent of mortals. if he is thorough master of his trade, he is always sure of work, and with the great development of our country, there is hardly a spot to which he may drift where he will not find a printing-office and an opportunity to earn money. numerous instances might be related of printers who, being of a roving disposition, have travelled all over the united states, earning their living as they went. the trade is just as good, or nearly as good, for a woman. she is never paid, it is true, the same rate that the men receive, but if she is a quick worker she can make much more money in a week, as a compositor, than she could at many other occupations. she can never hope to perform as much work as a first-class male compositor; that is a physical impossibility. good compositors in the large new york establishments where books are printed (and it is only in such places that women are employed in the large cities), earn from $ to $ a week. the poor ones average $ and $ a week. sometimes good women make more than $ a week, earning as much as $ or $ a week. this kind of work, it must be understood, is paid by the piece, so that how much a woman earns depends entirely on her ability. in many small cities and country towns, especially throughout new england, young women are employed as compositors in newspaper offices. their rate of pay is never as high as it is in the cities, but their living expenses are proportionately less, so that really they are just as well off. it would seem, indeed, that such situations were to be preferred. there is less noise and hurry in such small establishments, and, therefore, less wear and tear on the human system. the papers are generally afternoon papers, and, therefore, the work is all done in the daytime. the women are allowed to sit at their work. in such situations they will be able to earn from $ to $ a week. it is, at present, difficult for a woman entirely ignorant of the trade, to get into any of the large establishments in new york, where such help is engaged, for the purpose of learning to become a type-setter. if her ambition lies in this direction, and she lives outside the large cities, she could do no better than obtain an introductory knowledge of the art in some country newspaper office, or, failing in that, get the necessary practical instruction in some job office, in either city or country. * * * * * certain parts of the work of bookbinding are monopolized by young girls and young women. they are employed in folding, collating, sewing, pasting, binding, and gold-laying. there is probably no large establishment in the country where men are employed to do this kind of work. the industry seems to be peculiarly adapted to young women who are quick with their hands. employés in this trade are paid by the piece, with the exception of the collaters, who receive a stated salary of $ a week. "collating," it may be mentioned for the benefit of those who are not familiar with the term, means the gathering together of the various folded sheets or sections of the book, and seeing that the pages run right, preparatory to their being handed over to the sewers, who stitch them together. the pay of folders, binders, pasters, and sewers will average, during the year, from $ to $ a week. gold-layers are paid by the hour and make a dollar or two more a week. this average, it must be understood, is for the whole fifty-two weeks. some weeks the girls make $ and $ , other weeks not one third as much. girls as young as fourteen years are employed, and women forty and fifty years of age may be found working beside them. nine hours and a half constitute a day's work. some girls will make more than the average named. those are the steady workers who, to use the expression of one employer, "work just like a man and don't care to hurry home and crimp up to see company in the evening." such employés will, the year round, average each week two or three dollars more than the ordinary run of help. it is said that there is always work in this trade for competent women. but it is a trade that no woman of ambition would want to enter, unless she was unable to find any thing better to do. there is no chance to rise in the business and get a better paying position, for the rule is to employ male foremen. in only one large establishment in new york is there a woman occupying such a position. it is proper to state, however, that she gives perfect satisfaction, that her employer would not replace her for a man, and that he believes other bookbinders will eventually see the advisability of having a female instead of a male overseer. a man, it is said, is apt, in giving out work, to favor the pretty girls at the expense of the plain-looking damsels, thus creating jealousy among the employés, while a woman is not influenced in that way. the proprietors of the large bookbinderies make every effort to secure a respectable kind of help, but young women of loose principles, and sometimes, it is to be feared, of actual immoral character, get employment at the trade, and, when they do, their influence is any thing but good on their companions. it must, however, be largely a girl's own fault if she allows herself to associate with such company. during working hours, of course, nothing but business is attended to. lunch is eaten in the establishment, and during the lunch hour the girls gather together in little knots and talk about the last picnic or the coming ball. but the place is so large, that a girl of reserved manners can generally keep by herself, or select such companions as she prefers. the trade is not difficult to learn, the work is neat and clean, the rooms where the girls work--that is, in the large bookbinderies--are commodious, well lighted, and airy. if a young woman, getting her board free at home, wanted to make a little money by working only a few months, or a year, she could probably accomplish this object by entering a bookbindery. the drama.--lecturers and readers. a woman need not have the genius of a rachel, a modjeska, or a clara morris, to be able to make a good living in the theatrical profession. probably the great majority of young ladies who go upon the stage are inflated with the notion that they are creatures of wonderful genius, and for this reason they fail; they are so taken up with the good opinion they have of themselves that they will not go through the necessary amount of work, in the subordinate positions, to perfect themselves for places up higher. they want to fly before they can walk. it would seem as if common-sense deserted a woman the moment she felt a desire to go upon the stage. an old theatrical agent whose views were sought on this subject did not offer much encouragement to the aspirants for dramatic honors. i will give a paraphrase of his views so that the gentle reader may have the benefit of the pessimistic presentation of the question. the great majority of young ladies, he observed, "who sought positions had been members of some amateur dramatic company, which they had joined from a love of recreation and amusement. the friends of a young woman continually spoiled her by undeserved praise, and, finally, she believed herself capable of taking the highest and most difficult parts, and forthwith rushed to the nearest theatrical manager or dramatic agent and sought a position. in the majority of instances such young ladies had not the slightest amount of ability; besides, experience in an amateur dramatic company was of no benefit. people might come to an agent with the highest recommendations from stage instructors, or actors who had taken upon themselves the task of giving them instruction--who had spoken of them as 'promising pupils'--and yet, when they came to go upon the stage, they did not show the slightest degree of talent for the profession. an amateur experience was no criterion to go by." "when," said the dramatic agent, "i managed the tour of mr. ---- (mentioning the name of one of our leading tragedians), i had to select the company which was to support him. yielding to the solicitations of an old friend i engaged a young lady who had been studying with miss ----, one of the brightest stars on the american stage. miss ---- told me that she considered her a most promising young woman, and had it not been that her manager had already selected her company, she would have been glad to have had her in her own company. she felt sure if i took her i would be pleased. i engaged her, and was never more mistaken in my ideas in all my life. she thought she could act, but she did not know the first principles of acting. offended at my plain criticisms on her efforts she went to mr. ----, the star, and complained that she thought i was prejudiced against her, and had been unjust and unkind. but mr. ---- repeated, kindly but plainly, the substance of what i had said. she had left a good paying position to seek dramatic fame only to find dramatic failure. at the end of the season she became convinced of the truth of our criticisms, and quit the stage forever." it must be stated here that the stage is largely run on what is called the "combination" plan, and a very poor plan it is. in the old times the theatres had what were called "stock" companies; that is, the company was made up of a certain number of members, each member having a particular line of "business," and keeping to that line year after year, in the same company, which remained in the same theatre. at the present time there are only two "stock" companies in the united states. the great majority of theatrical enterprises are called "combinations." in old times the actor had to suit himself to the play; nowadays the play is written to suit the actor. a comedian can sing and dance, or "make up" good as a jew, a negro, or an eccentric german, and forthwith he gets some author to write a play for him in which his "strong" points will be made to plainly appear. then he selects his