oves the simplicity of this task. The cotton comes from the
spinning-room to the spool-room, and as the girl stands before her
"side," as it is called, she sees on a raised ledge, whirling in rapid
vibration, some one hundred huge spools full of yarn; whilst below her,
each in its little case, lies a second bobbin of yarn wound like a
distaff.

Her task controls machinery in constant motion, that never stops except
in case of accident.

With one finger of her right hand she detaches the yarn from the distaff
that lies inert in the little iron rut before her. With her left hand
she seizes the revolving circle of the large spool's top in front of
her, holding this spool steady, overcoming the machinery for the moment
not as strong as her grasp. This demands a certain effort. Still
controlling the agitated spool with her left hand, she detaches the end
of yarn with the same hand from the spool, and by means of a patent
knotter harnessed around her palm she joins together the two loosened
ends, one from the little distaff and one from this large spool, so that
the two objects are set whirling in unison and the spool receives all
the yarn from the distaff. Up and down this line the spooler must walk
all day long, replenishing the iron grooves with fresh yarn and
reknitting broken strands. This is all that there is of "spooling." It
demands alertness, quickness and a certain amount of strength from the
left arm, and that is all! To conceive of a woman of intelligence
pursuing this task from the age of eight years to twenty-two on down
through incredible hours is not salutary. You will say to me, that if
she demands nothing more she is fit for nothing more. I cannot think it.

The little girl who teaches me spooling is fresh and cheerful and
jolly; I grant her all this. She lives at home. I am told by my
subsequent friends that she thinks herself better than anybody. This
pride and ambition has at least elevated her to neat clothes and a
sprightliness of manner that is refreshing. She does not hesitate to
evince her superiority by making sport of me. She takes no pains to
teach me well. Instead of giving me the patent knotter, which would have
simplified my job enormously, she teaches me what she expresses "the
old-fashioned way"--knotting the yarn with the fingers. I have mastered
this slow process by the time that the overseer discovers her trick and
brings me the harness for my left hand. She is full of curiosity about
m