particular objects,—as a group of statuary,
—where the back of the shade is wider than
the front. In another room, boys are cutting
little squares of glass on marked counters,
with rulers and glaziers' diamonds. These
are to cover miniatures and daguerreotypes;
but where they can all go to—many thousands
in a week—we cannot conceive. The
demand from America is very great, we are
told: but it seems to us, that if all American
and English children were to amuse themselves
with breaking the glasses of miniatures,
what we now see in this room would
repair the damage. If such be the quantity
of glass in bits, it may be conceived what the
amount must be in sheets. We pass hundreds
and thousands set on edge. Handfuls of
straw are thrust between the plates to keep
them apart; and in rooms near there is a
vast packing always going on.

The conclusion of our survey is charming.
We find men, women, and boys painting and
enamelling glass. A sheet, is covered smooth
with a white enamel, which has itself much
of the character of glass. Slips of brass, with
patterns cut out, are laid oh the enamel, and
rubbed over, so as to leave the pattern clear.
It is, in fact, stencilling; only, instead of
laying on paint through the holes in the
pattern, the enamel beneath is rubbed off
there. A woman is covering a sheet all over,
except a border, with some thick black substance.
This sheet is to be embossed. The
border is to be corroded by an acid, and she
is protecting all the rest of the surface by
this covering. An artist is painting a broad
border with the blue iris—as beautiful as life
—and convolvulus and poppies. The panes
of lanterns are almost as astonishing for
quantity as the miniature glasses; and extremely
various in patterns. But we should
never have done, if we told what pretty things
we saw; or if we entered into details about
the schools; or described the life and condition
of the twelve hundred work-people
connected with this vast establishment.

There was a certain fountain in the centre
of a certain Exhibition which need not be
described, because everybody knows it. We
have been to see how that fountain was made,
and have had the honour—a somewhat
laborious one—of lifting some of its portions;
a shell, a spike, an ornament or two, each of
which required the whole strength of an unpractised
person to raise from the ground.
The weight of the fountain, before the
trimming and dressing, was upwards of four
tons. Mr. Osler engaged three railway carriages
(passenger train) to convey it to
London, he taking his own seat in a fourth.
A wall was built in the centre of the transept
for the foundation of this beautiful structure;
and the building up was done slowly and
carefully. When the Queen and Prince Albert
walked round the screen which surrounded
the work which Mr. Osler was superintending
within, they could not have imagined—for
none but the artificer could—what would be
the beauty of this transparent shaft, with its
streams of water falling like a veil around it,
when the slanting sunlight from the roof
touched it, and sent thousands of gleams and
sparkles through it. It could be, and it was,
removed in one night; but many were the
anxious nights and weary days which passed
over the making of it. If the Messrs. Osler
could have devoted their works and their
people wholly to the making of this fountain,
it would have been pleasant enough; but it
had to be done in addition to their ordinary
business; and desperately hard work it was.

We saw how some of its parts were made,
in seeing how ornamental glass—vases,
pitchers, decanters, chandeliers, and many
fancy articles, come out of the hands of the
workmen. Of the earlier processes of the art
we need not speak, as they resemble those
which were described long ago; but there is
one circumstance which ought to be noted;
the form of the great chimney of the glass-house.
Mr. Osler knows what he is about in
matters of science; and he perceived that the
prejudice in favour of a chimney with a
narrow top was a mistake. He determined
to build his the same width, inside, all the
way up. Perhaps, if he had to do it over
again, he might even make it wider at the
top, as the heated air requires plenty of room
for expansion and escape. Some people
thought the plan a very odd one, and said
there could be no proper draught. Everything
else about this carefully planned glass-house
was capital; but who ever heard of
such a chimney for a glass-house? There it
is, however, resting upon strong pillars; and
with such a draught, that at times the
business is to moderate it.

Passing the mixing rooms, the pots, the
melting, the blowing, we give a moment's
attention to the method of forming a decanter
or pitcher. The workman sits in a "chair"
—a bench with two long arms to it—and
rolls his iron pipe or tube, with the left hand
on these arms, to keep the soft glass in shape,
while with the right he applies a pair of tongs
to fashioning the neck of his decanter, or
claret-jug, or whatever it may be. It is a
pretty sight; and so are the long vistas of
glass, in the kiln first, and then in the "lear"
—the milder oven, in which the annealing of
the smaller articles is done. We leave the
glass-house, and travel to the manufactory,
where we see how the drops for chandeliers,
and all manner of arms and branches, are
made, and how the cuttings, and polishings,
and putting together are done. Here is a
deaf and dumb man casting drops and
"spangles," as small square drops are called.
Why not? Hearing and speech are not
required for this work; and there he sits
diligent and still. One wonders what he
thinks about, all the while. He tosses a bit
of coal into his little furnace, every minute or
so. The coal is on his right hand, and on his