The Story of Glass Part 16

"Some day, Giusippe," remarked Uncle Tom one evening after dinner, when together with the young people he was sitting within the crimson glow of the library lamp, "I propose you take Jean through the works. It is ridiculous that a niece of mine should acquaint herself with the history of the gla.s.s of all the past ages and never go through her own uncle's factory. What do you say, missy? Would you like to go?"

"Of course, Uncle Tom, I'd love to. I wrote Uncle Bob only the other day that I wanted dreadfully to see how plate gla.s.s was made and hoped some time you'd take me. I didn't like to ask you for fear you were too busy."

"I have been a little rushed, I'll admit. We business men," he slapped Giusippe on the shoulder, "live in a good deal of a whirl--eh, Giusippe?"

"I know you do, sir."

"And you? You have nothing to do, I suppose. It chances that I have heard to the contrary, my lad. You've put in some mighty good work since you came here, and I am much gratified by the spirit you've shown."

Giusippe glowed. It was not a common thing for Mr. Curtis to commend.

"I didn't know, sir, that you----"

"Knew what you were doing? Didn't any one ever tell you that I have a search-light and a telescope in my office?" Uncle Tom laughed. "Oh, I keep track of things even if I do seem to be otherwise occupied. So look out for yourself! Beware! My eyes may be upon you almost any time."

"I am not afraid, sir," smiled the boy.

"And you have no cause to be, either, my lad," was Uncle Tom's serious rejoinder. "Now you and Jean fix up some date to see the works. Why not to-morrow? It is Sat.u.r.day, and she will not be at school."

"But I work Sat.u.r.day mornings, Mr. Curtis."

"Can't somebody else do your work for you?"

"I have never asked that."

"Well, I will. We'll arrange it. Let us say to-morrow then. Take Jean and explain things to her. You can do it, can't you?"

"I think so. Most of the process I understand now, and if there is anything that I need help about I can ask."

"That's right. Just go ahead and complete the girl's education in gla.s.s-making so she can write her Boston uncle that she is now qualified to superintend any gla.s.s works that may require her oversight."

Jean laughed merrily.

"I am afraid I should be rather a poor superintendent, Uncle Tom," said she. "There seems to be such a lot to know about gla.s.s."

"There is," agreed Mr. Curtis. "Sometimes I feel as if about everything in the world was made of it. Of course you've seen the ink erasers made of a cl.u.s.ter of fine gla.s.s fibres. Oh, yes; they have them. And the aigrettes made in the same way and used in ladies' bonnets. Then there are those beautiful brocades having fine threads of spun gla.s.s woven into them in place of gold and silver; it was a Toledo firm, by the way, that presented to the Infanta Eulalie of Spain a dress of satin and gla.s.s woven together. To-day came an order from California for gla.s.s to serve yet another purpose; you could never guess what. The people out there want some of our heaviest polished plate to make the bottoms of boats."

"Of boats!"

"Boats," repeated Uncle Tom, nodding.

"But--but why make a gla.s.s-bottomed boat?"

"Well, in California, Florida, and many other warm climates boats with bottoms of gla.s.s are much in use. Sightseers go out to where the water is clear and by looking down through the transparent bottom of the boat they can see, as they go along, the wonderful plant and animal life of the ocean. Such reptiles, such fish, such seaweeds as there are! I have heard that it is as interesting as moving pictures, and quite as thrilling, too."

"I'd like to do it," said Giusippe.

"I shouldn't," declared Jean with a shudder. "I hate things that writhe, and squirm, and wriggle. Imagine being so near those hideous creatures! Why, if I once should see them I should never dare to go in bathing again. I'd rather not know what's in the sea."

"There is something in that, little lady," Uncle Tom answered, slipping one of his big hands over the two tiny ones in the girl's lap.

"Giusippe and I will keep the sea monsters out of your path, then; and the land monsters, too, if we can. Now it is time you children got to bed, for to-morrow you must make an early start. You'd better telephone your aunt or uncle that you are going to stay here to-night, Giusippe.

