Chapter XXVII: Part 27

In the beginning of the nineteenth century, when the little metal pieces of type were picked up one at a time and placed in the composing “stick” by hand, there was attached to the work an importance which elevated it almost to the ranks of the trained professions. In England, as late as 1817, compositors arrogated to themselves the dignity of carrying swords. At the close of the nineteenth century, the art is seen to be passing into the sphere of mechanics,—the methods in vogue making it entirely a mechanical operation. Before many years of the twentieth century have passed, there will have been attained a degree of advancement which will dispense with the hand of man in guiding the movements of the machine. The inventive skill which brought the printing press to such a high point of excellence and speed has been turned toward the work of type-composing, and the forward march is likely to be as rapid.

Outside of the actual learned professions, no occupation has contributed so many prominent figures to the history and progress of this country as the composing-room. They have filled important places in journalism, politics, Congress, state legislatures, the army and navy, and the world of literature.

Horace Greeley, the founder of the New York “Tribune,”—writer, statesman, and man of affairs,—is one of the notable figures of the present century, who laid the foundation of his career at a case of type.

Schuyler Colfax, who became Vice-President of the United States in 1869, passed the early years of his life setting type.

And, strange to say, these two men, when the presidential chair seemed a possible realization of their ambition, were opposed by men of their craft simply because they had seemed to run so far above the “stick” and “rule.”

Simon Cameron, of Pennsylvania, once Secretary of War, United States senator, representative of the United States abroad, and for many years political master of his great State, was proud to say that he had begun his career as a type-setter in a country printing-office. It is worth while noticing that this printer-politician’s life covered nearly a century of existence. His life spanned every president from John Adams in 1799 to Benjamin Harrison in 1889, while his active political control of Pennsylvania covered a period of sixty-five years,—a record made by only one man within the history of the United States.

Every state in the Union has contributed to history its quota of printer-statesmen, printer-authors, and printer-journalists. How many of such there have been in this nineteenth century would be beyond ordinary research to ascertain. But printers—compositors—can refer with just pride to the fact that in all the advanced walks of life are to be found men who have been members of the guild.

The setting of type by hand prevailed universally until as late as 1880. That may be put down as the period when there came into anything like general use the machines for type composition, although experiments in that direction had been going on for sixty years.

As early as 1820, printers realized that machinery eventually must be brought into play for composing type. But how to do it was the scientific as well as mechanical problem. It was argued that the machine must be so constructed as to pick up the type, uniformly distribute the space between the words, and “justify” the lines, that is, make them the exact width.

“It is beyond the range of possibility,” suggested the printer. “Mechanism never can be applied to art. The great Benjamin Franklin would have discovered the way to make such a thing possible, if it were possible—which is impossible.”

And the scientific electric discovery made by Benjamin Franklin in the eighteenth century is, at the close of the nineteenth, the motive-power used for driving the machines for type composition,—the seemingly impossible has reached the stage of possibility.

(Capacity, 96,000 impressions per hour.)]

Dr. William Church, of Connecticut, produced a machine looking to machine type-composition in 1820. It did not come into use, although he spent large sums of money on it, and devoted a vast amount of energy toward having it taken up both in this country and in England. At the Paris Exhibition in 1835 there were exhibited several machines of this sort, one of which—the patent of Christian Sörensen, of Copenhagen—was used upon a daily paper issued during the exhibition. In 1871, at the International Exhibition in London, there was shown a machine possessing peculiar features. It used a perforated ribbon, through the medium of which types were worked into position. The machine was cumbersome, complicated, and expensive, and could not be brought into anything like general usage. In 1875 M. Delcambre, of Paris, after twenty years’ work produced a machine in New York. It had the same objections as the others. While this machine could do as much as the labor of three men by hand, it required a man to operate, another man to place the set type in lines, steam to keep it in motion, and a big cost to construct.

Up to this period, all the experiments had shown the want of something which would obviate the presence of a man to make the lines of the proper length and with equal spacing between the words. All the machines which were anything near available picked up and placed in position separate types. At the Centennial Exhibition of 1876, in Philadelphia, there were shown machines which used brass dies and cast a line of type. These seemed to possess the element for successful use, and the outcome was the production of the machine which is now in use in all the big newspaper offices in this country—the “Mergenthaler Linotype.” Practically it has driven all the other machines out of use, but how long it will hold sway is a question. Already men of genius are experimenting with two objects in view,—increase of speed, decrease of cost,—and it is fair to presume that before the twentieth century has gone very far into history these two objects will have been attained.

The linotype, as here shown, has the appearance of a heavy and cumbersome piece of machinery. It actually is so only when there are several of them placed in line—then they give to a composing-room the appearance of a machine shop. This machine, instead of producing single type of the ordinary character, casts type-metal bars or slugs, each complete in one piece, and having on the upper edge, properly justified, the type characters to print a line.

