THE DRAMA OF FURNACE, FORGE AND SHOP. 



BY DAY ALLEN WILLEY 



[Day Allen Willey, editor and author; born Rochester, N. Y., Aug. 6, 1860; educated 

 at the University of Rochester; has written hundreds of articles chiefly on scientific 

 and technical subjects for American and English periodicals; his home is in Balti- 

 more.] 



The names of a hundred Americans have become house- 

 hold words as illustration of one man power, but others there 

 are who also control trusts of wonderful force, unknown save 

 to the few who see them day by day in the garb of the machine 

 shop or foundry, yet actors in a play of thrilling interest. Long 

 before the term "trust" became so familiar to the people com- 

 binations of steam, electricity, and even the air itself had been 

 so perfected by human ingenuity that forces of marvelous 

 strength could be exerted to the utmost or held inactive by a 

 single intelligence. 



When one realizes the mechanical perfection seen to-day 

 in the great plants of the country a striking parallel is found 

 between such merging of power and the welding of business 

 and financial interests. Economy is the main object of both — 

 economy of man's labor and economy of time — two principal 

 sources of wealth. Stroll through one of the industries where 

 the trainload of dingy brown rock, which they say is iron ore, 

 goes away in a fortnight in ordnance, building girders, or 

 armor plate, and what a series of pictures of mechanical com- 

 bination and control does it present ! 



Even the initial process has its display of force. When 

 the casting is to be made a gang of men scoop a pit in the earth 

 floor or the foundry so deep that, completed, a ladder is needed 

 for them to reach the top. This hole is beneath a railroad 

 track, which extends along the side of the building, and is lined 

 with fireclay and brick. Along the track come two iron 

 tanks on trucks, urged on by men who prod them with crow- 

 bars. They stop on either side of the pit, and you step back 

 as you wonder how the men, half naked as they are, can stand 



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