wires, and applies the ends to the grindstone.
While doing this, he has to roll every wire
between his finger and thumb. Backwards
and forwards he makes them revolve, in
contact with the wheel; and off flies a shower of
sparks. One end being done, he presents the
other; for it must be remembered that these
wires are of the length of two needles. As
he works, we see the dust rushing under the
cover, quite away from the workman's face;
and we are invited to go and see what
becomes of it. There is a covered fan-wheel in
the middle of the chamber, turned by water-
power; and this it is which sucks away the
dust from all the four grindstones at once.
We pass outside to the end of the building,
and go down some more steps, to the brink of
the stream which is flowing away down the
little ravine. We observe that a patch of the
opposite bank, some way down, is whitened—
crusted over with dust; and, looking
carefully, we see puffs, as of a thin smoke, coming
from behind a grey stone on our side of the
bank. Behind that stone is the outlet from
the fan-wheel, and the whitening on the grass
and brambles is the dust which would have
hung about the men and within the men, if
they had not consented to this saving measure.

It is a plan which costs a little money in
the first instance; although it saves a vast deal
in the end. That fan-wheel uses up a third of
the water power appropriated to this chamber.
The men have, nominally, the same wages as
of old; but they pay their share of this loss,
at the rate of about a shilling a-week. This
is their toll for life and health. The masters
bear a much larger share, and with extreme
content. It may be mentioned here, that
from the nominally high—extremely high—
wages of this class of men, must be deducted
the mill-rents they pay, and the cost of their
tools—amounting altogether to ten or twelve
shillings a-week.

We now have the wires straight, and
pointed at both ends. We next find ourselves
in a workshop, in the next street to Mr.
James's. Here, we see a stamping machine
and die, which flattens and prints a space
precisely in the middle of each bit of wire.
The print shows where the eye is to be, and
at the same time the "guttering" is done—
the forming the little channel seen in the
heads of all needles. The workman strikes
off five thousand of these in an hour; that is,
he flattens and "gutters" the heads of ten
thousand needles per hour—rather an
advance upon the old method of doing each one
by hand! Then comes the punching of the
eyes. The punch is double, of course; and
the boy who works it, perforates four thousand
wires, or eight thousand needles per hour.
This is dexterous work, the wires being laid
and removed almost faster than the eye can
follow.

The next boy we noticed was seven years
old; a little fellow hired by the woman under
whom he worked. " This boy,'' we were told,
"earns his living by spitting. He is not an
American; yet he passes his days in spitting."
Before him lay bits of wire almost as fine as
hairs: and these wires he was running
through the eyes of the twin needles which
had come from the punch. He ran a wire
through each line of eyes, "spitting" two
dozen or so on his two wires. A woman,
whose wrists and arms were obviously of
unusual strength, received these spitted needles,
laid them on a prepared steel plate, and filed
off all roughness on both sides. The twin
needles had yet to be separated, and the
fragments of flattened steel surrounding the
heads to be removed. This was done by a
woman close at hand, who sat before her
little anvil, filing with precision between the
rows of heads, so that they separated easily;
and then, by another movement, clearing
away all extraneous bits and sharp edges,
delivering her spitsful of needles complete
in form.

They are still rough and rusty-looking;
and, what is worse, they are soft;—so soft as
to bend with a touch. The hardening comes
next. They are heated, in batches, in the
furnace, and, when red hot, are soused into a
pan of cold water.—Next, they must be
tempered; and this is done by heaping them (all
lying the same way) on a very hot metal
plate, where a man with a metal slice, called
"a knife," in each hand, shifts them
incessantly backwards and forwards, upon each
other, taking care that all get, as nearly as
possible, an equal quantity of heat. If any
get too little, they bend in the using; if too
much, they break. As they turn blue upon
this plate, they are removed, the shade of
blueness showing when they are tempered
enough.

The polishing remains to be done. The
best needles are polished no less than six
times; and there are three stages of polishing
for all. The final scouring is the most
emphatic affair. To see it, we must find
ourselves at the mill again. The water power
there appears to be moving half a-dozen
mangles: and very like mangling the process
is. On a very coarse cloth, which lies upon
another coarse cloth, needles are spread, to
the number of forty or fifty thousand. Emery
dust is strewed over them: oil is sprinkled
upon them, and soft soap is daubed by spoonfuls
on the cloth. The whole precious mess
is then rolled up compactly, and tied at both
ends, and round and round, as tight as pack-
thread can bind it; and we have before us
a disgusting black "roly-poly" dumpling.
Several of these are put into one of the
mangles, where they roll to and fro for eight
hours. By that time, the emery is worn
smooth, the packets are taken out, and the
needles are dressed with fresh emery, oil, and
soap; and another eight hours' mangling
succeeds. From this, the needles come out
dirty enough, and smelling horribly; but they
are capable now of showing their brightness.