ave
them come. Although glass-making is an old story to us scarce a day
passes that some one does not visit us to whom the process is entirely
new; and it certainly is interesting if a person has never seen it.
Suppose we begin at the very beginning. In this bin, or trough, you
will see the mixture or batch of which the glass is made. It is
composed of red lead and the finest of white beach sand. The lead is
what gives the inside of the trough its vermilion color. The sand comes
from abroad, and before it can be used it must be sifted and sifted
through a series of closely woven cloths until it is smooth and fine as
powder. Before we put the mixture into the melting pots we heat it to a
given temperature so that it will be less likely to chill the clay pots
and break them."

"Do you really make glass by melting up that stuff?" asked Jean
incredulously.

The man smiled.

"But isn't it all red?"

"The red comes out in the melting. We have to be very careful, however,
in weighing out the ingredients, for much of our success depends on the
accurate proportions of the materials combined in the batch. Of course
the chemical composition differs some for different sorts of glass. It
all depends on what kind of glass is to be made. Then too the
conditions of the furnaces vary at times, the draughts being better at
some seasons than at others. We take a test or proof of every fresh
melt, and you would be surprised to see how little these differ.
Careful mixing of the raw materials is the first important item of
successful glass-making; the second is the fusion by heat of the
materials."

"The batch is next melted, Jean," explained Giusippe, as they followed
Mr. Wyman into the great brick-paved room where the furnaces were.

Here indeed was a picturesque scene. Numberless men were hurrying
hither and thither, some whirling in the air glowing masses of molten
glass; others standing before the furnace doors gathering balls of it
on the end of long iron blow-pipes which were from six to nine feet in
length. Everybody was scurrying. As soon as a ball of red-hot glass had
been collected on the end of a blow-pipe it was rushed off to the
blower before it cooled. In and out of the throng of moving workmen
young boys, or carriers, swung along bearing to the annealing ovens on
charred wooden trays or forks newly completed vases or pitchers.

Jean glanced about, fascinated by the bustling crowd.

"Here are the furnaces," the fore