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Chap. XXX.
PAPER-MAKING.
37
I climbed a ladder to inspect the rags previous to their
purification. Heavens, what filth! and to think they
must be sorted into twenty-five heaps and don’t breed
a pestilence! When sorted they are tumbled into a
huge boiler, shovelled in with quick lime, and there
simmer for twenty-four hours (thirty-six would not be
too much), next carried up stairs, all dye and dirt
removed, and then boiled for twelve more. Having now
gained a clean bill of health, they are combed to death and
destruction, become masses of whitened pulp, like
fresh-scraped charpie for a Parisian ambulance; next, when
reduced to a finer substance, like curds and sour milk, it
is carefully strained in running water. Now, as
watergruel, it passes over a green canvas; at the third cylinder
spreads out like wafer on a coarse blanket; later it
begins to dry, and then for the first time runs alone,
and, bravely leaping over the chasm between the two
cylinders, falls dry and solid into the arms of the chopping
apparatus, which clips it into three and prunes its edges;
then it is rolled up a mile in length and handed over to
the opposite side of the establishment for glazing, for
which process a patent has been taken out by the
proprietor in all the countries of Europe. In other
manufactories the paper is glazed in sheets already cut; here
in one long rouleau it passes between hot cylinders—goes
in one side rough, and comes out on the other glazed
with varnish: the process to an unintellectual eye
appearing as simple as it is successful.
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