GLASS-MAKING. 1 7 1 



ency to become stiff and unmanageable in the cold, a gas-flame is 

 kept constantly burning under the engraving plate. The sheets 

 of paper as they come from the press are covered with a thick 

 layer of ink in those portions which correspond to the parts of the 

 globe not to be etched. While still fresh, the printed sheets are 

 passed to a girl sitting at a neighboring table. She cuts off the 

 superfluous paper surrounding the design, and wraps the print 

 around the globe to be treated. A second print serves to cover the 

 globe completely. The paper is pressed tightly against the glass, 

 and the wrapped-up globe then warmed over a gas-stove for a few 

 moments. The paper is left on for a day or so, and when it is 

 finally removed the design is found transferred to the glass. It 

 will be seen that the process is not unlike that by which in former 

 years decalcomania were attached to china and marble, to their 

 supposed ornamentation. 



The globe is now a study in black and white, and is ready for 

 the etching proper. 



The acid-room — for such is the name applied to the apartment 

 where the etching process is carried out — is a truly villainous place. 

 The atmosphere is so charged with hydrofluoric acid that* it has a 

 sharp smell and a most irritating effect upon the bodily economy 

 generally. The instantaneous photograph of the bath had to be 

 taken with more than customary expedition, lest the ninety-dollar 

 lens in use should be fouled by the fumes. The man in charge of 

 the process wears rubber gloves, and has his face partially pro- 

 tected from the fumes by a thick, bluish- white ointment. His ap- 

 pearance, in consequence, is far from prepossessing. The protec- 

 tion, however, is of a very superficial character. It leaves the 

 eyes and the breathing apparatus entirely exposed. The operators 

 soon show the ravages of the unwholesome atmosphere. Poor, 

 pale ghosts of men, with red and blinking eyes, one wonders that, 

 in a world so full of wholesome activities, they should be willing 

 to sacrifice the best part of themselves in such an unnecessary 

 cause. It is one of the saddest features of modern industrial life 

 that things become so vastly more important than men, that both 

 employers and employed — the responsibility is a joint one — come 

 to look upon the ledger account as the first consideration and man- 

 hood the second. Dainty as are the products of this industrial- 

 ism, I find myself taking less pleasure in them as I go more among 

 the workers, and see what a price of dull routine and unwhole- 

 some labor is paid for the wares. If beautiful things are neces- 

 sarily the product of unbeautiful lives, I am quite willing to forego 

 the things. Under the present industrial regime, one feels almost 

 an accessory to the degradation of human life if he purchase arti- 

 cles made on a large scale under the factory system. Morally, 

 there is complicity, however unwilling we may be to admit it. It 