These slugs present the appearance of composed lines of type, and serve the same purpose, and for this reason are called “linotypes.” The linotypes are produced and assembled automatically in a galley, side by side, in proper order, so that they constitute a “form,” answering the same purposes and used in the same manner as the ordinary “forms” consisting of single types.

After being used, the linotypes instead of being, like type forms, distributed, are thrown into a metal pot of the machine to be recast into new forms.

The machine contains, as its fundamental elements, several hundred brass matrices. Each matrix consists of a flat plate having in one edge a female letter, or matrix proper, and in the upper end a series of teeth, which are used for distributing to their proper places in the magazine matrices containing different letters. There are in the machine a number of matrices of each letter, and also matrices representing special characters, and spaces or quads of definite thickness for use in tabular and other work of a complicated nature.

The machine is so organized that on manipulating the finger-keys it will select matrices in the order in which their characters are to appear in print, and assemble them side by side with wedge-shaped spaces at suitable points in the line.

This composed line forms a line matrix, or in other words a line of female type, adapted to produce a line of raised printing type on a slug, which may be forced into or against the matrix characters. After the matrix line is composed it is automatically transferred to the face of the mold, into which molten metal is delivered to produce the slug or linotype, after which the matrices are distributed or returned to the magazine to be again composed in new relations for succeeding lines.

These operations are performed by mechanism, as shown in the outline here presented.

_A_ is an inclined fixed magazine, containing channels in which the assorted matrices are stored, and through which they slide, entering at the top and escaping at the foot, one at a time. Each channel is provided at the lower end with an escapement device, _B_, connected by a rod, _C_, with a finger character of the matrices in the corresponding channel. There is a key for each character, and also keys for quads stored in the magazine. The keys are actuated by the operator in the order in which their letters are to appear in print. As a key is depressed, it operates the corresponding escapement, _B_, which allows a matrix to fall out of the magazine through one of the channels, _E_, to the inclined traveling belt, _F_, which serves to carry the matrices down in succession into the assembler stick, _G_, in which they are stored side by side. A box, _H_, contains a number of elongated spaces, _I_, and a discharging device connecting with a finger-key bar, _J_, by which the spaces are permitted to fall into the line of matrices at the proper points during composition. It will be perceived that the operation of the various keys results in the selection of the matrices and spaces, and their collection in assembler, _G_, until it contains all the characters to be represented by one line of print. After the matrix line is thus composed it is transferred, as indicated by the dotted lines, to the front of a mold or slot extending through a mold wheel, _K_, from front to rear. This mold is of the exact size and shape of the slug required. The matrix line is pressed tightly against, and closed in front of, the mold for the time being, and the characters, or matrices proper, face the mold cell or space. While the line is in place in front of the mold, the wedge spaces are pushed up through the line, and in this manner exact and instantaneous “justification” is secured. Behind the mold there is a melting pot, _M_, heated by a flame from a gas burner, and containing a quantity of molten metal. The pot has a perforated mouth arranged to fit against and close the rear side of the mold, and contains a jump plunger, mechanically actuated.

After the matrix line is in place, the plunger falls and forces metal through the pot mouth into the mold, against and into the characters of the matrix line. The metal instantly solidifies in the mold, forming the slug or linotype, having on its edge raised type characters formed by the matrices. The mold wheel next makes a partial revolution, turning the mold from the original horizontal to a vertical position in front of the ejector, which then advances from the rear through the mold, pushing the slug out of the latter into the receiving galley, at the front.

A vibrating arm advances the slugs laterally in the galley, and thus assembles them side by side in column or page-form ready for use. In order to insure absolute accuracy in the height and thickness of the slugs, knives are arranged to act upon them during their course to the galley.

After the matrices in the line have served their purpose in front of the mold, they are returned to the magazine to be again discharged and used in the following manner. The line is lifted from the mold and shifted laterally until the teeth at the top engage the teeth of bar, _R_. This bar then rises as shown by dotted lines, lifting the matrices to the distributor at the top of the machine, but leaving the spaces, _I_, behind to be shifted laterally to the magazine or holder, _H_, from which they were discharged. Each matrix has distributor teeth in its top, arranged in a special order or number, according to the character it contains. In other words, a matrix containing any given character differs in the number or relation of its teeth from a matrix containing any other character. This difference is relied upon to secure proper distribution. A distributor-bar, _T_, in a single piece, is fixed horizontally over the upper end of the magazine, and is formed with longitudinal ribs or teeth, adapted to engage the teeth of the matrices and hold the latter in suspension as they are carried along the bar over the mouths or entrances of the channels.

The teeth of the bar are cut away to vary their number or arrangement at different points in its length, so that there is a special arrangement over the mouth of each channel. The matrices are pushed upon the bar at the end, and made to slide slowly along it while suspended therefrom. Each matrix remains in engagement, and travels over the mouth of the channels, until it arrives at the required point, where, for the first time, its teeth bear such relation to those of the bar that it is permitted to disengage and fall into its channel.

