284 BOOK OF THE BLACK BASS. 



shown through the different apartments and saw the various manip- 

 uUitions the wire taken froiu the coil undergoes, until the delicately 

 pointed, japanned hook is ready for the market. In one corner of a 

 room there was a large pair of upright scissors; with a quick snap 

 two hundred or more pieces of the required length were cut from a 

 bundle of wire; six to ten of these pieces are taken, held firmly 

 against an iron bar, and an incision made with a sharp knife, for the 

 barb. Next the filer takes each one separately with a pair of pliers, 

 holds it in a vise, and with a few deft movements of a file, the 

 embryo hook is pointed. Now they are bent on diflFerent forms. 

 This is the christening period. They come forth, Sproat, Limerick, 

 O'Shaughnessy, Kirby, Kendall, Sneck Bend, Hollow Points, and 

 Round Points. The hardening process is the next in order. As we enter 

 this department our nostrils are assailed by a fearful stench of burn- 

 ing fish-oil. We would like to retreat — an instant's consideration — 

 we decide to ignore the olfactory nerves and keep on. Here we are 

 shown rows of ovens, all filled with pans of burning, blazing hooks. 

 They are kept in this fiery furnace from fifteen to twenty-five minutes, 

 then taken and thrown into the bath of oil. We were informed they 

 formerly used water for cooling, but now they considered oil the best. 

 True to Yankee instinct, I queried why. The workman did not 

 enter into a learned discussion on the molecular construction, or 

 atomic properties of steel, and the consequent differentiation of the 

 particles in cooling, as a Boston girl might have done, but witli a 

 wise nod and a firm pressure of the lips said, "The oil is the best." 

 I thought the oil was used to keep visitors from intruding. The 

 hooks taken from the oil are quite brittle. To remedy this they are 

 reheated. During this process, which lasts but a few minutes, they 

 are stirred briskly in sand. 



We next visited the scouring room. Here were eight small barrels, 

 all filled with hooks and fine sand, revolving and turning round and 

 round with a deafening clash and clang. In this room the workmen 

 escaped quizzing. The noise was too much for me. Now for the 

 finishing touches — the japanning. The japan is a black, tarry liquid 

 made in Birmingham, the composition of which seems to be a trade 

 secret, as I failed to learn it. Two coats of japan are applied; they 

 are heated moderately in an oven and thoroughly mixed after each 

 heating. 