company, picking out men and women that he may deem suitable for the characters they are to assume. then the company is christened "the great jones combination," or "the great scott combination," as the case may be, and off it starts for a more or less successful tour throughout the country. sterling, old-time actors like john gilbert, william warren, joseph jefferson, and men of that school, lament the decadence of the "stock" company system. but, in the dramatic as in the real world, we must take things as we find them, and the fact is that there is very little chance for a young lady who would be an actress to get a thorough knowledge of her art--that is, thorough as it is understood by those in the front rank of the profession, who have reached their position by following the old methods. on the other hand, the stage never offered so many opportunities for bright young women with dramatic talent to make a living as it does at the present time. every city, both large and small, can boast of its theatre or opera-house, and in many of the large towns throughout the country there are town-halls arranged with a view to accommodate some of the minor theatrical combinations. the young lady who would succeed in making a fair living on the stage must, first of all, be attractive. the stage appeals as much to the eye as it does to the ear, and there is scarcely an instance of an ugly actress being successful, or, indeed, even having the opportunity of exhibiting herself on the stage. it seems to be the general opinion among actors and theatrical managers that the instruction received from professors of elocution is of little or no account. as to the experience gained from performing in amateur companies, there is a difference of opinion. the dramatic agent whose views have just been given speaks, it will be seen, very strongly against the amateur actor. others, however, whose opinions are entitled to great weight, say that experience gained in amateur organizations is always valuable. the manager of one of the principal theatres in new york--a theatre, too, that has had an unusually large number of travelling companies on the road--told the writer that he had employed a large number of amateur actors, and that some of the greatest pecuniary successes had been made by actors and actresses who had come to him from some amateur theatrical company. of course, the new-comers were not successful at first. they had to serve an apprenticeship on the regular stage; but he meant to say that their previous experience, amateur though it was, had been a benefit to them, and that they had got along quicker than they would if they had been without it. "utility business" is the kind of work a young woman going upon the stage must first expect to do; or, to speak more accurately, according to the technique of the profession, she will first be allowed to make an "announcement." she will come on the stage and say, "my lady, a letter," or make some other simple speech to the extent of one or two lines. if she does this well, she will be given parts where there is more to say, until, finally, she has reached thirty lines, at which point she is capable of being entrusted with a "responsible" part. the salary of this class of actresses ranges from $ to $ per week. if she does not start in this line of business, she may be a "ballet lady,"--not a dancer, but one of the group of ladies that make up the ballroom or party scenes. in this case, she will start on a salary of from $ to $ per week. if she is very pretty, she will get $ ; if she is an "ancient,"--that is, rather old and decidedly plain,--she will get only $ . the ability to sing commands an extra dollar per week. the manager of the theatre alluded to above said, that in one of their companies they employed a young lady without previous theatrical experience. she was, however, very quick to learn, and commencing on a salary of $ a week, she quickly made herself valuable. after a while a part was given her in which she made "a hit," and her salary has been increased until now it is $ a week when she is travelling, and $ a week when she plays in new york city, the extra $ given to her when she is away being for hotel expenses. there has been so much said and written on the morals of the stage that it will not be necessary here to warn the young dramatic aspirant that this is a branch of the subject which she should well consider. that there are actresses who are good women, fulfilling nobly all the duties of wives, mothers, and sisters, nobody pretends to deny. but that the stage offers very strong and dangerous temptations to young and pretty women is a fact which every one who knows any thing about the subject will admit. these temptations are not in the theatre itself. the profession of acting is conducted on purely business principles. life behind the scenes is dull, uninteresting, matter-of-fact. the actors and the actresses are full of their work, and the whole place is decidedly unromantic. but there are great temptations from without the theatre, into the details of which it is not necessary to enter. it is not necessary that she should yield to these temptations, nor are they, probably, all things considered, any greater or stronger than the pretty shop-girl has to meet. but if she values her character she will, when she enters this profession, make up her mind to devote herself thoroughly to work, and she will be particularly careful about the acquaintances she forms with the opposite sex, and above all avoid that large and growing class of silly men, both young and old, who love to boast that they number an "actress" among their female acquaintances. in the _north american review_ for december, , there was published a symposium on the subject of success on the stage. there are so many young ladies whose ambition lies in the direction of the drama, and the contribution referred to contained such wholesome advice, that i am tempted to quote from it at considerable length. there were six contributors: john mccullough, joseph jefferson, lawrence barrett, william warren, miss maggie mitchell, and madame helena modjeska. the views of the lady contributors will be found of especial interest to the readers of this book. the article was addressed more particularly to those whose ambition it is to reach the highest rank in the profession, but the extracts contain many useful hints for those who are simply looking forward to a respectable, well-paying "utility" position on the stage. miss mitchell says:-- "to succeed on the stage, the candidate must have a fairly prepossessing appearance, a mind capable of receiving picturesque impressions easily and deeply, a strong, artistic sense of form and color, the faculty of divesting herself of her own mental as well as physical identity, a profound sympathy with her art, utter sincerity in assuming a character, power enough over herself to refrain from analyzing or dissecting her part, a habit of generalization, and at the same time a quick eye and ready invention for detail, a resonant voice, a distinct articulation, natural grace, presence of mind, a sense of humor so well under control that it will never run riot; the gift of being able to transform herself, at will, into any type of character; pride, even conceit, in her work; patience, tenacity of purpose, industry, good-humor, and docility. she must behave, in her earlier years, very much as if she were a careful, self-respecting scholar, taking lessons of people better informed than herself, with her eyes and ears constantly open and ready to receive impressions. "she should begin by getting, if possible, into a stock company, even in the most inferior capacity, keeping within reach of the influence of her home,--or by joining a reputable combination on the road. managers, no matter what may be said to the contrary, are always eagerly looking for talent in the bud, and if a young girl, with reasonable pretensions to good looks, who is modest and well-behaved, and shows the slightest ability with a common-sense readiness to begin at the bottom of the ladder, should offer herself for an engagement, the chances are that she would get it with much less difficulty than she imagined. there are, no doubt, numerous candidates, even for the smallest positions on the stage, but those who possess even moderate qualifications are extremely rare. managers have, at present, to take the best they can pick from a host of worse than interlopers. "i do not think that novices reap any practical benefit from private lessons. the neophyte learns not merely of her professional teacher, but of her audience; and to be informed by the one without being influenced by the other is to have very lopsided instruction. the stage itself is the best, in fact, the only school for actresses. it is a profession made up of traditions and precedents and technicalities. mere oral advice, or training in elocution or gesture, counts for very little. they are, in fact, too often obstacles which have to be eventually and with difficulty surmounted. in some instances i have known 'instruction'--of this sort--to bring about as prejudicial effects as if the victim had tried to learn the art of swimming at a dancing academy, and then put the knowledge thus gained into practice. the modulations of the voice and the language of illustrative gesture ought to be either taught by example or insensibly acquired by experience. to learn them by precept and rule has for a result, usually, that woodenness and jerkiness which one cannot help noticing in the 'youthful prodigies' of the stage. to be an actress one has to learn other things than merely how to act, and that is why nobody ever succeeded in the profession who tried to enter it at the top. * * * "the early bent of her studies and reading should be precisely the same as that of any other woman aspiring to be liberally educated. she should, if possible, speak french, at all