The travel of the matrices is secured by longitudinal screws, which lie below the bar in position to engage the edges of the matrices. The matrices pursue a circulatory course through the machine, starting from the bottom of the magazine and passing thence to the line being composed, thence to the mold, and finally back to the top of the magazine. This circulation permits the operations of composing one line, casting a second, and distributing a third, to be carried on concurrently, and enables the machine to run at a speed exceeding that at which any operator can finger the keys.

One half horse power is generally used in driving a machine. About five square feet is the space occupied by the machine; it weighs 1925 pounds, and consumes about fifteen feet of illuminating gas each hour to heat the metal pot. Each machine will do complete work equal to that of five men by hand. The simplicity of the machine bears a striking resemblance to the typewriter, and this is operated successfully by young girls. When the matter set by the machine is placed together, the page presents a surface equal to an entire new set of type, or, as the printers say, “We take on an entire new dress every day.”

That is a production of the nineteenth century. How commonplace it will appear when the achievements of the twentieth century are placed on record.

III. EVENTS AS THEY OCCUR.

When the nineteenth century opened, great events were occurring in the world. Napoleon Bonaparte was the central figure in the eye of Europe. He had, but a few years previously (1797), gone through the most brilliant campaign known. He had crossed the Alps, defeated the Austrians at Montenotte and Millesimo, defeated the Sardinians at Ceva and Mondovi, and conquered Lombardy,—all in a few weeks. The year following he had conquered Egypt, and in 1800 had become the first consul and the ruler of France, to be declared Emperor four years later.

Then followed, in rapid succession, the events which caused the world to look upon Napoleon as the probable coming ruler of the universe. It was in 1805 that he began the war of aggrandizement. He crossed the Rhine, compelling the Austrian army to surrender at Ulm; he entered Vienna and routed the Russian and Austrian armies at Austerlitz. This was followed by his move to make himself master of Southern and Central Europe. He established his brother Joseph as King of Naples; his brother Louis as King of Holland; his stepson Eugene as Viceroy of Italy; and his brother-in-law, Joachim Murat, as Grand Duke of Berg. The following year he defeated the Prussians and entered Berlin.

It was not until his abdication at Fontainebleau, in 1814, that Europe and America breathed freely. His final overthrow at Waterloo in 1815 removed him from the stage as an active participant in the world’s history of the nineteenth century.

In the United States, the close of the eighteenth century was marked by the death of Washington, while 1800, 1801, 1802 saw us make a treaty of peace with France, remove the national capital from Philadelphia to Washington, D. C., declare war against Tripoli, purchase Louisiana from France, and enter upon the disputes with Great Britain which culminated in a declaration of war with the mother country, in June of 1812.

While these events at home and abroad were making history, long periods of time elapsed between their occurrence and their being given to the people. There was no telegraphic communication which flashed messages around the globe. It was a wait until the mails brought the news. Two months, probably, elapsed after the battle of Waterloo ere this country was furnished with the story which meant so much to the peace of Europe.

What a change in this respect was wrought between the downfall of Napoleon Bonaparte in 1815 and the downfall of his nephew, Louis Napoleon, in 1870! On the fateful second of September, 1870, when the Emperor of France, Napoleon III., surrendered to the Emperor William of Prussia, on the field of Sedan, the news was flashed to America in less than two hours. On that hot, sultry day eager crowds surrounded the bulletin boards of the newspapers, on which were displayed the facts connected with the overthrow of the Napoleonic dynasty. The difference in time made it possible for us here to know all that had been done by the two emperors and by Bismarck an hour ahead of their actual happening. For days before that the crowds had surged around the newspaper offices, for days afterward they did the same, and facts were given with a rapidity which showed how wonderful had been the scientific stride between 1815 and 1870.

Had any one in 1815 predicted the possibility of such scenes, he would have been put down as a fit subject for a writ of _de lunatico inquirendo_. Such, too, would have been the comment on the one who then would have suggested the likelihood of a newspaper in this country reaching a circulation of a million copies daily,—and yet such has become an accomplished fact.

At the close of the first quarter of the nineteenth century there had been no practical advance in the rapid transmission of news. This was the period when the press lacked the facility to rapidly furnish the people with the events which were occurring in all directions. Newspapers still depended upon the mails. Home events were many weeks reaching sections remote from their happening. In this respect there had been some little improvement at the close of the first half of the century. That was the time when the electrical current was being brought into operation in the transmission of signals from which messages were being recorded, and these were being utilized for the sending of information at short distances. Scientific men were even talking of the possibility of connecting distant points on the coast, and whispering their hope for an Atlantic cable. In 1858 that wonderful event came to pass. The old world and the new were connected by cable from Valencia Bay, in Ireland, to Newfoundland, in North America, and messages of greeting passed between Queen Victoria and President Buchanan. The break which followed soon after the opening of this cable stimulated men of genius and men of capital to further efforts, and the governments of the United States and Great Britain came forward with generous aid. The laying of the Atlantic cable by the Great Eastern in 1864, and its successful operation in 1866, opened the doors for the possibilities of the press of to-day, and the realization of such scenes as were witnessed in this country on September 2, 1870.

