332 HILLS AND LAKES. 



sizes, and you will see it piled in huge quantities in 

 the store-houses connected with the works, while 

 teams are constantly employed drawing it away to 

 Port Kent, the depot where it starts on its journey by 

 water to the southern and eastern markets. The man- 

 ufacturers here, dig their own ore, separate and wash 

 it. They burn their own charcoal, and from the ore 

 that is taken from the mines, they go clear through 

 with the manufacture of iron, without the use of a 

 single material that is not produced on the spot, or 

 within the same township. The ore goes in at one 

 end of the works, and comes out in nails or finished 

 bars at the other. The rushing sound of the great 

 bellows, the rumbling of the waterwheel, the thunder- 

 ing blows of the trip hammer, and the clank, clank, 

 of the nail-making machines, are all mingled on the 

 ear at once. 



It was a pleasant thing to see one of these great 

 workshops in the night time. The glare of the forges, 

 the intense light of the chunks of iron as they came at 

 a white heat from the blazing furnace, to see them 

 pass through the immense rollers as they were formed 

 into fitness for nail-making, coming out from the 

 pressing machine longer and longer, increasing in 