events read it. she should be familiar with english literature. she should cultivate an acquaintance, through books and otherwise, with the highest as well as the lowest forms of human society. refinement and general information ought to be the characteristics of every actress. * * * "it would be bold for me to pretend to descry the chances of success for the actress of the future. it is a lottery, this profession of ours, in which even the prizes are, after all, not very considerable. my own days, spent most of them far from my children and the comforts and delights of my home, are full of exhausting labor. rehearsals and other business occupy me from early morning to the hour of performance, with brief intervals for rest and food and a little sleep. in the best hotels my time is so invaded that i can scarcely live comfortably, much less luxuriously. at the worst, existence becomes a torment and a burden. i am the eager, yet weary, slave of my profession, and the best it can do for me--who am fortunate enough to be included among its successful members--is to barely palliate the suffering of a forty-weeks' exile from my own house and my family. "for those of our calling who have to make this weary round, year after year, with disappointed ambitions and defeated hopes as their inseparable company, i can feel from the bottom of my heart. each season makes the life harder and drearier; each year robs it of one more prospect, one more chance, one more opportunity to try and catch the fleeting bubble in another field." madame modjeska writes: "* * * it would be a great mistake to choose the profession with the idea that money comes easier and work is less hard in this than in any other. there is little hope for the advancement of such aspirants. "there is no greater mistake than to suppose that mere professional training is the only necessary education. the general cultivation of the mind, the development of all the intellectual faculties, the knowledge how to think, are more essential to the actor than mere professional instruction. in no case should he neglect the other branches of art; all of them being so nearly akin, he cannot attain to a fine artistic taste if he is entirely unacquainted with music, the plastic arts, and poetry. "the best school of acting seems to me to be the stage itself--when one begins by playing small parts, and slowly, step by step, reaches the more important ones. there is a probability that if you play well a minor character, you will play greater ones well by and by; while if you begin with the latter, you may prove deficient in them, and afterward be both unwilling and unable to play small parts. it was my ill-fortune to be put, soon after my entrance on the stage, in the position of a star in a travelling company. i think it was the greatest danger i encountered in my career, and the consequence was that when i afterward entered a regular stock company, i had not only a great deal to learn, but much more to unlearn. "the training by acting, in order to be useful, requires a certain combination of circumstances. it is good in the stock companies of europe, because with them the play-bill is constantly changed, and the young actor is required to appear in a great variety of characters during a short period. but it may prove the reverse of good in a theatre where the beginner may be compelled for a year or so to play one insignificant part. such a course would be likely to kill in him all the love of his art, render him a mechanical automaton, and teach him but very little. "private instruction can be given either by professors of elocution or by experienced actors. i know nothing of the first, as there are no professors of elocution, to my knowledge, outside of america and of england, and i never knew one personally. but speaking of private lessons given by experienced actors, there are certainly a great many arguments and instances in favor of that mode of instruction. of course, a great deal depends upon the choice of the teacher. but, supposing he is capable, he can devote more time to a private pupil than he can to one in a public school. some of the greatest actresses that ever lived owed, in great part, their success to the instructions of an experienced actor, of less genius than themselves. take, for instance, rachel and samson. strange to say, it happens often that very good actors make but poor professors, while the best private teacher i ever met was, like michonnet, but an indifferent actor himself. the danger is that the pupil in this kind of instruction may become a mere imitator of his model. imitation is the worst mode of learning, and the worst method in art, as it kills the individual creative power, and in most cases, the imitators only follow the peculiar failings of their model. "there are many objections to dramatic schools, some of which are very forcible. there is in them, as in private teaching, the danger of imitation, and of getting into a purely mechanical habit, which produces conventional, artificial acting. yet it is not to be denied that a great number of the best french and german actresses and actors have been pupils of dramatic schools, and that two of the schools--those of paris and vienna--have justly enjoyed a great celebrity. of the schools i have known personally i cannot speak very favorably. one point must be borne in mind; a dramatic school ought to have an independent financial basis, and not rely for its support on the number of its pupils, because in such a case the managers might be induced to receive candidates not in the least qualified for the dramatic profession. "of the three elements that, in my opinion, go to make up a good dramatic artist, the first one, technique, must be acquired by professional training; the second and higher one, which is art itself, originates in a natural genius, but can and ought to be improved by the general cultivation of the mind. but there is yet something beyond these two: it is inspiration. this cannot be acquired or improved, but it can be lost by neglect. inspiration, which jefferson calls his demon, and which i would call my angel, does not depend upon us. happy the moments when it responds to our appeal. it is only at such moments that an artist can feel satisfaction in his work--pride in his creation; and this feeling is the only real and true success which ought to be the object of his ambition." * * * * * there is but very little chance for women to succeed as lecturers at the present time. some few years ago the country seemed to be overrun with orators, both male and female. probably the woman-suffrage excitement had a great deal to do with this; at all events, there is not much demand now for female eloquence. twelve years ago a number of distinguished women were before the public. anna dickinson spoke on politics; since then she entered the dramatic profession. susan b. anthony, elizabeth cady stanton, spoke about woman-suffrage, a subject which seems for the time to have died out. olive logan talked on social topics; now she is in europe. mrs. livermore is the only female orator of that time who is now before the public, and she is as successful now as she was then. * * * * * as public readers, women who have a talent in that direction have an excellent chance at the present time. "readings" are getting to be a very popular form of entertainment. the theatres are offering such poor and trashy attractions that many educated people who want to be amused, are forced to seek diversion in this way. the general spread of culture is also, probably, creating a taste in this direction. the lady who would succeed as a public reader must, like the actress, be good-looking. the most successful lady readers now before the public are physically attractive. some of them are large, fine-looking women, while others are petite; but no matter what the particular style of beauty may be, they are all pleasing in their personal appearance. the woman who wants to make public reading a profession will do all she can to get her name and profession before the public. at first she will give free readings before church societies. in this way she will gradually become known, and, after a while, she will be able to appear before some lyceum in the small outlying towns. if she is favorably received she will be invited to come again, and so, gradually, her name and fame will become known, and if she has the necessary talent she will eventually command very good pay. at first she will give free readings. her readings for pay will, in the beginning, bring her from $ to $ a reading. after that the compensation will increase, according to her reputation as a reader. the very best female readers, or "elocutionists," as they prefer to term themselves, receive as much as $ for one entertainment. the social position which a lady occupies will have much to do with her success. if she has a large circle of influential friends in good social standing, provided, of course, she is talented, she will find the road to success much easier than it otherwise would be. book-agents. canvassing for books is a business in which some men have been known to make $ , a year, and a large number of other men have earned $ , and $ , in the same length of time. this is an occupation which, under certain conditions, is admitted to be just as suitable for a woman as a man. the newspapers have poked a great deal of fun at book-agents, and their ridicule has, doubtless, deterred many a person from following the occupation. a young man, a book-agent, once wrote for advice to the editor of a new york paper. he said that he had followed the calling for some time, and that he made, the year round, from $ to $ a week. he liked the work of travelling from place to place, but he had doubts as to whether his calling was a respectable one. would it not be better for him to get some other employment? the editor promptly informed him that the work