Between that memorable year, 1866, and this, 1899, how wonderful has been the advance in the transmission of information from all quarters of the globe. From the Transvaal Republic, in South Africa; from the desert home of the Dervish in the Soudan; from the domain of Turkey’s Sultan, in Armenia; from the Holy Land; from the Oriental empires of China and Japan; from the snow-clad land of the Czar in Siberia; from the Bosphorus to the English Channel; from Valencia across the Atlantic; from Victoria Land in North America to Patagonia in South America; from Maine to Mexico; from the Atlantic to the Pacific; there are each day transmitted all occurrences of interest transpiring,—and these encompass peace and war, joy and sorrow, science and art, education and trade,—events which arouse the passions and quicken the pulse of humanity.

This is done through the medium of an organization known as the Associated Press. This wonderful combination has nearly forty thousand miles of wire from the different telegraph companies, for which there is paid a fixed price per mile. This, however, does not include its cable service, the charges for which are according to the number of words transmitted. The service of this organization costs a million and a half a year, divided among several hundred of the great newspapers of the United States. During the recent conflict between Spain and the United States its expenditure for war news alone was nearly $500,000. This can readily be understood when the reader is informed that the cable rate from Manila was $2.37 a word. Thus, a dispatch filling less than a quarter of a column of the average daily paper cost $1000. The rate from Porto Rico, at the outbreak of hostilities, was $1.90 a word, and it often happened that a single dispatch covering the movements of a body of troops in that island, with possibly a pen picture of a skirmish with the Spaniards, would cost $2000 in gold. The Santiago toll was $1.10 a word; and whole pages of newspapers were printed at that rate.

What a gigantic institution it has become for the rapid dissemination of news events!

In that war between Spain and the United States, General Toral, the Spanish commander, surrendered Santiago on July 14, at 2.15 o’clock in the afternoon. At 2.25 o’clock the message announcing the fact was received in Philadelphia. On the 12th of August following, at 4.23 o’clock in the afternoon, the Peace Protocol was signed in Washington by the French Ambassador Cambon and Secretary of State Day, and at 4.27 o’clock—four minutes later—the information was in the New York office of the Associated Press. Hundreds of such instances of this rapid transmission of news could be recorded in this last year of the nineteenth century,—facts never even dreamed of when Benjamin Franklin chained the electric current in the closing years of the eighteenth century.

The journey of a piece of news from the far East to the far West is something worth noting. The trip covers thousands of miles out of a direct route. As for instance, when Admiral Dewey annihilated the Spanish fleet in the Bay of Manila, on May 1, 1898, the fact was cabled to Hong Kong, China. There an operator transmitted it northward to Helampo in Russia, right on the border line of Manchooria, from which place it was sent across Russia to Tomsk, thence to St. Petersburg. From the Russian capital it zigzagged to Berne, in Switzerland; thence to Paris; thence across the channel to Penzance, and finally to Valencia, to be put on the cable for America. In two hours from the time the operator in Hong Kong started his dispatch, it was being hurried across the American continent—north, west, east, south—for distribution in the newspaper offices.

When a party of Mohammedans attacked a Christian mission in Calcutta, a telegraph operator dispatched the news to Bombay, whence it was transmitted to Aden. The next point reached was Suez, from which it was sent to Malta. It was next sent to Lisbon. From there it was given to Paris. From Malta it was also cabled to Penzance, thence to Valencia, and finally to the United States.

When that Manila piece of news from Admiral Dewey reached the Pacific coast in the United States, the date of its being started was yet several hours behind the time of its arrival. The attack on the Spanish fleet was made on Sunday, May 1, Manila time. The fact was not sent out by Dewey until the following morning, May 2 (still Manila time). It was started on its westward course that morning (May 2) at ten o’clock. By the route taken to Valencia with the relays, two hours were consumed. This brought it to London about three o’clock on that morning of May 2, owing to the difference in time. Traveling westward across the Atlantic ocean in advance of the sun, it reached New York about ten o’clock in the night of May 1. But little time was lost in retransmission to the Pacific coast, which point it reached about six o’clock on that Sunday evening of May 1—fourteen hours previous, by the day of the month, to its being started from Manila.

In this work of sending out news not a moment is lost that can be avoided. The aid of the typewriter enables the operator to keep pace with the sending operator, and his pace has been increased in the past few years by the introduction of a code system. Here is a specimen of the code system as used by the operator in sending out a news item:—

“Madrid, March 17—T Qn Regent h sined t Treaty of Peace btn Spn & t Uni Stas. T treaty wb frwded to t French Ambsdr, Jules Cambon, at Washn, fo exg w t one sined by Pr McKinley. No decree q sj wb pud d ‘Official Gazette.’

