spoiled when the white centre hangs over one
shoulder. It is true, the " longs " are heavy
and very warm, from being twice doubled.
But they have one advantage which ladies
hold to compensate for those difficulties; they
can be folded to any size, and therefore to
suit any figure,—tall or short, stout or thin.
We are assured that, for one square shawl
that is sold, there are a hundred " longs."

A capital machine now intervenes, with
its labour-saving power; this time, of French
invention. Formerly, it took two girls a whole
day to cut off the refuse threads from the
back of a shawl. But this machine,
superintended by a man, does it in a minute and a
half. A horizontal blade is traversed by
spiral blades fixed on a cylinder, the revolving
of which gives to the blades the action of
a pair of scissors. The man's office is to put
in the shawl, set the machine going, and to
beat down the refuse as fast as it is cut off.

The upper surface of the shawl remains
somewhat rough—rough enough to become
soon a rather dirty article of dress, from
the dust which it would catch up and retain.
It is therefore smoothed by singing. This
very offensive process is performed by a
man who must have gone through a severe
discipline before he could endure his
business. He heats his iron (which is like a
very large, heavy knife, turned up at the
end) red hot, spreads the shawl on a table
rather larger than itself, and passes the
red-hot iron over the surface, with an even
and not very rapid movement. What would
that Egyptian dragoman have said, who,
being asked to iron out an English clergyman's
white ducks, burned off the right leg
with the first touch of his box-iron? That
box-iron was not red hot, nor anything like
it; yet there is no such destruction here.
There is only the brown dust fizzing. Pah!
that's enough! let us go somewhere else.

In a light, upper room, women and girls
are at work, sitting on low stools, each with
a shawl stretched tightly over her knees.
Some of these are darning, with the utmost
nicety, any cracks, thin places, or " faults " in
the fabric; darning each in its exact colour.
Some are putting silk fringes upon the printed
shawls, tacking them in with a needle,
measuring each length by eye and touch, and then
knotting, or, as it is called, "netting" the
lengths by cross-ties. One diminutive girl of
nearly ten, is doing this with wonderful quickness,
as she sits by her mother's knee. The
girls do not come to work before this age;
nor the boys before twelve. In other rooms,
women are seated at tables, or leaning over
them, twisting the fringes of plaid shawls, or
picking out knots and blemishes with pincers,
and brushing all clean, and then folding them,
with sheets of stiff pasteboard between, ready
for the final pressure in the hydraulic press,
which makes them fit for the shop.

The fabric for the printed shawls is light
and thin, in comparison with the woven. The
thinness is various; from the barège to the
lightest gossamer that will bear the pressure
of the block. The whole importance of the
production consists in the printing; for the
fabric is simple and common enough. A man
can weave ten yards per day of the barège;
and the silk gauze, striped or plain, requires
no particular remark.

The designing is done with the same pains
and care as for the genuine shawl, but the
range of subjects is larger. While something
of the Oriental character of the shawl
patterns must be preserved, much of the beauty
of French figured silks and brocades and em-
broidery may be admitted. Thus the designing
and colouring-rooms contain much that
pleases the eye, though one does not see there
the means and appliances which fill some
apartment or another of Birmingham
factories—the casts from the antique, the volumes
of plates, the flower in water, and so on.
The preparation of the blocks for printing,
and yet more the application of them,
reminded us of the paper-staining, which we
had certainly never thought of before in
connexion with shawls. The wood used is lime-
wood. Some of the blocks are chiselled and
picked out, like those of the paper-stainer.
The cast-blocks are more curious. A punch
is used, the point or needle of which is kept
hot by a flame, from which the workman's
head is defended by a shield of metal. He
burns holes by puncturing with this hot
needle along all the outlines of the block he
holds in his hands, much as a little child
pricks outlines on paper on a horse-hair chair-
bottom. There is a groove along the face of
each block, to allow the metal to run in. The
burned blocks are screwed tight in a press,
their joined tops forming a saucer, into which
the molten metal (composed of tin, bismuth
and lead) is poured. In it goes, and down the
grooves, penetrating into all the burnt holes;
and, of course, when cool, furnishing a cast of
the patterns desired, in the form of upright
thorns or spikes on a metallic ground or
plate. These plates are filed smooth at the
back, and fixed on wood, and you have the
blocks ready to print from; one representing
one colour, another another, and so on, till
the plates for a single shawl of many colours
may mount up in value to a very large sum.

Before printing, the fabric has been well
washed; the barège being passed, by machinery,
over cylinders which apply and squeeze
out a wash of soap, soda and glue. All
roughnesses had previously been removed
by a " cropping " machine. After drying,
it comes to the printing-table, where it is
treated much like a paper-hanging. This
is all very well; but what is to be done in
case of a shower of rain?  a not improbable
incident in the life of a shawl. A paper
hanging would not stand a driving rain.
Are ladies imposed upon in this matter, when
they are offered a gay-printed shawl as
wearable out of doors? By no means. Nobody