he was doing was not only respectable but exceedingly useful; that many persons were glad to see him present to their notice the new and useful books he was endeavoring to sell; that his earnings were exceptionally large, and that it would be a long time before he could hope to earn as much in any other business. by all means he should remain a book-agent. it is said by the publishers of books that women make excellent book-agents; they cannot hope to make as much money as the very best male agents, but if they have the necessary qualifications they can do very well. the prerequisites required can be summed up under four heads: first of all, a woman must have pretty good health; if she has not, she will not be able to go through the necessary amount of physical exercise involved in the work. but it is not necessary that she shall be perfectly sound in body. many a woman enters the business because she has a delicate constitution, and because she believes that the exercise she will be obliged to take will do her good. and if her ailments are not too serious, she is seldom disappointed in this respect. second, she must have a great deal of what business men call "push," and what some people might term impudence. she cannot afford to be nervous about going into stores, offices, and houses, and offering what she has for sale. nor will it go well with her if she is bad-natured, and shows temper when she is not greeted cordially by the master or mistress of the house. she must have smiles and pleasant words for those who do not buy as well as for those who do. third, she must be a good judge of human nature, and on this one commandment, probably, hangs all the law and the prophets of book-canvassing. for, if she has been a student of mankind she will use great judgment in her vocation. she will call at the proper time, at the proper place, upon the kind of people who will most likely want to see her, or rather the book she has to offer. she will, by her demeanor, win the respect of the men, the admiration of the women, and the love of the children. it seems like saying a great deal too much, but it is a fact, that there are some lady book-agents whose calls are remembered as angels' visits, so agreeable were they in their manners, so charming in conversation. it must be admitted, however, that there are not many such women roaming up and down through the country. last of all, she must have great perseverance, and work continuously. women get very easily discouraged, no matter what occupation they pursue, if they do not very quickly see some substantial return for their work. the idea that "hope springs eternal in the human breast," was certainly never meant to apply to women; nor, maybe, was it meant to, seeing that it occurs in the "essay on man." the female book-agent is very much depressed if she does not make good earnings at the start. her depression so affects her spirits that she cannot be as industrious as she otherwise would, and so she does more and more poorly until, finally, she gives up the business. men agents do not, as a rule, become discouraged so easy. they know that provided they have got a good book, published by a good house, it is only a question of time when they will be making good earnings. women should go to work in the same spirit. if poor success is apt to discourage a woman (and, in what i say now i am only the mouthpiece of several publishers i have seen), a run of very good luck is liable to demoralize her. it is said that some lady agents, after making a considerable sum of money in a short space of time, will at once stop work, and, retiring to their homes, will not think of following the employment until their means are exhausted. of course that is foolish. while they are spending their time in idleness some new-comer has been assigned to the field they found so profitable. when they return to work it is with a listless spirit, and it will be quite a while before they can summon up that old-time energy, which comes, in any vocation, from long and continuous performance. women book-agents--and, in defence of this ungallant remark, i must state again that "i say the tale as 'twas said to me"--women book-agents are apt to waste a great deal of time in the spring and fall in getting their wardrobes ready for the coming season. "who ever knew of a man," remarked a cynical publisher, "stopping work for two or three weeks because he was going to have a suit of clothes made? no one. and yet you will find a female book-agent stop canvassing in the busiest season in order to superintend the making of her dresses." of course, all lady book-agents do not adopt this practice, but it is well to allude to the custom, because it is very unbusiness-like, and furnishes a hint in the direction of how not to succeed. two classes of women, publishers find, seek the employment of book-canvassing. a great many young ladies enter the business--it might be said skip into it--with all the gayety and with all the inexperience of youth. these young persons are about eighteen or nineteen years of age; they are buoyant of nature, full of hope, bursting with self-confidence. they work a few days or weeks, then abandon the business, tearfully proclaiming that it wasn't any thing like what they thought it would be. the really successful female book-agent belongs to the second class. she is of middle age, sometimes single, sometimes a widow, or, it may be, she is married, and is bravely assisting a sick or unfortunate husband in the support of the family. such a woman enters the business with the idea of making it her vocation. if she is a single lady or a widow, she is not on the look-out for a husband, when she should be carefully watching for customers. having passed the youthful stage of life, she is apt to be a pretty good judge of human nature, and, at all events, she will be quick to learn the ways and weaknesses of men when she is thus forced to daily come in contact with them. the earnings of this latter class of women are sometimes very large. of course, the reader understands that book-agents almost invariably work upon a commission. that commission varies. on some books it is only ten per cent.; on others it is sixty per cent. the better the book the less the per centage of profit; but, let it be remembered also, the better the book, the more ease in obtaining subscribers. some women make $ a week for many weeks running; some earn $ a week the year round. one lady made enough money in two years' canvassing to send her boy to college, and to purchase a home. in fact, the earnings of book-agents, even the best of them, cannot even be approximately stated. it is sufficient to say that a woman with the proper qualifications, who strictly attends to her business, who is persevering, full of courage, and who works diligently, is sure to succeed. no, there is one thing more needed--a good book. there are a great number of subscription books offered to agents every year, but out of the whole lot very few of them are of real value. and yet, it is not necessary that a book should be, intellectually speaking, first-class, in order to meet with a sale. some books issued by subscription at the present time cost $ and $ apiece. there is a cyclopedia for which the price is over $ . such books as these, it has been found, must be sold by male agents only. it has also been discovered that women are most successful in the sale of books of a religious or semi-religious character, issued at a reasonable price. the reason for this is apparent. they are brought in contact with the female members of families, and in thus meeting members of their own sex they are at no loss for interesting topics of conversation. for the successful book-agent, it is needless to say, does not, the moment she enters a house, present her wares and cry boldly "buy"; she "leads up" to the business in hand. in selecting a book a woman should go to a first-class publisher and pick out a work which, according to her judgment (and without much regard to what he may say, because he may very often be wrong), will meet a popular household demand. let her beware of all the small catch-penny kind of publications; reproductions, from old and worn-out stereotype plates, of books that no one, who really cares for books, will be likely to buy. there are so many good subscription books coming from the press in the present day that there is hardly any excuse for a woman who will waste her time in canvassing for poor ones. of course, the hasty books outnumber the books of real merit, but there are enough of the latter to furnish employment to all the women who will be likely to engage in this occupation. to give an example of the kind of publisher to be avoided, i may state that in a large eastern city there is a man who makes it his business, at certain seasons of the year, to advertise for young lady agents. he always wants "_young_ ladies," and he always wants them to be without experience. he publishes but one book, of which he is the putative author. the young ladies receive their board and a trifle for spending money at the end of every week, all living under one roof. accounts are settled only semi-annually. at the end of the first six months it is very generally found that the young lady agent is in debt to her publisher for board, and, at all events, whatever the statement of affairs may reveal, she is told that her services are no longer required, and a fresh and inexperienced damsel is at once secured to take her place. * * * * * while writing on the subject of agents, it may be well to put down a suggestion made to the author of this little book by a prominent florist. he said that it was surprising to him that ladies were not employed to solicit orders for trees, flowers, and seeds, etc. to his knowledge, no women were engaged in this occupation, and yet it seemed to be one for which they were especially fitted. agents of this character, it