“Ofl rlns btn t 2 govts wi nw b promtly rnud. Ix rmrd 5 Mir to t Uni Stas wb Snor. Don J. Brunetti, Duke d’Arcos, fmr Spnh Mir to Mex, wos wif is an Amn.”

When this seemingly incomprehensible conglomeration of letters leaves the hand of the receiving operator it reads as follows:—

“Madrid, March 17—The Queen Regent has signed the Treaty of Peace between Spain and the United States. The treaty will be forwarded to the French Ambassador, Jules Cambon, at Washington, for exchange with the one signed by President McKinley. No decree on the subject will be published in the ‘Official Gazette.’

“Official relations between the two governments will now be promptly renewed. It is rumored that the Minister to the United States will be Señor Don J. Brunetti, Duke d’Arcos, former Spanish Minister to Mexico, whose wife is an American.”

The London “Times” recently has been experimenting with a scheme whereby reporters in the Houses of Parliament operate the typesetting machines in the London office by the wire from their quarters in Parliament.

It is only a question of time when this practice comes into use in the reporting of all legislative proceedings.

In some of the New York newspaper offices, the receiving operator sits at a typesetting machine and puts into type the messages which come over the wires.

How rapidly we have advanced in this direction in the last half of the nineteenth century is thus shown. What will be done by our successors in the first half of the twentieth century, no man can at this time satisfactorily predict.

IV. TYPE-MAKING, STEREOTYPING, PICTURE-MAKING.

The manufacture of the small metal pieces called type has undergone little change in this nineteenth century. That which has been done has been in the way of producing artistic designs, so arranged that combinations can be formed pleasing to the eye, and an aid to rapid workmanship. The machinery in use has lost its crudity, the production has been increased, and the finish become more perfect. The setting of type by machinery has been a serious blow to this industry, and the time will come when it will be devoted entirely to the making of job or fancy types.

Benjamin Franklin attempted to make metal type in this country, but he did not succeed. It was not until 1796 that type-making was commenced here.

As in many other departures in the printing business, the city of Philadelphia took the lead. Binney and Ronaldson, of Edinburgh, Scotland, established the first foundry in this country, operating it in Philadelphia. After a severe struggle and with some aid from the State, a business was established by the two Scotchmen, which afterwards became known as the Johnson Foundry, under MacKellar, Smiths & Jordan, which is still in existence. They were followed by David Bruce, also a Scotchman, and by 1813 foundries had been established in New York and other large cities.

Since that time improvements have been introduced, but nothing has come forth which deserves to be ranked with the printing-press or the typesetting machine.

The type founder will tell you how much better are the machines used in 1899 than those which produced type in 1850. But he cannot point out any device connected with it which the mechanical world can designate as marvelous, or the people at large regard as a wonderful invention. Type once was rubbed into smoothness by boys. Now it is done automatically on the machine. By the hand process about four hundred types an hour were cast; by the present mechanism a speed of six thousand an hour has been acquired. Until about 1875, this output hardly met the demand; now it will do so. Before many years it will be far in excess of the requirements.

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Stereotyping is the art of making plates cast in one piece of type metal from the surface of one or more pages of type. In the beginning of the nineteenth century, stereotyping was used to an exceedingly limited extent. The printers were prejudiced against it for reasons purely selfish. It was not until 1813 that it was introduced into the United States, and only a few years previously Lord Stanhope introduced it into the English printing business. “The Larger Catechism of the Westminster Assembly” professes on its title-page to have been the first work stereotyped in America. It bears the date of June, 1813. Now the process is in general use—plaster, clay, and papier mâché being used.

The process of stereotyping originally was to preserve the pages, so that an entire edition of a work could be finished without requiring large numbers of type, and to have it ready for future editions. For newspaper work it came into vogue to save the rapid wearing out of the type by the impressions made.

From the practical introduction of stereotyping in this country, in 1813, by Robert Bruce, until about 1850, the slow, tedious, and troublesome process of making the plates by plaster of Paris was in vogue. That was done by the plaster being poured over the face of the type. Molten lead was then run into the cast, after which the plate was finished. The time thus occupied caused the work to be confined to books, magazines, and weekly issues of small journals. When the plate was taken from the cast it was rough, imperfect, and unfit for use. Men, whose specialty was finishing, were employed to make the plate so as to meet the requirements of the printing press.

It was just at the opening of the last half of the nineteenth century that papier mâché began to be used in this country. A few years before that time it had been brought into use in London and Paris. Its introduction into the United States found the printing trade ready and willing to accept it, and but a few years passed before it came into general use by the newspapers. It is a peculiar combination. The paper matrix is formed by paste of starch, flour, alum, and water. This is spread over a thick paper, on which are placed layers of fine tissue paper. When ready for use, it is placed on the face of the type and a deep impression secured by being passed through a press. Then it goes into a steam chest to be dried, from there it is passed into the casting machine, the molten metal poured in, and a few minutes thereafter the plate is ready for the press. Up to a few years ago, the impression on papier mâché was secured by being beaten with brushes prepared for that use. The method had two disadvantages,—consumption of time and destruction of type. The press now used obviates these defects. The old way took about twenty minutes to produce a plate. Now it is done in from five to seven minutes. The machinery here introduced has been of benefit to the trade, but none of it ranks among the great inventions of the century.

