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Lucy Wilson, L. L. G., N. B. Greene, and many Others.—Write and make your inquiries from the correspondents with whom you wish to exchange.
Dear Friends,—About a fortnight ago, when we boys and girls of the "Children's Hour" were busy at our drawing and painting, Miss Donlevy, our teacher, told us we had all been invited to visit Harper's Building.
You may just think we clapped our hands with delight, and made considerable noise for a minute or two, but then we promised to behave very quietly.
When the day came, we all, with our teacher, took the Third Avenue elevated car, and whizzed down in no time to Franklin Square, and soon found ourselves mounting up the winding stairs to the office of Young People.
We had all been wondering whether we should have to look dignified, and mind our p's and q's, supposing the editor was oldish and wore spectacles; he wasn't, though, for he was young, and as kind and friendly as if he was one's own grown-up brother or cousin, and let us ask questions until I guess his ears ached and his head spun.
The girls took off their cloaks and the boys their overcoats, and piled them up on a chair. The editor took us to the art department, where we were introduced to the art critic and an artist famous for drawing grasses and flowers and landscapes. As they were only talking, we went into the next room to see artists at work. One had a small block of box-wood on his desk, covered with a transparent paper, called gelatine paper; on this was traced in red pencil a picture of a house and trees. He was going over all the red lines with a pointed instrument. When the gelatine paper was lifted off, there were the lines faintly cut in the wood. Then the artist took a lead-pencil and went over the cut lines with it; next came shading the picture with a brush and India ink. When we had watched them doing this we were all marched off to the engraving department.
What busy people engravers are! There they sat, looking as if they thought there wasn't a thing in the world to be looked at but the block picture on the padded cushion before them. All the engravers had shades over their eyes, and were looking through magnifying-glasses at their work.
One of them let me look through his, and, whew! how big the things looked! I saw in a minute that all the parts of the block are cut away except the parts marked by the lead-pencil and brush; these must stand up higher than the rest of the wood, to take the ink for printing. But I tell you what seemed like magic—taking a proof. The proof-taker just laid the engraved block picture on its back in his press, and ran an inked roller over its face; then he laid a sheet of paper on it; then he pulled the press down on it, and it only took a second's pressure; when he lifted up the press and took the paper out, there was the loveliest picture of a baby sitting in a high chair. All the class wanted one immediately, but we had no time to wait; so away we marched up some more winding stairs to the "composing-room." Now you mustn't think that's where they compose stories; it's only the place for setting up type, and such work.
Here a number of young men were filling small iron things, called "sticks," with type; as each stick was loaded, the types were taken out in a bunch and put into a tray called a "galley." This is called "composing." Stickful after stickful was arranged, until a page of type lay there. It seemed all spelled backward, to make it come out right when printed.
The "galley man" then inked this page of type, and struck off a proof for each of us, just as the picture proof was struck off down stairs. As this page was only a letter from a doll, I didn't care much for it, but all the girls just went wild over it; however, I took one for the curiosity's sake; for what fellow is there cares for dolls?
Harper's Young People is not printed right from these type, as I thought when the proofs were being made for us, for the type would soon wear off. A wax mould is made from each page of set-up type. I asked the editor what good a soft wax thing like that mould could be, so he took us all into a wonderful room, where they make copper plates from the wax moulds. We had only been there a minute or two when the foreman asked us if we'd like to see him strike lightning. In the middle of the room stands a large bath of glass, with a smaller one inside of it filled with a dark blue liquid. Joined to it were some broad bands of copper, reaching nearly to the ceiling. Well, the foreman touched one of these belts with some kind of a bar of metal, and right away the sparks flew, and there came flashes like lightning. Of course some of the girls ran away, and one of the boys ran too.
We boys staid, and the foreman showed us how the wax moulds were hung in the blue-vitriol water, with plates of copper hanging near them. Somehow—I can not understand exactly how—the electricity makes the copper dissolve and fall in powder on the wax, where it hardens; when it is taken out of this bath it is a beautiful copper picture, black on the front and red on the under side.
We were told the under or hollow side would next be filled in with lead, just as boys fill in a bullet mould. We were only allowed to peep into the lead-melting room, where we saw a great caldron filled with boiling lead. I would have liked to give it a good stir up with the big ladle, but of course didn't ask the favor. This built-up copper plate is very strong, and any number of pictures or letters—for they make moulds and plates of both—can be printed from them.
Then the editor said we should see the men printing from these plates, fastened into iron frames called "forms." So down ever so many winding stairs we travelled, until we came to a dark under-ground room, where the "Hoe" printing-presses are. Whew! what a whizzing and buzzing there was!
We all stood around a great big machine, and the editor kindly lifted us up in turn so we might all see it. On the top, on a large metal plate, the white paper is laid, the plate moves forward, and up come a lot of shining steel prongs that catch the paper and drag it under so you can't see it. Just then, below, at the other side, we caught sight of a large "form" with the metal plate of type, or text, and pictures of Harper's Young People in it. It seemed to know just what to do, for it moved toward the sheet of paper, which was somewhere down under the rollers, and the next thing we saw was the sheet coming out at the other end on a wooden frame, which lifted up and turned it over on a pile which had been printed before we came in. Just think, boys and girls: that press can turn out two thousand Young People in an hour!
We only took a peep at the two big "Corliss" steam-engines that were making the whole thing go. Here some of the girls were afraid again; so, as it was near twelve o'clock, we hurried up the winding stairs again to see the folding and binding and "marbleizing" done.
The folding-machine is just the cleverest thing. The sheet is laid on a moving roller which carries it over to a second and then a third roller, and it goes in and out, and the first thing you know it drops down in a trough at the side, all nicely folded, and cut, too, for binding.
Then we saw a lot all ready for the sewers. Well, I think I never saw needles fly like those that the girls were sewing the leaves in lots with. Fifty-two Young Peoples sewed together make a pretty fat-looking book, but when it is put in a heavy press it comes out looking considerably slimmer. Next we saw the fly-leaves marbleized. My! but wasn't it pretty! A man stood in front of a large square bath filled with gum and water. There were lots of cans around, filled with red, blue, yellow, green, and other colored paints. First he dipped his brush in the red and shook it over the gum water—the drops made circles of red—then he shook yellow spots with another brush; then blue, till the top of the water was beautifully spotted. Next he took what looked like a very big comb and stroked the water softly, so all the colors took curious long shapes; then he stroked it the other way with a finer comb, until it had a pretty peacock-feather pattern on it, and was ready for the paper, which he just laid flat on top of the gay water, and then hung it up to dry for fly-leaves.
After that we watched the men brush paste on the backs of the books, put the covers on, and place them in presses to make the paste stick. We couldn't wait to see them come out of the presses, so we thanked the editor, and started for home. Some of the girls said they would know how to mend books now when the covers came off. Every one of them said they were going to marbleize paper when they got home; but I know something more tip-top than that: I'm going to rig up a machine to strike lightning. And now, dear friends, I must say good-by.
Frank E. F.
Favors are acknowledged from E. D. Kellogg, C. W. Seagar, A. D. H., Ben J. R., Phebe O'Reilly, T. F. Weishampel, H. G. M., Ellie Earle, F. D. Crane, Willy Rochester, Nellie E. Owen, Lydia M. Bennett, Mary Daucy, Willie A. Scott, Albert K. Hart, Bobbie C. Horntager, Dany J. O., T. N. Jamieson, Belle Dening, Joe T. P., Freddie C. Y., Mamie S., Eva M. Moody, Gracie E. Stevens.