appears, carry with them large books containing highly illuminated drawings of the trees or plants they are endeavoring to sell. a lady could appeal with particular propriety to females who would be likely to be purchasers. the competition in the nursery business has been very great during the past few years, but the profits of agents are said to be good. as this is a new field of female labor, it might be worth while for a woman who has a fancy for such work to endeavor to secure an agency. dress-making--millinery. from the modest appearance of the thousands of dwellings throughout the country that bear the legend: "fashionable dress- and cloak-making," no one would suppose it was a very lucrative employment. indeed, from the dingy and broken-down aspect of some of the establishments referred to, grave doubts might be entertained as to whether the inmates were able to earn the most modest kind of a living. the fact is that the great majority of dress-makers who set up in business for themselves are not very successful, for the reason that, in most cases, they have a very superficial knowledge of the trade, and cannot meet the demand for good work. a really first-class dress-maker is always sure of work, in either city or country. in order to be first-class she must have served an apprenticeship with, or learned the trade of, a woman who is actively engaged in the business. a great many women think they can get a good knowledge of dress-making by the use of charts and patterns. this is not the fact. undoubtedly charts and patterns are very useful for women who cut and make their own dresses, and they are aids in cutting and fitting generally; but so many changes have to be made, depending on the size and style of the woman to be fitted, and so much judgment is required to be used, that competent critics say that they are of no value to the professional dress-maker. one lady remarked that if all women were perfectly formed, charts and patterns would be a great help; but as the modern eves come very far short of physical perfection, not much help could be got from them. some authorities say that dress-making as a trade is not so good a business in new york as it was some ten years ago. the large dress-makers who employ considerable help are obliged to select the best locations in the city for their establishments, where the rent is very high, and to furnish their places in a style very much more expensive than in former years. as a consequence they do not pay as good wages as they once did, on account of having to lay out money in these ways. another change from the old methods is that the work of dress-making is, at the present time, divided into various departments. one woman will make the skirt, another will finish it, another will work on the sleeves, another will work the button-holes, and the fitting and draping are branches by themselves. the woman who would receive the highest wages to be obtained in this industry should master the whole business, and make herself competent to do all, or nearly all, the kinds of work which have just been mentioned. if she does do that, she need have no fear about obtaining employment. there are thousands of dress-makers in the country, but very few good ones. it is a trade of which it may be emphatically said that there is "room at the top." the dress-making season lasts from october st to february st; then there is very little to do until march th, when business becomes brisk and remains so until about the st of august. the hours of work are from a.m. until p.m. in the busy season it is often necessary to work in the evening. the pay ranges from $ to $ per week for ordinary hands, while competent women receive $ , $ , and $ a week. the forelady in a dress-making establishment will receive $ or $ a week. it is her duty to superintend the girls, to see that they arrive on time, to give out the work, and to see that it is done promptly and properly. some women who follow this calling prefer to go out to private families and work by the day. for such service they receive $ or $ . a day. in many respects this is a pleasant method, but it has its disadvantages. a woman is not always sure of how much she will earn unless, after years of work, she has secured the custom of a certain number of families, on whose patronage she can depend. there is so much responsibility and worriment attached to this way of working at the trade that the majority of dress-makers prefer to hire themselves out by the week, and feel sure of receiving each saturday night a stated amount for their services. the objection that applies to going out to private service is urged against a woman going into the business on her own account. besides, in large cities it would require considerable capital to pursue such a course. a dingy, insignificant little place could not hope to get much custom, and to compete with the large establishments a woman would have to be prepared to pay a high rent, lay out a large amount in furniture, and then, probably, have to wait a long time before she could be the owner of a good paying business. still, if she has plenty of capital, thoroughly understands the trade, and is enterprising in her methods of securing business, there is no reason why she should not succeed, provided she has a good location. * * * * * only the rich and the utterly incompetent patronize the milliner nowadays. it seems that women are very prompt to attend the "openings" in the spring and fall seasons, but the great majority of them do so only to see the styles. they go home and, unless they are very poor hands with the needle, make their bonnets themselves. a hat that would cost $ in the store, a woman of taste could make for $ . ; and one that would cost $ she could duplicate for a five-dollar bill. an idea can thus be formed of the profits of the business, and the suggestion will probably occur to the reader that it is a good business to follow. if a woman could secure a good store, at a reasonable rent, in a nice neighborhood, she would have a fair chance of doing well. of course it is to be supposed that she understands the milliner's trade, and that she has gained her knowledge in a practical way. it is seldom, however, that women are successful as proprietors of such stores. either they have made a mistake in selecting a location, or their means become exhausted while waiting for custom during the early dull days of their venture. it would take at least $ , or $ , to start a millinery store. a woman of unusually good taste and sound business judgment might get along with $ , . the best location in new york city would be between fourteenth and thirty-third streets, and broadway and sixth avenue; or on broadway or sixth avenue. teaching. the profession of teaching would seem, at a first glance, to be overcrowded. school committees who are charged with the duty of selecting tutors are, it is said, overwhelmed with applicants for the positions that are to be filled. young women are constantly striving to get places in academies, and the host of females who are seeking situations in the public schools of new york is, indeed, mighty. notwithstanding this discouraging view, a thoroughly qualified teacher need seldom be without employment. the women who have had a solid systematic training in the english branches, and who, in addition to mere mental qualifications, have the knack, or genius, it might be called, of reaching the minds of the young, are very few. there are plenty of superficially educated young women who "take up" teaching as their profession. they are not thoroughly grounded in the very rudiments of knowledge; they have no knowledge of, or sympathy with, children; they go through their work in a purely mechanical spirit; and they are utterly unfitted, in every way, for the profession they have selected for themselves. the woman who makes teaching her profession must have real ability, and feel herself thoroughly _adapted_ for the calling. no woman, unless she has great "influence," can hope to obtain a position in the public schools of new york. the western part of our country seems to be a good field for well-qualified teachers, who must, however, be endowed with some courage. the country is a good place for a young lady to begin work. positions are more easily secured, and the qualifications required are not so great as in the city. in the schools throughout the country the salaries of female teachers range from $ to $ , a year. the smaller salary would be given in a country school; the higher salaries would be paid in the academies in the large towns, and in cities. * * * * * teaching young children by the kindergarten method has become very popular within the past few years, and there is quite a demand for the establishment of kindergarten schools. in new york young ladies can learn this method of teaching in two schools; one a free school connected with a society devoted to "ethical culture," and a private school. the instruction given in the former is free, but the young women are expected to devote part of the day to the free scholars. this is an advantage, for it gives them a practical knowledge of the method. during the week there are three theoretical lessons, each lasting about two hours. so many are desirous of entering this institution, that it has been found necessary to have a competitive examination for the admission of candidates. in the private school the price of tuition is $ . in boston there are twenty kindergartens, all carried on by a lady. the salary of the teachers there is $ . in private families teachers are paid from $ to $ ; there is a good demand for instructors in that quarter. the price obtained from scholars taught in a kindergarten school depends solely on how much they can afford to pay; probably $ for the school year of nine months would be the average price. * * * * * the educational market is overstocked with teachers of languages. there