The making of electrotype plates had its origin early in the century, when it was found that stereotype plates had a limit as to durability. Electroplating suggested to Josiah Adams, in 1839, the idea of a copper surface for the stereotype plate. It took ten years to bring it into practical use. His first successful work in this line was on the engravings and borders for a Bible issued in New York. It was found to be particularly adapted to engravings, producing a surface of sufficient smoothness to allow the pressman to make a print of exquisite fineness. The improvements introduced tended only toward the saving of time and the excellence of finish. Practically the same process is used now that was employed half a century ago. An impression of the type is made on wax, the electric current is secured by a deposit of fine graphite, the mold is placed in a bath containing a solution of sulphate of copper and is made part of the electric circuit, in which also is introduced a zinc element in a sulphuric acid solution. The current deposits a film of copper on the graphite surface of the mold. When it has assumed a sufficient thickness, it is taken from the bath, the wax is removed, and the copper shell trimmed. It is then backed with an alloy of type metal. The finishing process brings the plate to the proper thickness, after which it is blocked to the height required for printing. That is the process. To it in the last ten years there has been applied the use of steam machinery. In the old days the making of electrotypes required from ten to fifteen hours. They now are produced in from two to three hours.

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The close of the nineteenth century witnesses the disappearance entirely from the printing establishment of the once generally used wood engraving. The rise and fall of this once splendid art is practically encompassed in the period of time covered by the nineteenth century. Thomas Bewick, an Englishman, gave wood engraving an artistic impetus by the production of illustrations for his “Histories of British Quadrupeds,” which appeared about 1790. Up to that period the work was crude. The books and magazines of the first decade of the century were illustrated in a way then regarded as highly artistic. The application of the Bewick method brought forth work which ranked in the line of high art. Of the development of this work volumes could be written. To simplify the situation it is only necessary to recall how these pictures were made. Squares of boxwood were used, on the face of which was spread a preparation of water-color Chinese white. On this surface the artist drew his picture, and then the engraver’s art was brought into requisition—the engraving being done alongside the pencil lines.

And here it was that the artistic instinct of the handler of the “graver” appeared,—the delicacy of touch being shown in the shading and in the finish of the lines. By this method there have been produced rare works of art, as can be seen by an examination of the books printed in the first half of the century.

The time taken in the making of the engravings, however, prevented the possibility of their being used by the newspapers and magazines as generally as was desired. This want was in a measure met by the introduction of machine “grooving.” The cuts, however, could not be used to print from directly in consequence of the warping of the boxwood, and it was necessary in every instance to make stereotype or electrotype plates. Then, too, came the realization of the fact that the reproduction of portraits needed something which would preserve features and expression. In those days some of the pictures produced were ludicrous in the extreme, and it became a standing joke in the newspapers that the best way to cast ridicule upon a public man was to print his picture. In the work of reproducing scenes the skill of the artist and the engraver frequently brought forth results which were marvels of excellence. For a number of years the wood engraving business flourished in this particular line, despite the dissatisfaction existing in regard to portrait work. In the production of illustrations for fine books, printed on good paper with flat presses and properly “under-” or “overlaid,” there was attained a degree of perfection in lines and shading which raised the pictures almost to the rank of steel and copperplate engravings. Many of those engaged in the work of drawing and cutting were possessed of a skill which would have won for them distinction in other artistic lines.

This, practically, was the condition of the profession when the end of the first half of the nineteenth century had been reached. Even then, however, the question of a substitute was under severe consideration in scientific as well as artistic circles. Experiments were made with copper, acids, and zinc, but satisfactory results could not be obtained. It was not until 1860 that a successful substitute was produced. Gillot, a Frenchman, brought forth a system of etching. By this means a photograph from an artist’s drawing was placed above a plate of gelatine, chemically sensitized. The parts of the gelatine exposed to the light became hard, and the remainder was brushed away with warm water. From this an electrotype could be made directly. That process has given way to the present system of photographing on zinc, and the use of acid baths for etching. Other improvements—principally the use of the screen—have resulted in the production of half-tones which are highly satisfactory in newspaper work. By this means there can be produced such reproductions as give the features of persons so that recognition is as easy as in the case of photographs. With the aid of different sizes of screens, backgrounds are secured which add materially to the artistic excellence of the pictures. So well done is the work in this direction that the plates can be used on the curved cylinders of the huge octuple presses, and enormous editions are printed from them. The peculiarity of this process is that the original can be reduced or enlarged so as to suit any width of column or page without affecting one way or the other the fineness of the work. Pen and ink drawings made by artists are photographed and backgrounded with the utmost accuracy as to design and detail. It has been found, however, that scenes in half-tones do not give as much satisfaction as do portraits, and it is believed to be only a question of time when there is a return to line engravings so far as the newspapers are concerned.

