construction there is a magazine containing a series of tubes for the letter or character moulds, each of which moulds is provided with a single character. There are a number of duplicates of each character, and the moulds containing the same character are all arranged in one tube. The machine is provided with a series of finger keys, which, when pressed like the keys of a typewriter, cause the letter moulds to assemble in a line in their proper order for print. A line mould and a melting pot are then brought into proper relation to the assembled line of letter moulds. and a cast is taken, called the linotype, which represents the entire line, a column wide, of the matter to be printed. The letter moulds are then automatically returned to their proper magazine tube. The Mergenthaler machine is largely in use in the principal newspaper offices, with the result that a single operator does at least the work of four average compositors.'

Mr Rogers obtained a United States patent, September 23, 1890, for a machine for casting lines of type, the principal feature of which is that the letter moulds are strung on wires secured on a hinged frame. "When the frame is in one position, the letter moulds are released by the keys, slide down the wires by gravity and are assembled in line at the casting point. After the cast is taken, the lower ends of the guide wires are elevated, which causes the letter moulds to slide back on the wires to their original position, when the operation is repeated for the next line." Operated by a single person, the Mergenthaler produces and assembles linotypes ready for the press or stereotyping table at the rate of from 3,600 to 7,000 ems (type characters) per hour. It permits the face or style of type to be changed at will

and it permits the operator to read and correct his matter as he proceeds.

To the aid of the ordinary printing press came electrotyping, stenographic colour printing, engraving, and smaller job and card presses, all entirely new creations within the century, and of infinite variety, each in itself forming a new class in typographic art, and a valuable addition to the marvellous transformation.

The introduction of the linotype and other modern machines into printing offices has without doubt many times reduced and displaced manual labour, and caused at those times at least temporary suffering among employees. But statistics do not show that as a whole there are fewer printers in the land. On the contrary, the force seems to increase, just as the number of printing establishments increase, with the multiplication of new inventions. As in other arts, the distress caused by the displacement of handlabour by machinery is local and temporary. The whole art rests for its development on the demand for reading matter, and the demand never seems to let up. It increases as fast as the means of the consumers increase for procuring it. One hundred years ago a decent private library, consisting of a hundred or so volumes, one or two weekly newspapers, and an occasional periodical, was the badge and possession alone of the wealthy few.

Now

nearly every reading citizen of every village has piled up in some corner of his house a better supply than that, of bound or unbound literature, and of a far superior quality. Besides the tons of reading matter of all kinds turned out daily by the city presses, every village wants its own paper and its town library, and every one of its business men has

recourse to the typewriter and the printer for his letters, his cards, and his advertisements.

To supply the present demand for printed matter with the implements of a hundred years ago, it would be necessary to draw upon and exhaust the supply of labourers in nearly every other occupation. Printing would become the one universal profession.

The roar of the guns at Waterloo and the click of the first power printing press in London were nearly simultaneous. The military Colossus then tumbled, and the Press began to lead mankind. Wars still continue, and will, until men are civilised; but the vanguard of civilisation are the printers, and not the warriors. The marvellous glory of the nineteenth century has proceeded from the intelligence of the people, awakened, stimulated, and guided by the press. But the press itself, and its servitors and messengers, speeding on the wings of electricity, are the children of the inventors.

These inventions have made the book and the newspaper the poor man's University. They are mirrors which throw into his humble home reflections of the scenes of busy life everywhere. By them knowledge is spread, thought aroused, and universal education established.

CHAPTER XVIII.

TEXTILES.

Spinning:-A bunch of combed fibre fixed in the forked end of a stick called a distaff, held under the left arm, while with the right forefinger and thumb the housewife or maiden deftly drew out and twisted a thread of yarn of the fibre and wound it upon a stick called a spindle, was the art of spinning that came down to Europe from Ancient Egypt or India without a change through all the centuries to at least the middle of the fourteenth century, and in England to the time of Henry VIII. Then the spinning wheel was introduced, which is said to have also been long in use in India. By the use of the wheel the spindle was no longer held in the hand, but, set upon a frame and connected by a cord or belt to the wheel, was made to whirl by turning the wheel by hand, or by a treadle. The spindle was connected to the bunch of cotton by a cord, or by a single roving of cotton or wool attached to the spindle, which was held between the finger and thumb, and as the spindle revolved the thread was drawn out and twisted and wound by the spindle upon itself.

In the cloth of the ancient East the warp and weft were both of cotton. In England the warp was linen and the weft was cotton. The warp was made by the cloth and linen manufacturers, and the weft yarns furnished by the woman spinsters throughout the country. By both these methods only a single thread

at a time was spun. The principle of the spinning operation, the drawing out and twisting a thread or cord from a bunch or roll of fibre, has remained the same through all time.

The light and delicate work, the pure and soft material, and the beauty and usefulness of raiments produced, have all through time made woman the natural goddess, the priestess, the patroness, and the votary of this art. The object of all modern machinery, however complicated or wonderful, has simply been to increase the speed and efficiency of the ancient mode of operation and to multiply its results. The loom, that antique frame on which the threads were laid in one direction to form the warp, and crossed by the yarns in the opposite direction, carried through the warp by the shuttle thrown by hand, to form the woof, or weft, comprised a device as old as, if not older than, the distaff and spindle.

The ancient and isolated races of Mexico had also learned the art of spinning and weaving. When the Spaniards first entered that country they found the natives clothed in cotton, woven plain, or in many colours.

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After forty centuries of unchanged life, it occurred to John Kay of Bury, England, that the weaving process might be improved. In 1733 he had succeeded in inventing the picker motion, " picker peg,' or "fly." This consisted of mechanical means for throwing the shuttle across the web by a sudden jerk of a bar one at each side-operated by pulling a cord. He could thus throw the shuttle farther and quicker than by hand-make wider cloth, and do as much work in the same time as two men had done before. This improvement put weaving ahead of spinning, and the weavers were continually calling