are so many poor, broken-down foreigners in america who are perfectly competent to teach their respective languages, that there is a very small chance for home talent. a good teacher, in the city of new york, will receive $ an hour; but there are some who will teach as low as cents an hour, and there are others who, through their good address and social qualifications, will secure an entrance into fashionable society, and receive as high as $ an hour for doing no better service than their poorer-paid sisters. in academies and schools a lady teaching french and german will receive her board and from $ to $ a year. she must have learned these languages abroad, and have the real foreign accent, or she cannot obtain employment at these rates. if she has obtained her knowledge in this country, the salary will be from $ to $ . * * * * * music is now so generally taught to children, that there is a good chance for competent female teachers of the art to obtain scholars. there is a wide range in the prices paid for tuition; some teachers receive only cents a lesson, and some as high as $ . those who receive the latter sum are women of very great ability, who train young ladies to become public performers. the terms depend almost altogether on the wealth of the teacher's patrons; among people in moderate circumstances she will receive moderate pay, while the rich will very often give twice the amount for the same service. the ability and reputation of the teacher will have much to do with her earnings. to become a thoroughly competent music teacher will take three or four years' instruction. it is said that a good musical education can be obtained as well on this as on the other side of the water. many of the foreign music teachers in this country are as good as can be obtained abroad, and the european instructors, some critics say, do not give as much time and attention to pupils as the american tutors. * * * * * if a woman has a thorough knowledge of short-hand, she can do well, as a teacher of the art, in almost any community. many persons, even in remote and small places, would learn phonography if the subject were brought to their attention by an instructor. clergymen, lawyers, doctors, many women of leisure, young women who would study with a view to being amanuenses--all such people could be obtained as pupils. the teacher could give from fifteen to thirty or forty lessons, at a charge of from fifty cents to a dollar a lesson. a great many learners of this art prefer to have a teacher's help, though phonography can be mastered without such aid. * * * * * teachers of the art of decoration--the ornamentation of china screens, plaques, panels, etc.--and drawing, receive from $ to $ , a year. a course of two or three years' study will fit a properly talented woman to be an art teacher. there is a fair demand for such teachers in the large schools and academies throughout the country. brief notes on market gardening, poultry-raising, bee-keeping, house-keepers, cashiers, button-hole making, floriculture, authorship, type-writing, and working in brass. it would be impossible, within the limits of this little book, to go into the details of all the employments suitable for women; only the most important and best paying kinds of work have been mentioned in detail. some brief notes are here given of various occupations in which females are now engaged, and in which they are meeting with more or less success. =market gardening.=--some women make money by raising vegetables for the city markets. the produce is sometimes sent by rail, but, as a rule, it is brought in by trucks. this industry is not, as many might suppose, confined entirely to foreigners. there are thousands of american-born women throughout the country who are engaged in it, and who are doing well. mention is made of a woman who, starting with a capital of $ , made a good living in this way, cultivating only an acre of ground. her husband plowed and prepared the ground, and in her part of the work she had the assistance of the younger boys and the older girls. during the past year she made more money than her husband did from his farm. a woman could not expect to be successful in this occupation unless she was unusually strong and healthy, and had the taste for agricultural work very largely developed. those who are born and brought up in the country do the best. the raising of =poultry= for the large city markets is a lucrative occupation, or rather it can be made so, after a time, if the poultry-raiser gradually increases her stock of fowls. even if she does not care to do this she can be pretty sure of a fair living. about $ would be required to start in this business--$ for the fowls, and the balance for the erection of appropriate buildings for the animals. =bee-keeping.=--there is always a good market for honey, and those who understand the art of raising bees can be sure of making a fair living. women can do just as well as men, and many ladies are very successful. it would be necessary to start with not less than thirty swarms of bees, at a cost of from $ to $ a swarm, or hive. if the business is properly followed, it will increase in a very short time, as the colonies multiply rapidly. there are excellent books showing how this business can be carried on, but the theoretical knowledge gained from them must be supplemented by practical knowledge gained from experience. =house-keepers.=--the demand for house-keepers is very small; that is to say, there is very little chance for a strange woman to obtain a position of that kind. there are plenty of house-keepers, but when one is wanted she is generally found in the person of a poor relation or struggling friend within the immediate social precinct of the family who desire her services. such positions, however, when they can be obtained in the large cities, are looked upon as unusually good. house-keepers are employed by widowers to take entire charge of a house and look after the children, if there are any; by husbands with sick and delicate wives; or by couples who are wealthy enough to engage such service. they are paid from $ to $ per month, the salary depending on the duties they are expected to perform, and the wealth of the parties who employ them. a house-keeper in a large hotel occupies a responsible position. she must possess that rare feminine virtue--the ability to "get along" with servants. the occupation is very confining, and such workers can very seldom get, at one time, many hours' recess from their work. their wages run from $ to $ a month and their board; the larger the hotel, the more responsible the position and the greater the pay. =cashiers in hotels.=--it requires a great deal of "influence" to get the position of cashier in a hotel; it is a situation that is very much coveted. as the cashier is employed in the restaurant, it is only in hotels that are conducted on "the european plan" where such services are required. in such hotels the guests pay so much for their room, and get their meals where they please, paying at the time for what they get. as a rule, they patronize the restaurant connected with the hotel. the cashier has to work long hours. for instance: one day she will be on duty from a.m. until p.m. the next day from a.m. until a.m.; then a recess until p.m., then on duty until , midnight. she receives her board and a salary of from $ to $ a month. the board is always good. in the best hotels the cashier is allowed to order what she pleases from the regular bill of fare; other hotels have a special bill for the "officers" (as the better class of help are called), and from this the selection of food has to be made. =button-holes.=--ladies do not need to be told that the button-holes in fine dresses are made by hand. this kind of work has become a separate business, although there are some seamstresses who combine the making of button-holes with their regular sewing. dress-makers who employ twenty-five or thirty needlewomen usually keep one button-hole maker, paying her from $ to $ a week; very few pay the latter price. some women who work at this trade prefer to be paid by the piece. in this case they are paid at the rate of two cents and a half per button-hole. a good worker can make fifty button-holes in a day, and earn $ . . it would be a very smart woman who could make eighty, and earn $ a day. one trouble about working by the piece is that the woman very often has to wait until the work is got ready for her. as she is obliged to attend on several customers during the day she often suffers from this loss of time, sometimes losing a customer through the failure to keep an appointment, or being obliged to do a part of her work at night. the button-holes in white vests are done by hand. the pay is one cent a button-hole, and a woman can make $ or $ . a day. the work is always done during the winter months, there is plenty of it to do, and never any time lost in waiting. =florists.