When one compares the photographic reproductions which appear in the magazines and newspapers of to-day with those of even ten years ago, there is seen an advancement which tells a wonderful story of the rapid march of artistic taste. The outline picture—excellent of its kind—has the appearance of crudity almost grotesque when placed beside the life-like half-tone reproduction of photographic art.

Wood engraving has been relegated to the days of the hand-press, the mail news-carrier and the plaster of Paris process of stereotyping. Inventive genius not only has advanced for the printing press and its adjuncts; it has also laid a heavy hand on art, causing it to pause and consider how soon the pencil and the brush will be superseded entirely by the rhythmic motion of the machine.

THE CENTURY’S PROGRESS IN MINES AND MINING

BY GEO. A. PACKARD,

_Metallurgist and Mining Engineer_.

When we consider how largely the discovery and exploration of America was due to the search for mines, that the precious metals might be found to replenish the depleted treasuries of European monarchs; and when we note that, as a result of this search, the world’s annual production of gold and silver had increased in the three hundred years following the discovery from $5,508,000, in 1500, to $48,995,000 at the beginning of the nineteenth century, we view with surprise the little progress made during this period in the art of mining.

At the beginning of the present century, we find in use the same general methods that were followed in the time of Columbus. The very first operation—the search for veins—was oftentimes conducted after the manner of the Middle Ages; for in Pryce’s “Mineralogia Cornubiensis,” which seems to have been one of the leading works on mining of the last century, there occurs, among other methods, a lengthy treatise on “How to Discover Mines by the Sole Virtue of the Hazel-tree.” Powder, although it had been invented for centuries, had been so little employed in mining that it was considered merely as a last resort. In a description of mining methods, another work says: “The soft vein is generally dug with the spade and turned out into wooden trays; but the hard veins are knocked out with a gad and a hammer. If the ore is so hard as to be incapable of breaking it in this manner, they usually soften it with fire. But a still more expeditious method is the working with gunpowder. _A small quantity of powder does great things this way._”

In 1800 the coal miner was working by the naked light of the tallow dip. Cast-iron rails had been introduced but a few years, and rails of wrought iron, which could be bent to follow the curves of the drifts, were unheard of. The cars were pushed along the levels by boys. Water power, where it could be obtained and applied by means of the overshot wheel, was in general use for pumping, hoisting, and ventilating. But from many a mine the ore was raised by women, who pulled the bucket up “by walking away with the end of the rope” which passed from them over a sheave and thence down the shaft. In places the ore was still carried up the steep inclines to the surface on the backs of women and girls. Ventilation, when not secured by natural means, was obtained by bellows operated by men or mechanically. A mine which had been worked to a depth of one thousand feet was extraordinary. Though steam power, applied in the form of what was known as the atmospheric engine, a device utilizing for suction the vacuum formed by the condensation of steam in a chamber, had been used for years in draining mines, the steam engine, as invented by Watt, had been introduced for hoisting in only a few places. The power was applied to turn a long crank arm, which rotated the drum.

At the beginning of the century the mines of Cornwall, which were the greatest producers in Great Britain, were turning out about 5,000,000 pounds of tin and 10,000,000 pounds of copper a year, while the whole United Kingdom was furnishing only 170,000 tons of iron. South America was the greatest producer of gold and silver, wonderfully rich mines of the latter having been found in Peru and Chile. Humboldt places the production of the whole South American continent for the year 1800 at 691,625 pounds of silver and 9900 pounds of gold.

The United States at that time had practically no mining within its borders. Some small mines of iron, lead, and copper, which had been opened to supply the demands created by the Revolution, were producing spasmodically; but even as late as 1821, William Keating, in an address before the American Philosophical Society, said, “Upon the whole we think we may be warranted in saying that there are as yet no mines in activity in the United States. Coal, in most places, is taken from the surface, or dug from the foot of a hill. The lead mines of Missouri are rich and abundant, but the mining is a mere pilfering of the richest spots.”

In 1801 the Cornish pumping system was introduced. A long rod, extending from the surface to the bottom of the shaft, operates simultaneously a series of pumps placed, one above the other, at intervals of about two hundred and fifty feet. The lowest one lifts the water from the pump and delivers it into a tank from which the next one draws its supply, and this in turn forces it up to a higher tank. With this improved means of drainage mines began to be sunk deeper, a depth of three thousand feet having been reached with this method of pumping. The manufacture of iron pumps, which had begun to replace wooden ones toward the end of the eighteenth century, decreased the amount of repairs necessary on the pumps, and aided in making possible better arrangement of underground work.