If you do not work to-morrow you will not need to get to the factory until Jean and I do; it will be much simpler for you to remain here and go down with us in the car. I'll call up your boss and explain matters.

Good-night, both of you. Now scamper! I want to read my paper."

The next morning the Curtis family was promptly astir, and after breakfast Uncle Tom with his two charges rolled off to the factory in the big red limousine.

"Your superintendent says you are welcome to the morning off, Giusippe," Mr. Curtis remarked as they sped along. "But he did have the grace to say he should miss you. Now it seems to me that if you are to give Jean a clear idea of what we do at the works you better begin with the sheet gla.s.s department. That will interest her, I am sure; later you can show her where you yourself work."

The car pulled up at Mr. Curtis's office, and they all got out.

"Good-bye! Good luck to you," he called as the boy and girl started off.

Jean waved her hand.

"We will be back here and ready to go home with you, Uncle Tom, at one o'clock," she called over her shoulder.

"We won't be late, sir."

"See that you're not. I shall be hungry and shall not want to wait. I guess you'll have an appet.i.te, too, by that time."

"Is sheet gla.s.s blown, Giusippe?" inquired Jean, as they went across the yard. "I hate to ask stupid questions, but you see I do not know anything about it."

"That isn't a stupid question. Quite the contrary. Yes, sheet gla.s.s is blown. You shall see it done, too."

"But I do not understand how they can get it flattened out, if they blow it."

"You will."

The boy led the way through a low arched door.

Before the furnaces within the great room a number of gla.s.s-blowers were at work. They stood upon wooden stagings, each one of which was built over a well or pit in the floor, and was just opposite an opening in the furnace.

"Each of these men has a work-hole of the furnace to himself, so that he may heat his material any time he needs to do so. The staging gives him room to swing his heavy ma.s.s of gla.s.s as he blows it, and the pit in the floor, which is about ten feet deep, furnishes s.p.a.ce for the big cylinder to run out, or grow longer, as he blows. The gathering for sheet gla.s.s is done much as was that for the smaller pieces. The gatherer collects a lump on his pipe, cools it a little, and collects more until he has enough. He then rests it on one of those wooden blocks such as you see over there; the block is hollowed out so to let the blower expand the gla.s.s to the diameter he wants it."

"But I should think the block would burn when the hot gla.s.s is forced inside it."

"It would if it were not first sprinkled with water. Sometimes hollow metal blocks are used instead. In that case water pa.s.ses through to keep them cool, and they are dusted over with charcoal to keep them from sticking, and from scratching the gla.s.s. After a sufficiently large ma.s.s of gla.s.s has been gathered and reheated to a workable condition the blower begins his task. First he swings the great red-hot lump about so that it will get longer. His aim is to make a long cylinder and into it he must blow constantly in order to keep it full of air. Watch that man now at work. See how deft he is, and how strong.

The even thickness of the gla.s.s, and the uniformity of its size, depend entirely upon his skill. If he finds the cylinder running out too fast, or in other words getting too long, he s.h.i.+fts it up over his head, always taking care, however, to keep it upright."

Jean watched.

How rapidly the man worked with the great ma.s.s on his blow-pipe! Now he blew it far down into the pit beneath, where it hung like a mighty, elongated soap-bubble; now he swung it to and fro; now lifted it above his head. And all the time he was blowing into it blasts of air from his powerful lungs.

"The cylinder doesn't seem to get any bigger round," observed Jean at last.

"No. Its diameter was fixed at the beginning by the wooden block. That settles its size once and for all; it is the length and thickness of the cylinder which are governed by the blower. Do you realize how strong a man has to be to wield such a weight as that lump of metal? It is no easy matter. Luckily he can suspend it against that wooden rest if he gets too tired. In England they use a sort of iron frame called an _Iron Man_ to relieve the blower of the weight of the gla.s.s and the device was also used at one time in Belgium; but the Belgian workmen gradually did away with it."