=--there are eight or ten ladies in new york and brooklyn who have charge of floral establishments. most of them assist their husbands; some are widows who have inherited the business. there is one lady in brooklyn who has built up a good business solely through her own efforts. this is a very good occupation for women who love flowers, who have good taste, an eye for color and the necessary executive ability to carry on a business by themselves. most of the florists in new york and brooklyn get their plants and flowers at wholesale from nurseries on the outskirts, purchasing such stock as they may require from time to time. land is so valuable in the city that florists have long since been compelled to give up the cultivation of flowers; besides, the streets in the central and business parts are so built up, both in new york and brooklyn, that the ground cannot be obtained at any price. now, they have small stores where they make a display of "samples" of the different varieties of flowers. the work is hard at times, the florist being obliged to remain up the best part of the night to fill an order, given at the last moment, for funeral or wedding pieces. the decorating of churches, halls, etc., is tiresome work, especially where palms are used, and where it is necessary to climb up and down ladders. the keeping of plants in pots in the store requires a good deal of labor. many women call and want to see what the florist has got. she has to raise up the pots of plants many times a day, and this is very tiresome to the wrists. the amount of capital required to start the florist's business is nothing like as much as it was before the large nurseries supplied the florists with what they wanted at wholesale rates. the sum would probably range from $ to $ , depending on the location, the style in which the store was fitted up, and the amount of rent that had to be paid. the profits are good, but vary, depending on the class of custom the florist obtains; twenty-five per cent. is considered a fair profit. the lady florist would not, probably, care to devote much time to potted plants. she could keep a few of the more common varieties, which would be sufficient. most of her business--and the best paying part of her business--would consist in making bouquets, and selling cut flowers. that is more profitable and pleasant than the selling and propagation of plants, and would require much less manual labor. florists keep informed about their occupation by carefully reading the catalogues issued by the various large wholesale dealers, in this country, and in europe, and the interesting and valuable books on floriculture that are issued from time to time. to establish a regular greenhouse, and raise plants and flowers for both the wholesale and retail trade, would require at least $ , . a woman to carry on the business in that way would have to be possessed of a great deal of executive ability, give her whole personal attention to the work, and be able to manage a considerable number of men. the business is better in the smaller cities than in either new york or brooklyn. in schenectady, it may be mentioned by way of illustration that, six years ago, there were no florists; now there are three. =authorship.=--authorship has now become, very largely, a matter-of-fact business conducted on business principles. if any woman has any thing to say that is worth listening to she will have no trouble in securing a publisher to reproduce her thoughts in book form. the idea that publishers strive to crush budding genius has long since been exploded. if they were guilty of doing that very often their occupation would be gone. the woman who has a manuscript to offer for publication should first see that it is written plainly on one side of the paper. then she should select a publisher who issues books of the same general character as the one she has written. some publishers make a specialty of light summer novels, some of society stories, some of scientific books, and so on. the manuscript is read by a "reader," who passes judgment upon it. if his opinion is favorable the publisher reads the manuscript and decides whether he will undertake to publish it. the book may be bought for a certain sum outright. or, a certain amount may be paid on publication, and an additional sum after the book has attained a stated circulation; or, a royalty of ten per cent. on what will be the retail price of the book may be given; or, the author may pay for the cost of manufacturing the book, owning the copyright, the plates, and the books printed, and paying the publisher ten per cent. for taking charge of the publication and sale of the book. contributions for the daily and the weekly literary papers are paid for at the rate of from $ to $ per one thousand words. many young women are ambitious to write for the story papers. there is but little chance of success in this direction. nearly all of the story papers have a regular corps of contributors, who often write under several different names, and who are paid a salary, or so much for each "instalment" of a continued story. a publisher, however, will always buy a "sensational" continued story if it is very good, and the fact that the author is unknown will not count against its acceptance. a continued story should contain not less than eight, nor more than thirteen, instalments of about four thousand words each. the pay for such a contribution would be from $ to $ an instalment. there is a greater demand for short stories for the story papers, stories containing from two to four thousand words. the price paid for such tales would be $ or $ .[a] [footnote a: the woman who contemplates authorship, or journalistic work, is advised to consult "authors and publishers; a manual of suggestions for beginners in literature." price, $ . . published by g. p. putnam's sons, and west d street, new york. this is not only the latest but the best book on the subject.] =type-writing.=--young women in the large cities do well working on the type-writer. a girl with a good common-school education, who is naturally bright, and quick with her fingers, can learn in four months' time to work on the type-writer. in eight months she ought to be an expert at the business. some pupils might be required to practise a year, or a year and a half, before they were thoroughly competent. forty words a minute is considered a good average rate of speed. salaries of lady type-writers in law, newspaper, and mercantile offices range from $ to $ a week. a woman would have to be a very expert type-writer, or have joined with the knowledge of type-writing some knowledge of short-hand, to earn $ a week. in railroad offices type-writers are paid $ a month. type-writing offices, where type-writing is done for the public by the job, and where this kind of help is employed, pay $ and $ a week. some women open offices and depend on job work. they receive five cents a folio (one hundred words) for furnishing one copy of a manuscript, eight cents a folio for two, and ten cents a folio for three copies. some charge ten cents per page (three hundred words) for furnishing one copy, twelve cents for furnishing two copies, and fifteen cents for furnishing three copies. several copies of a page can be taken at one time on the type-writer. this is an excellent industry for women. no special talent is required, except that a woman should be a good speller and have a fair knowledge of the rules of punctuation. a new telegraph company that has just been started is, it is said, going to employ lady type-writers in many of its offices to take down the messages as they are received by the operators. this of itself will create a great demand for lady type-writers. =wood-engraving.=--it requires four or five years' study for a woman to become competent in wood-engraving. after three years of hard work she may hope to do some ordinary engraving for which she will receive compensation. in the cooper institute (new york), where the art is taught to women, the course of instruction covers four years. the pupils work every day from a.m. to p.m. the year round, obtaining theoretical instruction from a teacher twice a week. for engraving a block a trifle larger than this page a woman will receive $ . it will take her from three to five weeks to do the work, depending on the amount of experience she has had in the business. some women occupy themselves on "catalogue work," _i. e._, engraving the illustrations for mercantile books and agricultural catalogues. at this branch of work they can make from $ to $ a week. there are very few female wood-engravers at present. to women who have the necessary talent, and who can afford to give the requisite amount of time to the study of the art, wood-engraving will furnish a sure means of making a living. =working in brass.=--this is a new occupation for women that is being taught in one of the technical schools in new york. a few women are successfully doing some work in the business and receiving fair pay. a lady who has a good knowledge of drawing can, it is said, after a course of twelve lessons do marketable work. pupils who are able to make original designs do the best. a course of twelve lessons in the school alluded to costs $ . the work is by the piece, and is paid for according to the style of the pattern. for small leaves the pay is from to cents each; leaves six inches in length $ each; a panel × inches, $ to $ , according to pattern. tiles are popular and well paid for. the work is very well suited for a woman, and her earnings ought to run from $ to $ a week, depending altogether on her talent. after taking lessons and learning the theoretical part of the business it would be well for a woman to go, for a short time, into some establishment where brass-work is done. there she would probably get some practical hints that would be of great service. the end. putnam's handy-book series of books for the household. i.--=the best reading.= a classified bibliography for easy reference, with hints on the selection of books, on the formation of libraries, public and private, on courses of reading, etc.; a guide for the librarian, bookbuyer, and bookseller. the classified lists, arranged under about subject-headings, include all the most desirable books now to be obtained either in great britain or the united states, with the published prices annexed. new edition, corrected, enlarged, and continued to august, . mo, paper, $ . ; cloth $ . "we know of no manual that can take its place as a guide to the selector of a library."--_independent._ =the library companion.= annual supplement to "the best reading." five volumes, for , , , , and , each ii.--=hand-book of statistics of the united states.