It was at about this time, the beginning of the present century, that the method of opening ground by shafts, levels, and raises, which we refer to as “blocking out ore,” began to be more generally adopted, displacing the former mode of following down the ore by a series of irregular, isolated excavations. With it came overhead stoping, in which, after the shaft has been sunk, the level driven and timbered, and a raise made, the miner begins breaking down the ore from over his head, allowing it to run down into chutes. From these it is drawn out into cars pushed along the tracks in the level. The waste is allowed to accumulate on top of the stulls, or timbers, forming the top of the level above referred to, and serves as a platform upon which the miner stands in breaking down more ore.

The invention of the safety lamp, in 1815, is probably the most important event of the early part of the century. Previous to this the miners fired the gas in the “rooms” with their candles, which were raised toward the roof with the aid of a long pole, the miners lying flat on the floor of the level to escape the blaze, and sometimes putting on wet jackets to avoid being scorched. As first invented by Davy, the safety lamp consisted merely of a cylinder of wire gauze surrounding the flame, much as the flame is surrounded by a glass globe in the modern lantern, except that the diameter of the cylinder did not exceed two inches. This was based upon the theory that the gas set on fire by the light would burn inside the gauze without heating it hot enough to ignite the gas outside. The principle was correct, and the lamp worked satisfactorily when carefully used under proper conditions. It was soon found, however, that in a strong air current, or if swung at a more rapid speed than six feet per second in an explosive mixture, the surrounding gas would be ignited. As a man walking naturally on the surface moves at a rate of between five and six feet per second, it will be easily seen that even were the speed considerably diminished underground,—and any one who has tried to follow a mine foreman through mine workings knows the speed slackening is slight,—a very slight swing of the arm would bring the rate of movement of the lantern up to the danger point. Another and a very unexpected factor in causing explosions with the new lamp also developed; and that was the great carelessness of the men who used it. Armed with this device, and deluded by the quietly burning flame, the miner would seat himself upon a pile of coal, draw forth his pipe and fill it, and deliberately open the gauze to light it. As a consequence, for a time after the introduction of the safety-lamp, the number of accidents from explosions increased. This latter difficulty, the recklessness of the miners, was presently overcome by having the lamps locked, and by depriving the men of all matches before admitting them to the mine. An improved lamp, introduced by Clanny, wherein the lower part of the cylinder was replaced by glass, partially protected the flame from strong air currents, and also gave a better light. Later, Müseler added an interior sheet iron chimney, which divides the air current so that the hot air does not strike directly against the gauze, and the lamp as thus improved is very largely used, especially in Europe.

In 1831 the safety fuse was invented, a train of powder having been used before this for firing the charges. The same year a patent was granted to Moses Shaw of New York for an electrical device to fire several charges at once. It was at about this time, too, that the man-engine was invented in Germany. Some miner, noticing the slow and steady up and down motion of the long rods which operated the pumps in the Cornish system, had conceived the idea of nailing steps on to them at intervals, and riding up and down. As mines grew deeper and the time and labor required for the men to get down to their work increased, a special engine, utilizing an improvement of this device, was employed for raising and lowering men. This “man-engine” consisted of two parallel beams, moving slowly up and down the shaft with a reciprocating motion, the length of the stroke being about twelve feet. Upon these beams small platforms were nailed at distances equal to the length of the stroke. The miner wishing to descend stepped upon the top platform of one beam as it started on its down stroke. At the end of this stroke he found himself twelve feet down the shaft, on a level with the second platform of the other beam, which had in the mean time been coming up, and he stepped across on to this, which now began its down stroke. Thus by constantly stepping from one rod to the other at the completion of each down stroke, he was conveyed to the bottom. By reversing the process he was raised to the surface.

In general, mining progress was slow up to the middle of the century. The production of the baser metals, here and abroad, increased gradually with the demands of the mechanic arts, but it was not until the middle of the century that this factor, joined with the improved methods of transportation, and of metallurgy, gave to mining that impetus which, though through alternate recurring waves of prosperity and stagnation, carried it forward until the annual expenditure for technical skill, machinery, and supplies used in the industry is estimated to-day at one thousand million dollars.

The first mining excitement in the United States occurred in 1829, following the discovery of gold in the South; but these fields soon declined in importance without resulting in any improvements to mining methods and machinery.

The next mining fever resulted from the inauguration of work upon the copper properties at Keweenaw Point, Mich., in 1845. This caused the first mining-stock speculation in this country, and it is interesting to note that the century closes with a repetition of this same fever, founded upon almost the same ground. Yet the conditions have changed wonderfully. Upon the then barren peninsula, whitened with the tents of speculators and geologists, has grown up a multitude of towns, filled with thousands of people whose labors are performed at a depth of nearly a mile under ground. Thousands more transport the ore to the mills, separate the copper from the rock, and cut timber for the mines; while yet other thousands prepare food and clothing and shelter for all these. During 1898, the copper mines about Lake Superior produced nearly 160,000,000 pounds of copper, and paid in dividends $6,490,000.