Having undergone one or two annealings in
brick ovens attached to this department, these
fillets may be considered ready for another
process, which takes place, after twelve hours'
delay, in a place that is called the Drawing
Room.

In this department the coarser work of the
Rolling Room is examined and perfected. The
fillets, or ribands of gold, after being subjected
to another rolling process, the chief object of
which has been to thin both ends, are taken to
a machine called a draw-bench, where their
thickness is perfectly equalised from end to end.
The thin end of the golden riband is passed
between two finely-polished fixed steel cylinders
into the mouth of a part of the concrete
machine, which is called a "dog." This dog is a
small thin carriage, travelling upon wheels over
a bench, under which revolves an endless chain.
In length and appearance this dog is like a seal,
with a round, thick head, containing two large
eyes that are formed of screws, and having a
short-handled inverted metal mallet for a hat.
Its mouth is large, and acts like a vice, and
when it has gripped the thin end of the golden
riband in its teeth, its tail is affixed to the
endless chain, which causes it to move slowly along
the bench, dragging the riband through the fixed
cylinders. When the riband has passed through
its whole length, the thin end at its other
extreme coming more quickly through the narrow
space between the cylinders, causes it to release
itself with a sudden jerk, and this motion partly
raises the mallet-cap of the backing dog, which
opens its broad mouth, and drops its hold of the
metal badger that it has completely drawn. A
workman now takes the fillet and punches out
a circular piece the exact size of a sovereign,
and weighs it. If the golden dump, or blank,
as it is called, is heavy, the dog and the
cylinders are put in requisition once more to draw
the riband thinner; but, if the weight is
accurate (and perfect accuracy at this stage is
indispensable), the smooth, dull, impressionless
counter, looking like the brass button of an
Irishman's best blue coat, is transferred to another
department, called the Press Cutting Room.

The Cutting Room may claim the honour of
being the noisiest place in the building. The
finest oration, or the most melodious song that
ever came from human lips, would be utterly
thrown away in this department; and if any
disciple of James Watt took to instructing pupils
here in the mysteries of shafts, presses, and
flywheels, it would have to be done through the
medium of the deaf and dumb alphabet.

In this room, twelve cutting-presses, arranged
on a circular platform, about two feet in height,
surround an upright shaft, and a horizontal
revolving fly-wheel; and at the will of twelve boys,
who attend and feed the presses, the punches
attached to the presses are made to rise and fall
at the rate of a stroke a second. The ribands,
cut into handy lengths, are given to the boys,
who push them under the descending punches,
as sliding-frames are pushed under table
microscopes. The blanks fall into boxes, handily
placed to receive them, and the waste—like all
the slips and cuttings, trial dumps, failures, &c.,
in every department—is weighed back to the
melting-kitchen for the next cooking day.

Vigilance, as my guide impressed upon me, is
necessary at every stage of gold-coining. If the
rolling be not carefully done, the draw-bench
will not rectify all its errors; if the draw-bench
be not nicely adjusted, the thickness of the metal
riband will not be equal, and the cutting-punches,
however properly turned and tempered, would
produce pieces of varying weight.

From the noise and clatter of the Cutting Room
I was conducted to the elegant calmness of the
Weighing Room, a department handsomely fitted
up, and looking like a show-room for elaborate
chronometers. Here is performed one of the
most interesting and delicate operations
throughout the whole Mint. Upon the counter, on
ornamental iron stands, is a silent council of
thirteen automaton balances, who pass judgment,
individually, upon the work in the foregoing
departments, and decide with unerring
exactness upon the weight of the golden dumps.
These automaton judges sit under glass cases, to
preserve them from damp and dust, and they
have the appearance of being a row of French
skeleton clocks. The golden dumps that are
passed into the Weighing Room, still looking
like the aforesaid Irishman's brass button, are
distributed amongst the balances, passing down
a receiving slide on to a strip of steel. This
strip of steel is made to advance and recede at
certain intervals, perhaps of a quarter of a
minute, and at each advance it pushes a blank
on to a beautifully poised scale-table, sensitive
to the slightest variations of weight. For a
few seconds the machine appears to reflect, and
then the golden dump is gently pushed off the
scale by the arrival of another piece on the steel
slide for judgment. The first, if "heavy,"
disappears down the outer one of three flattened
tubes; if "light," down the inner one; and, if
quite correct in weight, down the centre
compartment. By careful manipulation, much of the
work is now made to fall in the medium boxes,
thereby effecting much saving in the annual
expenses of the Mint—a reform that is
attributable to the present working master and his
superintendents.

From the Weighing Room I followed the dumps
that were declared to be in perfect condition to
a department called the Marking Room, where
they received their first surface impression. This
rooin contains eight machines, whose duty it is
to raise a plain rim, or protecting edge, round
the surface circumference of the golden blanks.
This is done by dropping them down a tube,
which conducts them horizontally to a bed
prepared for them, where they are pushed
backwards and forwards between two grooved
"cheeks" made of steel, which raise the
necessary rim by pressure.

From this department I am taken by my guide
to a long bakehouse structure, called the Annealing
Room. Here I find several men cooks very
busy with the golden-rimmed blanks, making