= a record of the administrations and events from the organization of the united states government to . comprising brief biographical data of the presidents, cabinet officers, the signers of the declaration of independence, and members of the continental congress, statements of finances under each administration, and other valuable material. mo, cloth $ "the book is of so comprehensive a character and so compact a form that it is especially valuable to the journalist or student."--_n. y. world._ iii.--=what to eat.= a manual for the housekeeper; giving a bill of fare for every day in the year. pages, boards "it can hardly fail to prove a valuable aid to housekeepers who are brought to their wits' end to know what to get for the day's meals."--_san francisco bulletin._ iv.--=till the doctor comes, and how to help him.= by george h. hope, m.d. revised with additions by a new york physician. :: a popular guide in all cases of accident and sudden illness. mo, pages, boards "a most admirable treatise; short, concise, and practical."--_harper's monthly_ (editorial). v.--=stimulants and narcotics=; medically, philosophically, and morally considered. by george m. beard, m.d. mo, pages, cloth "dr. beard has given the question of stimulants the first fair discussion in moderate compass that it has received in this country. * * * the book should be widely read."--_n. y. independent._ vi.--=eating and drinking.= a popular manual of food and diet in health and disease. by george m. beard, m.d. mo, pages, cloth "the best manual upon the subject we have seen."--_n. y. world._ vii.--=the student's own speaker.= by paul reeves. a manual of oratory, comprising new selections, patriotic, pathetic, grave, and humorous, for home use and for schools. mo, pages, boards "we have never before seen a collection so admirably adapted for its purpose."--_cincinnati chronicle._ viii.--=how to educate yourself.= a complete guide to students; showing how to study, what to study, and how and what to read. it is, in short, a "pocket school-master." by george cary eggleston. mo, pages, boards "we write with unqualified enthusiasm about this book, which is untellably good and for good."--_n. y. evening mail._ ix.--=a manual of etiquette.= with hints on politeness, good-breeding, etc. by "daisy eyebright." mo, boards "the suggestions and directions are given with taste and judgment, and express the habits of good society."--_louisville courier-journal._ x.--=the mother's register.= current notes on the health of children, part i., boys. part ii., girls. "the mother records for the physician to interpret." from the french of prof. j. b. fonssagrives, m.d. mo, cloth xi.--=hints on dress.= by an american woman. mo, pages, cloth xii.--=the home=: where it should be and what to put in it. containing hints for the selection of a home, its furniture and internal arrangements, with carefully prepared price-lists of nearly every thing needed by a housekeeper, and numerous valuable suggestions for saving money and gaining comfort. by frank r. stockton. mo, pages, boards "young housekeepers will be especially benefited, and all housekeepers may learn much from this book."--_albany journal._ xiii.--=the mother's work with sick children.= by prof. j. b. fonssagrives, m.d. translated and edited by f. p. foster, m.d. a volume full of the most practical advice and suggestions for mothers and nurses. mo, pages, cloth "a volume which should be in the hands of every mother in the land."--_binghamton herald._ xiv.--=manual of thermometry.= for mothers, nurses, hospitals, etc., and all who have charge of the sick and the young. by edward seguin, m.d. mo, cloth xv.--=infant diet.= by a. jacobi, m.d., clinical professor of diseases of children, college of physicians and surgeons, new york. revised, enlarged, and adapted to popular use by mary putnam jacobi, m.d. mo, boards "dr. jacobi's rules are admirable in their simplicity and comprehensiveness."--_n. y. tribune._ xvi.--=how to make a living.= by george cary eggleston, author of "how to educate yourself." mo, boards "shrewd, sound, and entertaining."--_n. y. tribune._ xvii.--=manual of nursing.= prepared under the instructions of the new york training school for nurses, by victoria white, m.d., and revised by mary putnam jacobi, m.d. boards "better adapted to render the nurse a faithful and efficient coöperator with the physician than any work we have seen."--_home journal._ xviii.--=the blessed bees.= an account of practical bee-keeping, and the author's success in the same. by john allen. boards "i scarcely looked up from the volume before i had scanned all its fascinating pages."--prof. a. t. cook, in _american bee journal_, , p. . xix.--=the handy-book of quotations.= a dictionary of common poetical quotations in the english language. mo, boards "compact and comprehensive. * * * an invaluable little volume."--_providence journal._ xx.--=from attic to cellar.= a book for young housekeepers. by mrs. oakey. mo, cloth "an admirable collection of directions and counsels, written by a lady of large experience, in a style of perfect simplicity and great force. * * * i wish it were in the hands of every housekeeper and every domestic in the land."--h. w. bellows, d.d. xxi.--=emergencies, and how to meet them.= compiled by burt g. wilder, m.d., prof. of physiology and comparative anatomy in cornell university. mo, sewed "invaluable instructions, prompt attention to which would often save life or serious disaster."--_providence journal._ xxii.--=the maintenance of health.= by j. milner fothergill, m.d. third and cheaper edition. octavo, boards "the most important book of its kind that has ever been published in this country."--_christian union._ xxiii.--=the art of cooking.= a series of practical lessons by matilda lees dods the south kensington school of cookery. edited by henrietta de conde sherman. mo, cloth extra "the thoroughness of her preparation for the work which this experience has afforded is seen in the marked success of the experimental lessons that she is now giving. they are so clear and methodical, her manipulation is so deft and easy, and the dishes produced are so excellent, as to win the praise of all who hear her."--_n. y. times._ xxiv.--=hints for home reading.= a series of papers by edward everett hale, f. b. perkins, h. w. beecher, charles dudley warner, joseph cook, lyman abbott, m. j. sweetser, cyrus hamlin, h. w. mabie, and others. edited by lyman abbott. together with a new edition of "suggestions for libraries," with first, second, and third lists of , , , and , volumes recommended as the most important and desirable. vo, cloth, $ ; boards "we warmly commend the book for the guidance not only of bookbuyers but readers. its suggestions are invaluable to both."--_boston transcript._ xxv.--=first aid to the injured.= prepared under the authority of the first aid to the injured society. by peter shepherd, m.d., and bowditch morton, m.d. square mo, cloth extra "it is a book which ought to have a place in every family, and its simple rules should be carefully studied and mastered by every one."--_providence press._ xxvi.--=how to succeed=, in public life, as a minister, as a physician, as a musician, as an engineer, as an artist, in mercantile life, as a farmer, as an inventor, and in literature. a series of essays by senators bayard and edmunds; doctors john hall, willard parker, and leopold damrosch; gen. sooy smith, hamilton gibson, commissioner geo. b. loring, lawson valentine, thomas edison, and e. p. roe. with an introduction by lyman abbott. mo, boards "no book, we fancy, could more directly appeal to the mass of americans than one with this title. * * * will find solid help in these remarkable little essays that deal with great expectations."--_n. y. herald._ xxvii.--=work for women.= being hints to aid women in the selection of a vocation in life, and describing the several occupations of short-hand writing, industrial designing, photographing, nursing, telegraphing, teaching, dress-making, proof-reading, engraving, etc., etc., etc. by george j. manson. mo, boards "full of useful suggestions."--_philadelphia american._ xxviii.--=health notes for students.= by prof. burt g. wilder, of cornell university. uniform with "emergencies." mo, paper "the instructions are never extreme, and always sensible."--_chicago tribune._ xxix.--=the home physician.= a summary of practical medicine and surgery for the use of travellers and of families at a distance from physicians. by luther m. gilbert, m.d., attending physician to the connecticut general hospital. mo, cloth "concise, comprehensive, and practical."--_st. paul dispatch._ xxx.--=bread-making.= a practical treatise, giving full instructions for the making of bread and biscuits, mo, boards g. p. putnam's sons, new york and london. transcriber's notes: passages in italics are indicated by _underscore_. passages in bold are indicated by =bold=. other than the corrections listed below, printer's inconsistencies in spelling, punctuation, hyphenation, and ligature usage have been retained. two different versions of spelling for housekeeper and hand-book occur in this book (advertisements: housekeeper and hand-book; main text: house-keeper and hand-book). the following misprints have been corrected: changed "abbot" into "abbott" in preface changed "they are familliar," into "they are familiar." page changed "or eight o'clock," into "or eight o'clock." page changed "gratuitiously" into "gratuitously" page changed "month" into "months" page changed "treshhold" into "threshold" page added " after "to go by." page changed "negro" into "negro" page changed "about woman suffrage, a" into "about woman-suffrage, a" page changed "bee-keeping.--there is" into "bee-keeping.--there is" page changed "type-writing.--young women" into "type-writing.--young women" page changed "excellant" into "excellent" advertisement changed "and , each," into "and , each" advertisement changed " pages, boards," into " pages, boards" advertisement changed " pages, boards," into " pages, boards" advertisement changed " mo, paper," into " mo, paper" advertisement